Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Angseth
Chapter 1
The elevator clicked away the floors with polite almost silent beeps. The only indications of motion in the small room were distant mechanical vibrations from larger machines in the station. The carpet under her feet had been embellished with the insignia of the Galactic Confederation. It gave disgruntled commanders and cadets alike the momentary satisfaction of stepping on an intergalactic symbol of authority. Angseth stood as she always had, since she first had the privilege of standing in one of these elevators, dead-center of the insignia, wings extending from the ball of each foot, spreading across the blue and white symbol. She stood patiently, the lights seemed to vibrate and pulse with their own flow of energy, creating a low humming noise that was just this side of tolerable.
Phantom limb was back again. The pain always returned when she became tense. Her brain vainly sending signals to nerves that were no longer there, and some ingrained instinct in the back of her mind was telling the rest of her body that something must be wrong with that leg. Something had been wrong with that leg for over ten years now. If she listened to the pain, Angseth would be convinced that her leg was imbedded with spikes and trying to push through the floor. She shifted her weight, her cybernetic leg pressed up against the thin fabric of her dress blues. The phantom limb faded away a little, the pins and needles feeling lessened. She had a replacement leg back on her ship that was more comfortable, but this one had less girth and weight so it didn’t appear to be such an eyesore under her dress uniform.
The elevator was blissfully quiet, no sappy music, no other riders, just herself, the white metallic walls and the Galactic Confederation insignia on the floor. This made her feel a little better, it allowed for the opportunity to steel herself against the coming political cluster fuck that was going to be the remainder of her evening. The elevator began to emit a low whine-like noise, the breaking mechanisms had been engaged and the elevator would soon pick up another passenger. If Angseth was lucky she could make her face appear as disgruntled as possible and her would-be companions would be frightened into taking another elevator.
The elevator came to a stop and the doors hissed open. Angseth could hear a slight ring as her ears popped when the pressure equalized. The face on the other side was familiar, and welcome. Angseth felt her bitterness melt as her companion joined her in the room and the doors closed.
“Good evening Captain. That scowl could have shattered glass.”
“That was the impression I was aiming for Lieutenant.” Angseth replied, her voice deep for a human female, yet holding that certain air of authority she had been trained for. She shifted her weight again, leaning on her cane to help maintain her balance. Perhaps…perhaps they would leave her alone tonight. Perhaps they wouldn’t insist on hearing her life’s story at the reception, or want to see the scars the past had left on her psyche.
“I didn’t expect we would have been invited to this wedding. I barely even know either the bride or groom.”
“That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we show up and look presentable. Military weddings must be the worst.”
“Presentable? My Captain doesn’t look very comfortable in her dress uniform.”
“I’m not. It’s too tight across the chest and I feel as if I will burst out of it any moment now.”
“Didn’t you have time to have it altered?”
“This is after it was altered.”
Lieutenant Briar lifted his clawed hands in surrender. He could pick at his Captain only so much before she snapped. But he couldn't resist one last jab. “I thought they required all female officers to wear a dress. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one.”
“I have no dress strong enough to withstand the pressure from my cybernetic leg.”Angseth replied, his statement missing her entirely. “Even though I’m wearing the lighter one. The only setback is that since I haven’t broken it in yet I still walk with a bit of a limp.”
“Hence the cane.”
Angseth nodded in agreement. Lieutenant Nevada Briar was her second in command as well as the chief security officer aboard her battle ship. He came from a world that had joined the Confederation about fifteen years ago. The people were cat-like with a few differences. Briar had feline-like features with slit amber colored eyes, his ears rested toward the back of his skull and were made a stiff cartilage that resembled bone more than soft tissue. When he pinned them back it they seemed to vanish entirely. His body was covered with mostly course fur with small patches of plate-like scales at his elbows, knees, and along his spine. His hands and feet had non-retractable claws that had to be trimmed or ground down on a monthly basis.
The elevator began politely beeping away the floors once more. Angseth and Briar stood for a moment in comfortable silence when he spoke up again.
“Do you know of any new orders once the wedding is over?”
“Not as of yet. Is patrol of the Outer Reaches boring you?”
“Yes…and no.” Briar said folding his arms. “Life on a station is amusing at most, however I feel that our time could be better spent than attending weddings.”
Angseth tried to stop the smile from crossing her lips, but failed. Lieutenant Briar had read her mind. He wanted off this hunk of metal more than she did. “Admiral Mirson has invited us to see his third daughter wed. All this is only a formality. We will be underway again in the next seventy two hours. Then the two of us can go back to counting the nebulae and quasars and other untouchable universal phenomenon.”
Briar gave an audible sigh. “Seventy two hours to kill. You are so generous Captain Angseth.”
Angseth shifted her weight again, already wishing this day was over.
The bride, as with all brides, was beautiful. The bridesmaids stood in a row, arranged by height, all of equal shape, and perfectly complementing the groomsmen. The groom was nervous, his groomsmen seemed to be consumed by that tense laughter of young boys told to be quiet, sit still, and behave for a few minutes. That was one of the only comparisons that Angseth had for them. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they were like a platoon of cadets that had just narrowly missed their first incoming shell attack and even though they had lost one of their own, still giggled madly in that they survived.
Angseth and her officers sat near the back of the chapel, in the middle of one of the many pews lining this traditional hall. Angseth felt that in all the years that humans had been out conquering the universe, why couldn’t they just knock their heads together and make a more comfortable bench? Lieutenant Briar sat at her right and her chief engineering officer, Lieutenant Serec, sat on her left. They were both as quiet and uncomfortable as she. Neither of them wanted to be here. Watching people they didn’t know say their “I do’s” the flowers, the lights, it all seemed too much. Especially after getting back from patrol on the Outer Reaches. Through most of the ceremony she had seen her two officers out of the corner of her eye shuffling around in their seats. Briar seemed to have the worst of it since he had to sit at a certain angle to allow for his tail to rest comfortably. Aside from the shifting, to the other guests they seemed like a matching row of Moai, each sharing a stoic and identical expression.
The music had stopped and now the pastor was going into a sermon about loyalty in love. Angseth began to tune it out; she didn’t need a lecture on loyalty. Instead she amused herself the way she normally did in these situations, she meditated. She searched all the faces in the room, all eyes were on the bride. At the end of each aisle someone had placed a large bouquet of flowers. No, flowers would not do this time. She searched the floor at her feet, then finally pulled her cane closer, shifting her weight again. Topping her cane was a large piece of black quartz carved and sanded into a smooth sphere. She stared into the black depths, no flaws or specks present to catch the light. Lights and flowers reflected on its surface, hovering over the pit of darkness within the sphere. The light caught it at an odd angle, for a moment creating what looked like a purple glow.
Purple. Dark Purple. A room filled with dark purple stones.
Angseth quickly averted her eyes, then lifted a hand to cover her face. She hoped it looked like she was crying for joy. However the ruse didn’t convince her officers. Aside from shifting, this was the most she had moved in the whole ceremony.
“Captain?” Serec inquired.
“I’m alright.” Angseth let her hand fall away. “Just a mild flashback.”
Serec nodded but exchanged a concerned glance with Briar. He then faced the front of the chapel, seemingly interested in the ceremony. But his question was directed toward Angseth. “How is the leg?”
“Uncomfortable.” Angseth closed her eyes trying to let her mind clear. If she didn't calm soon the nausea would do it for her. Behind her someone wept softly. Thankfully her leg had stopped aching the moment she took her weight off of it.
“—You may now kiss the Bride.”
Angseth looked up at that moment to see the brides veil lifted. Before she had just been some lace-covered ghost from this distance, but now she could see the brides blue eyes and blond hair. Angseth looked down at her cane again, recovered, then looked back up at the bride.
Yes, blond hair, but brown eyes. Not green, not blue, due to the way this day was going, not even purple.
Why do I keep thinking of you?
“Captain?”
Angseth took in a few deep breaths as the guests cheered. She didn’t feel like celebrating, she didn’t feel like being here. The organ started up and Angseth barely noticed the bride and groom skip past her row. The congregation stood and began filing out of the chapel.
Angseth didn’t stand. The room felt too small with too many people. Briar stayed at her side supporting her the way one would a sick child. Serec stood and began fencing questions. “No, the Captain is fine,” and “yes we will be there.”
Briar whispered close to Angseths ear. “Vera, would you like me to escort you back to your room?”
Angseth shook her head. “No, I promised Mirson that I would attend the reception.”
“It isn’t mandatory.”
“If you two wish to leave then I won’t hold it against you.” Angseth snapped, trying to regain some sense of control. She leaned on her cane and let her head rest on the back of her knuckles. She didn’t need any more memories of Aether tonight. No, tonight it wouldn’t be the other CO’s to try to get under her skin, she was her own worst enemy in this respect. She braced herself and pulled herself upright. Her cybernetic leg came out of sleep mode to help her correct her balance. Briar stayed at her side helping her to her feet and led her through the crunch of guests trying to leave the chapel.
Samus Aran. How many years has it been?
The reception hall was loud and noisy even before most of the guests had made it inside. Briar stayed at Angseths side, leading her through the crowds after the dizziness she had felt in the chapel passed. Eventually the small walk-way they traveled opened up and she stepped into the main hall. Angseth had been in this hall once before almost 10 years ago now. When she stood before Admiral Mizzen as he placed her pilot wings on her dress uniform. The hall was different now, filled with more people but still teeming with all the sounds and smells that came with celebrating. She shook Briar loose, then found a balcony to stand near. The balcony overlooked the main dance floor where men in uniform and ladies in multicolored dresses bounced along to music. From previous experience the hall would take her a moment to adjust to.
Most of the ceiling and one wall was transparent. Either it was created from skillfully crafted glass, or a field of some kind was in place. The windows gave a clear and stunning view of the planet below. Syren crested just below the rim of the glass, casting a blue glow against the darkness of space. This view was enough to give her vertigo the first time she set foot in here. Now that she had a moment to enjoy it, she could adjust. Angseth just had to remember not to look up for the rest of the night. Briar stood at her side, admiring the view along with her.
Tables had been set out on the many levels of the room, each with a centerpiece of fragrant flowers taken from the four corners of the universe. Even from this height Angseth could spot her favorites, rare “Lilies of the night” cast bio-luminescent multicolored shapes on the tables.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Very much. But Mirson will have my ass if I don’t go down there and rub elbows with some of his friends.” Angseth reached for Briars arm again and tore her gaze away from the high ceiling.
“Do I get to pretend to be your date this evening?”
“Might as well. Can’t hide forever.” Angseth gave him a smile, and began walking toward the nearest elevator to take them down to the base level. This elevator had transparent walls that provided a view of the whole room as she traveled. This didn’t bother Angseth as much as the view from the top balcony. She could however make out her own reflection in the glass.
Angseth was never very happy with her physical appearance. As humans went, she was short. Standing at a grand total of five feet four inches. She was also stocky, very unattractive for human females. She hailed from a heavy world that had higher gravity than normal planets, so her muscles were nicely toned, however it was considered too manly for most human standards. Her hair was cut short, as per regulation, however she kept just enough length to give it body. More than once she had been mistaken for a man, and she knew of all the rumors and names they called her behind her back. However none of them could fly or shoot like she could, a skill she kept up even as the years went on. Briar often told her that humans were too critical, and she was perfect and beautiful in his eyes, and for the most part, not too many alien races cared about her appearance. Since there were over two hundred recognized different sentient species that were members of the Confederation, Briar insisted that one races standards of beauty could not over-ride all. Angseth had often rolled her eyes at this, especially when one of her new human cadets would call out “Hey mister!—oh shit it’s the captain.”
They stepped out of the elevator and onto the ground floor. Directly in front of her was a set of stairs that led to the dance floor. People danced as the live band was just getting started. Angseth maneuvered her way through the tables and crowds. Briar had split off and was going his own way. Angseth headed for the bride, the most easily noticed landmark in the room. Angseth would congratulate her, say hello to Mirson, then hopefully be on her way before anyone noticed that she had left. As long as Mirson was alone, then she stood a chance, if he had friends, he would want to start bragging. Twenty steps away from the bride, almost there…
“Angseth!”
Angseth froze in her tracks, trying not to let the disgust fill her eyes.
Admiral Mirson called out to her again, surrounded by no less than five other men. All human.
“Admiral,” Angseth forced a smile to her lips, then began taking exaggerated limping steps over toward him. If he saw that she was in pain, perhaps he would let her go, perhaps she could politely duck out and get some sleep in her room.
“I’m so happy you could make it.”
Angseth gave up all hopes of escape. His companions looked too pleased with themselves. Story-time everyone! She stepped forward and shook the Admirals hand. “Your daughter is absolutely radiant! Congratulations!” The group closed around her like an ameba with its latest prey. All eyes fell upon her.
“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce Captain Angseth. The sole survivor of the Aether incident.” He set his hand on her shoulder and displayed her to the group like some kind of trophy.
I might as well have that changed to my official title. “Captain Angseth, the Sole Survivor of the Aether Incident” Angseth thought bitterly. I wonder how much it would cost to have that engraved on my leg. She scanned the faces and shook hands all around. She felt cheated, she knew most of these men. They had all heard the story before. However two of them she didn’t recognize. They were sizing her up, and she returned the favor. One of them she could place right away, a scientist from Rovien. He was tall, easily six feet nine inches, which meant that if she were to look him in the eye, she had took look up. He had long white hair and red eyes, an albino….or a clone. The second man was also a human male about five foot nine, roughly Briars height now that she thought about it. He had blue eyes and dark brown hair, not an entirely unattractive combination. He also appeared to be very young. Early twenties. Perhaps he was an Ensign that the Admiral was fond of.
The Admiral was an older gentleman, thin and thinning white hair combed over almost perpetually red skin that grew redder the angrier he became. In her younger years Angseth had placed bets with men in her fighter wing to see who could get him to turn the darkest shade. Angseth won everytime. The Admiral also had small brown eyes, he looked like someone whom you expected to die any day now but through some miracle or cosmic joke was still around year after year. Angseth didn’t like his eyes. They pierced, scrutinized and most of all, were hard to read. Right now he seemed to be happy, but the shade of his skin told her otherwise. Code Orange.
“Captain Angseth I would like to introduce you to Captain Thomas, and Science Officer Svenson. Gentlemen, this is Captain Angseth.”
“Captain Angseth.” Thomas, Mr. Brown-hair and blue-eyes held his hand out to her. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I have wanted to ask you so many questions about Aether and of course your studies of the bounty hunter Samus Aran.”
“I’m afraid there is isn’t much to tell Captain Thomas.” She scanned his eyes and body again. Captain? A nickname? There was nothing about him that spoke of the rank “captain” save for the twin white bars on his uniform.
Captain Thomas didn’t seem to notice her rebuttal. His blue eyes were alive with excitement. This boy was young. Early twenties, and probably had never seen a moment of real combat in his life.
S.O. Svenson had been quiet this whole time, his arms folded and red eyes scanning the room nervously. The other officers that been accompanying Mirson had let for the time, and Svenson seemed to be keeping a subtle eye on them. Angseth found her attention drawn back to Thomas. Mirson stood behind Thomas, his face no longer reading pleasure but that usual scowl Angseth had become accustomed to. That look was a warning. She would comply with his desires or feel his wrath.
“Is it true you fought alongside The Hunter?” Captain Thomas still drilled at her, sipping from his glass of champagne.
Between this young man’s insistence and the disapproving scowl from the Admiral, Angseth felt the smile fade from her lips. She was tired of telling this story, a summary would probably keep this boy happy for weeks, although it would not sit well enough with the Admiral.
“I did not work alongside Aran. I was a young Private who had just had my first experience with an interspatial anomaly. If it were not for The Hunter, I would be dead. She was the one who single-handedly dealt with the Pirates and the Ing, returning the light to Aether. I could only follow in her wake.”
“Amazing to think that you lived to tell the tale.” S.O. Svenson interjected. “You lived to tell it over and over again. How I pity you Captain.” His tone didn't hold much conviction. He didn't seem to be happy to be here either. His arms dropped to his sides, then went around to behind his back. It was a gesture that Angseth had become familiar with, her own hands never left the small of her back except when she was carrying something. Thomas was smiling like an idiot. “However I personally feel that Aran is no more pious than the pirates she fights. The civilized world had no need for vigilantes.”
“And that is the only thing we can disagree upon Svenson.” Angseth felt her voice raise in volume just slightly. Svenson had touched a nerve. “Samus Aran is one of the rare forces of nature that this universe must accept. And as with all forces beyond our control, we can only choose to live with it, to fight it brings only suffering.”
“What a poetic statement.” Svenson snickered. Obviously amused by this outcome.
“I only speak of what I have seen, and have come to know in my years as a Captain in the Confederation.” Angseth looked between Thomas and Svenson, neatly perched in the middle behind them was Mirson. His face had turned that now familiar bright red color. Angseth knew that she had better make a speedy retreat before the Admiral erupted. “I’m sorry but I must leave you now. Gentlemen. Admiral, congratulations.” She turned, leaning on her cane even more to pull off such a tight turn. This leg would be thrown to the bottom of her footlocker as soon as she arrived back at her room, never to be seen or heard from again.
“Angseth.” Admiral Mirson called out to her.
Angseth paused, looking over her shoulder at Mirson.
“I wish to speak with you tomorrow, at 1100 hours.”
“I will be there sir.” Angseth searched the room for Briar, who was perched against the bar, sipping some bright red concoction. She walked toward him, using the cane to smooth out her gate.
“Bitter isn’t she?” Svenson commented once Angseth was out of earshot.
“Did she loose that leg on Aether?” Thomas asked.
Mirson grabbed a glass of champagne, his face regaining some normal color. “Don’t let her fool you. Angseth is one of the better battleship captains available to the Seven Fleet Admirals. She will be more than meet your expectations.” He sipped the champagne. “She didn’t loose her right leg on Aether. That was lost in an accident involving her fighter.”
“I would like to read more on her. She seems like an admirable woman.” Thomas set his glass down.
Svenson watched as Briar took Angseth’s arm and led her out of the hall. “She seems to be rather close to her Lieutenant.”
“She is.” Mirson replied. “I’ve told her not to make herself to noticeable while she is here, rather disgusting.”
“Indeed.”
Mirson set the champagne down and addressed the men. “Good evening gentlemen, I hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay.”
Angseth sat in front of a holo-screen, watching random events and the occasional cheap game show that broadcast on the stations TV signals. Everything was just as boring as she remembered. She never understood how so many people could find entertainment value in all of this. She lifted the remote and turned off the holo-screen. Sleeping was not going to be easy tonight. Between the pain in her leg and the slowly rising memories of her time on Aether, all she could do was hobble around her suite and hope that exhaustion would kick in. That was harder to do without Briar there.
Vera stood from her chair, and grabbed her cane. She had taken off the cybernetic leg, and still hadn’t put the other one on yet. The cane would help her get around for the time.
Why do all these memories come at the most inappropriate times? Why all these horrible dreams?
She limped into the kitchen, and began to sift through the cabinets looking for a glass.
Twenty years ago. For so many years I’ve had that experience hovering over my head like an ax. In the past few days my thoughts and dreams have been clouded with memories of Ing and Phazon. I want to know how much is triggered by stress, and how much are real concerns.
She found a glass and began running the water on the tap. The glass filled and she turned the water off. She lifted the glass and held it to her lips, the smell of chemicals drifted from the cup. Chemicals used to purify and remove all other forms of life from the water so that she may use it. She slowly forced herself to drink. Immediately her stomach began to churn, the combined smell and taste of fluoride, plasteel from the pipes, all traces and residue present in the water. She lowered the glass and tried to calm her gag reflex.
I remember…the water from Torvus Bog was smooth. It smelled of life. Aether was pure, the plants were dangerous, and so were the animals, but they were still alive, they thought, lived, and breathed.
There was nothing in the room save for the hum of electricity all around her, the taste of iron in her mouth, heavy chemical-laden water in her stomach. Angseth turned to walk back into her bedroom, then quickly turned back to the sink. Her body convulsed then forced up the water from her stomach. For a moment she stood gagging until her muscles stopped tensing. She reached for a paper towel to wipe her mouth. The electric hum of the room built in her ears. White noise.
Angseth stood up, then looked to the nearest light in the ceiling. “Lights off.” She called out. The light in her suite dimmed until there was darkness. She took her cane, then moved through the darkness until she came to her bed.
For the longest time she had been afraid of the dark, afraid of the things that could hide in the dark. However it stood to reason that the Ing had often come in the daylight, unafraid of the sun. It didn’t matter whether one could see it coming or not. It was still there.
My body is rejecting all of this, it rejects the chemicals in the water, it rejects the sounds in my ears, it rejects my artificial leg. I am beginning to think that it rejects artificial people, people without any ties or roots to the earth, people like Svenson and Thomas, and especially Mirson.
She lay down in her bed, looking up at the dark ceiling. There were still points of light in the room. Small lights that lined part of her cybernetic leg, the clock, power-save lights on various appliances, all of these in her state of half-sleep looked like stars. In the dark, memories would come to her, points of light like these. Each star waited to be studied, or ignored, however one of the brightest stars in the heaven of her memories had its own unique label and constellation.
Samus.
Angseth lay dieing. The gate was still closed. The gate would remain closed for a very long time. No one would open a gate that served no purpose. She had done her job, and held her post. She had been told, if falsely, that if the gate was down, the base would be safe. She had closed this gate with her life and with any luck; her spirit would continue to haunt this plane until the end of time. She could have ensured that the gate would stay closed longer if she just had more bullets. Angseth had no desire to die on this planet, her body eaten by all these alien creatures. The last log in her data book, now that she had been going over it, seemed to be very childish. She threw a fit over not getting placed on the main entry team into the splinters lair. True, she could out-shoot everyone here, but only provided she had enough rounds. Perhaps Captain Exetor was right, if she would just stop talking about the Hunter long enough to train a little harder perhaps she wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.
As long as Angseth had been in the Marines, her mind had been filled with wonderful stories about a lone bounty hunter that often took on federation missions for a price. The bounty hunters name was Samus Aran. Not very many people had any concrete information on Aran, even Aran’s gender was in dispute. Angseth had collected as much information as she could in the four long years she had been a marine. Tales of the Hunters adventures had reached almost every mess hall in the Federation, and the stories were swapped and traded like cards or talismans. For the most the stories served to entertain, but Angseth felt that she was one of the few who actually believed. The idea that a female bounty hunter could destroy an entire infestation of pirates was enough to keep Angseth at the shooting range long after everyone else had turned in for the night. The stories that Aran could solve and bypass intricate security systems of ancient civilizations encouraged Angseth to learn more about their own. When most of the members of her platoon were out drinking, Angseth had locked herself away in a library reading up on battle strategy.
A lot of good all that did now.
Baker had stopped crying about ten minutes ago. Angseth couldn’t be sure because her armor had been compromised and her HUD had lost half its functions. One thing she was sure of, Baker had stopped moving. For the time being, the bugs had retreated into the walls, burrowing deeper into the solid rock around Angseths fellow marines. She had been told to close the gates, but the little bastards didn’t need gates. They simply dug through the walls. They came up from the floor, hell a few of the more dangerous ones pulled themselves out of thin air. The splinters had been bad enough, they resembled oversized crickets that screamed and had the ability to chew through just about anything. On their own they weren’t too hard to deal with, one or two shots and the majority of the colony would move on. Then the Purple Shit started coming. The term had been coined by Baker, who had been the first one to really get a good look at it. He had been standing near the main computer terminals when a gooey dark purple almost black mass came out of the crack in the wall next to him and began slithering across the floor. This caused Baker to ask aloud, “What the hell is that purple shit?”
Angseth still had no idea what the Purple Shit was. At first they assumed that it was a kind of fast moving fungus, or perhaps a plankton-like plant colony, or some other natural explanation. The Purple Shit had sniffed around the main computer terminals, the walls, past the feet of a few marines before disappearing back into another crack. This subterranean base was just full of surprises. A few days later they witnessed something else remarkably odd. They had been passing the time, watching a few splinters duke it out for mating rights, when the Purple Shit oozed out of another crack and slithered up the fighting pair of bugs. That was when they learned that the Purple Shit had extremely strong mutative qualities. It engulfed the splinters and began altering their physical structure. The end result was something out of a nightmare. The new creatures pounced upon the few marines posted there and killed two of them before alarm had been raised. Angseth remembered firmly that it took twenty rounds each to kill the newly mutated splinters. Twenty rounds were too much ammo to waste on one fast moving creature. Within twenty four hours their entire base had been overcome by these mutated creatures, but it didn’t stop there. The Purple Shit had even engulfed both the living and dead bodies of the Marines fighting it. Angseth would never forget the pain that moved through the platoon when they had to take down one of their own.
Now here she was, the last wave had all but annihilated her squad. If there was anyone left alive she hoped that they had made it to the signal beacon. The signal beacon had been damaged upon atmospheric entry, and didn’t have enough juice to put out a strong enough signal. At least that was what her CO had said.
Angseth had been around long enough to know when someone was lying through their teeth.
She could feel her blood pooling in her armor. She had never wanted a slow death, if anything, all she prayed for was to go out in a blaze of glory, just like in the holo-movies or the comics. Thankfully she had been injured enough that the pain she was in didn’t matter any more. The gate was closed.
Angseth could hear something in the hall. Another Marine? Rocks slipping from the wall? Maybe a splinter looking for a meal? Plenty to be found here. Please wait until after I die before you start munching okay?
No, footsteps. Had to be footsteps. There was too much rhythm to be anything else. The footsteps came closer. Had help finally arrived? She would remember the sound of an incoming marine vessel, especially if it had as rough a landing as they had. The Atmosphere on Aeather was thick with electrical and radioactive phenomena. Even as they had landed and looked up at the new sky in this world, they could see what had looked like some god had tried to over lap two completely different sections of sky. It was simultaneously stormy and sunny. At first you looked, there were clouds, the next time you looked, bright blue. The sky changed so much, no wonder their ship took a pounding on the way in.
The sound stopped outside the gate. A thought crossed her mind that perhaps it was one of their zombie buddies searching for leftovers. Angseth had never wanted to be dead so much in her life. Zombies eat the brains of the living don’t they? The most frustrating part was Angseth couldn’t turn her head to look at the gate. She could see the bottom of Bakers shoe just fine but she lacked the strength and ability to turn.
The gate rattled. Angseth had already been laying still but now she was seriously playing dead. The gate was firm thing, it didn’t rattle. The gate was made from the finest alloys; it would take something very strong to rattle it. No, no human would be getting in here. A human would be welcome, or any one of the one hundred thirty four races that called the Federation home. Anyone but those god-damned possessed splinters. The gate rattled once more, bolts creaking in their sockets, but holding. One long moment passed, and Angseth became aware of another sound. It was something mechanical, something that whirred and hummed like a spent holo-generator. She could now feel a vague rumble move through her body. There was a tunnel to her right, one of those damn splinters had dug it, the one that got the drop on her, the one that had run up her body and imbedded its claws into her chest and legs, screaming and fighting the entire time. Angseth had grabbed it and slammed its body into the ground, then clubbed it to death with her fists and rifle. Five more of its friends then jumped her.
The entrance to the tunnel was just outside of her line of sight, but if she could manage to move her head just slightly, she could see what new torture was coming her way. It took all of her strength, but she managed to budge her head the inch or so to bring the tunnel into view.
The rough walls of the tunnel were nothing new, chipped and scraped into existence by many little clawed feet. There was a light, a soft glow that had some kind of thickness to it. Much like a holo-screen, as if you could pick it up and work it to your will. The rumble was still mild. The light grew brighter, and Angseth felt much confusion mixed with fear at the sight of her own reflection cast upon a smooth sphere-like surface. The sphere was gold in color and had a seam down the middle, where the light was spilling forth, humming from power within. While it had a near-mirror finish, it wasn’t without flaws, slight scuff and drag marks marked the surface, distorting Angseths reflection. Next to this work of art Angseth felt tiny and useless. Fear had settled to the back of her mind and curiosity took the fore. She hoped that this wouldn’t be some new threat. Was the Purple Shit just a method of clearing out the trash so this thing could move in?
The sphere rolled by and stopped almost dead center of the room. Angseth watched as cracks began to appear in its surface, and joints began pulling apart letting the light within spill out like liquid. The sphere pulled apart in what looked like a duck-and roll maneuver, it emptied a fully armored person into the room. The individual gained their feet, and began looking around. Angseth stared at the legs of this person, caught somewhere between delight and dismay.
She had died.
And Samus Aran was here to lead her into the afterlife.
The station was a huge monster of metal and forced breeding of many alien technologies. It had no discernible shape and when a new wing was needed, it was simply built upon the outer hull. The result was a far-reaching interlaced spider-web of metal and plasteel. While it served mainly as a military command post, it also had very many Civilian sectors and business. The Naval offices were located on one of the higher decks, which provided an unobstructed view of Syren. Admiral Mirson had one of the larger office complexes. An entire three decks had been set aside to accommodate all of the people and workspace that went with his office. All of his secretaries had their own offices, all of his lackeys and advisers, and most of the rooms were impressive spaces. Mirson after all was one of the Seven Fleet Admirals, and it was his duty to ensure the safety of everyone within this sector of space.
Angseths routine patrol aboard her craft, the Mabus, took her through all seven sectors and into the employment of all Seven Admirals at one point or another. Her home was within Admiral Mizzen’s territory, and she wanted to get back there as soon as possible. Through the majority of her travels, the Admirals left her alone, the Mabus was considered a training vessel, and she often had a crew composed of mainly first-time voyagers into space. When conducting marine actions, the Admirals preferred to have seasoned troops on hand. Due to this, Angseth saw very little action these days. That suited her just fine.
Angseth stepped into Mirson’s office, and took a moment to pause. His office also featured one of those huge floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a commanding view of Syren below. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and tinting had come over the window. The view at first left her feeling a little disoriented, even claustrophobic in a way. For all intents and purposes it looked as if they were about to crash right into the planet. Mirson had decorated his office in a minimal yet tasteful way. The walls had exposed beams, showing the architecture of the station, the floor was covered in high-pile cream-colored carpet, the furnishings very expensive woods, including his huge desk, wood with a granite surface. Along the walls hung plaques and holograms of memories and awards. Angseth actually liked his office, just not the red-faced old fart behind the desk.
The desk sat in the center of the room, U-shaped with a few papers and holos surrounding it. In front of the desk were three leather chairs. From the grain of the skin and subtle striped pattern, Angseth guessed they came from some poor dinosaur like creature. Two of the chairs at either side of the desk tilted and creaked as restless individuals waited patiently. She only caught a glimpse of one of the occupants, a wisp of long white hair, and could guess who the other would be. Captain Thomas and Science Officer Svenson.
Captain Angseth stepped fully into the room and saluted smartly. Admiral Mirson waved her over. “At ease. Please have a seat Captain.” He gestured the third chair.
Angseth sat down, and saw that her suspicions had been confirmed. Thomas was on her left and Svenson on her right.
“I have new orders for you Angseth.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a holographic data disk. Angseth didn’t take her eyes off him as she reached out and took the disk. His skin didn’t seem as red today, not like it had been last night. Nope, today Mirson had what looked like a tan. As if he had been spending some time basking in the sun. Lucky bastard.
Angseth kept her gaze focused on him, or some other fixed object. If she spent too long looking out that window she might get motion-sick.
“The view again Captain?” Mirson inquired.
“Its…always been impressive.” Angseth instead fixed her gaze on the disk in her hands. “I assume this is a briefing?”
“Yes. Science Officer Svenson had requested that you would personally assist him.”
Svenson turned toward Angseth. “Despite my attitude last night, I was delighted when I heard that you would be attending the wedding. We have different views however I know skill when I see it.”
Angseth tried to read those red eyes. Svenson had not made a good impression on her, and this just felt like a front.
Admiral Mirson spoke up again. “Svenson is the captain of a science vessel bound for SR3-88 to conduct a series of experiments. Both yourself and Captain Thomas have been assigned to guard his vessel and proposed research facility on the planets surface.”
Angseth felt herself straighten up in her chair. SR3-88 had been destroyed over ten years ago, complements of everyone’s favorite Bounty Hunter. The planet itself had not been completely wiped out of existence, but it was definitely uninhabitable. She couldn’t help but ask. “What is the nature of this research?”
Svenson answered with a smirk. “Metroids, Captain.”
Angseth allowed her features to show her confusion. “I had been lead to believe that all Metroids had been destroyed, that they are an extinct species.”
“There are, and until last week that was indeed true.”
Admiral Mirson spoke again. “Last week we received a report from a scouting vessel claiming to have seen a Metroid on its home world.”
“I thought that SR3-88 had been declared off-limits.”
“Recently several research teams have received approval to entrench themselves in orbit around SR3-88 in order to study its sun more closely.” Svenson pulled up a few files on a holo-projector on Mirson’s desk. “SR3-88-SOL is a highly unstable star. Recent studies indicate that it is composed of many gasses commonly found on worlds able to support life. However lately it has shown signs of destabilizing.”
Angseth raised an eyebrow. “So you wish to step into the path of a supernova?”
“Not just a supernova Captain, but the makings of life itself.” Svenson made direct eye-contact with her. Angseth steeled herself against his gaze. He was trying to analyze her, to break her down into key components, and she refused to let that happen. He gave her nothing but a stoic gaze. “Are you familiar with the Big Bang theory Captain?”
“Yes, of course.”
Svenson continued. “Then you know that all life in this universe sprang from one concentration of matter. There have been theories as to the composition of this matter, but everyone agrees that it is highly volatile.”
Angseth could see where this was going, and it was foolish. “You suspect that SR3-88-SOL is created of this volatile matter and wish to find a way to harness it. The only way you feel you can do so is to find the last existing Metroid and study it’s ability to drain the power and life-force out of anything it comes across.”
Svenson’s jaw dropped. He didn’t see that one coming.
Thomas began laughing at her side. “Sharp as a tack Captain Angseth!”
Svenson closed his mouth and recovered, slipping into his stoic expression once more. “I should have paid more attention Captain. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”
Angseth straightened in her chair. Her good cybernetic leg had slipped into “sleep” mode. “It is foolish to attempt that kind of power. Some things in this universe are meant to be left alone.”
“Your comments have been noted Captain Angseth.” Mirson spoke. “However, this mission is not to harness that power. Please explain to her Svenson.”
“SR3-88-SOL began to grow unstable as the Metroid population was taken from the world. If SR3-88-SOL were to go supernova, in essence another ‘big bang’ then all life as we know it would be obliterated.”
Angseth turned toward Svenson again, her eyes seeking out his red ones, hidden behind his white hair. “If that were to occur Science Officer Svenson, it would be known as an Act of God. It is not for mortals to decide the fate of who should survive and should not.”
“Religion and Science were never good bedfellows.”
“Sometimes it helps to have faith in something other than our own arrogance Svenson.”
An awkward silence fell over the room. Angseth noted that Mirson’s face was getting slightly redder, but not enough to denote an eruption. Svenson had retreated back behind his curtain of hair, looking out at her from the strands, the safe wall of the consciousness. Angseth remembered when she had done that, back when she had long hair. Her mother used to call it “hiding.” Is that what Svenson was doing? Keeping her at arms reach, peering at her from behind his hair?
Thomas was the one to break the silence. “The reports do not lie, you are a fiery one Captain Angseth.”
Angseth looked away from Svenson, and back to the disk in her hand. Why was it whenever the conversation was getting hairy they all referred back to her temper? “Do I have to option of turning down this mission?”
Mirson leaned back in his chair, his skin loosing the red hue. “I’m afraid not Angseth. Not while you’re on my payroll.”
Angseth allowed her dissatisfaction to show.
“However your comments and request will be recorded when I write my reports. Your concerns have not fallen on deaf ears.”
As Angseth turned the disk in her hands, she began to seriously wonder.
“Captain? Captain?” Lieutenant Briar stepped into one of the many bars the station had to offer. So far he had been making the rounds of all the local haunts on C deck, the ones that Angseth would usually frequent. The meeting had been over six hours ago, and still no sign of the Captain. This was his next to last bar he would check for her, then it was onto the different training rooms. Usually, just a quick sweep of the area was necessary to tell if she had been there. He stepped into the bar, and up to the Human behind the counter. “Excuse me.”
The bartender looked up from his work, then nodded. “What can I get you?”
“I was wondering if Captain Angseth had come in here this evening.”
The bartender pointed to a booth in the corner. Briar felt his tail twitch in anxiety when he turned and made out the slumped form of his captain seated at the table with what seemed like an entire nights worth of glasses surrounding her. Briar knew from previous experience and lost bets that heavy-worlders had a high alcohol tolerance. Angseth had one of the highest he had seen, however judging from the complete dinette set around her at the table, she was making an honest attempt at inebriation.
“Captain.” Briar walked over and sat down on the opposite bench of the booth. “I finally found you, why did you break off contact?” He lifted his hand and moved her head to the side. “Is everything alright?”
“I have received new orders.” She said it as if that explained everything. Angseth lifted her head from the table. “We will not return to patrol on the perimeter. We’ve been handed a death sentence.”
Briar sat quiet for a moment. His feline features not betraying any of his inner thoughts. Angseth found that to be one of the more curious points about him. “Vera, what is bothering you?”
Angseth met his eyes at the mention of her first name. They stayed a little too long. His features only showed determination and concern. She sat up fully and ran her hand through her hair, then began to shift glasses aside, arranging them by type. “We are to escort Science Officer Svenson’s vessel to SR3-88 and establish a base of operations.”
“That’s standard. I don’t see how it could be a death sentence.”
Angseth once again rested her head in her hands. It was unfair. One should never have a hangover without at least a minor buzz. “He says the mission is to study the relationship between Metroids and their sun.”
“Metroids are extinct…perhaps a few might have escaped on Tallon IV, however—“
“I think…I think they’re trying to take down the Hunter.”
Briar grew silent. Angseth could practically see the wheels in his mind turning. “That…would be disastrous.”
Angseth nodded. “I feel that this is a power play. The Confederation has been slowing coming apart at the seams due to the new trade regulations and zoning laws. The Seven Admirals have been pushing for more power in the senate. It’s only a matter of time before one of them comes forward and withdraws their territory from the Confederation. I would bet any amount of money that the first would be Mirson.” She felt Briars hand cover her own. “Nevada.”
“Vera, we will make it through this. We’ve been through tough situations before.” Briar said softly.
“There’s something else.” Angseth lowered her hand and covered his.
“Yes?”
“I’ve put in for my retirement. This will be my last mission.”
“What will you do after this?”
“Move into Admiral Mizzen’s Territory. Finally get married to you.” She said softly. “It’s always been dangerous to show our affection in Mirsons territory. The Humans here don’t really see it our way.”
“Right now that isn’t important. If you’re worried about saving face Vera, I think the time for that has passed. The only thing I want to see right now is the smile back in your eyes. When we make it back from SR3-88, I will transfer to a permanent location within Mizzen’s territory. You may want to quit the Confederation, but I haven’t given up hope yet.” He kissed the back of her knuckles. “We will be happy.”
Angseth smiled, the headache fading away slightly.
“That’s what I wanted to see.” Briar gently set her hand on the table. “When do we leave?”
“I received a two day extension on our stay to prepare for the mission. Captain Thomas will also accompany us.”
One of Briars ears shifted back. “Two battleships? Why would…Vera, something doesn’t add up.”
“It doesn’t rub me the right way either.” Angseth sighed, and finished corralling the glasses at the end of the table. A waitress was heading over with what looked like her tab. “I’m sorry you had to find me in such a state. The last thing my crew needs in a situation like this is for their Captain to start loosing her shit.” She noticed that Briar was still holding her hand. “That said I really don’t feel like returning to my suite this evening.”
“Will you be sleeping aboard the Mabus then?”
“I was thinking about it.”
“Would you mind any company?”
Angseth felt her smile widen. “I wouldn’t mind company at all.”
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter Text
Chapter 2:
The trip to SR3-88 would take just over three weeks from this point on the frontier, provided they didn’t get stalled for any length of time. Admiral Mirson had left Angseth in charge of the operations of all three vessels since she was the more senior officer of the group. Angseth wondered why Svenson wasn’t the one leading the charge since, as she saw it, this whole mess was his fault anyway. The budget had landed in her lap, and it didn’t take an in-depth look to see that they were horribly under-funded. Angseth’s work station had been flooded with files requesting repairs on all three ships, supply lists, and last-minute budget changes. It was enough for Angseth to leave her office several times gritting her teeth in frustration.
There were three ships to account for: Captain Thomas in the battleship Regal, Science Officer Svenson in the Science Vessel Socrates, and Angseth’s own battleship Mabus. Thankfully the Regal already had most of her budget worked out. It didn’t take long for Angseth to make sligh, more cost-effective changes to her supply list. Captain Thomas hovered over her shoulder the entire time, ceaselessly asking questions about why she made certain alterations. When he began talking about the simulations at the academy, it made it all the easier for Angseth to chalk it up to his lack of experience. After a while she learned to tune most of it out and only nodded her head at the right moments to indicate that she was still listening. The Socrates on the other hand was a bit of a conundrum. Even though the vessel was huge it had a relatively small crew. That made for small food and supply lists, but the alterations that were required for storing all of their equipment was a bit extreme. It was the first time that Angseth ever had to request the near-equivalent ratio of food to coolant for a vessel. She made a note to perhaps peruse the ship to see if there was anymore closet space she could cram a spectrum reader into. That was before she learned that the scientists aboard the ship would be sharing bunks. Even Svenson would be bunking with his first officer.
And the Mabus…the Mabus as always, was a challenge. Her first draft of a budget extension was denied. Mirson had always been up her ass about the protein demands of her crew. Once again, Angseth had to drag out the old charts and place the report before the Admiral to provide full reasoning behind her budget requests. Most of her crew were not human, and the few humans she had hailed from mostly heavier worlds. Different species had different dietary needs. Species classes B and D needed more protein, while heavy-worlders needed more calcium. Mirson fell just shy of offering her vouchers at refueling stations along the way. As she argued back and forth with him, she was given three-quarters of her budget extension, but not the full amount. Admiral Mizzen wouldn’t have argued with her, just given her what she needed, then again, Mizzen wasn’t a human.
Angseth sat in her temporary office going over the last few figures along with Serec and Briar. She had been at this for the past twelve hours and didn’t care if she never even looked at another number for the next ten years. After rubbing her head she groaned. “You know, for someone intent on having us escort this vessel, Mirson seems a little reluctant to give us the things we need.” She scanned through the supply list to see if there was anything else she could cut.
Serec spoke from his desk “I suppose the Admiral feels he should only spend so much on cannon fodder.”
Angseth smiled but called out. “Hey, it’s bad luck to joke around like that.”
Serec grinned, then went back to his network of holo screens. The light from the screens reflected in his glasses, also holo-capable. Angseth closed her eyes and reached for her glass of water. Serec was an average-looking human, one of the few non-heavies on her ship. He was in his late thirties, but looked like he was pushing fifty. He always preferred to wear his engineering jumpsuit even at inappropriate times. Angseth wondered briefly how long it had taken Briar to peel him out of it the other day and put on a formal suit for the wedding. The jumpsuit was covered in stains made from every kind of fluid that could be found covering the inner workings of a battle cruiser. She could always tell he was coming by the jingle of bolts he always kept in his pocket. Smells of ship-grade hydraulic fluid seemed to precede him when he entered a room. Angseth had first met Serec when she needed repairs to her fighter. She remembered walking up to the gentleman in the middle of the room assuming that he was the head engineering officer, but was surprised when Serec himself pulled his skinny body out of the engine compartment of another craft and walked over to her, before shaking her hand. Angseth could still recall the feel of the lubricant on his hand slapping her palm and the sensation of it oozing between her fingers. Serec had been almost thirty-two at the time, but still had that excited kids grin. Angseth knew at that moment that Serec would never be happier than he was while crawling around like some oily worm in the belly of a great engine.
She looked over her calendar for the next day to see if Admiral Mirson was planning an inspection of her craft before she left. She hated the inspections. Thankfully she seemed to be in the clear.
“Now that we have all the food and supplies taken care of, what do we have left for weaponry?” Angseth asked Serec.
“I always found it funny that it’s cheaper to buy a bullet than a loaf of bread.” Serec smiled then went over his list. “We still have a good compliment of ammo. We are shy a few rounds, but we used those to make mandatory calibration and target practice shots. I don’t even think we’ll need anymore blasting compound.”
“I’ve been receiving some requests from the Socrates to carry a few of their supplies. What bays to we have available?”
“Hmm…I think 15F through 19F should do nicely. The walls can be removed to create a larger space if need be.”
Angseth looked over their weapons cache. “Go ahead and order enough to fill in what we’re missing, and perhaps just a little extra. I've read a bulletin this morning that said there was some pirate activity in the area we will be traveling through. I don’t want to be caught unprepared.”
Serec made the proper adjustments, and then asked everyone if all orders had been placed. Angseth nodded, as did Briar. Serec then sent the order through, and waited for the confirming e-mail. A small beep went through the room, it was Angseths personal com. She picked it up and spoke.
“Angseth.” She stated.
“Captain.” It was Thomas. Angseth rolled her eyes, then settled back into her chair. “I was hoping to compare notes with you as the capacity of our ships holding capabilities. “
“Spit it out Thomas, what do you want me to carry?”
“Well, there is some mining equipment,”
Angseth looked at the com, not believing what she had just heard. “Mining equipment? What the hell do we need mining equipment for—oh never mind. Yes I can carry some of it.” She rubbed her forehead then blacked out the areas of the decks 15F and 16F on her holo screen, indicating that they were now reserved. “I’ve got you down for bays 15F and 16F.”
“Thank you Captain, is there anything I can do for you?”
Angseth went silent for a moment, then a grin spread across her face. “How much of your protein ration are you willing to give up?”
“I…I’ll see what I can do.”
The com link faded, and Angseth sighed. “That boy is going to get eaten alive.”
“Don’t underestimate him.” Briar smiled.
“I think you’ve got some dirt for us.” Angseth said, standing and closing the door. The door slid shut and she locked it, before slipping back into her seat, and resting her hands in her lap. ”Cough it up honey.”
Serec removed his glasses and turned his chair away from the holo screens, setting them all on stand-by.
“It took a bit of digging, but I have finally turned up the backgrounds of our fellow voyagers.” Briar turned in his chair until the three of them had their backs to their terminals, and faced each other. “Which would you prefer first my sweet?”
Angseth smirked, but Serec answered for her. “Thomas.” He called out.
“Thomas...also known as Captain Henry Thomas. A relative of Mirsons by the recent marriage we witnessed not too long ago. He is now Mirson’s nephew in law.”
“That explains quite a bit.” Angseth mused.
“But that is not the extent of his accomplishments. Henry Thomas entered into Syren Galactic Junior Cadet Training Academy at the tender age of seven, where he excelled past all of his other classmates at a record speed. Where it usually takes one roughly six years to complete all required courses, this boy did it in four.”
“I hate him already. Money and brains”
“He has been hailed as a prodigy in warfare and diplomacy, and the future looks very bright for him, provided he can keep his head on long enough. After graduating with honors, top of his class etc. from SGJCTA, at the age of twelve he was enrolled in three of the most highly recognized training schools the Confederation has to offer. Cervea Officer Academy, Galactic Confederation Training Academy, and New West Point. I had to look up COA myself.”
“How could he be in three of them at once?”
“Some of the extra courses he had taken at SGJCTA had credits that transferred over to the new schools, and if you remember, most of these schools depend on athletics and infantry training as part of their curriculum. Since he was so young, or so the paperwork says, the infantry training was waved, which left him with nothing to take but the officer courses, which of course can be taken in a short amount of time compared to the infantry training. Now since he did not take the infantry training he wasn’t able to get a full diploma at any of these schools, however they did award him with their own variations of a certificate of achievement, which as most of us know, is just as good.”
“But even with all that training, how could he make Captain so soon?”
“After schooling, he was placed as a Junior Officer aboard the Fleet Flagship, Infinity.” Briar took a sip of water. “And there he has remained for the past three years. Until he was called in by Admiral Mirson to attend the wedding of his daughter. Made sense, except that after the wedding, Mirson had handed over the Regal to Thomas, and given him a promotion. This would be the first ship that Thomas has piloted solo. But he has had the training.”
“That’s…stupid.”
“Perhaps, but did that budget look as if it came from a stupid kid?”
Angseth bit her bottom lip. Not very many seasoned officers could come up with a budget as balanced as that. “Okay, so he has book smarts, but that doesn’t mean that I have to baby-sit him.”
“Ready for our second companion?”
Angseth sighed. “Can’t get any worse.”
“Science Officer Theodore Svenson hails from Rovien. Rovien is not so much a planet as a huge station that had been abandoned over five hundred years ago. Roughly one hundred years ago, a group of scientists wanting to study without the constraints of Federation law decided to fix and settle in the derelict space station. Federation law, and even Confederation law has very strict rules when performing certain experiments on a planet's surface. However, a space station is private property, so the rules are relaxed. Over time, the original Rovites had renovated and restored the station back to working condition. However, since they lacked most of the man power, and it would prove too risky to apply for an immigration license, they fell to the only option they had left to them; Cloning. Almost everyone aboard Rovien is a clone of one of the original scientists. Over one hundred scientists had settled there when the station was claimed, but now Rovien boasts a population of over two million.”
“Even if they cloned each scientist a hundred times, wouldn’t that make the gene pool very thin?” Serec asked.
“Yes, it would, and it still wouldn’t be enough for two million people. That’s because even though Rovien technically has no immigration license, that doesn’t block it from taking in refugees.”
“So they use refugees to supplement their population?”
“Not just any refugees, you have to have be a scientist, and willing to perform acts of science that would push the limits of understanding. As far as I know, no theory is too far-fetched. The more progress you have made, the more they want you. Rumors have it that Rovites have even stooped to taking blood samples of scientific leaders and cloning them back on Rovien. However, Rovien’s lax laws have made it a home for those who perform procedures with moral ambiguity.”
“Great, a station full of mad scientists.”
“Theodore Svenson is a clone of one of the original founders of Rovien. He has about three hundred brothers, and all records show that he is a Variable.”
“What does that mean?”
“In everyone’s genetic code, you have a set system of features. Usually all these features follow the same path, but there is one random gene that allows for mutation. In cloning, you have a genetic code to follow, and nine times out of ten, you will get the same exact thing, but sometimes there is a fluke, and the tenth one comes out…different. That's the Variable. Most of the time the fluke doesn’t live, however it appears Theodore was handed an easy sentence. He became an albino, not a mutant, and from what I’ve been able to gather, he doesn’t follow the same thought pattern of his brothers.”
“An individual clone.”
“In essence. He is on medications, because he has been known to have…spells.”
“Spells, like when the Captain has spells?” Serec couldn't resist the jab.
Angseth tossed her pen at him. Serec laughed.
“I haven’t read much, but they seem to come into play when his hormone levels are off.”
“Great, a clone with PMS.”
Angseth turned toward Serec. “Would you please?”
Serec lifted his hand, mimicking a buttoning gesture over his lips.
Briar stifled a chuckle. “Medication had almost eliminated the occurrence of these spells, however, the fact that he still has them makes him ineligible for a higher rank than Science Officer.”
Angseth nodded. “No wonder he seems so nervous. A side effect of the medication?”
“Who knows, perhaps it’s just his nature.” Briar yawned. “Anyway. That’s all I could dig up on those two. Hope it helps.”
Angseth nodded. “Indeed it does.”
Angseth took one last look around the suite she had been staying in for the past week. Everything seemed to be in order. The bed was made, everything had been cleared off the dressers. She wanted to make sure that she had left no sock or odd bauble behind, leaving no reminder of her presence. Vera closed and locked the door, then picked up her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. The Mabus was waiting, and the Captain couldn’t wait to get back in command of her ship.
It took just a little over twenty minutes to catch an inter-station transport, walk to a connecting terminal and then ride a mag-lev car to the holding bay where the Mabus was docked. She could already see most of her crew lining up on the huge platform that served as the dock. Briar was already there, as was Serec, scanning a data pad and seeming to curse under his breath. Angseth stepped out of the shuttle and walked the one hundred or so yards along the dock toward her waiting crew.
The Mabus was held in one of the larger bays, numerous tubes and umbilicals that connected to smaller docks carried supplies and fuel. A few tethers acted as redundancies to keep the ship in place even though the force fields and docking clamps did most of the work. The gangplank had been extended and currently Briar was trying to get the security booth up and running. The booth consisted of a field that scanned for all manner of metals and objects. Two of Mirson’s guards were standing by, looking more bored than authoritative, they were present to assure that no contraband was brought on board which included exotic fruits, animals, weaponry, unauthorized electronic equipment, and any device that didn’t meet Confederation standards.
During Angseth’s command of the Mabus, the most amusing thing anyone had tried to smuggle aboard was a “sophisticated” android. The poor creature had been broken down into several components and divided between different crew members. It had been like trying to find the prize. They had first uncovered a hand, which had been confiscated, then noticed a trend as more and more body parts were recovered. In the end Angseth didn’t know if she should punish those involved for trying to sneak unauthorized technology on board, or for harboring a stow-away. There had been other unusual cases, most stemming from a wide variety of weapons, most of which Angseth wished that she could have kept herself.
Angseth and her Commanding Officers stood at the head of the column. They would be the first allowed on board, and given an hour to check the ship over. The crew would then be allowed to board, with the only exception being Briar. Briar stood at the side of the security field. He would be the last to board, only after everyone had been accounted for. Serec was constantly checking on the updates of the loading of supplies.
“Relax Serec.” Angseth said, noticing a bead of sweat moving down the side of his face.
“They’re running behind with our supplies. I’ve always found it funny that they load the guns before the food.” He looked up as Angseth picked up her duffel bag and smaller brief case. She stepped calmly through the booth as Briar saluted smartly. She smirked as she walked past him. Briar turned his head as he watched her walk up the gangplank. Tight muscles moved under her captain’s uniform, her gait broken only by the slight limp from her cybernetic leg. Briar felt that Angseth was a woman totally oblivious to her own looks and presence. “Get a good look Briar. You’ll be going a whole hour without seeing her.” Serec smirked
“Please put your bag in the scanner.”
Serec smiled and plopped his bags down on the table while the security officer ran a scanner over the bags. Briar always had subtle ways of being a pain in the ass when he wanted to. Both of them had been playing this game since they were dorm mates in the academy together.
“What do you know, I might have to do a more in depth search.” Briar nodded as he studied the scanner. “Seems you have a lot of mechanical components in here.”
“No shit Lieutenant. That’s why I’m the chief engineering officer. I carry components around with me.”
“Hmm…empty out the contents of your bags please.”
Serec snagged his bags then dumped out the contents. Briar scrutinized the machine parts, data slates loaded with repair manuals, the odd piece of clothing, and the ever present reek of hydrolic fluid that rendered his sense of smell useless. Serec watched as Briar went through the motions of examining every little cog and data file, separating them out into neat little piles before announcing, “Well, it seems I was mistaken. Go on and take your things Lieutenant.”
Serec shoved his items haphazardly back in the bag, and then walked through the field.
The security guards scanned his bags again for good measure, then Serec followed behind his Captain. Briar had just thrown down the first challenge. That was okay, Serec would see how long the fur-ball could last without proper air conditioning in his quarters. The other officers fell into line as Briar began scanning each of their bags. So far so good. Hopefully no one would try to sneak some kind of odd critter on this time.
Angseth slowly moved up the gangplank to her ship. She hated crossing the walkway. The gangplank was little more than a covered umbilical with grating on the floor to walk on. Angseth preferred the firm ground of either her ship or a station, and of course the blessed earth of whatever planet she had the fortune to walk upon. The umbilical often shook and rocked like a waterbed, even though the loose framework prevented too much movement. The subtle swaying and gyrations of the umbilical were often enough to knock the equalizers in her cybernetic leg off just slightly, making it harder for her to walk. Angseth always wrapped one hand firmly around the guard rail, and focused purely on the hexagonal door at the other end. The tube's subtle shaking began to intensify as more of her officers boarded. She quickened her pace and stumbled the last few feet. With a sigh of relief she stepped aboard the Mabus. Immediately she could feel the tenseness in her arms and head melt away. The phantom limb that had settled in her cybernetic leg faded. She was home.
The Mabus was a battle cruiser that was just over one hundred seventy years old. This particular class of ship had been getting phased out over the years, each one either used for target practice or stripped down and used to make other, newer ships. Angseth was determined to keep the Mabus in service. It had served her well, and perhaps if she was lucky enough, she could buy it outright and use it as a transport.
As far as warships went, the Mabus had an average comfort level. The little décor it had was pleasing to the eye, and functional. Most ships had the same flat gray on the interior, however the gray floors and walls on the Mabus had been replaced by off-white and indirect lighting. Most of that was due to Angseths insistence that crews on such long voyages often grew depressed and disoriented when faced with the same flat color for so long. Color psychology had worked, and thus far Angseth had one of the more active and ready crews in the Confederation. The floors had been covered in a rubber-like substance to prevent the hoofed members of her crew from slipping. Hexagonal-shaped halls opened and closed at regular intervals to keep air-flow and environmental systems optimal.
Angseth set her bag down inside the door and stretched. Her back popped once, and she lowered her arms. It was time to begin the time-honored ritual of the walk-through. She left her bags by the door, and would not pick them back up again until she was sure the ship was in working order. When she came back to retrieve her bags that would be Briars cue to start letting the rest of the crew on board. Angseth stood beside the door and greeted her officers as they came on board. Serec and Briar seemed to be caught up in something further down the gangplank. Did Serec actually bring something with him, or was Briar just being an ass? She turned as Sakari Bearn, her chief medical officer came aboard with her husband, Zaine Bearn, head commander of the on board infantry.
“Welcome aboard.” She shook their hands in greeting.
“Good to be back on board Captain. Been waiting for a week.” Zaine Bearn was a heavy-world human in his mid-thirties. He had dark coffee-colored skin, dark brown eyes, and hair that hung almost halfway down his back corded into thick dreadlocks. Angseth found her eye drawn to the intricate tattoo common of men in his House. It took up the majority of the left side of his face, starting at his temple and extending down the side of his face, under his eye and ending at his jaw. His wife, Sakari Bearn stood at his side, checking a data pad in her hands. She was smaller in frame than Angseth, but about the same height as the Captain. Sakari was soft-spoken and nurturing, however she could have razor-sharp tongue when the need arose. Angseth had watched this small woman reduce creatures from races twice her size down to dejected piles of flesh. Her skin was slightly lighter in tone than her husbands, yet Angseth pitied the poor soul that mistook her for a small frail human. Angseth had always held both Zaine and Sakari Bearn in very high respect.
Angseth greeted other officers for the next few minutes, and gave a few last-minute instructions before turning and heading toward the bridge.
Doors opened and closed behind her as Angseth walked through the halls and work spaces between the main loading docks and the bridge. She ran her hands along the different rivets and gaskets, along the top of door frames. So far it seemed to be in order. The dust was at a tolerable level, and the pressure-equalizers were doing well maintaining the atmosphere of the vessel. As another set of doors opened before her, Angseth felt the gravity in the ship begin to fluctuate. Good, Serec was cranking up the gravity, since there were many heavy-worlders on her craft; they required more gravity to maintain a healthy circulatory system. If Serec was already in position, then the next few moments would be filled with minor rolling black-outs as he ran a diagnostic on the ship. Angseth smiled as she stopped at the door to the bridge, and then punched in a key-code at the door. The door hissed open and Angseth stepped inside.
The bridge was one of the only rooms not equipped with gravity generators. The room was in the shape of a large sphere seventy five feet in diameter. Placed along the walls at regular intervals were small alcoves where monitoring stations for the ships navigation and energy levels were nestled. Taking the vast majority of one wall of the sphere was a large view-screen. Even though the bridge was set fairly deep into the ship, the large view-screen gave the impression that they were sitting just at the bow of the craft. Currently the main holo-screen and those in the monitoring stations were either dark or flashed a stand-by message. Hovering in the center of the sphere was her captain’s chair. The chair was a large bubble-shaped throne that was equipped with holographs of all the stations and terminals around her. The seat was padded in black leather, and had to be one of the most comfortable things Angseth had ever sat on.
Captain Angseth stepped through the doorway and felt her body and leg relax as the weight lifted from her joints. She braced herself and pushed off the floor, gliding through the air to her captain’s chair. Her hands found a few grips on the side and she used those to maneuver herself into the chair. She sat down, the leather warming to her body. The holo-screens around her began to flicker to life, each asking for her pass codes and confirmation numbers. Angseth ran her hands over the arm rests and then began to paging her officers.
“Serec, Please report.”
“The weapon systems have checked out, and all of the munitions have been stored safely. All I’m waiting for right now is the rest of the equipment they want us to carry.” Serec spoke with a bit of a muffle to his voice. Angseth had a clear holographic image of Serec with several holo-screens floating around him and a stylus pinched between his lips as he worked on something else.
“Thank you.” Angseth began to boot up the systems on the bridge. Around her screens began to flicker to life.
“We even appear to lost that warp murmur we had when we came in.”
“Good, let me know when the supplies have all been loaded.”
“The umbilicals are beginning to beak away now.”
Reports began to come in from the Bearns and the ships mess-hall chefs. Equipment was good, supplies had been put away properly, and everything was ready for the bulk of the crew. Angseth pushed away from her Captain’s throne and descended to the entry hatch. It only took her a moment to arrive at the main gangplank and pick her bags up. From this point she could see Briar already performing preliminary scans on some of their known repeat offenders for bringing contraband on board. They had already been singled out from the group and Mirsons security officers were going through their things. The officers seemed to be thankful to have something to do. Briar looked up in time to see his Captain remove her bags and then he began to let crew members aboard. Angseth stood and welcomed the first twenty or so, then made her way to her personal quarters to drop off her things.
Her own quarters were not very impressive. Angseth preferred the minimal art-deco look. She only had two rooms to herself, a bedroom and an office-like area. The bedroom had a large bed, neatly made and covered in bedding that she had found at another station. The design and texture appealed to her so she snagged them. Her office was combined work-space and entertainment. She kept most of the holo-screens herded to one side of the room. As Angseth stepped in she was greeted by a holographic image of Samus Aran hovering over her coffee table. “I thought I had turned all those off.” She reached out and deactivated the image. She also kept one of the few decent scans of a Metroid. She recalled with a smile a time when she had brought a guest into her quarters with the Metroid holograph still activated. The poor man almost wet himself. Angseth tossed her bags in on her bed, and then made her way to the Bridge again. Her obsession was nothing new to anyone of her crew, her reputation had been almost built upon her obsessions. Briar wasn’t as interested in Aran as she was, but the newer cadets could never get enough of her stories. Angseth didn’t mind telling of her adventures on Aether, as long as the audience showed that same amount of curiosity that she had shown so long ago. She didn’t like telling the stories at parties because then she was nothing more than a performing ape and she felt that she had to know a person to a certain level before she started sharing pieces of herself.
Upwards of fifteen people were bouncing off the walls and into their stations abroad the bridge. Angseth paused for a moment inside the door before pushing off the floor and floating to her chair as the cry of “Captain on the bridge!” echoed through the room. Angseth felt a smile come over her lips. The Mabus was safe, it was home, and everyone aboard felt like family. She settled into her throne again, calling out. “As you were.” The main screen had been fully warmed up providing a stunning view of the interior of the docking bay.
“Good morning ladies and gentlemen.” Angseth called out to the room. “It’s good to see everyone again. I hope all of you have had enough down-time to last for a good while.”
There was a approving titter. Could it be that everyone wanted off that station as much as their dear Captain? Or were they all just broke and needed a place to stay for the night?
Angseth called out. “Ensign Creet, could you please hail the Socrates and the Regal?”
“Aye Captain.”
Angseth ran over her check lists as holograms of both Captain Thomas and S.O. Svenson appeared at either side of her. She thought for a moment that they looked like the classic depictions of the shoulder angel and demons that were supposed to tempt humans and guide their choices, but shook that thought away. She couldn’t start thinking of them in that way.
“Captain Angseth?”
“I wanted to check our projected flight path against our joint navigation systems. We will travel in formation until we reach the edge of the Syren solar system. From there the path should be clear enough to slip into warp.”
“Why so far out Captain Angseth?” Svenson asked. Angseth was a little surprised that the scientist of the group would be the one to ask such a silly question.
“I don’t want to risk our three ships creating too much of a wake. Three masses as large as ours could create an eddy that will take a while to clear away.” She responded as smoothly as she could.
“I see.”
Angseth downloaded the navigation route from their ships and synchronized the data. Since they would all be taking the exact same route, they couldn’t wander off too far. Wakes were dangerous things. Every craft, no matter how large or small created a wake when they warped. There was not much matter out in space, but there was still matter. The molecules were spread further apart, but they were still there. One of the first things that Angseth had learned when she quit the Marines and joined the Space-Force was all about Wakes and Auras.
Every ship created a magnetic field around itself just by existing. This field was often used as a basis for all other technology. Within this field were many layers, and more layers could be generated provided one had enough power. The natural existing field was called the “Aura.” All other external components on a vessel were based within the Aura. By manipulating the Aura, one could create shields, send out external scans, vanish off radar and sonar screens, as well as base cloaking maneuvers. The Aura was also used as a stable area when engaging in warp. Angseth had seen it explained to her as a bubble that surrounded the ship, and when one warped, this bubble followed you. The Aura also had a bad habit of attracting other molecules to it; this was a problem for much larger ships. When one warped, you essentially left an absence of matter behind you. This was called the Wake. Anything in the immediate area was sucked into the wake. The larger the ship warping out, the more matter it drew. Any smaller craft could be caught in the wake and have their systems disrupted or get sucked off course. When two or more large ships warped at the same time, their crossing wakes could cause an Eddy. An eddy was a vortex of conflicting energy. Eddies happened in the wild all the time, but once again, smaller craft ran the risk of getting smashed to pieces in two conflicting currents. Confederation law stated that ample distance must be given between the warping ship and other vessels, crafts, planets, or stations. It was a rule that Angseth followed to the letter. She knew the dangers of Wakes and Auras on a ship. She had gotten caught in one and that had cost her leg.
“Docking clamps have fallen away Captain.”
“Good, now maneuver out and keep the heading steady.” Angseth watched the main screen as their projected path appeared before her. “Easy. As much satisfaction as it would bring me to clip the Regal, I can’t cause so much damage early in the mission.”
“Aye-Aye Captain.” Voices were reporting in from all around her.
“Clearance has been received to take path Beta5 to the edge.”
“Really want us out of here do they?” Angseth sat back in her chair as the exterior of the station left her view screens and was replaced with the infinity of space she had known since she was a child. “Keep ahead on current bearing; let’s see if we can get these two guys to follow us.”
“Aye Captain.”
Once the Mabus was free of the pull of the station, Angseth gave one look back. Another mission, another day, and another prayer to return safely.
Aether. The sound of those damned wasps. Wasps roughly the size of a person’s arm. The Hunter was blasting away at the cursed things. Every burst of energy from the barrel of the gun felt like a sledgehammer to the inside of Angseth’s skull. Angseth had been awakened by the sound of plasma fire, and the constant screaming of the wasps. She was vaguely aware of the sensation of movement. Her body had been slung over the Hunter’s shoulder. Angseth opened her eyes and saw the ground fall away below them. Aran was leaping over large rocks and crates with ease. As consciousness returned, Angseth tried to recall the events of the past few hours before she had passed out. She had gotten jumped by a gang of Ing-possessed splinters, and had lay there dieing when Aran came rolling into the base in her Morph-Ball form. The last thing that Angseth could remember was the business end of the power cannon mounted on Aran’s arm on level with her head. Aran had just dispatched all of Angseth’s Ing-possessed zombie comrades and Angseth had picked a bad time to move. The Hunter had snapped around and leveled that big green instrument of total destruction at her face. Angseth remembered how big that cannon looked, like she could just crawl inside the freakishly huge barrel and make a little home next to the plasma generator at the other end. She also vaguely remembered passing out. However whether the cannon or just sheer exhaustion caused her to lose consciousness was still lost to her.
Angseth took note of her current situation. Her body slung over the shoulder of her idol, bleeding and whimpering at every blast that dispatched their enemies. The only thing that Angseth could really make out at the moment was the color of the dirt the Hunters gold boots were kicking up. Everything seemed the same hue and color, with the vague exception of the sky. When Aran jumped, Angseth had the opportunity to study the simple tread on the bottom of Aran’s soles. The Hunter stopped jumping for a moment, giving Angseth an opportunity to study her surroundings without all of the bouncing and dust. It was a valley, surrounded by tall steep sharp mountains. She and her fellow Marines had set up a part of their base-camp here. Angseth could remember the layout quite well. Aran began moving again and stepped behind a stack of crates. Splinters were now pouring from every shady nook and cranny, coming after them. Aran slipped Angseth off her shoulder and placed her limp body between a crate and a convenient boulder. Angseth felt her head hit the crate and let out a small grunt. After all she had been through today, a little knock on the head did little to phase her. Aran stood and slipped from view. Angseth saw the last glint of gold as the Hunter’s feet went around the corner. Angseth still felt groggy. Her vision was blurry, but slowly correcting. She also had the mother of all headaches.
“I’m not…dead…almost wish I was through.” Angseth breathed. She looked over her body through the view-screen on her helmet. However neither the screen, nor the helmet were hers. This…this is Bakers helmet…and that belongs to…She, She repaired my suit. She took parts from the rest of the team and repaired my suit! For a moment the thought crossed her mind that the pieces of metal now guarding her legs and arms had formerly been on dead bodies, however the thought was easily pushed away. These were men and women she had worked with, knew better than her own family. They had laughed together, eaten together, sweated and played together. Men and women she had watched die, heard their last screams coming over the com-link as they called out to loved ones. Something else was clawing at her chest, guilt. Guilt that by some miracle she had survived and they…
“No…not now.” Angseth pushed the tears away. There would be time for crying later, right now she had to live. She could mourn some other time.
Aside from the headache, Angseth felt almost no pain. She could feel that her wounds had been wrapped and dressed under the armor, and the cobbled suit had been loaded with enough stimulants and painkillers to keep the discomfort at bay for some time.
The sounds of plasma fire faded. Angseth turned her head toward the corner she had seen Aran turn. After a moment Angseth could see a gold reflection on the rock as Aran came back around the corner. In her left hand she held two energy orbs, and a rifle was slung over her shoulder. She knelt before Angseth and dropped the rifle in her lap, as well as the two orbs. Angseth looked stupidly down at the rifle. It was standard issue, used Galactic standard rounds; just by glancing at it Angseth could tell that it was fully loaded. Samus Aran stood, walked to the corner, then lifted her left hand and waved it once, in the universal “goodbye” gesture.
For a moment Angseth pondered the gesture, but when Aran didn’t return after a few breaths, Angseth stood and peeked around the corner of the crate.
The Hunter was nowhere to be seen.
“Oh hell no.” Angseth limped out from behind the crates. Dead splinters littered the ground and War Wasps seemed to be out scouting around looking for more prey. The sound of plasma fire could be heard echoing through the chasm. “What kind of shit is this?” Angseth called toward the distant echo. “You doctor me up, drop a gun in my lap, and then leave me?” Angseth cocked the gun and heard a round click home into the chamber. Her ears began to ring as she gave herself a burst of stimulants. “I am not staying behind here and letting the same thing happen to me that happened to my comrades.”
At the mention of her fellow marines, the beast named “guilt” threatened to break free of its cage again. Angseth paused, looking around the valley. If she refused to feed it, the beast would go back into hiding until she could find time to deal with it. All around her were crates they had unloaded from the drop-shop. Each containing supplies and weapons.
She walked over to the nearest crate and studied it for a moment. She didn’t have the access codes for the weapons crates. Only the CO had those codes as he was the one responsible for keeping an inventory of their stock. Angseth wondered if she could somehow get the codes from him, but the idea of raiding the body of her dead CO for codes seemed…improper. She stood and examined the nearest crate, then stepped back and opened fire. It took five rounds before the metal cracked and caved, giving Angseth enough room to reach her hand in. She waited until the plasma fire faded, then removed a few clips. “Hold up bitch, I’m coming after you.”
Angseth grabbed all she could carry, and began running. “Dammit Aran! If the critters here don’t kill you I will!”
One week into the journey and Angseth’s throne was already covered in complaints and reports of ailments that had overcome the Mabus since leaving Admiral Mirson’s orbital station around Syren. So far there was nothing major, just small annoyances. The most annoying seemed to be the sudden environmental malfunction located only in Lieutenant Briars quarters that seemed to affect just the air conditioning. The murmur in the warp core had returned, and as usual Mirson had shorted them on protein. Even the weaponry and munitions seemed a little low on quality. Between answering pages from both Svenson and Thomas every few minutes, and the new flood of damage reports, Angseth had very little time to do the more important things, like running her ship. In a moment of desperation she summoned all of her officers to the conference room adjacent to the bridge, and left specific orders with her communications officer not to let anyone disturb her. She didn’t care if pirates were firing upon Svenson and Thomas and all of their shields had fallen, the meeting was not to be disturbed for any reason.
The Conference Room was the most deceptive room on her craft. It wasn’t so much a room as a closet. There was no table for everyone to sit around, and most of the chairs folded out from the walls. The only thing the plain room had in abundance were holo-screens. Each screen displayed reports for everyone present to view and peruse at their leisure. Angseth leaned against a wall and waited for her officers and crew to arrive. One by one they crept in and took their places silently until all were accounted for. Serec leaned against the far wall next to Medical Officer Sakari Bearn. Briar as usual was seated next to Angseth, tapping away at some portable holo-screen.
Probably about to hand me another report. Angseth thought bitterly. As her mess-hall chef Xon scampered into the room, she came off her spot on the wall and began to slowly pace the small room. She had always found it difficult to sit still in meetings. She knew that the frustration would come through in her voice, she just hoped that no one would take it seriously. I would like to think that my crew would know me by now.
“Welcome everyone; I thank all of you for making it to this unscheduled meeting.” Angseth began. She could read their faces around her, each one was suddenly under the metaphysical gun, and hoped to get out unscathed. “As most of you are aware by now we have had a flood of reports on the status of this craft pass through each of us. I would like to know exactly how bad off we are and if I need to ask another ship to take our place on this mission. I’ll need to review all of your inventory numbers, and try to get to the bottom of why I have so many of these reports piling up.” She reached the end of the room, and calmly pulled Serec’s glasses from his face. “Chat later Serec.” Serec smiled sheepishly and slipped the glasses into his pocket. “I would also like to know, that if the ship is not falling apart, why do I have all these reports telling me otherwise?” Angseth continued, walking back to the other end of the room toward her waiting seat. “Bearn, if you wouldn’t mind telling me about the medical bay?”
“Yes Captain. I believe that in the event that we see combat on this mission, then the recently acquired medical supplies won’t be of much use. We received a box containing antibiotics that had already reached their half-life.:
“But for the moment, nothing that we can’t handle?” Angseth asked.
“For the moment,”
Angseth nodded. “Xon, how goes the kitchen?”
Xon was of an alien race of aquatic creatures. He had no feet or arms, but instead shuffled and pulled himself along using any of the fifteen tentacles connected to his central body. Angseth had always been amused that one of her best chefs looked like he belonged in a pot instead of tending them. Xon spoke with the aid of a translator and vocal box. Even though programming had been improving in recent years, they still hadn’t eliminated the mechanical delivery the vocal box emitted. “With careful planning we can make the best of our food supplies.” His many tentacles flew over the holo-keys pulling up a few charts and schematics. “We have already accounted for all possible outcomes in the event that conditions do not improve.”
“I trust you on that.” Angseth was lost when it came to the kitchen. She always considered herself the type that could burn water. “Briar?”
“As far as the weapons are concerned, they may be low-grade but are still good to use. We also received more blasting compound than I had anticipated. All is well with the crew aside from the occasional scuffle on board.”
Angseth nodded. “So what all of you mean to tell me is, that while our supplies might not be as high-grade as we’re accustomed to, we’re not exactly in dire-straits yet.”
Nervous glances all around.
“I suggest, that while it may be a bit uncomfortable for a little while, this situation is by no means—“
“Captain?”
Angseth paused, then looked across the room at the com speaker on the ceiling. If either Thomas or Svenson was behind this… “I thought I had stated that this is a closed meeting.”
“I am very sorry to interrupt Captain, but we’re receiving an SOS from the SK-48 station.”
The room grew silent and still. The station was an essential refueling point on their way to SR3-88. She had been counting on stopping for minor repairs and to refresh her supplies. The biggest worry consuming everyone present was that SK-48 was a station. Stations didn’t emit an SOS unless there was a damn good reason for it. SK-48, also known as the Seattle, was a large outer-edge station that was equipped with it’s own military base and complement of marines and fighter wings. If the Seattle was calling for help, Angseth highly doubted that two battle ships and a science vessel could do much for them.
Angseth stood from her seat. “I’ll be on the bridge shortly. I take it Thomas and Svenson have already hailed us?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Keep them on hold for another five minutes.”
“Aye Captain.”
She looked around at her officers. “It looks like our priorities have changed, we will continue this meeting after the situation on the Seattle has been dealt with. Until then you are dismissed.”
Serec and Briar were the first two out the door, followed quickly by Zaine Bearn. They each had their own jobs to do, and not much time to get ready. Angseth was the last to leave the room, turning off the lights as she left. On her way to the bridge she went over protocol in her mind. This wasn’t the first SOS she had answered, and probably wouldn’t be the last. She was bound by numerous treaties to answer any distress call regardless of the nature of their mission. The Confederation was not kind to Captains who didn’t answer distress calls. Angseth had witnessed quite a few of her fellow captains lose their jobs and in one case, his freedom, due to failure to answer a distress beacon.
As she stepped onto the bridge, she could already see the holograms of Svenson and Thomas hovering next to her throne. Angseth pushed off the floor, then pulled herself into her seat. She took in a deep breath, then pressed the com button at the side of her chair.
“Captain Angseth,”
“Svenson, Thomas.” She leaned back in her seat, focusing on the main screen hovering before her.
“I take it you have received the same distress beacon as the two of us have.”
“Yes, I’ve already begun assembling a team to investigate.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Captain, I have already readied an away team to assess the situation.” Captain Thomas spoke.
Angseth did have to admit, the boy was quick on the uptake. “SK-48 is a heavily guarded station Captain Thomas. One away team will not be sufficient. I will have my own marines investigate. Captain Thomas, please hold your position and take a defensive post near the Socrates, if you are needed, I will call for you.”
“But Captain-“
“Svenson, please conduct a series of long-range scans to see if there are any other dangers in the area.”
“Yes Captain.”
Angseth tried to read the faces of Thomas and Svenson through the holo-gram avatars. Svenson looked disgruntled, but would obey. Thomas had settled into that now-familiar idiot's grin. The idiot's grin that Angseth had mistaken for youthful inexperience until this moment. At this moment she could finally see that grin for what it really was. Captain Thomas was damn good at hiding his thoughts. She doubted that any of her espers on board could read any further into that smile than she already had. The smile was just a smile, but his eyes gave him away for a moment. The boy knew something, his eyes and ready grin betrayed his cover. For that moment he looked much older than twenty, much older than even Angseth herself. She would have to keep a good eye on him. Pull him closer so she could observe him. With him on the Regal, and herself on the Mabus, that could prove difficult. Angseth could lure him in with stories, but no, that would put her on his turf, besides, her memories were not to be used as leverage.
For a moment Angseth racked her brain for a seemingly innocent way of getting him to crack. Then she had it. Thomas had never been in combat for one second of his life. She on the other hand had been forged and beaten on the battlefield.
The holograms faded. Angseth pressed the com button again. “Briar?”
“Yes Captain?”
“Ready a boarding team. Full armor. I’ll be joining you.”
“Captain?”
“Those are your orders Lieutenant.”
“Yes Captain.”
Chapter Text
Chapter 3:
SK-48, also known as the Seattle, was a large piece of floating metal perched in this lonely stretch of deep space. Initially the Seattle had been founded as a refueling point for craft bound for the Outer Reaches and the Iesrec mining rings. The station itself had outlasted the mining operation, however, unlike others of its kind it didn’t fall into ruin. Instead the Federation, and later the Confederation, worked to keep it as a valuable outpost in this sector. Angseth remembered when she had read in the news that the Seattle had officially gained Fort status. With all the Confederate money flowing into the outpost, it was only a matter of time before civilians began pouring in, creating satellite colonies around the main bulk of the station. Since the Seattle wasn’t in orbit around a star or planet, construction was very lenient and therefore resembled a multi-legged crab stretching out in all directions. Each new housing dome and work center acting as joints inter-connected with transport and stabilization tubes. Briar seemed to have described it best when he said that the Seattle resembled tree roots reaching out in search of resources.
It was unheard of that a station of this size and status would have fallen to anything short of an invasion from enemies beyond the Border Frontier. At any given time the Seattle boasted two flagships, one hundred Phoenix-Class Battleships, two hundred Neptune-Class Battleships, and well over two thousand fighters, and the assorted mess of smaller vessels that went with them. In short; the Seattle was home to a third of Mirson’s fleet. A third of his fleet and their families.
Angseth hoped the SOS was a glitch, perhaps some Ensign had leaned on the big red buttons that lined the back wall of the bridge of the Seattle. She didn’t want to think about the friends she had aboard the station. If something had invaded, then the Mabus, the Regal and the Socrates were not going to be enough to take it back.
The bridge of the Mabus was quiet as Angseth took to her chair, her power suit half-equipped. She only had time to don the torso plating, boots, grieves, and bracers. She was still shy her gauntlets, helmet, secondary and tertiary power supplies. Her crew had been conducting an in-depth scan of the area around the station, and it seemed that the first images were just beginning to come back. Scans of this nature could only show frozen images, albeit highly detailed ones. Each section of the image was assigned a grid number for easier reference when studying. The scans were not encouraging.
The Seattle looked deserted. Debris floated in massive clusters orbiting the station, entire domes had been shattered and gutted. Angseth scanned the images, there were pieces of fighter ships scattered in the wreckage, like odd bits of twigs and leaves washed up after a heavy storm. In one frame she could make out the hull of a craft, a Confederation vessel; the Beethoven. “By the Lady.” She whispered under her breath before calling out to her communications officer. “Open a hailing frequency.”
“No response. The Seattle’s main computer appears to have been locked.”
Angseth's brow furrowed. “Can you trace the SOS?”
“It is coming from the station, a redundancy of the main computer.”
Angseth began pulling up holograms of the Seattle’s statistics. “Raise shields, and ready the weapons. Please wait for my signal.” She packaged as much information as she could and sent a brief report to Admiral Mirson, requesting immediate back-up in the sector. That done, Angseth hesitated to bring up Thomas and Svenson. Almost as soon as his holo appeared Thomas spoke.
“Captain Angseth, do you have any contact?”
“Not as of yet. Thomas, please circle around to the starboard side of the Seattle. Svenson, have you received any new information from your long-range scans?”
“No other activity in the area, in fact it seems as there hasn’t been activity here for at least a week. The Seattle itself is heavily damaged. There seems to be an irregularity in the station's main reactors however, that we can’t sort out. The reactors themselves are causing fluctuations through the station that seem to be causing quite a bit of damage.”
Angseth nodded, and spoke to her own crew on the bridge. “Take the Mabus in slowly, keep the scans up. If anything so much as breathes I want to know about it.”
She began importing the scan files to the holograms around her captain’s throne, scrutinizing the images. Yes, there were a lot of Confederation vessel debris; however there were other mechanical pieces that didn’t seem to belong to either the Seattle or the Confederation ships. More scans were coming in than she could study herself. Angseth momentarily glanced at the main view screen when something caught her eye. “What is that?”
“Captain?”
“Enhance the points between 20,10,65 and 30,20,75.”
The main screen brought up the image of the left side of the station, an area where it seemed more wreckage had broken away and now floated freely in the void. She studied the image. There was something off about the debris, perhaps the way it was scattered, or what it might have been at one point. Angseth leaned forward in her chair.
“That’s a piece of a hull from a pirate frigate.” She said aloud. Now that she knew what she was looking for, all the bits of random debris made sense. She leaned back and began running over all the scans again. Here, there, along the outer perimeter of the station were pieces and bits of Pirate technology. In the light of the situation, there seemed to be little Confederation debris to match those of the pirates. The Seattle was intact, with minor damages considering the operation that took place here. “Is there a safe place to dock our drop-ships?”
“Deck C appears to be mostly intact. However atmospheric readings are erratic. It seems as if the station is also initiating gravity fluctuations.” Lieutenant Osa turned her eyes toward Angseth. “I am also receiving readings of possible survivors on deck A in the vicinity of the main computer terminal.”
Thomas was suddenly on Angseth’s com. “May I suggest that our two ships send in a boarding party to cover more ground in a station of this size?”
Angseth stared for a moment at his smiling hologram. This young-in was itching for some kind of action, and yee-doggie, wouldn’t this look nice on his permanent record? She pondered for a moment. As much as she could respect a fellow captain, she had an issue of trust with ones she had never worked with before. Right now she couldn’t trust Thomas or Svenson, but as annoying as Svenson was, he knew when to keep quiet. Thomas on the other hand was the first to interject with some kind of textbook battle scenario. The only thing that saved her from thoroughly chewing him out was the fact that most of his ideas were actually good ones. If he did send in a boarding party, she sure as hell didn’t want to leave him alone. No, this boy she would keep an eye on.
“Captain Thomas. I will send down a boarding party of fifty. I suggest that you do the same. Our troops have two objectives; first is to search A deck and see if there are any survivors. Our second objective is to go to the engine room and shut down the reactors. If we prevent those reactors from causing any more damage, then we can still salvage the station.”
“Excellent.”
“Oh, and Thomas,”
“Yes?”
“I will be joining my troops. I’m inviting you to come with me.”
“But a commanding officer is supposed to remain on their craft-“
Angseth didn’t need to say a word, the answer was already there in her eyes. For once that smile melted off Thomas’s face, It was time to give the child a hazing in trial by fire. He was book smart, yes, but he had never spent a day in his professional career with a gun on his arm outside of the shooting range. Angseth carried the respect of her crew because she was more than willing to put herself in the same situations that she asked of her marines. Thomas would have to learn a few things about being in deep space, far away from all civilization. It wasn’t the stripes or stars that one had on their sleeve that made a leader, it was their ability to actually lead that enabled great things to be done. She had seen quite a few crews mutiny even in Confederation ships because their Captain wasn’t an effective leader. Thankfully, a crew had never rebelled against her. If Thomas didn’t prove his worth to his troops, they wouldn’t let him have a second chance.
This far out in space. Rules were bent and woven into intricate baskets.
“Yes Captain Angseth. I will join you on Deck A.” he conceded.
“Who said anything about Deck A? We’re going to shut down those reactors.”
The paling of Thomas’s features before his hologram faded was enough to make her smile. Oh yes, eaten alive. In a way she was doing him a favor. There had been possible signs of life on Deck A. The life signatures did not discriminate between friend and foe. All they knew is that there were living things on Deck A, and she would be taking him where there were no living things. Hence, no danger to him.
Angseth slipped one of her gauntlets on and called out. “Captain Svenson?”
“Yes Captain Angseth?”
“Please ready a report and notify command of the fate of SK-48.”
Svenson’s hologram held steady for a moment before he said, “Yes Captain. And what should the Socrates do while the two of you are frolicking in the dilapidated heap?”
Angseth ignored that comment. Between Thomas’s inexperience and Svenson’s attitude, she had her hands full. Svenson’s image eventually faded. Humans were humans, and every living creature was entitled to their own opinion. Humans had this weird dance of morality and survival that held sway over all they did. Beings like Briar often commanded respect just from a few movements or a well-timed growl. Perhaps she should send Briar over to deal with the two of them more often.
“Captain?”
Angseth looked over the side of her chair down at Lieutenant Briar.
“The drop-ships are ready.”
“I’ll be there shortly.” Angseth slid her last gauntlet on and then reached for her helmet. “Lieutenant Bagra, you have the bridge.”
Briar left the bridge and Angseth followed. On the way down to the main loading bay, she ran a diagnostic on her power suit, booting up each system she felt would be necessary. When they reached the armory she stepped inside and grabbed her favorite rifle. Years ago the Confederation had switched to a more convenient power cannon model that most marine power suits came with standard. Angseth refused to lose the ability to use one hand for the sake of having a bigger boom-stick. Instead, she stuck with what she came to use well; a power rifle with rail-gun capabilities. This weapon had yet to lead her astray, it took galactic standard rounds, with slight modifications for different rounds. Each clip held roughly two hundred rounds, with a pulse weapon that used energy directly through her suit. She could choose to charge a pulse shot, or use the extra charge to enhance the range and power of a standard round. Her rifle had all the perks of a standard issue power cannon, yet it also had the flexibility of an external unit.
The loading bay was busy as usual; two drop-ships had been pulled aside and were taking in marines. As Angseth approached the group they saluted and stood at attention. Angseth let the men go about their work, and stepped aboard one of the drop ships, taking a seat in the cockpit behind the pilot. From there she synchronized radio frequencies and channels. Briar soon sat down beside her, power cannon resting in his lap.
“Captain?”
“Routine escort mission my ass.” Angseth spat.
Briar smiled and straightened his shoulders.
Within moments the troops had been loaded and they were off.
The moment the airlock hissed open, something felt wrong. The drop-ships had come in on the western half of the station, the side that seemed to be the most intact. They had been joined by Thomas’s troops in their own drop-ship. The two groups poured into the station, taking up defensive positions at the corridors, and behind any stable object they could find. Angseth was the last to enter the hall, head down and rifle at the ready. She too found an easily defended point with two other troops, Thomas following in her shadow.
They had come through the umbilical into what seemed at first to be a commerce area of the station. All around them shops opened up off a large mall, over four stories high. The lights inside most of them had been turned off, and gates had been shut to close off any potential prowlers. A lot of good that did when there was broken glass and scorched walls around. The place was completely deserted. No people picking through the remnants of their businesses, no guards posted in the halls, all around there was only destruction.
“Captain,”
“I hear it.”
The PA system was still pumping out songs to amuse those that were present; somehow a commercial for soap didn’t seem like ideal background music for this situation. The mall seemed fairly normal, save for all the plasma burns and scorched clothing littering the floor. Angseth looked over the rubble, and to her it seemed as if someone had detonated a bomb inside of a department store.
The troops carefully moved further up the mall, taking refuge behind benches and fountains. One of Commander Bearns sergeants came over the com. “Well, At least my favorite store was untouched. Care to go shopping later with me Captain?”
Angseth chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”
“This is not the time to discuss those things ladies.” Thomas said over the com. Angseth turned and studied him. She thought that she had heard it in his voice, but didn’t believe it until she saw it. Thomas was scared. Oh yes, he was scared, and that little outburst was his vain attempt to regain control of the situation. Here they were, crouched down beside a fountain in what remained of a great station, and the good Captain of the Regal was practically wetting his pants.
“All clear Captain.”
The marines stood from their places, and gathered to discuss details. Angseth looked around the group, one hundred strong. At least Thomas was standing up straight. The two Captains were easy to pick out of the group, each Captain wore a black power suit with slightly different modifications than the standard issue gray models of the other marines, and rank was denoted by twin white bars that circled the bicep of each arm. An Admiral would have three bands, with any number of stars depicting the forces under their command. Angseth wished she didn’t have those twin bands on her suit, as they made her an easy target. Just aim for the one that stood out. She opened up the comline and began to give orders. She performed a quick scan of the available marines and divided them into three groups. Alpha, Beta, and Delta.
“Commander Dean, you have Alpha team, please proceed to the Main Command of the Seattle and check for survivors. Download any information that you can on what happened here. Commander Bearn, you have Beta team. Your task is to go down to the main reactor and deactivate it. Myself and Captain Thomas will accompany you. Lieutenant Commander Briar, you have command of Delta, please secure this area as we will use it as a base of operations.”
“Permission to raid the food court Captain?”
“Provided that you can pay for it.” Angseth slung her rifle over her shoulder. “Lets get moving.”
The troops scattered, each going their own respective routes. Thomas once again opened a com line between himself and Angseth. “So many things that you are doing right now are so far beyond regulation that I must insist on an explanation!”
Angseth shook her head and then asked. “Thomas, have you ever been on an exercise outside a training mission?”
“No…I really haven’t.”
“Then you haven’t stood in the boots of any one of these fine men and women have you?”
“I can’t say that I have,”
“And they know that. They can tell just by looking at you. You can give the order to overtake a force, or tell them to keep put. Works fine in training sims, when all your troops are just numbers with more lines of code backing them, but these are not lines of code. These are real living creatures with very real thoughts and emotions.”
“I know that Captain.”
“Do you? Then show them that you too are a creature of real thoughts and emotions. Works a hell of a lot better than just handing out orders.” Angseth paused as Beta squad came across the blown-out hole of an elevator. “Damn. We’ll have to walk.”
“One thing has been bothering me Captain.”
“What’s that Sergeant Naka?”
“Where are all the bodies? I see plenty of destruction, but no bodies.”
Angseth paused and looked around. That was disturbing. There was no blood, spilled fluids or anything else to denote that a living creature had passed through here. “I do find that a little creepy myself.”
She took a defensive position by the door of the freight elevator as her troops forced it open. Thomas had gone silent again, like a child following in his mother’s shadow. After a moment the marines forced the door open, and they peeked into the shaft. There was no gravity in the elevator shaft, and it was dark. Angseth peeked around the corner down into the infinite black of the shaft, pieced only by a few points of light. “Ever use your booster pack Thomas?”
“Yes—“
“Good, I don’t have to teach you that.” Angseth pulled up the map of the station and began researching it. “We’ll need to head down to Deck F, third quadrant.”
Half of the men were already in the elevator shaft and heading down. Thomas stood at the edge peeking over. “But I-“
Angseth was getting tired of this, this man was a Captain. She had been nice until now. Angseth took a step forward and planted her cybernetic foot dead center of his back, shoving him into the shaft. Let him go report it to Mirson, let him complain all his wants. Angseth wasn’t going to lose any men on this mission, and certainly not this spoiled brat of a Captain. Angseth followed him, giving small pulse commands to her booster pack to carry her forward in the right direction. They held close to the walls, using random bits of piping or wiring to push themselves along. There was no need to use their booster packs more than was necessary. The packs were effective, but also noisy. They needed all the stealth a group of forty could muster.
“Please stay close to me Thomas.”
“I know how to operate in zero gravity.”
“Thomas, no offense, but you haven’t proved that you know much about operating anything except a com button.”
The silence on the other end was a good enough response.
Angseth continued to push herself down along the wall, sticking close to the marine ahead of her; Commander Bearn. “Captain?”
“Yes?”
“Scouts are telling me that we have some heavy damage ahead. The shaft is blown shut.”
“Well, we couldn’t expect smooth sailing all the way down to the engineering deck. Where are we now?”
“Scanners indicate that we are perpendicular to deck F-23.”
“And the engineering decks are on Q-7 through R-10.” Angseth finished. “Blast open the nearest door, we’ll see if we can find another elevator, or even a trash chute. Anything that will get us a straight shot on down to Q.” she commed Briar. “Lieutenant Briar, what does the F sector look like?”
“Major gravity fluctuations. You’re lucky most of your troops are used to higher gravity. I’m reading anything from zero to fifteen G’s”
“Security systems?”
“Mostly offline…or damaged.”
“Beautiful.” Angseth hung back while Sergeant Naka instructed others on the finer points of opening the nearest door. Thomas still floated nearby, clinging to the wall like an insect . Angseth had to give him credit for something, the boy was a fast learner. The door screeched open, and three marines clung to the right side of the door, using a crank to manually open it. These doors were beyond using a minor blast to jump start the opening mechanism. As the door clicked into place, two marines slipped through. An “all clear” signal was given, and the rest of the platoon slipped through the open door.
The first thing Angseth noticed after landing on the other side was the intense gravity. Her HUD told her that the current gravity registered a ten. She could see lights all around as most of her troops turned on their anti-gravity systems. One voice came over the general line, “Oh that’s more like it.”
“Is this how heavy it usually is on Rast?” Angseth asked.
“Yeah.”
Angseth nodded. Some of her troops came from super-dense worlds. That was good, at least one of her troops would be used to moving in the heavier patches. The entirety of decks F-1 through L-25 were residential. Angseth had been anticipating a massacre but what they found was more disturbing. There was absolutely nobody home. All the apartments and homes they peeked into were empty. Furniture still decorated most homes, but it seemed as if there had been a mass evacuation. If the Seattle had been evacuated, Angseth would have heard about it. People with good jobs and homes didn’t just suddenly pack up and move without good reason. They soon came to another elevator shaft, and began their journey down to Q decks. Thomas had been quiet. Angseth peeked over her shoulder on occasion to see if he was still there and hadn’t slipped down a corroded shaft or encountered some other danger. She had spoken a little harshly to him, but didn’t think it would hit him that badly. He had that look that most troops had when they had been fighting for too long. A sort of vacant auto-pilot expression, almost as if he was focusing on something else, anything else but what he was doing right now.
Beta team moved through more residential areas, recreation, some business districts, before finally arriving at the engineering wing on Q deck. They had to back-track a few times due to locked doors with no point of entry. The Engineering Wing was sealed up tight. Even if there had been a core meltdown, the engineers still wouldn’t have locked it up this tightly. They finally reached the last door they had as an option. This had to be the place most of the fighting happened, the main doors themselves were covered in scorches and blast marks that told of a massive battle. Angseth once again stood at the ready at the side of the door. Her troops moved in and pried it open. As expected, the mechanism had been burned out to the point that nothing short of brute force could move it. The metal of the door had been warped and mangled, they wouldn’t be able to open it very far. She watched as her troops pulled and pushed, using all manner of prying equipment before the door budged the necessary two feet for everyone to squeeze through. Angseth looked back up at Thomas again. He had been quiet, his eyes had a thoughtful expression she had never really seen in him before.
“Captain Thomas?”
“Yes?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes Captain Angseth.”
Angseth didn’t press any further, it was possible that her plan had backfired, but now at least she was a little more familiar with his moods and general lack of experience. Her squad moved into position beside the doors, before the first two marines slipped inside. This had always been one of the most dangerous ways to move into an unknown area, nothing would mow down a squad faster than running into a bottle neck one by one.
“Bingo.”
Angseth looked up to the entry point as that call went over the com. “What is it?” She asked.
“Bodies. Almost everywhere. Looks like it had been a full-scale Pirate invasion.”
She took in a deep breath as the last few members of her squad slipped inside. She nodded to Thomas and carefully moved her body through the crack. Thomas followed. The engineering levels were a war zone. The walls had been compromised or were completely missing altogether. The floor and ceiling had been ripped to shreds, blasted, burned, and melted. There were bodies here. At first glance Angseth could see no bodies of humans or other Confederation races. The troops spread out and began inspecting various passages and halls leading off the main lobby. Angseth hung behind with the main bulk of the force as reports came in of more dead Pirates. Once the level had been cleared of any threats, Angseth began to personally inspect the area.
As long as the Pirates stayed dead she could cope. There was a sizable Marine presence here, however not nearly enough to fend off an invasion of this magnitude. The moment the door to the main engineering terminals opened Angseth looked down at her first body.
This Pirate was leaning against the reception desk with a sizable hole blasted through its chest, splatter marks around the room however told her that this poor soul had been shot mid-air and fell to this point. The desk was covered in gore, the computer systems placed on standby. The more she looked at the Pirate the more something in the back of her mind told her that something was horribly wrong with this picture. This was the main office area, completely encased in glass. Every office could be seen from this one point. The Engineering chiefs office was up a short hall, a break room, small kitchen, and records room were on the right, with a receptionist desk taking up the center space. The glass had been shattered, leaving every room open and exposed. However this was the only body in here. Why would the Pirates have needed to come in here? And where were all the human remains? There weren’t even any papers on the desk and the computer had been shut down.
She turned her attention to the Pirate again, reaching out with her rifle and poked the body. She felt like a child taking a stick to dissect an interesting bug. The Pirates body moved slightly, rigor mortis had already set in.
That’s not right.
Angseth pulled her rifle back and knelt before the body. “Something picked this guy up and turned its torso a complete one hundred eighty degrees.” She said over the com line.
“How can you tell Captain?”
“Check your scanners.”
“What could have done that?”
“A pissed heavy-worlder perhaps.” Angseth stood. “More important to me is why would it have been done? It’s obvious the plasma-shot killed the Pirate, why put forth the extra effort to twist it so?”
“There are no other bodies in the office area. Everything looks to be completely untouched. The files, the offices, even the money in someone’s piggy bank.”
“We can ponder this later.” Angseth began to walk out of the office area. Thomas hung back by the door, looking in with a sober expression. “Bearn, where is the main control room?” She called out to the Commander.
“Up this hall and to the left. More bodies scattered up that way too.”
“Any human casualties?”
“So far they all seem to be Pirates.”
Angseth passed by Thomas and began walking up the hall again. More Pirate bodies littered the corridor. One stood out from the others however, prompting Angseth to pause by this one as well. From this distance either it was a very thin Pirate or it had been severely malnourished. It wasn’t very often that she had to access her different scans to determine the fate of an individual. The scanner hummed for a moment, then beeped. “It seems…that all moisture had been drained from it.” She knelt again and reached out pulling the faceplate free of the helmet. The Pirates skin flaked off and fell away, like dry leaves. The armor itself was just covering the withered frame of this poor Pirate.
“What could have caused that?”
Angseth almost jumped. She turned and saw Thomas peeking over her shoulder. The faceplate slipped from her hands, taking more of the dried skin with it. “It couldn’t have been incinerated. The only way I know how to describe it is mummification.” She stood up again, still looking down at the body. “What the hell happened here?”
“We should go. Pull our men out and continue on. There is no one left alive to save.”
“You have so much to learn Thomas.” Angseth shouldered her rifle again. She began walking toward the main control room. She would not let this get to her, as disturbing as it was. Dead Pirates were a good thing. However there was no way in a station of this size that one could have practically a fleet of dead pirates and not one other casualty. It didn’t make any sense. She opened up the main com and called out. “Beta Team. Have you made it to the bridge yet?”
The com clicked once and Commander Deans voice came through somewhat distorted. “Yes, it seems as if the last survivors of the station had barricaded themselves in here. The doors had been welded shut.”
“Had you found any life signs?”
“Yes. We tracked down the psychic signatures and found five people in cryo-statis. All of the life pods had been ejected from the bridge.”
“Have you accessed the main computer yet?”
“From what we can…frozen…” The static grew heavier, covering his voice.
“Repeat, Commander Dean?”
“…Signal…breaking…Com…ter…Delta.”
Angseth tapped the side of her helmet. She had filaments burn out on her in mid-conversation before. The Confederation could be so cheap with their equipment. Just before she had been talking with her own Beta team just fine. There was no good reason why she couldn’t make out Alpha team. She didn’t like this one bit, too many things here just didn’t feel right. The dead Pirates, the lack of Confederation citizens, living or deceased. Now something was preventing her communication with her troops. She had to shut down the main reactors before she left. Left unsupervised they could overload and blow up, turning the entire station into a field of little razor blades, rendering travel through this area impossible. She could just imagine Admiral Mirson getting some sadistic pleasure out of chewing her out for it. Angseth opened the com again and this time called Briar.
“Yes Captain?” his voice was a little clearer, but still that under lay of static.
“Have you kept in touch with Alpha?”
“Yes, they just reported your signal break up.”
“What’s going on?”
“Not really sure, but we have a theory it might have to do with your close proximity to the core reactors. One of them might have sprung a radiation leak and that’s what messing up the com channel. Nothing our power suits can’t handle however.”
“Have they found anything?”
“Five bodies in cryo, all the life pods gone, and the computer locked up tighter than a Vestal Virgin at Beltane.”
Angseth smirked then said over the com. “We’ll wrap things up as quickly as we can down here. I’m really not comfortable with the whole situation.”
“Take care.”
Angseth kept her com open on the main line, often called the “party line” because it often had three or more individual conversations occurring at once. Thomas was still hanging back by the office areas, looking between the two dead pirates; the twisted and the mummified. She walked further up the hall to the main doors of the engineering control room where four of her men were working at the lock to pry it open. She stood at the side again, back to the wall, gun at the ready. Thomas was just now walking over to join them.
More blast and burn marks scorched this end of the hall. Angseth felt a vibration under her back and watched as the men jumped out of the way. The door hissed open and they all stood ready. Thoughts moved through Angseth’s mind of a platoon of mummified Pirates lurching their way from the darkness. Stop that right now. You know your own imagination is your own worst enemy at times like this Vera. She smiled as she pushed the thought away, Then again, if they lurch toward you, they’ll make an easier target. Okay, so seeing that Pirate in the hall had gotten to her. Her mind was only willing to admit a slight influence.
After a moment Commander Bearn peeked into the hall, then gave an “all clear” signal. The troops fell into formation, then moved into the main engineering control room. At one point in time, this room might have been quite neat and efficient. They could see the computer grids lining the walls, full-holographic interface, tables, chairs, even a coffee machine in one corner. Now there was only chaos. The tables and chairs had been cast around the room, burned, blasted, incinerated, papers lay strewn amidst the debris, parts of the floor grating had been warped and torn, ripped open by some massive force. The holographic projector system, probably someone’s pride and joy, had been destroyed. The main projector had fallen from its anchoring point in the ceiling and had crashed onto and, partially through, the floor. Angseth kept her eyes on the floor, she hated uneven terrain. The floor itself was constructed from a system of grates that overlaid something that looked like a maze underneath. She studied it for a moment, then realized that it wasn’t a maze, but a graphic depiction of the power flow through the station.
“Captain, what the hell is that?”
Angseth tore her gaze from the floor and saw one of her troops gesturing with his power cannon. It took her a moment to fully register his question. At first she wondered what he was pointing toward. It looked like a wall, like any of the others, a large and off-color chunk of it...but then she saw the foot.
She paused as her mind began placing pieces together now that she had some kind of recognition point. She identified a clawed foot, connected to a leg, buttocks, and a wide expanse of back. Angseth had to take a step back just to get the whole thing into perspective. Some large, headless, armor-clad giant lay crumpled against the far wall. Blood had long since emptied from the wound, creating a black sticky mess across the floor.
“Captain, do you know what that is?”
Without realizing it, Angseth had pointed her rifle at the body. “Its an Omega Pirate. Hopefully dead like the others.”
“Its missing its head.”
“A cockroach can live without its head for two weeks. And only that long because it starves to death.” Angseth’s eyes began searching the room for any other surprises she might have missed. “Those things are very dangerous. Usually where you find one you will find more.”
“Have you ever had to fight one Captain?”
“Yes and pray you never have to.” Angseth began to call out orders. “Alright, lets get this over with as soon as possible! Bearn, have your men hack into the system and shut down those reactors, Naka, I want guards posted at every corner. Everyone keep on your toes or tentacles! All the Pirates we have encountered so far have been dead, let’s keep it that way!” Angseth looked over at Thomas as the troops began to fan out to different points of the room. She kept a constant bead on the Omega Pirate. It was still dead. Angseth still didn’t trust that corpse, she had seen these things locked up in stasis, they looked dead then too. The body was so big it was disturbing. When walking by it her men put some distance between it and themselves. Angseth walked to the center of the room where the holo-projector had fallen. Some, but not all of her fears settled, and more questions were raised when she saw that the Omega Pirates head had been neatly skewered under the projector. “It shouldn’t get back up without its head.” She whispered. Curiosity getting the better of her she reached out with her rifle and nudged the head.
Angseth felt as well as heard the floor underneath her groan.
I really should have stayed aboard the Mabus today.
The floor gave way. Angseth fell hard on her rear as the grating tilted at a thirty five degree angle, her right hand held tightly to her rifle while her left clawed for something that could pass as a grip. Her body began to slip down a newly opened crevice. “Oh shit,” Angseth said calmly when she realized that like it or not, she was going down.
“Captain?”
Bearn looked up from his post to see his ship's Captain slide down a newly opened hole. Others rushed in from the sides in an attempt to catch her before she could fall any further. Angseth slid down the slanted floor grating, the Pirates head and most of the holo-projector coming after her. Angseth watched the projector slide into place, blocking off all light from the point where she had fallen. The projector and skewered head rolled into view, and for a moment Angseth thought that she would have to fight off this odd attempt at a cyborg rolling after her. Thankfully the head and projector caught and locked into another notch. She however, was still sliding.
Angseth quickly rolled over so she could control her decent. All that she could see before her was a dark black pit. She felt the floor grating fall away underneath her weight, and she fell with it. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached for her suit controls. Her right hand still held her rifle in a death-grip. Her fingers finally found the proper button, depressed the switch, and waited. She couldn’t make out any floor, walls, or some other landmark that could reveal just where or what she was about to land on or near. For a moment she wondered if she had fallen through the exterior wall and had been accidentally spaced. Then she felt a jerk at her back and realized that the suits thrusters had finally kicked in. The light from the thrusters illuminated the floor for a moment and slowed her decent. Angseth could see that there at least was a floor. That was a comforting thought. She had somewhere to land.
Angseth hit the floor and landed in a crouch. She felt the weight of the impact jar through her legs and back. Her cybernetic leg caught most of her weight, the shocks coiling as she hit the ground. The area where her real leg met the artificial one felt as if it had been lit on fire. Something had either shaken loose or she had torn more muscle. The rifle was still in her hand, and thus far there was only silence. She felt the thrusters disengage, then slowly lifted her hand to adjust her visor settings. She switched over to night vision, then looked around the room.
This room was the same size as the one above, however it was used as a storage facility. Equipment lay scattered around, on shelves or under dust cloths. She kept her gun ready as she searched the room for any other signs of life.
“Captain! Are you alright?”
Angseth stood after a moment, her cybernetic leg whirring as it re-calibrated. “I’m fine. I’ve fallen to a lower deck.” She paused and pulled up a map of the station. “I’m in engineering storage locker R-10. There’s no light down here. The grid appears to be offline.”
“It might be a moment before we can send someone down there. The projector and pirates head are blocking the hole.”
Lieutenant Briars voice came over the com. “I’m sending a few of my men down there to assist Captain.”
Angseth searched the map again. “I don’t know if that will be necessary. My map indicates a freight elevator less than 100 yards from here. I’ll see if I can make it.”
“Alpha team reports….” Briars voice faded out.
Angseth tapped the side of her helmet again. “Lieutenant? Repeat, Briar?”
Static was her only response.
“Damn.” Angseth took another look around the room. “Bearn, do you copy?”
“Yes Captain. The signal is getting fuzzy.”
“Do you think that a radiation leak could have caused the break-up?”
“Perhaps. We’re getting odd temperature readings from within the main cores.”
“Get those damn things shut down as soon as possible. I’ll be up there shortly. Keep trying to get in touch with Delta and Alpha team. We have got to get moving.” Angseth kept the com line open, her ears searching for any sounds that could possibly lead to another communication black out. Boxes and crates were piled up around the room, some of the equipment was familiar to her, others not. All boxes, crates and equipment were stacked neatly around the room, complete with red “lock down” tags. So far there was nothing unusual here. The map indicated a hall outside the door. At the end of the hall would be the freight elevator. That elevator would provide her with access to the main engineering command room where the rest of Alpha team was.
She held her gun ready and began walking toward the door. She took two steps forward then dropped to her knee and pointed the rifle at the form next to the door. Something had suddenly registered on her scanner. The shape didn’t move. Angseth went into a more in depth spectrum scan to reveal more about the shape.
Another dead pirate.
Even though no signs of life were present, Angseth kept the rifle trained on the Pirate as she moved toward the door. This one had been shot as well, shot then twisted like the other in the reception office. “I don’t know what happened to you guys, and I don’t really care, just as long as whatever it is doesn’t get my crew as well.” She turned and studied the door. There was a small green light on at the side. This door was fully operational. “Praise the Lady.” She ducked back and to the side opposite the Pirate, then activated the door.
The hall outside was just as dark, with one small flickering light halfway up. That wasn’t the way she was heading however. Her fate lay in the darkness. Brilliant. Perhaps I should start writing these little gems down and make a fortune off of them. She kept close to the hexagonal-shaped wall and crept her way toward the double door at the other end. She hadn’t moved two steps when her foot touched something. Angseth paused for a moment, listening for any sounds other than herself and her troops. This whole mission was starting to get to her, and the last thing she needed was to randomly step on weird squishy objects in the middle of a deserted station.
Biting back fear and most of her breakfast, she slowly turned her gaze to the floor. A hand, a pirate hand lay under her foot. Just a hand, just a harmless hand. Just a harmless disembodied hand. You’ve seen those before. Hell, you’ve picked them up before and chased the squeamish around with them. Angseth still did not like stepping on them however. She scanned the rest of the floor, and then held her rifle even tighter. Lining the hall toward the elevator were roughly ten bodies of dead pirates. Angseth had to say roughly because the bodies were in various stages of dismemberment.
“I’m about to step on a lot of hands.” She muttered, then lifted her leg and began picking her way across the floor, occasionally using the toe of her boot to nudge a body-part out of the way. Angseth kept her eyes fixed dead-ahead of her, the elevator or elevator shaft would be there, and she could get back to her troops, back to her ship, and get a nice hot shower, and..
Beside her, to her right, there came a bright point of light. At first Angseth froze, not knowing what to make of it. Perhaps it was a sight on a laser rifle, or random bug? Slowly she turned her head to the side and began to study the light; it was small and orange, and for a moment the filters on her scanner flipped through a few screens until it settled on standard vision. Angseth could now make out a door. The door was one of the larger double iris types that usually held higher security rooms behind them. The iris’ themselves had not closed completely, leaving a small point of light in the center. Angseth turned and took a step toward the door, then leaned forward on tip-toe to look through it.
At first she could only make out a bright blaze of orange before her eyes and visual filters could adjust to the sudden light. Soon various features of the room became more present, allowing for greater detail to be observed. This was the main engine room. Large dynamos stood along the walls at regular intervals. They generated the electricity used to power the station, and stabilize its position in space. Hopefully her crew on the deck above was well on their way to shutting the engines down. From this point she could see five towers, their glowing coils encased in stasis fields or other hard transparent materials. She referenced her map and discovered that this room continued down for another five decks. This engine room was also one of five others. As she studied she could make out odd shapes slowly climbing their way up the sides and almost to the cores of the dynamos. Bearn had said something about odd temperature readings. Angseth flipped over to her thermal scan.
Ice…why would ice form on the sides of the dynamos? Those things usually run fairly hot.
Angseth stepped back from the door, and used the side of her right foot to carefully nudge the torso of a fallen space pirate out of her way. She began searching the sides of the door, looking for an access keypad.
“Captain Angseth?”
Angseth jumped and covered her heart. She lifted her hand and activated the com. “Yes? Speak.”
“This is Commander Dean from Alpha team. We’ve managed to access the ships computer and station statistics. It seems that most of the occupants had evacuated due to increasing pirate attacks. The computer registers the last life pod as leaving over three days ago. Two days ago the computer registered a ship landing in the main docking bay.”
“When did it leave?”
“No records exist. Reports from Beta team report success in systematic shutdown of all core reactors.”
“That’s good news.” Angseth listened for a moment. That underlying static was gone from her com reception. “Bearn.”
“Yes Captain.”
“I think I found the source of our temperature fluctuations. I can see the main engine room from where I stand. Some coolant must have leaked and has covered the base of the dynamos in ice.” She continued to scan and search for the door mechanism. “After you have the reactors shut down, start a systematic evacuation of all our troops. Report directly to Lieutenant Briar.”
“Yes Captain.”
“Thomas.”
A pause, then, “Angseth?”
“Get our men out of here safely. I have faith that you can do it.” Angseth hoped that her words didn’t convey her lack of confidence in her leadership abilities, but sometimes people just needed to hear a good word to get their shit together. Angseth sure hoped that Thomas was one of them.
“I have a team of men working on getting the hole you fell through unblocked.”
“What about the elevator?”
“It is blocked by the body of another Omega pirate.”
“Great.” Angseth finally found the door panel that would allow her access into the main engine room. “I’m heading into the engine room to asses the extent of the ice damage.”
“We’ll be down there as soon as we can.”
Angseth studied the panel for a moment. It flashed a repeating error screen, the kind the doors on her own ship flashed when someone had come by and either forcefully opened them or abused the equipment; a process that Serec had named “percussive maintenance.” Thankfully she knew how to fix it. She carefully pulled the panel away from the wall and hit the manual reset switch. It emitted a small beep, then ran through its reset codes. After a moment she hit the green-lit button, and the iris before her opened into the main engine room.
Angseth stepped through onto the grating of a cat walk. A monitoring station was off to her right, encased in a plasteel booth. The screens were all on standby, a few displaying power-down procedures and over-rides. Her boys had gotten through. She walked past the screens and stood on the catwalk over-looking the main bulk of the room.
The room itself had the shape of a large cylinder, the dynamos clinging to the walls, leaving the center open. If Angseth remembered her Engineering 101 correctly, the center of the room was supposed to contain a large cooling tower that would keep the dynamos at a safe temperature. The catwalk continued around the circumference of the room, broken in areas by stairs leading down to the next level where another monitoring station was placed, along with another catwalk. This pattern continued down for five floors, or at least it should have. She walked up to the edge and peeked over, leaning on the guardrail. She could see the pieces off the cooling tower, large chunks of ice and other frozen liquids on the base level. To her untrained eye it seemed to have exploded at some point, and spilled super-coolant throughout the room. The ice climbed along the sides of the dynamos, and reached almost up to the second level of the room. There was something down there with all the ice. Something large, silver, almost spider-like.
Then it moved.
Angseth felt her breath catch suddenly in her throat. She knew that shape. She had seen it all over “wanted” bulletins and in the pages of many a captains logbook. What she had mistaken for legs were actually wings. That form down there was a Dragon, a chrome-clad lizard with ripped and tattered wings. As she studied she could make out details, and what she couldn’t see her mind made up for her. She could see the crested head, long claws, serrated tail, and glowing red eyes. Yes, she had seen this form before, but always at a safe distance, always after the fact as its ferocious form raced across her holo-screen.
Angseth honestly felt that she would never encounter Ridley in her lifetime.
Holding her breath Angseth took her first careful step back from the railing. She leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down into a crouching posture as she reached for her com.
“This is Captain Angseth to all units. Repeat, Angseth to all units. I need immediate back-up in the main engine room located on deck R-10. I have spotted the leader of the Gamma Fleet Pirates known as Ridley. I repeat, requesting immediate back-up.” Angseth began to move toward the door, reaching for the panel but keeping one eye at the edge of the railing, expecting that head to rise up any moment now to see her. There were so many other places she would rather be than in the same room with one of the best-known killers in the universe.
Gamma Fleet had been rated as anything from a nuisance to terrorists. Most Pirate fleets would run around for a few years, then either get caught, or fade away once satisfied with their haul. Gamma fleet was one of the only groups to make a true living off of it. They were a race of lizard/insect-like creatures, and although their true level of intelligence was a matter of debate in most academic circles. They had no discernible home world, however they roamed the far reaches of space searching for greater and more powerful technology. The Confederation considered them to be parasites; like roaches they would infest a planet and strip it of all its resources. Once it had been drained dry, they would pack up to find another world to infect. One could argue that humans and other races had done the same, however one thing set the pirates apart from any other race in the Confederation. Gamma Fleet pirates had made no contributions to known technology or culture. Everything about their way of life had been borrowed from other races.
Ridley had been labeled as the leader of Gamma Fleet. Once the pirates had infected Zebes, a world formerly occupied by an ancient race known as the Chozo. Aran had been sent in to exterminate the pirates from this world, and exterminate she did. Angseth remembered that at that point in time a lot of money had been flying around the Federation, and rumor had it the Aran had turned down the largest bounty in history for the chance to do with Zebes as she pleased. Angseth didn’t have any concrete evidence, but Aran supposedly turned her back on a one followed by about fifteen zeros. Many rumors had circulated as to the relation Aran had with Ridley. Angseth didn’t listen to the rumors, the only thing she had been certain of was that Aran and Ridley were enemies, and would remain such until the end of time.
Now Angseth stood on a catwalk in a room that held said dangerous creature. The door for some god-dammed reason wasn’t letting up. The screen once again flashed the error message at her and the control panel was on the other side of the stupid door. If she could just hunker down long enough for help to arrive, all would be well. So far she hadn’t been detected. That was good. Ridley seemed to have his attention drawn elsewhere. That could potentially be bad. Angseth lay down on the catwalk, she couldn’t hide from him in this room, it was too open and too big. However, she wasn’t just going to sit and cower in fear next to a broken door either. Slowly she lowered herself down onto her stomach, and peeked over the rail of the catwalk. She would keep an eye on him; forewarned was forearmed.
One skeletal wing shifted, allowing Angseth to get a better look. His hands were busy with something, but from this distance it was hard to tell what. She flipped through her different visors again until she found her point and zoom function. With this visor she could count the stripes on a bee’s back at over one hundred yards. Angseth studied his hands for a moment, and felt her spirits drop.
There was a hostage.
Ridley had his large metal claws wrapped around a humanoid form, his tail arched over his shoulder ready to strike. The tip of his tail had been equipped with something that looked like a stinger and drill bit combined.
Where the frak was her back-up?
She was still too far out to make an identity the hostage, but if she pushed the visor to its limits…
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Angseth almost felt her rifle slip from her hands. Clutched in Ridleys talons was the limp body of Samus Aran, Bounty Hunter and sworn enemy of the Gamma Fleet Pirates. Everything about the station now fell into place. The lack of humans, the bodies of all the pirates lining the hall. Somehow Angseth had managed to stumble into the ass-end of one of Aran’s missions, but before whatever it was she was trying to save blew to smithereens. That woman down there had saved her life once, her very presence and actions provoked Angseth to fight harder, go further than she thought that she could go. Was it time to return the favor? Would she even live long enough to distract that dangerous mass of moving metal known as Ridley long enough for the Hunter to gain her feet and make an escape?
“Where the hell is my back-up?” Angseth breathed. Her heart was pounding. She had stared death in the face before, reached up and touched his cheek; however that had been long ago. Death was in her presence again, and if she didn’t act quickly, he would be taking Aran back with him.
“You know,” Angseth began to mutter to herself. She held her rifle up and reached for an expansion clip. “Life is funny.” She rammed the clip home. “You’d think that after forty-two years of life I would have seen and done everything.” She checked the relay points along her hand and the grip of the rifle to assure herself that any and all signals would go through with no obstructions. “You’d think I’d stop panicking when I’m in a room filled with insurmountable odds. I’d think I’d stop panicking when faced with them.” She checked the battery life on her power suit’s meter. Still at four full cells, and one emergency back-up. “I’ll have to enhance all those shots with power from my suit. Normal rounds won’t do frak against that tough hide.” She peeked over the edge at Ridley. “Ship-grade shielding in place as well. Four-hundred rounds in the rifle, and an extra six-hundred in my pack. If I fire in fifty round bursts, I might just buy enough to time to grab her and run.”
Angseth took a firm grip on her gun, and then began running down the catwalk. Head kept low and staying as close to the wall as possible. She activated as many stealth options as she could without draining her batteries life excessively. The staircase was in sight. If she could just make it then she could entrench herself in a good covered position to fire upon him. Angseth had been only ten steps away from the stairs when a roar sounded from below. The catwalk before her suddenly buckled and fell away. She felt the metal grate slip under her feet. Her body slid down the now slanted grate, and Angseth twisted herself around so she could face Ridley. As she fell, she unloaded the first fifty-round burst at that huge dragon-like head. She stopped firing, and reset in time to land on the catwalk the next level down, crouching. Once again her cybernetic leg absorbed most of the impact, and she felt it pull at her muscles.
Ridley lifted one of his huge skeletal wings and covered his head with it, the membrane acted as a transparent shield. Angseth trained her rifle on him again, and felt pinned by his scrutinizing gaze. His wing folded back, and those red eyes narrowed, studying her. Angseth cursed herself for landing on the only tier in the room at convenient “Chomp-height.”
“You must be the stupidest marine ever to have been employed in the service of the Seven Admirals.” Ridley shifted, pinning Aran under his claw.
“Where in the name of Bright Lady is my back-up.” Angseth breathed into her helmet.
Ridley’s mouth opened in what could only be interpreted as a grin. “I suppose one grease smear is as good as another.”
Angseth tucked her rifle in to her chest and rolled away from Ridley’s tail as it fell against the catwalk. Angseth felt her body slip and fall again, and she unloaded another round at Ridley. Her landing this time was not as graceful. She missed the next tier, and braced herself as she slammed into the ice.
“We’re almost there Captain, we only need to blow this door!”
“Hurry!” Angseth rolled with the landing, saving most of impact from her legs and favoring her shoulder instead. Damn it was cold down here. So cold that her thermal scans were giving her warnings. She rolled onto her back and fired upon Ridley again. He shifted and moved his wing to block most of her shots. “Frak!”
Ridley glared at her once again, only this time his mouth wasn’t opening in an amused grin, but seemed to mechanically become unhinged. Angseth watched as the plasma generator under his tongue began to charge. She froze, fascinated by that sheer power about to reduce her to nothing more than a charred mass. Move Angseth…stop looking death in the face. He will only flirt with you a few times…
A hand fell on her cybernetic leg. For a moment Angseth was even more stunned by this sudden jarring then the inevitable fires of hell soon to rain down on her. Aran had rested her hand on Angseth’s cybernetic leg. Her suit began to chime in her ear. Angseth had never heard this noise before, and it took her a moment to find the source. Her power cells were now halfway depleted. I didn’t use that much power to enhance the bursts.
Aran lifted her right arm, and fired at Ridley. A column of condensed energy erupted from her power cannon, slamming Ridley in the jaw and forcing his mouth closed. The plasma blast he had been about to unleash backfired and billows of black smoke and flame emerged from his clenched teeth. Angseth lay stunned for a moment. Ridley was now roaring and pulling away, shying away to regroup for another attack. Angseth turned and stared at Aran’s arm-cannon, wondering if the Hunter was going to follow that attack with another shot. Something seemed off about the cannon however. Something didn’t quite mesh with her memory.
Samus lifted her arm from Angseth’s artificial leg, and she stood.
“Hey, Aran,” Angseth finally found her voice.
Captain Angseths back-up finally broke through the door at the top of the room as Ridley began to gain his wits again. Angseth studied Aran’s back. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what. Samus still wore her Varia suit, the gold color and high-lights of it perhaps faded a bit. Her focus was soon stolen by a more persistent beeping in her ear. Her emergency energy tank was bordering on empty. I had…four full tanks…
Another roar of pain and anger from Ridley finally ripped Angseth from her thoughts. Samus reached down and Angseth felt that left hand rest on her leg once more. With no sign of even minor struggle, Aran lifted Angseth’s entire body from the floor. She placed the power cannon against Angseth’s chest, and before Angseth could react, her body was airborne. There was one last feeble blip in her ears as her armors back-up batteries were depleted and the HUD went dark.
The last thing that Angseth could feel was the unmistakable crunch of her own body slamming into five or so other marines. A distinct burn crept up her cybernetic leg, the pain pushing her into unconsciousness
Lieutenant Commander Nevada Briar had been monitoring the various gravity fluctuations within the station when Captain Angseth came over the com and had announced that the leader of the Gamma Fleet Pirates, Ridley, was present in the station. Then she had requested back-up. That was enough to send chills down his spine. Vera never called for back-up. She was a strong woman who prided herself in her ability to handle and do things her way. If she was calling for back-up, things had gotten bad.
Briar immediately pulled some of his forces to go and seek out their Captain. He prayed that they would take less time getting through the station than Alpha team had. He didn’t care how many elevator shafts he had to blow up to get there, he would not let anything happen to his mate, not while he was present to prevent it. By the time they arrived in the engineering main control room. Alpha team had just cleared the Omega Pirate's head from the rubble. Briar did not hesitate, but activated his boosters, then jumped down the hole, followed by Captain Thomas, Commander Bearn, and the rest of Alpha team. Nevada hit the ground as his com blipped.
“This is Beta team. We’re moving out. The bridge, the computer, and all records have been secured. Power core readings have stabilized.”
Briar hissed under his breath and was about to comment when Thomas came over the line, his voice smooth and calm. “Pull out but do not leave the immediate area. Alpha team will be there shortly.”
The members of Alpha team rushed forward and into the hall. Almost immediately shouts came over the com as the Marines stumbled over the bodies piled along the corridor. A few paused and began working at the door to the main engine room. Briar stood back and observed as they moved bodies and began to work on opening the door. “Lieutenant Briar to Captain Angseth. Do you copy? I repeat; Lieutenant Briar to Captain Angseth, do you copy?”
The sound of static did little to comfort him. Briar turned to the team at the doors, and once again Thomas seemed to speak for him. “Put your weight into it, get that door open.”
The double door began to slowly iris open. Briar lifted his power cannon and stepped on to the remains of the catwalk along with four other marines.
“Where did the Captain say she was?”
It was at that moment one of the coils in the room shattered, sending radiation and shrapnel flying up at the marines. A dark shape sailed up from the depths of the room, either blown by the destruction of the dynamo, or by some other unseen force. Nevada only had a moment to recognize the panel showing glowing twin bars before Captain Angseth’s body slammed into the group.
“Pull out!” Brair called over the com, while gaining his feet.“Pull out!” He grabbed Angseth’s body and began to carry it to the open door.
“What is that?” One of the Marines pointed into the orange light.
Nevada turned and felt his heart leap into his throat. It was a sight that he would never forget in his life. Rising through the flames was a skeletal chromed head. Perched on the head was a creature that seemed to be made of the fires of hell. Samus Aran, the Hunter, had braced herself on Ridley’s cranium and was blasting away with everything she had into the metal skull. The door shut and locked, leaving Alpha team in darkness, surrounded by the Hunters leavings.
Briar stood dumbfounded, staring at the door. It was Thomas’ voice that came over the com again.
“Keep those transports hot. We’re heading out.”
Chapter Text
Chapter 4:
This place was familiar. The smell of marsh, of wet moist dirt, the smell of animals, sounds of running water, small insects, large insects, flying animals, ones that swam in shallow pools of water, and those that walked on land. Angseth knew this place. This was Torvus Bog. Her body reacted with excitement that she hadn’t felt in years as she opened her eyes. Tall marshland trees rose up around her, their roots seemingly hovering in mid-air, sunlight filtered through their leaves. She had been here before. Angseth remembered passing through Torvus Bog twenty years ago in the cobbled together power suit that Aran had somehow made for her. The suit had separated her from the rich environment, back then she could only touch the strong trees through cold metal fingers.
Now Vera could feel moist dirt under her bare feet, she could take in deep breaths of the scented cool breeze as it ran over her skin and through her hair. For a moment she lay still, looking around and trying to remember how she had come here. Angseth was dressed in one of her most comfortable sets of casual clothes: a loose pair of dark-colored pants and a sleeveless shirt. She placed her hands on the ground and pushed herself upward, finally pulling herself to stand. She stood on one of the few patches of dry land looking at many trails as they broke off around her, inviting her to discover whatever mysteries they may hold, or perhaps to just run along them, jumping and leaping over any fallen trees and brooks that wound their way along the ground.
Instinct kicked in, she had made her decision without conscious thought, the way things always happened in dreams. If she thought too hard, the vision would end. Angseth chose to run, she began to propel her body in a weird sprint where everything consisted of speed and velocity, and the only thing that could slow her down was the limits of her imagination. Her body never became tired, yet every sense was hyper-alert and alive. The sensation of soft moist dirt on the bottom of her feet urged her to move faster, creatures jumped from her path, or gave chase. She jumped, leaping over the first fallen tree.
Aether’s wildlife and wetlands seemed to extend off to the horizons, tall trees with gnarled roots invited her to climb over and explore them as she passed their hidden nooks. She laughed, delighted with each new adventure as it unfolded. Angseth had been born and raised on an asteroid mining colony. Ever since she had first learned to walk, she had worn a suit of some kind; the rocks and dirt of the colony had been dry and devoid of any moisture or life. She remembered passing the time as a child in a small community garden in one of the higher domes of the colony. She hadn’t been allowed to touch the plants, or even lie down on the small patch of grass, yet a part of her small soul called to those bushes, wanted to hide in them, commune with them.
She had left the colony when she had been fifteen, tucked safely in a bunk aboard a Federation Recruiting Vessel, scared yet thankful she had made it off those rocks and hopefully on her way to a better life. Recruiting ships rarely came by, and often times were not welcome. There had always been trading vessels, and freight ships that came, those were welcome, because they brought the outside world to them, to the colony. Recruit ships were turned away or chased off because as the general population of a mining colony saw it, they came to take away the next generation of miners. She could remember the day she had seen the hull of the ship docked in the main bay of the station, and how it could not have come at a better time. In another year she would have been drafted for employment mining the asteroid field to earn just enough income to keep herself alive enough to go back to work again. She had wanted out, off, and didn’t care how or what she had to enlist or jump on to get away. Then this ship had docked, a Federation ship. Federation recruiting vessels only made it out this far in the minefields once every ten years. Most recruit ships came from other mines or various shipping agencies. Angseth remembered running back to their small three-room apartment and telling her parents about the new ship, and her intentions. Her mother had always been wary of the military, however her father had been sympathetic to his daughters desire to seek a better life for herself. With her parents blessing she ran to enlist; only to discover that she was three years shy of the minimum age requirement for a human. When told of this dilemma, her father helped to lie about her age, and the enlistment officers looked the other way as she signed the forms and took her bunk aboard the recruiting vessel. Mervera Diane Angseth never looked back.
Most of her military training took place in space aboard large fleet vessels or stations. Only the wealthy had enough money to go to schools planetside, and even though grants and financial aid had been available, Vera always felt that she wouldn’t qualify, or if she had, they might discover that she was far to young to be in the military. She instead studied everything she could get her hands on, talked to her fellow soldiers, learned new dialects and technologies.
It was in the mess halls and firing ranges that she had first heard about Samus Aran. Usually bounty hunters were considered scum, who only took missions or killed for money, but the stories of Aran were different, they spoke of an individual who actually possessed a code of honor. Angseth found it fascinating that one person could inflict and cause so much damage. Everyone she spoke to had said the same thing. “Aran doesn’t do it, it’s that suit he wears, Chozo technology.”
After hearing the same answer so many times, Angseth came to a realization about her fellow soldiers; they never took into account the skill of the person inside the suit. All the technology and heavy armor in the universe wasn’t going to boost your IQ or problem solving skills, if that had been the case, then any sack of meat could do the same. Ever since, Angseth adopted the mindset that one had to use the tools at their disposal to their utmost.
A flash of gold through the trees caught her eye, pulling her from this odd tangent down memory lane. Angseth knew who it was even before she could get a clear view.
Aran.
Angseth altered her course, jumping through a few thick bushes and ferns to pursue her, the Hunter now the Hunted, Angseth came within thirty feet of Aran, close enough to make out the armor, to see the different tones of gold and red metal. The marsh had given way to forest now, the trees opened to expose a large ditch or gully before them. Aran extended her left arm and shot a grapple beam. Angseth could hear the buzzing sound as the beam cut through the air and snagged an overhanging branch. Aran swung out over the gully and landed on the other side, running at full speed once more.
I can do anything you can, and I can do it without the aid of a power suit!
Angseth reached the edge of the ravine and bent her knees, building up all the strength she had in her legs to jump. Even though the pit extended far below her, Angseth didn’t take her eyes off the flash of gold running through the trees. She pushed against the earth, her legs extending out before her in momentary weightlessness. The opposite bank came up below her and her arms pin-wheeled in mid-air.
Vera hit the opposite side, landing in a crouch and rolling with the impact. She rolled to a stand and from that position she sprang forward, after the armor, after what it contained, after her dreams, after Samus.
The rumors had flown to all corners of the galaxy, becoming legend and lore in their own right. Samus was no longer a person, but an embodiment of the warrior Goddess, Athena or Artemis, mistress of the hunt, an unattainable mythical ideal. Now in this dream Angseth was attempting to outrun a Goddess, however with no golden apples to distract her, she only had skill and speed left. Angseth held her head up and began to lift her legs higher, gaining more ground and speed. That flash of gold still dashed ahead of her, leaping over rocks and fallen trees with ease, scaling walls and vines as if they were mere pebbles in her path. Angseth slowly closed the gap. Rocks, trees, ruins, animals be damned, there was only one quarry in her mind. She knew that she couldn’t out-think the mistress of the hunt; she would simply need to out-perform. Twenty feet away, now ten, now five, soon Angseth pulled even with the gold armor, fighting for every inch of ground gained. There was nothing in her vision now but wetlands. Still running, she could hear Aran’s footsteps beside her, the sound of armored feet hitting the soft dirt of the trail. Curiosity began to set in, had she actually outrun Diana? Was that even possible? The temptation was too much, Angseth could only see so much out of the corner of her eye, but if she turned her head fully she would loose the lead. Was she even supposed to compete with Aran? Could anything be seen of the woman’s eyes? Would they be fixed on her, or the trail ahead?
Angseth couldn’t resist, she turned and fixed her gaze on Samus, losing speed and breath, but soon a chill ran down her spine, her legs no longer moved for the sake of friendly competition, but out of fear. There was the armor, yes, every last segment and plate in place on the Varia suit. But there was something else now, something different. The armor was tinted, yet transparent. Like a gold glass bottle. Angseth could see Aran’s eyes quite clearly and could also make out the curve of Samus skull, and the outline of her jawbone through the transparent skin of the armor. The sun was low in the sky, and for a moment Samus stepped between Angseth and the sun. Cold shock came over Vera as the light traveled through the armor, leaving the full skeletal frame of Aran in silhouette.
The more Angseth stared, the more she could make-out. The armor had become transparent, glass-like, tinted red, gold, or green. Aran was visible through the armor, but not her flesh, only her skeleton, and in some areas, cartilage and internal organs. Vera tore her gaze away and began running at full speed again. Not to outrun the Goddess this time, but to escape this demon that was now hopefully far behind her.
Angseth felt a hand fall on her shoulder, and opened her mouth to scream. No sound came, only a pathetic whisper. Her energy left her in a rush, and suddenly her legs felt like water, cramped and achy. Another hand fell on her other shoulder, pulling her to a stop. Angseth felt her shoulders pulled and her body twisted so she was forced to look back at the monster.
Vera watched as Aran’s hands pulled energy from her, life-force left her body in wisps of blue smoke, and seemed to energize Samus. The gesture was exaggerated, as if Aran was demonstrating exactly how Vera would meet her demise. Samus’ armor began to grow brighter in color, and become more opaque as Angseth herself began to wither. Mervera Angseth was going to die like…like….
Like that Pirate in the hallway.
Angseth’s gaze snapped up and her eyes locked onto the pale blue orbs looking at her from behind the tinted green visor on Samus’ helmet.
“I get it.”
Nevada had been sitting in the drop ship with Angseth in his arms when her body suddenly jerked. The drop ship was about to land back aboard the Mabus, everyone had been withdrawn safely, no casualties and he had been contemplating getting a long shower when her body jumped. Briar tried to calm her, holding her arms in place until she grew still. She was probably frightened. Her power suit had been drained of all energy, as had her cybernetic leg. He had patched into his own suits power supply to keep her vitals up and running. She began to fidget again as they landed and the door of the drop ship opened. When the sounds of men moving out of the craft became louder, her body bucked again and she fell from his arms to the floor of the drop ship.
It was dark in here. Her HUD was still blank leaving her blind for the moment. Angseth felt her body fall and hit the floor then she quickly pulled herself up on hands and knees and ripped the helmet from her shoulders. Briar knelt beside her as she dry coughed and gained her breath back. She began to speak, her voice barely a whisper. “We need . . . to help her.”
Briar looked around to ensure that all the men had vacated. “We can’t go back in there Vera. The entire sector was locked up tight on our way out in order to contain the engine room melt-down.”
Angseth shook her head and focused on the treads on the floor to gain her vision back. Her helmet blipped at her side.
“Captain, we’re tracking another pirate frigate pulling out of the debris of the station. A hunter class ship registered to Samus Aran has taken off in pursuit.”
Angseth grabbed her helmet and pulled it over, staring dumbly at her com. Briar stood, gaining his feet. Angseth analyzed her memories of the battle with Ridley, just before she had blacked out. Aran had raised her arm cannon; something seemed wrong then, something.
“I could see her bones…I could see her bones through her Varia suit,” Angseth whispered. She leaned on Briar and stood, and then noticed that her leg was without power. “I need to…she needs my help Briar.”
“Vera please,” he supported her as she regained her balance.
Angseth pulled away after a moment and began limping out of the ship and toward the main fighter bay. “Launch a squad of fighters to pursue the frigate. I’ll lead,” She called into the comm. and paused to catch her breath again. The dream, that knowing look in Aran’s eyes. “Briar!” She called.
“Captain?”
“I leave you in charge of the Mabus. If I don’t return in 24 hours, continue the mission to SR3-88.”
“No Mervera,” he stepped out of the ship and walked over to her. “I have half a mind to swing you over my shoulder and carry you to the Med Bay.”
Angseth paused and leaned against a stack of crates for support. “I need to go Briar.”
“Need to go see Dr. Bearn? I agree,” Briar looked her over. Her face was pale, not the comfortable sienna he had become accustomed to.
Angseth felt his hand on her shoulder. “No Nevada,” she breathed. “There is so much at stake right now. So much doesn’t add up. Why is there a completely abandoned station out there and I had received no word of an evacuation?” she felt his hand take her chin and turn her head so she could face him. She looked up into his slit green eyes, her vision steadily focusing on the finer details of his fur.
Her dark brown eyes momentarily stunned Briar. He had planned to see if her eyes were focused and alert, however they were always so hard to face. Those eyes had always been filled with such fierce determination, intelligence and stubbornness, however despite all those traits, they were never hard. Angseth would never turn her back completely on someone else. That was her weakness. He let go of her chin as focus seemed to come back to them. Her head lowered and for a moment he could see just a flicker of purple in her eyes, like a rare gem with an odd luster.
“You don’t have to take on every dragon that comes your way Vera. We have our mission and Aran has hers. Stay,” he hoped it didn’t sound as if he was begging. She hated it when he begged.
“There is more at stake here than just this mission,” she rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. Briar should just have stayed quiet. Damn she hated it when he begged. “I have a gut feeling about it. I feel that our very way of life might be threatened if I don’t go. Please assume command Briar, I only need to ask her a few questions.”
Briar’s hand slid slowly from her shoulder. His gaze hardened as he spoke. “As you wish…Captain.”
“I will return Nevada.”
“I know you will. You will only die when you’re good and ready to,” he stepped in closer. “One of these days, I will be the one to protect you for a change.”
Angseth stood on tiptoe and gave him a light kiss on his furry cheek. Second thoughts were trying to work their way into her mind, but a decision already had been made. She would chase after Samus, once again seeing nothing but the ass-end of all her carnage and destruction. Briar stepped away from her and called out across the landing bay.
“Ready a squadron of fighters to pursue the Pirate Frigate. Captain Angseth will lead the charge.”
The fighter squadron commander saluted then began running for the separate fighter bays. Briar turned and watched his fiance limp away toward the hall. A smile moved over his lips despite the situation. No other woman in the known universe could hold his attention for half as long as she. Angseth would do as she pleased, she always had. As the old saying went, one could only lead, follow, or get out of her way.
Angseth could feel Briars gaze at her back as she rounded the corner and headed for a refueling locker. He was smiling. She knew he was smiling without looking at him. Just as she often had that defiant righteous smirk that would creep over her face at the most inappropriate times, Briar would smile that all-knowing all-seeing kitty grin. She stopped outside a support locker and pulled two more power cells from within. The cybernetic leg was a hindrance more than anything at the moment, but she could tolerate until she arrived at her fighter and had a chance to recharge it. However the power armor needed a bit more juice to be effective. Damn thing was heavy and difficult to move in when the power drained. Angseth pulled the three dead power cells from her armor and stared at them for a moment.
She threw me. Angseth ran her finger over the serial numbers etched into the plasteel face of the cell. Samus grabbed me, and threw me four stories up and through the door. She felt a tickle on her lips, a giggle slipped from her throat, and Angseth raised a hand to stifle it. Her mouth broadened into a smile, and she leaned against the locker, feeling the rubber-like fingertips of the power armor bite into her cheeks as she tried to stop the flow of giggles. Aran drained my batteries dry, and then threw me back from whence I came.
Angseth closed her eyes and took deep breaths until the giggle fit passed.
Who had more fun in this job Aran? You or me?
A century ago the Thor Fleet Class had been considered to be the pinnacle of warfare technology. Each of the Hammer-pattern vessels were equipped with enough space to provide for five full companies or one mid-sized regiment of marine troops and equipment, advanced medical bays, SPS navigation, and two fighter bays located on either side of the craft. Each bay held its own complement of fighters. Over time the Hammer-pattern of the Thor Fleet Class vessels had been phased out due to improvements in technology, or just simple negligence. The Mabus was one of fifty Hammer-pattern Thor Fleet Class vessels to still play an active role in Fleet exercises and missions. Through careful work the Mabus had been kept in working order, and upgraded at every opportunity.
The Mabus had been equipped with twin bays, each held three squadrons of fighter ships. Each squad boasted ten ships at their disposal. The bays were tucked into either side of the Mabus, with sliding bay doors that could be closed when the fighters were not in use, or while the ship was traveling in warp. The fighters were held inside the Mabus by a series of docking clamps that held the smaller ships in like jigsaw pieces to conserve space. The only exception had been Angseth’s own personal fighter, which was housed in an area apart from the other fighters.
Like all her other equipment, this ship had the twin captain bars painted on it as well. This made her an easy target to pick out in any confrontation. As always, protocol didn’t need to make one lick of sense. Angseth’s fighter was larger than the others, partly because it was an older model, partly because of all the enhancements she had paid to install. This was the craft that had taken her leg, and since the damn this had already tasted her blood, she wasn’t about to let it go. There were many superstitions about warriors who had thrown away weapons that had harmed them, only to find themselves on the business end of it later. Angseth didn’t place much stock in those stories, however she wasn’t brave enough to test the theory either. The fighter still had all the standard equipment with the slight modifications. The engines were huge and warp-capable, and the expanded missile bays underneath gave it the appearance of a pregnant bat. The fighter wasn’t so much built for speed as for defense.
Angseth pulled herself into the docking bay and climbed over the wing of her fighter. It rocked slightly with her movement as she knelt to activate the controls for the canopy of her cockpit. A seam spread by her feet, bisecting a few “warning” tags that had been placed near the intake valves for the engine. There was the sound of a hydraulic hiss, and the canopy opened, revealing her seat and steering bar inside. Angseth leaned in to activate the holoscreens and check the diagnostics. She slipped inside and straddled her seat. The seat wasn’t like most fighters, where there was a chair surrounded by numerous screens, instead the seat reminded her of the one on a hover-bike. She swung her legs over either side, and she would grip the steering bar that had been covered in little diodes and gages. Her feet locked onto the pegs, clicking into place. An orange light came on near her right grip on the steering bar indicating that her cybernetic leg and suit were now charging. As the holoscreens came alive, they began to display the names and rank of those who would be joining her in red. Angseth settled into her seat and almost immediately her com lit up. She rolled her eyes as she answered the hail.
“Speak,” she said flatly.
“Captain Angseth, is there really a need to pursue the pirate frigate? Aran has already taken up pursuit.”
Angseth took several deep breaths before she opened the com-line again. “Captain Thomas,” she began while strapping herself in. “Indeed Aran has taken up the chase, however I feel that it is both rude and cowardly to have not one, but three Confederation ships present and not one of them offer to help in the least. Aran is also the only one who knows what truly happened on the Seattle. I intend to question her when I get the chance. Continue on your present course to SR3-88. I will join you shortly,” to her right the name of the pilots began to turn blue as each one signed in and received their orders.
“Captain,”
“Not another word out of you Thomas. I have my orders just as you have yours. My orders state that no research mission shall take priority over the safety of Confederation citizens, and I want to know what has happened to all the citizens onboard the Seattle. Angseth out,” she closed the com-line, and watched the gages as her engines began to warm. When the last name moved from red to blue, she opened the com and announced to her squad. “This is Captain Angseth speaking. Your orders are as follows: Pursue the Pirate Frigate and shoot to kill. Provide cover fire for the bounty hunter Samus Aran. Do not pursue the frigate into warp. Any questions?”
Affirmative beeps and howls came through the com-line. Angseth nodded then slipped her fingers into the grips on her steering bar. “Alright, launch!”
Her ship jarred as the locking clamps released. The holoscreens flickered to life around her providing an unobstructed 360-degree view of her surroundings. Angseth watched as the Mabus faded from view and the holoscreens highlighted the fighters on the squad accompanying her. The pirate frigate was still in sight, highlighted in red, and the small gold fleck of Aran’s bounty class ship still remained in sight. Once Angseth’s fighter was cleared from the Mabus, she gunned the engines, and began cruising toward the frigate. Her squad followed, falling into formation around her. As expected, the frigate began to open fire amidst its own fighter craft.
Angseth targeted several of the pirate fighter craft then shouted over the com line “Fire at will!” her ship accelerated into the fray, locking several missiles onto pirate craft. Angseth embraced that old feeling of excitement as it overcame her. It had been far too long since she had been involved in a firefight of this magnitude, and come hell or high water she wasn’t going to let that frigate get away with out one huge repair bill. Her hands rested on the grips, her fingers squeezing the triggers back letting loose with burst after burst of plasma shells designed to melt away the hull of a ship on contact. She smiled as one of the pirate fighter craft began to smoke and then shattered into pieces with only the minimal amount of familiar red and orange flames. Once the oxygen from the tanks had been used, there was no way for fire to continue burning.
“I’ve still got it,” Angseth breathed into the com. She fell into formation with her squad and began to weave her way through the line of fire creeping closer to Aran’s craft.
“Captain, it doesn’t seem as if the pirates are giving it their all today, think they may be tired from the battle on the station?”
“Could be, but keep pushing them, I want to see that frigate in pieces!” she called over the com, and winced as a ship at her side began to smoke. The fighters had orders to head back to the Mabus in the event that they became damaged; she prayed that one could make it.
“Captain?” Briar this time.
“Yes?”
“The frigate is emitting preliminary radiation, looks like it’s heading for warp.”
“This close? Everyone pull back!” Angseth pushed her ship faster as her own squad began to drop off to head back to the Mabus. Angseth locked that little fleck of gold into her sights and charged ahead with everything she had. She opened up the com and hailed Samus Aran’s ship. “Bounty Hunter Samus Aran! This is Captain Angseth of the Confederation Battle Cruiser Mabus, please avert your course and report to the Mabus for questioning.”
Angseth watched on the radar as her own fleet pulled away. Now that she looked, there wasn’t much pirate activity either. The frigate was emitting large amounts of radiation. Wherever it was heading, it was planning on getting there fast.
Aran didn’t answer her hail, nor showed any sign of slowing down.
Angseth opened the com once more. “Bounty Hunter Samus Aran! This is Captain Angseth of the Battle Cruiser Mabus! Avert your course and report to the Mabus immediately!”
“Captain, please correct your heading, you’re aiming right for the epicenter of the wake!”
“Shit,” Angseth glanced at her scanners again, her ship was right in the wake of the frigate, and she was about to pursue Samus straight to her doom. The frigate for the time seemed to ignore that they were even there, only firing the occasional shot in an attempt to ward them off.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Try to see things a little more clearly. Why is Aran still this close? Why is she still pursuing them even through she doesn’t even have her shields up?
The shockwaves that would emit from a ship that size passing into warp could easily tear apart small vessels like this one, and Aran’s for that matter. Either Aran had a ship strong enough to survive getting caught in a wake of that magnitude, or she knew something that Angseth didn’t. Come to think of it, Samus hadn’t done much fighting.
“What are you up to?” Angseth whispered under her breath.
Aran began heading closer to the frigate. Shields down, and close, so dangerously close. Angseth watched in silence as the small gold fleck suddenly blipped off the radar.
“Where did she go?” Angseth called out. She enhanced the range on her scanners and began searching. Nothing short of a contained space fold could make a ship disappear that quickly, and…
There. No Aran hadn’t folded.
“She tucked into the Aura,” Angseth breathed. By dropping her shields she was able to minimize her own ships Aura and slip inside the Aura of the pirate frigate.
Angseth narrowed her eyes at the small gold fleck, a bright day-glow paint chip in the eternal night. There was a place on the frigate, simple enough. Angseth opened the com line. “Lieutenant Briar.”
“Captain?”
“I’m going to be a little late. Please carry on without me.”
“Ang…” Silence, then. "Aye, Captain.”
Angseth studied the frigate, and then looked down at her own gauges readings. This would be a challenge. Excitement began to creep into her veins, starting as a slow trickle until it became an overwhelming flood. Decent challenges for fighter pilots came along rarely. Challenges for this forty-three year old Captain hadn't presented itself in quite some time. Consequences be damned. This was her last mission, and it wouldn't be the first time she had taken a tangent. Come to think of it, the last few tangents she had taken had given her a few medals.
The excitement bubbled down her arms, through her legs and into the fighter until it felt like a part of her body. She began flipping switches and shutting down holoscreens.
"Captain,” Briars voice came over the com. "Why are you dropping your shields?"
"I know what I'm doing Nevada. Just stay your course," Angseth leaned forward, gripping the steering bar tightly as one of the alarms went off in her cockpit, vainly telling her of the inevitable danger just outside. She stood up on the foot pegs and opened the thrusters fully. The fighter shot forward, alarms went off around her, warning of the close proximity to the pirate frigate and the vast amounts of radiation it was exuding. Angseth held fast as she grew closer. Her ship rocked with resistance from the frigate and the odd magnetic field it repelled.
I'm still not getting close enough; my Aura is still too strong. I need to find a way to drop my Aura completely so I can get closer!
Angseth scanned the control panel before her, was there anything else she could turn off? Primary shields were down, but she also had secondary and tertiary shields, targeting systems, navigation, SPS, there were a lot of things running at the moment. So may things that required a stable Aura to operate in. Vera reached forward and began to systematically shut down all shield layers, and targeting systems. The turbulence had let up a little, but there was still too much resistance.
"I guess I need to go blind then," She snapped her helmet into place, and shut down her navigation systems, sub-programs, and SPS. The only things running at the moment were life-support systems and visual feed of the outside world. Angseth watched her holo-projectors, keeping herself on course until she pulled even with Aran's ship. The inside of her fighter was getting hotter, her instruments beginning to fade away, even the holoscreens began to flicker. For a moment she wondered if she somehow had managed to turn her fighter into a large microwave oven. She heard a small beep in her HUD indicating that the power suit and her cybernetic leg were no longer receiving power from the fighter. Aran had slipped in so easily. Why had Vera thought that she could do the same in what seemed to be a much more primitive craft? The suits now charged back-up batteries kicked in, allowing Angseth to patch visual feed through to her HUD. By doing that she was able to minimize her Aura that much more.
I can do anything you can. I can do anything you can.
Angseth sharply turned the steering bar, executing a barrel roll and positioning her ship upside down. The resistance suddenly stopped, and Angseth slammed the toggle to activate her docking magnets. The fighter shook as the landing clamps locked onto the underbelly of the frigate, slightly to the right and in front of Aran's own fighter. Inertia took over as the frigate jumped into warp, only then did Angseth let of the steering bar and let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.
Angseth leaned forward and rested her head on the steering bar, gauge plates clicked against the glass of her helmet. She worked to stifle giggles, then smiled and looked over at her companion. The giggles subsided. Vera hated the giggle fits. They always came at the most inappropriate moments, and often caused her to be reprimanded. If her memory served her right, she might even have been giggling on Aether as those damn splinters chewed their way through her armor.
Stop it, now you're just getting creepy. You giggle for the same reason those boys at the wedding giggled. Because you made it, and damn ain't living fun?
Angseth sat up, then turned and looked over at Aran's craft. It was just as she remembered, the ship was as androgynous as it's pilot. It was impossible to tell what was happening behind those green-tinted windows. The thought that her own vessel was currently locked onto a pirate frigate next to that of Bounty Hunter Aran's made the situation all the more surreal.
You really are going crazy aren't you Vera? Angseth leaned on her steering bar. Is this what would one would call a mid-life crisis? How old are you now Aran? It's been twenty years since Aether, believe me, I've counted them. I'm in my early forties, and you...you've always been timeless, ageless. I've never seen your face but I have kept track of your exploits...and I must admit that I have been jealous. All those years I've spent in the Federation, and now the Confederation, I've worked and clawed my way through the ranks just so I could be more like you.
Angseth leaned back in her seat, then removed her helmet and rubbed at her eyes. She had just foolishly and blindly followed Aran into warp on the underbelly of a pirate frigate with no thought or idea as to how or when she would return, or even where they were heading. Nevada would be displeased if she were to die without getting one last report or broadcast out to him.
Well then, I just won't die. I can't afford to. Not before I see Nevada again. Not before I feel his furry strong arms around my body again.
Angseth sighed. She always grew sentimental when she knew that she had done something wrong. The outcome of this little jaunt could either be another medal or a court marshal. It wasn't the first time she had abandoned her post on a hunch. However here she was, and now all Angseth could do was pray that this hunch was correct and would pay off. She had questions that Aran had the answers to. That much Vera was sure of. Warp would make it difficult to communicate with anyone else. She didn't have a strong enough transmitter on the fighter to project a signal very far.
How long would this frigate remain in warp anyway? Where would they end up? If Angseth survived the inevitable fire-fight, would she have enough fuel to at least make it to another station?
This seat is starting to get a little uncomfortable now...
Angseth shifted position again and looked over at Aran's ship. Aran probably had a bunk inside the craft along with all the comforts of home. An image came to Angseth's mind of Samus in an easy chair with a bowl of popcorn watching some sappy movie on a holo-video screen, while Angseth sat inside her own fighter on an uncomfortable seat with her only view being the underside of a rusted pirate frigate.
When it seemed as if the frigate was in for the long haul, Angseth extracted herself from her seat, and began a limited free-float inside her cockpit. It gave her a chance to stretch her legs and check the condition of her craft. She seemed to have made it here with minimal damage. The missile bay still carried a decent complement of warheads; hopefully they would be enough to--
Her navigation screen was flashing something.
Angseth turned around and pulled herself back down to her seat. Text scrolled across the navigation screen. It was only one sentence long but it was enough to cause Angseth's heart to jump into her throat.
"Bounty Hunter Samus Aran to Confederate Fleet Battleship Captain Angseth."
Angseth stared at the text for a full minute before finally reaching out for her keyboard. "Message received," her finger hovered over the "enter" key for a moment. This was the first thing that Aran' had ever said to her. The cockpit seemed to echo with the click sound as Angseth's power suit clad finger depressed that one single key. The response was instantaneous, almost as if it had been pre-programmed.
"This pirate frigate has set a course for FQ3-59. ETA is 4h10m"
Angseth read this silently, and then pulled up a star chart to learn more about the location. "Not too far out in the boonies...but that's almost in the heart of Mirson's sector, why would the pirates go there?" she pulled the keyboard over again. "Angseth to Aran, did you find any information aboard the Seattle?"
She pressed the "send" key, and the message bounced back.
"Damn, either the radiation from the craft is screwing with my com, or Aran closed hers down," Angseth smirked. "Creative. But I'll need to show you how creative I can get."
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Chapter Text
"Over here! I found her!"
"Alive?"
"I'm getting life signs, bring the plasma torches!"
"There is no way someone could have survived that...and if they have, they won't live long."
Angseth's body ached. Her ears rang out as the voices came closer. She could feel intense pressure all around her body. External forces pushed on her armor, pinning her place. If she moved too much, the armor would dig into her skin even more. She could see her shoulder plate, it had an odd ripple effect to it now, as if it had been no more than a metal ribbon that someone had carelessly dropped. Breathing was difficult. There was something pushing against her diaphragm, preventing her from taking in air. The voices grew louder, chattering away in five different dialects. The lack of air and the intense pressure against her body were nothing compared to the searing heat that consumed her leg.
What happened? Where am I?
The metal around her began to shake. The pressure increased while rubbing and pinching her body. Almost without her approval, a raspy pained scream left her throat. The vibrations stopped, the voices could be heard whispering, and another voice called out.
"Airman Angseth? Are you alive?"
The pain was forgotten for a brief moment as she contemplated the question. Am I alive? Am I ALIVE? Why else would I have started screaming if I wasn't?
Angseth let loose with a string of curses aimed at the parentage of those shaking her prison. In one breath she screamed at the redundancy of that question and the lack of intelligence of the person who spoke it. Laughter from her rescuers followed her outburst, and Angseth was left regretting using what little air she had left to damn her saviors. Another voice came through the laughter, or perhaps it was the same voice, it was hard to tell surrounded by all this twisted metal. The voice was calm, level, reassuring.
"Airman Angseth, I am Medical Officer Nevada Briar, Class V. Your squadron leader has stated that you have an even head on your shoulders, and I find it necessary to explain your current situation, as we may need your help."
Angseth began to wonder if he was reading the lines from a prompter on a data pad.
"Please answer all following questions with yes or no. Airman Angseth, do you wish for me to proceed?"
She could picture him in her minds eye. More than likely some private standing there reading off lines from "Illness and Injuries 101." Angseth fought for a breath, and called out "Yes! I can hear you!" She then heard the sound of feet walking on metal.
"Airman Angseth, you have answered yes. Are you in any pain?"
"YES!"
"Can you move?"
"No!" Angseth looked to her right as the metal began to vibrate again.
"Have you ingested any alcoholic beverages in the past 24 hours?"
"NO!" She was getting angrier by the minute. It would not bode well for her to be angry. She was trapped, she didn’t know how she had gotten there, but she needed help from the outside. Anger would be of no use against these crushing walls.
“Airman Angseth, your fighter was caught in the wake of a ship warping out. Your ship then proceeded to collide with three other craft from your wing. This compromised the structural integrity of your craft. In order to extract you, we must first cut away the hull of your craft. This may cause you some discomfort. We will try to have you out as quickly as we can. Are you able to feel your limbs?”
“Yes, except for my right leg.”
“Can you see your limbs?”
“No.”
“Will you be able to withstand minor vibrations while we free you?”
Angseth took in another lungful of stale air. “Yes!”
The vibrations began anew. She could hear the plasma torches as they shaved away pieces of her fighter. Angseth grit her teeth and tried not to howl in pain as the shaking began to irritate her wounds. Everything was dark in here, even her HUD display revealed nothing. Now that consciousness trickled back into her mind, she began to remember what had occurred.
Angseth had been on a routine training exercise with her squadron. She had been positioned as a far wingman, completing an attack formation. She remembered that her external sensors had lit up, indicating close proximity to another vessel. There shouldn’t have been any other vessels, not to mention larger ones this close to their formation. Her memory had been accurate until the point where she had looked up for visual confirmation, and saw the hazy ass-end of a troop transport as it pulled away. She remembered a cackle coming over the com before she lost control of her fighter.
The metal before her groaned and a plate covered in the mechanism for her holo-display was pulled away. Angseth could now see light that had filtered through her HUD. Beyond looked like a bay, what kind she couldn’t be certain until she had a chance to read the insignia on the walls. Emergency crews were cutting and carrying off pieces of her ship. A pair of hands reached in and pulled her helmet free. Angseth gasped and drew in fresh cool air, then felt the hands place an oxygen mask on her face. More pieces of her prison were then pulled away.
“Airman Angseth?”
“Pilot,” She corrected. “Lieutenant Angseth.” Vera tilted her eyes up toward a distinctive feline face, with a few scale-like plates over his eyes and on his chin. His features were young even though his voice held maturity. Was this the guy who had been talking the entire time? He didn’t even have a data-prompter anywhere near him.
“Please forgive me; I’ve always had trouble remembering proper rank titles.” He spoke softly, carefully positioning the oxygen mask so as not to cause her anymore discomfort. That one small act caused Angseth to pause and study him.
Angseth spoke through the oxygen mask. “Medical Officer Nevada Briar I assume?”
The feline nodded as he pulled away more plating.
Angseth fidgeted, her vision was beginning to blur again. Her leg afire, and her body suddenly telling her that sleep was a good thing. One last question escaped her lips as she slipped away again. “What kind of name is Nevada?”
A beep sounded within the cockpit. Vera opened her eyes and looked around.
Did I fall asleep?
She stretched, and felt her body rest on the ceiling above her seat. Holo-screens bounced around as if they had a mind of their own
I guess I did fall asleep.
Angseth slipped back into her seat and locked her feet onto the pegs. She had been just full of memories lately. Running into old “friends” seemed to have that effect on her. Despite the fact that she had lost her leg in that horrible accident, she hadn’t been afraid to step back into the cockpit of an aircraft. She couldn’t afford to be scared.
And if it weren’t for the loss of her leg, she never would have met Nevada.
Another beep drew her attention to the view screens and radar. The pirate frigate was coming out of its jump, and once it did she would need to vacate, fast. The one and only text message that Aran had sent still graced her navigation screen. Angseth remembered what she had been thinking about before falling asleep. The message had read “Four hours, and ten minutes.” That was…so little time. The planet that they had set a course for was FQ3-59. That planet should have been well into Mirson’s home territory, and four hours? Traveling that kind of distance in such a short amount of time could normally only be done with a jump-gate. It took the Mabus one month with the drives at maximum to make it that far. What kind of engines were the pirates using on these frigates? If their frigates could move this quickly, then could their battleships do the same? What other odd technology did the pirates have access too?
Angseth began booting up her base systems, wondering if she should bother performing a more in-depth systems check. The holo-screens returned to their normal stations. Vera patched her HUD into the fighters interface, and was rewarded with an awe-inspiring three hundred and sixty degree view of the space around her. As her old instructor had put it, it was the closest thing to dream flight the Confederation had come up with.
The Pirates were no doubt pissed about their hitchhikers and a firefight was to be expected the moment they dropped out of warp. Vera glanced back at Aran’s ship. It hadn’t changed through the trip, why should it have? The power cells on her own fighter were still at a stable level and the navigation screens displayed the speed of the frigate. Angseth didn’t believe what her instruments were displaying anyway. There was too much conflicting evidence. The most important thing her fighter could tell her at the moment would be how much fuel she had left, and where the enemy craft were. However, it was still unmistakable that frigate was slowing. They were leaving whatever stream of time-space the pirates had jumped into, and Angseth was sure that there would be an intense battle to follow.
The frigate slowed and almost came to a full stop. Angseth’s radar immediately lit up with several hundred little blips indicating incoming enemy craft, and several rotating turrets lowered from the belly of the ship, swinging around to evict the tag-alongs.
“Not giving us a chance are they?” Angseth planted her feet on the pegs and released the magnetic docking clamps. Her fighter began to drift away from the underside of the frigate, and not a moment too soon. The turrets began to fire, rotating to follow her ship as she pulled away. Vera's navigation systems and shields flared up as she gunned the engines and shot forward and hopefully away from the underbelly of the ship. She kept close to the hull, keeping inside their guard and knowing that the moment she hit open space it would be a free-for all and her life then could be measured in seconds.
Overhead, previously hidden bays opened and pirate fighters began to erupt into open space. Good, that was just the kind of cover she needed. Slipping into formation with the Gamma Fleet Pirates, she followed them toward open space. As far as Vera knew, they had no short-range weapons that would do her much damage and if the frigate was going to fire on her, then she might as well try to take as many of them with her as possible.
Angseth bit her bottom lip as Aran’s ship shot past her, forgoing any kind of cover or even concern for incoming fire. Vera put the minor grudge behind her and left the pirates formation, then guided her fighter into position to cover Aran's flank, a place she had become quite familiar with during her time as a fighter pilot. She could see the blue-green orb of FQ3-59 in the distance. The frigate had pulled in close. Not quite in the planets orbit, but not far from. For a moment she pondered why the Pirates would travel to a world that could not sustain them. Did they intend to land, or was this just a stopping point on their route? So many questions bubbled up in her mind. Angseth sorted through them and made a mental note to find answers to the more important ones. She still hadn’t forgotten about the Seattle, and she needed to live long enough to ask Aran about it.
More gun turrets emerged from the sides and top of the frigate. Far more than it seemed was necessary to attack two small fighter craft. Then again if Ridley was on the ship, he may not want to take any chances against Aran. Angseth used her multi-targeting system to lock-on to and eliminate as many Gamma Fleet fighters as opportunities presented themselves. There was no shortage of targets. The pirate fighters seemed to almost be made of paper, even normal plasma charges were taking care of entire fighters, missiles weren’t really necessary. Aran however was using some of the most powerful missiles and cannon charges that Angseth had seen anyone use on such flimsy craft.
“Over-kill much?” Angseth breathed. She had been trained to wound ships, not destroy them entirely. With this many fighters, even her expanded missile bay didn’t have enough warheads to last long. How much could that paint-chip of Aran’s carry? Angseth pictured a cockpit with Aran seated in a command chair surrounded by crates and piles of missiles and warheads. Why was she wasting so much valuable firepower on these cheap fighters?
Pay attention, you know Aran doesn’t do many things without good reason.
Angseth checked her scanners; the two of them combined weren't having any effect on their forces. She looked up to receive visual confirmation on a hit. The scanner said that she had a confirmed hit on pirate fighter so why didn’t the thing blow up or spin out as the others had done? This whole mess was just one big crap shoot. Vera opened the com line. “Captain Angseth to Bounty Hunter Aran, what is our primary objective?”
No reply. Angseth didn’t really expect one either. More of the fighters were swarming toward them. How many could that frigate carry? She remembered reading the schematics on captured Gamma Fleet craft and had marveled at how they gutted the entire craft on some occasions to accommodate their purposes. Could this one have contained a boarding crew and full complement of fighters as well? The physics of it seemed off, but hey, they made a month-long trip in four hours, so why couldn’t the frigate contain upwards of one thousand fighters?
Aran fired upon another cluster of fighters. Angseth studied her movements, and then fired upon the engines of a fighter before her. It suddenly became very clear why Aran was using such heavy firepower against them, and how so many of them could fit in one vessel. Angseth watched slack-jawed as the fighter before her appeared to break apart to allow her plasma charge to pass. The pieces then pulled together and once more became whole.
“Variable Form fighters? Where the hell did they pick up technology like that?” Now it was no wonder that Aran was using such heavy charges power. All of the craft that Angseth herself had shot down had simply pulled themselves back together like a magnet touching paper clips. She remembered attending an arms convention where the latest in fighter technology on been on display. Variable form fighters were top on the list of featured designs. They consisted of a central capsule that contained all the life support features, surrounded by a jigsaw puzzle of pieces that operated inside a highly flexible Aura. From what she understood of the technology, each piece of the fighter bore a certain energy signature that told the central computer where each piece went. When the field was disrupted, it simply drew the fragments back. The only way to really damage a ship like this was to either take out the central pod, or use such heavy weaponry as to disrupt the energy flow into the separate components. Due to the high cost, the military declined to bid on them, preferring solid-state fighters that could be easily and cheaply repaired.
An alarm in her cockpit sounded and Angseth drew her attention back to the battle. Variable form fighters were not cheap, and extremely deadly. One fighter could easily become two or three smaller craft—and that would be before the Pirates mangled them to their purposes. In theory the central pod on a Variable Form fighter could construct a vehicle out of any junk laying around.
Vera began to wish that she had brought a few of her own fighters from the Mabus with her, the weight of the situation starting to creep into her mind and spread doubt. There was only herself and Aran against this newly discovered amorphous mass the frigate had spewed. Only two fighters. One a ten-year-old Federation fighter, the other a…something…against a Gamma Fleet frigate with a full complement of its own forces and very heavily armed port cannons. Below was a planet, and Angseth was beginning to feel that she would become very familiar with the terrain of she didn’t start paying more attention. What could two fighters do even make a dent in this behemoth?
As she picked off Gamma Fleet fighters using what few missiles she had left, Vera realized that she had come within range of the main gun turrets on the side of the frigate. One cluster swung around and began to open fire. Angseth cursed as a beam that could easily vaporize her craft narrowly missed her left wing. The beam continued on to destroy a few of Gamma Fleets own fighter craft in the effort to strike Aran and Angseth. Angseth was grateful the frigate didn't mind taking out its own fighters; she was running out of missiles.
Vera maneuvered her fighter to stay in Aran’s shadow, giving cover fire as they swept in close to the frigate to destroy its main guns. She began to maneuver back to Aran’s side when a pirate fighter seemed to come from out of nowhere and full-on rammed the side of her craft. Angseth braced herself as the shields rang and her fighter spun, slamming her into Aran’s craft. Aran rolled her ship as Angseth hit, reducing the force of impact, but still receiving a bit of damage in the process.
Angseth gained control again, and looked down at her status screen. Her fighter’s right missile ejection mechanism had been jammed. Her radar blipped again. She swung to her left to find a main cannon on the frigate locked onto her position, and it was about to fire. She gunned the engine again, hoping to dodge the beam, but it had locked on and tracked her movements.
A gold shape suddenly eclipsed the beam. Angseth yelled as Aran’s ship took the full impact of the blast. The force of the beam caused Aran’s ship to impact with Angseths once more, sending both of them spinning. Angseth fired her stabilization thrusters in an attempt to work out of the spin. Her fighters computer then calmly told her those were offline as well. Her shield sparked as the pirates fired upon them, closing in for the kill. Aran was using her thrusters to work out of the spin, however they were already close to the glowing blue ball of FQ3-59. Angseth braced herself, and began to guide her ship into planet fall.
The rock it is then.
She and Aran hit the atmosphere together, and then split apart. Angseth was almost thrown from her seat from the force of the impact. The friction in the atmosphere stopped their spin, and the pirates, surprisingly, only pursued them but so far. Yelling in frustration, Angseth grabbed her steering bar and began to call out instructions to the onboard computer. She was coming in too steep. Her fighter could easily perform space-to surface landings, but that was in ideal conditions. With Aran forgotten for the moment, Angseth gunned her directional thrusters and felt the main engines catch and steady the fighter. Temperature warnings flashed on her HUD as she made corrections to her decent.
The atmosphere grew thicker, and she finally gained control over the fighters trajectory. Angseth broke through several layers of clouds, then was greeted by tall jagged mountains, and jade green forests. The view itself came as a bit of a shock, she had been expecting terrain more akin to uninhabitable desert. Angseth pulled her steering bar gently and brought the nose of her fighter upward to prevent a nosedive. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aran’s craft spin off to the left before correcting its orientation. Angseth turned her attention back to her own heading. Right now the most she could do was find a safe place to land.
“Keep going, there is nothing you can’t fly or land.” Angseth mumbled to herself. She inched the nose up on her fighter, and picked a nice spread of forest. The hull of her ship could deflect most of the trees, those wouldn’t be a problem, but if there were any rocks hidden in said trees, those could do some damage. Angseth deactivated her thrusters and let her ship glide in to a landing. After what seemed like ages she heard the first rattle and pock against the remaining shields and hull of her fighter before it committed to a full landing. The trees made an awful racket as they slammed against the hull of her ship. She held steady, then breathed a sigh of relief as the trees cleared and revealed an open plane…just before a drop off a sheer cliff face. Vera feathered the fighters brakes, hoping to slow her progress. Her ship groaned and listed to the right. She let up on the brakes and allowed the butt-end of her fighter to swing around and turn one hundred eighty degrees. The down-turned wing dragged the ground and kicked dirt and rocks over the hull of the ship, but still aided in bleeding off inertia. The fighter then stopped all movement
For a moment she heard nothing but the sound of beeps and blips in her cockpit of systems rebooting and calibrating. Angseth leaned on her hands and took in deep breaths.
I haven’t had to perform a landing like that in a long time.
She kept her head in her hands as the beeping stopped and the fighters systems performed a diagnostics, and checked the composition of the atmosphere. Vera took in deep breaths to slow her pounding heart. Her fighter had come in fast. An ideal landing should have taken at least an hour but she managed to pull off in twenty nail-biting minutes. For some time after, she kept one eye on the radar for possible Gamma Fleet fighters coming to finish the job. After waiting what seemed like a lifetime, she determined that they had given up on the chase. Angseth counted her breaths. This fighter had seen her through many dogfights, but this was only the second space-to-surface landing she had to perform in it. Her heart rate eventually slowed and she allowed herself to relax her guard.
Vera waited for her ship to finish its examination of the atmosphere. Without knowledge of what the atmosphere here was composed of, she wasn’t going anywhere. Vera looked up and pulled a holoscreen closer toward her, then began accessing her database to see if there would any information about this planet. After a moment she had more questions than answers.
FQ3-59 had not been on any map as a habitable planet. Perhaps the paperwork for colonization was moving slowly, or the whole planet had been tucked away in some senators back packet as a retirement home. After a moment she condensed the holoscreens around her, then looked out on the green surface of the planet. The landing had been very rough, but at least she had landed in a nice area. The readouts told her that her that the planet did have a stable atmosphere, and the soil composition would be compatible with human needs, even the bacteria levels were acceptable. If it came down to it, she could probably forage and find something edible here.
Vera popped the canopy, and opened the vents on her power suit. Fresh cool air rushed over her skin in welcome waves. The landing had agitated her cybernetic leg, but walking on it for a moment would loosen most of that up. Angseth welcomed the sunlight pouring into her cockpit. The holoscreens around her were like thin ghosts compared to the luminescence that poured in from above.
“All of mankind’s little trinkets must abide by the laws of nature.” Angseth whispered. She leaned forward and pulled a keyboard closer then punched in a line of coding that would enable a more in-depth damage report. It played back to her a list of ailments.
“Damage to landing gear, damage to right missile bay, communication malfunctions, navigation needs calibration, and of course, all contact with the Mabus has been severed.” Angseth read off, then began running a few “quick-fix” redundancy programs. At this rate it would take three days to fix it all. “On a lighter note, my engines are still intact, as are the majority of my shields.” She pushed the keyboard away, then slipped off the seat. Vera turned and opened a storage compartment behind her seat then pulled out her emergency kit. The kit consisted of a months worth of rations and ammo. With careful planning, her supplies would last longer. She also removed her second favorite gun from the compartment. Not quite a rifle, but a short-range arm-mounted cannon that still allowed for the flexibility of using her hands. Like her rifle it could fire pulse-beams using energy in her suit, or fire plasma cartridges that could either be charged or used as is. She also had another weapon tucked into a false bottom in the storage compartment. It was something that she had confiscated off one of her cadets trying to board the Mabus. However instead of giving it up to the proper authorities, she had been naughty and kept it for herself. She doubted that no self-respecting captain would give up a chance to own a weapon of that caliber.
The weapon had been made from banned technology. It was the only one of her collection that had a name she could remember. It was called a Sigel, a third class infantry weapon from the far moons of Cordova. These weapons packed quite a kick; they were made from dense ores and usually could only be wielded by those who lived on super-dense worlds. The weapons and the backlash they created were simply too much for any normal human to handle. Even though Angseth had twice the strength of a normal human, it still sent a shock down her arm when she fired it. Anyone else and it would take their arm clean off. The first time that she had test-fired the weapon, she had been unprepared and the kickback had broken her collar bone as well as dislocating her shoulder. The Sigel converted easily from a short-range cannon to a long-range sniper rifle with an adjustment of its beam intensity.
Angseth closed the storage compartment as she shouldered her pack. That little toy in her arsenal would stay in the ship for now. She had instructed the ship to emit a distress beacon as soon as all sign of pirate activity had ceased. If she carried the Sigel on her person she would have a hard time explaining the contraband to her rescuers.
Vera gathered the last of her survival gear and then climbed out of her ship. The first sound she recognized was the gentle crash of running water. The scent of chlorophyll came through the vents. Most importantly, there was a blue sky overhead. A blue sky indicated a healthy ozone layer, one unaffected by the burdens of modern technology. Angseth swung her feet over the side of the cockpit, then stepped onto the wing, and eventually followed it to the ground. As expected, her leg stopped aching as soon as it set down on the soft earth. The ground was a combination of fertile soil, and the occasional rock. Everything was so alive, trees grew clinging to cliff-faces, many different varieties of plants and bushes grew around her, edging the meadow, and dotting the landscape. The only thing that seemed to break up such a serene sight was the two-mile long trench to the east that her fighter had created on the landing. The ground in that direction had been scorched and burnt. Trees stood broken and toppled along the path her ship had taken. The meadow her fighter had come to a rest in continued another fifty yards to the west before dropping off the edge of a nearly vertical cliff. Angseth walked over to edge and observed her surroundings.
The nearest thing she could equate the view to were images of what Ni'gara Falls must have looked like in the on Old Earth. Old sepia toned images rarely displayed well on holoscreens, but this is what it must have looked like. A huge amount of water fell gracefully over the edge of a cliff, pounding into the basin below. Perhaps this was a collapsed caldera, but then again Angseth was no geologist.
“This must be someone’s retirement home. A place like this wouldn’t go long unsettled in normal circulation.” Vera mused. She adjusted the cannon on her arm, and checked the computer mounted on the inside of her right wrist for the data read-out of the last location of Aran’s craft. It displayed a rough map of the planet, and a small beacon to the south of her present location. The blip was only Aran’s possible location, but it was all Angseth had to go on at the moment.
She began walking south, along the rim of the waterfall.
Vera scanned everything she could find, all the plant-life and the animals in her path. Most of them paused and gave her curious glances. Their response was enough to convince her that humans had rarely if ever set foot on this planet. The animals did not fear her, and in some cases they even sniffed at her feet. Vera made sure to keep the ones that she could locate at arms reach. As she crept through the forests, her mind traveled back to the only other time she had pursued Aran.
Aether had been and still was a dangerous environment. Her marine troop had pursued a pirate frigate to the Outer Reaches, and then on to Aether. After the Ing-possessed splinters had killed off her fellow marines, the pirates still remained. She had been afraid then, so scared that she would end up like her teammates.
Help seemed to come in the form of a bounty hunter sent by the Federation. The bounty hunter had helped her get her bearings back. Then the bounty hunter named Aran had run, left her with enough means to defend herself, and ran off. Angseth gave chase, knowing that if she at least followed in Aran’s wake, her chances of running into something dangerous that still had some fight in it were slim to nothing.
Aran had proved to be a hard chase. The hunter already had all the tools she needed in her suit. Angseth had to improvise everything to follow behind her. She had cobbled together what her environment could provide. When her standard-issue jump-boots proved to be inadequate at best, Angseth had taken down one of the pirates present that had been equipped with a jetpack. That one acquisition had been enough to help her keep up with Aran even after the woman found an upgrade that turned her into a ball of jumping spinning fire that once she returned to normal society her fellow marines jokingly called the “spin attack.” The only places that Angseth couldn’t pursue Aran were into the portals of what came to be called “Dark Aether.”
Angseth personally had no desire to travel through Dark Aether in the first place. Only bad things came from those portals. If the baddies were coming from there, then it was preferable that a one-man army like Aran to go in there and do battle with the forces of evil and leave Vera out of it.
Damn I was so stupid back then. I suppose one could argue that I’m stupid even now. I’ve abandoned my post and chased down a bounty hunter on the hope that she has some kind of information on what happened on the Seattle.
Angseth stopped walking when a deep trench came into view. Perhaps her tracking had been right on. The trench was narrow, almost mistaken for the natural lay of the land, and not very long either. However Angseth had been able to land her own craft upright, Aran was not so lucky.
The gold-colored ship lay on its side, leaning against a wall of rock. A bit of vapor escaped from where Angseth supposed the engines were located. The make and model of the vessel were unknown to her. The ship for the most seemed to be still intact. Angseth walked carefully forward looking for an opening or something of that nature. Had Aran even left her craft?
Pain and weight in the shape of a foot hit Angseth in her lower back, knocking her down to the ground. Her leg locked up as she fell. She didn’t need to look to see who her attacker was, that much was obvious, what Angseth didn’t expect however was the big green device known as a power cannon resting against the back of her head. Vera slowly turned her head to face her attacker. This was the very same cannon, yes, but that thing down at the other end of it wasn’t a plasma generator.
Angseth didn’t so much as breathe, but somehow managed to take her gaze away from the power cannon and look Aran in the eye.
By the Goddess,
Aran’s helmet seemed to be transparent, as if made from colored glass. With the sun at the right angle, Angseth could make out the curve of Aran’s skull through the armor. Was it even armor anymore?
“So my dream was right. I knew there had been something off about you when I saw you on the station.” Angseth remained still. She carefully and slowly pulled her hand away from her own power cannon, leaving it to the side to show that she had no ill intentions.
Aran lowered her arm cannon, but still stood defensively as Angseth pulled herself to her feet. The ship captain couldn’t help but question. “What happened to you?” Angseth studied Aran’s features. Yes, transparent was the only word for it. Aran’s Varia suit had become transparent, clear and hard like glass, showing her bones and organs along with the harder parts of cartilage. No wonder no one had heard from her in years.
Aran took a step back, the power cannon still fixed on Angseth. Vera hoped that the awkward moment would pass. The only time that she had ever been this close to Aran had been when she was chasing her down on Aether. Actually having her full attention was something unexpected. Angseth took in a breath and simply began to speak.
“There are a few questions I would like to ask, and then I’ll pack up and go. First, I need to know exactly what happened on the Seattle. Since you were the only living force there I can call an ally with any kind of certainty. What happened and how did you end up there?” Angseth stood, feeling a little out of place. Aran was her hero. And even after all of the other experiences Vera had before now, just standing in the presence of someone she respected and yes worshiped to an extent made her knees weak and her heart race. She had to keep her cool, she had to get information, she had to stop acting like a teenage girl that had just run into her role model. Vera opened to her mouth to ask another question, but stopped when Aran raised her left hand in a “halt” gesture.
Angseth stayed rooted to the spot as Aran stepped closer to her. Her dream began to rise unbidden in the back of her mind again. Role model or not, if this thing touched her, she would turn into that withered mummy she had seen in the hall of the Seattle. Aran reached out with her left hand and took Angseth’s hand, almost as if she would shake it. She felt that skeletal hand close around her own, glass shielding around the bones preventing contact. Instantly Angseth’s HUD lit up with information. Lines of code raced by so quickly that she could barely register any of it. Almost as soon as the information had lit up her screen, it faded.
Aran took her hand from Angseth’s then stepped back, lowering her arm cannon. Angseth stood for a moment staring stupidly at the interior of her HUD. Trying to ascertain what had just happened. Did Aran sift through her own files, or had she put something there? No, now she saw it, a new file was being recorded in her personal data cells. Angseth recovered after a moment. The file that Aran had just sent her was automatically forwarded to her ship and faded from her own records. A beep sounded, indicating that her ship had an update for her. Angseth looked at her arm to check the status of the repairs. It had only been a few hours and she didn’t expect much progress to have been made .
The beep had been for a different purpose however. Her ship had picked up incoming air traffic.
“Confederation vessels?” Angseth looked up to Aran. “Did you summon them?”
Aran was quiet. She instead lifted her arm cannon again at Angseth. Angseth in turn scrutinized the com on her wrist. Her ships distress beacon hadn’t been activated yet. “I didn’t call for help either.” She accessed her ships computer, and received information on the incoming vessels. “Battleship Seacrest, ranking officer Captain Fredrick. Battleship Churi, headed by Captain Leh.” She looked up at the sky. “Two battleships, and goddess only knows how many drop ships and fighters with those. They got here fast. Almost as if they were expecting us to be here.” She paused, feeling a sense of dread come over her. Things were not adding up. Why didn’t the pirates pursue them to the planets surface? That action itself was enough to cause her concern. Secondly, how did the Confederate forces get here so soon? Both Captain Fredrick and Captain Leh were some of Mirson’s best men.
The sky soon yielded some answers. From the west came sounds of spacecraft. The horizon became dotted with incoming ships, much like a flock of giant birds coming in to land.
“This doesn’t add up.” Angseth turned to Aran, only to find a vacant space where the bounty hunter had once been standing. First Pirates and now this?
Angseth searched for some sign of Aran. Not even her ship was visible any longer. Aran and cloaked it before she had run for cover. “Here we go again.” Angseth sighed and checked her ammo supply. She began running through the trees looking for what she felt would be the best path to take. She wouldn’t make herself known to the incoming force until she knew what their intentions could be.
For the moment, she would put all protocol aside, and disappear into the trees herself.
Private Jones was a common man. There was nothing very memorable about his looks or build. He wasn’t even particularly clever or witty. His term with the marines was nothing more than an excuse to earn some much-needed cash for college. It sure beat flipping burgers on a station somewhere. He did all that he was told, and never any more than that. He was a good and dependable follower. When he jumped into the transport vessel this morning he didn’t think much about the mission statement. This was a training exercise. A total of twenty transport ships had landed on this backwater planet, which put roughly two hundred fifty troops on the ground. It didn’t take long for them to swarm ant-like around the “enemy” fighter, and deploy the proper materials needed to establish a base camp. They used a crane to move the fighter from its perch in the meadow, and secure in a lock-down pen in their base of operations. A security perimeter was then established. Wherever the marines went, lights and mild devastation followed. He, like most of the marines treated this as a field exercise, they often had training runs where they would fly out to god-knew where, set up a base camp, confiscate some enemy intelligence, then pat each other on the back and go home. There was nothing about this mission that told Private Jones otherwise. For all his dependability, Jones did have one major character flaw.
He could not refuse a dare.
The rest of his squad knew of this flaw and used it to their best advantage. For Jones had a second flaw that could be exploited. That being he was an idiot. Whenever they found themselves on leave, Jones would become goaded into trying the first new drink, or sent out to test a questionable catwalk. Jones was even the idiot that stuck his head out to see if the coast was clear. Jones was the guy the rest of the squad bet on to be the first to get shot, even though he had made it through more missions than most.
Tonight, team Sigma was out scouting the perimeter of a high cliff roughly half a mile outside the newly established base camp. The air was mostly quiet, save for the odd calls of some alien creature. They only had one objective, and that was to find any trace of a “Captain Angseth.” The confiscated fighter supposedly belonged to her. Missions like this were like looking for a needle in a haystack. All they really had to do was go through the motions of searching, and they would be able to go home once it was over. Mostly everyone doubted they would locate her. In his mind, Jones found it more likely that some large creature had carried off the “target”. In their boredom, the squad took turns stepping to the edge of the cliff they were patrolling to see if there was a way to climb down without the aid of repelling gear. The wind was high on the rim, making it difficult to stay near the edge for long.
Private Carson threw out the first challenge by announcing that he could do it with a grapple hook, not exactly repelling gear, but close. Soon other dares were flying around. The final challenge was issued for someone to climb down the cliff face to a ledge below where thin grasses blew in the wind. All eyes soon rested on Jones.
“Hey, Jones, do you think you could do it?”
“I dunno, the wind is pretty strong.”
“Only on the rim, once you get over the edge its not so bad.”
Jones walked back over to the side and peeked over again. “It is a long drop.”
“Dare ya.”
That having been said, it wasn’t long before Private Jones stepped to the edge and peeked over for the last time. “Alright, but you guys owe me a drink when we get back to base.” He turned, and knelt down to his hands and knees. Jones dropped a foot over the side of the canyon, much to the amusement of Sigma team. The whole squad soon gathered at the edge as Jones disappeared over the rim. His power suit gave him a slight edge as he slowly made his way down. He paused and looked upward to see the glowing faceplates of his comrades peeking over the edge.
“Get back up here, you’re gonna get killed.”
“Nah, I did this is basic, it’s easy.” He called back.
“Bullshit, you’ve made your point, get back up here.”
“Let him go,” Carson chuckled. “I’ve got a grapple beam in case he falls.”
Jones couldn’t help but feel a mild sense of superiority as he continued down the cliff-face. It wasn’t often that he was able to say he had done something no one else had even tried. He fully intended to land on that little ledge, grab some plants and come back up again. He shifted his weight and moved his foot down to another hold. He settled his weight on the ledge and felt it slip a little.
A pebble rolled from under his foot, and began to roll down the cliff face. He listened for a moment as the pebble made the more familiar rattling sounds of rolling over stones before ending in a hollow almost plastic-like “POCK.” He paused, then turned and looked down the side of the cliff.
As expected, Angseth had lost track of Aran soon after leaving the crash site of her ship. She had wandered through the woods, listening in on hacked com lines to determine the incoming force’s location. Soon she lost even the slightest trail of Aran, yet came across the aftermath of some strange battle. There had been ice everywhere. Trees and rocks had been blasted and uprooted; yet everything had been coated in ice. Angseth knew that Aran had an ice creating weapon, perhaps she had been using it to protect herself from the marines without hurting them.
Angseth stayed and studied the scene for a few moments, recording as much footage and readings as she saw fit to review later. Vera then began to seek out a place to hide and still keep an eye on the events that played before her. She had found a nice narrow crevice up on a cliff-face over-looking the base camp operations. She was at a safe enough distance, close enough to use the zoom function on her visor, yet far enough to make an easy get-away if need be. She lay flat inside gaps of the rock, letting her body to conform to will of the cliff-face. As expected they had moved her fighter, and formed a security perimeter around it and the base camp. Getting off this planet just got a little tougher. However she still had faith in her training and her ability to out-smart these rookies.
Angseth had tapped into the com lines and used the information she gathered to judge the troops actions. So far they were making sweeps of the area to track herself and Aran down. The troops seemed to go about this with all the concern of a standard training exercise. Nothing indicated that either of them would be close to getting captured. At this point the troops didn’t even know if Aran was still on the planet. If Angseth could help it, it would stay that way.
A pebble hit her helmet. If it had gone anywhere else, she would have thought nothing of it. However since it came from overhead, Angseth glanced skyward to get a better look. Sudden shock and pain overcame her as a standard-issue marine power suit boot came down on her face-plate. She resisted the urge to yell but couldn’t help but squirm. Some stupid Private had just stepped on her face!
How the hell did they find me? I didn’t even hear any voices on the com-lines!
Jones froze as the “rock” he had placed his foot on began to struggle. He carefully shifted his weight again, then lifted his foot and looked down to see burning brown eyes glaring up at him from behind a faceplate. The faceplate was connected to a head, in turn a whole body, lay between two cracks in the cliff. At first he wanted to scream out in surprise, but instead he simply clicked on his com.
“I found her.”
Chapter Text
Briar sat staring at a digital clock inside Angseth’s office. The office was an offshoot of her personal quarters, and received much more traffic than his own office did. Her office, much like her room, was decorated very minimally. A few still holograms of her time aboard various stations, of shaking hands or tentacles with dignitaries, decorated the walls and a single shelf. Most of the images had been deactivated. The digital clock hovered above her desk, slowly displaying the seconds, minutes, hours, and day. The clock provided the only light in the room, casting a blue haze over the carpet and walls. Behind her desk was a painting of an underwater scene on some far away world. Briar himself didn’t care much for the painting, but Vera had loved it, so he bought it for her at an auction. As a sign of her gratitude, she placed it behind her desk.
Even with the faint light, he could still make out the shapes and brush strokes that rendered sea-life on the canvas. He didn’t need much light to see, one of the advantages he had over humans on board the Mabus. The clock ticked down the seconds. Vera had said twenty-four hours, to wait for her for twenty-four hours. At the moment, twenty-three hours, forty-five minutes, and thirteen seconds had passed. Soon the counter would read zero. Once it reached zero, he would officially assume command of the Mabus, and continue the mission to SR3-88.
Have you finally bitten off more than you can chew? Why haven’t you at least tried to contact me? He thought, watching the seconds tick away. This wasn’t the first time they had been apart, and it wasn’t going to be the last time either.
There was also the matter of the survivors that had been recovered from the Seattle. Five cryo-Pods had been removed from the A deck of the station. All five were currently down in the med-bay with Dr. Sakari Bearn. The cryo-pods looked to be of an older model, however life-signs were stable on the occupants. Briar had given Dr. Bearn specific orders to report to him as soon as the five people awoke so that he could question them. Hopefully they would have some information on the fate of the Seattle.
He turned his attention back to the painting, studying the swells of the ocean waves so carefully created. He supposed that he could see what Angseth had liked about it. It did provide a sense of tranquility. Will I see you again my beloved?
A light chime sounded. Briar shifted his gaze to the clock, and then straightened himself in his chair. He looked to the com, hoping that maybe some message from Angseth had gotten through by now. After another still minute had passed, Briar took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through the fur on the crown of his head. He reached for the com, and opened a channel to the ships navigator, Lieutenant Bagra.
“This is Lieutenant Commander Briar, please continue on course to SR3-88.”
“Yes sir, anything else?”
Briar thought for a moment. “Invite Captain Tomas and S.O. Svenson over for a formal dinner.”
“Aye sir.”
Briar leaned back in Angseth’s chair, then reached into his shirt and pulled out a leather cord. Angseth had given him this necklace. It was a simple black cord, with a large tooth or talon tied at the end, capped off with a thin layer of gold. Vera had told him that it was a Metroid fang, taken from a beast that she had slain herself. She wore a matching one.
Briar ran his fingers over its smooth surface. He never questioned its authenticity. Briar tucked it back into his shirt, letting it settle against his fur.
Angseth would come back to him, be it in the flesh or in his dreams, she would return.
Angseth sat with her head down, her gaze fixed on the collar of her black t-shirt. Her head hurt. They had taken her power suit and weapons, leaving her wearing only a pair of camouflage printed pants, and a black t-shirt. They were the clothes that she normally wore under a power suit. She found no need for the leotard thing that most wore. She simply didn’t need that much padding. Her boots had been taken as a precaution in the event that she decided to escape. She supposedly would be less inclined to want to run over alien terrain in bare feet. A pair of restraints had been clamped down on her wrists, another pair around her ankles. From what little information Vera could gather, she was currently detained on one of the ships used as a base of operations. Her head hurt due to her reluctance to come peaceably from the cliff face. Once Jones had located her, it seemed as if every last marine in the Seven Systems came to remove her. Angseth had been plucked from the cliff face like an unwilling hermit crab.
The room was of a fair size, the walls plain gray plasteel, lit by several light bars imbedded in the ceiling. The floor was constructed of corrugated steel, with texturing for traction. The room had no decoration, not even so much as graffiti on the walls. Before Angseth was a large steel table, seemingly poured from one solid piece of metal, bolted to the floor, with a chair placed at either side. Angseth sat in one of these chairs, her arms pinned behind her, and her legs underneath.
Vera tested the restraints; they had been made of a high-quality alloy. Most restraints she could break, or at least distort to the point where she could free herself. She came from a super-dense world. Humans had lived with the high gravity for so long that they had adapted by developing harder stronger bones, more muscle mass to move around easily, and unfortunately for Angseth, a stocky build in a race obsessed by a tall slender female form. Yet her build did have its perks. She had a low center of gravity, which gave her good balance and she was steady with a gun of almost any size.
And she possessed the ability to flip a car with her bare hands.
The door to her right opened, and Angseth heard suit-clad footsteps. They paused on the other side of the table. Angseth still stared down at her t-shirt. It would take more than a glass of water to clear this headache. A pile of papers dropped before her, drawing her attention away from her collar. Her head lifted, causing pain to move from the base of her neck to the crown of her head. Her vision wavered for a moment, then grew steady again.
“Please sign that.”
A man with captain’s bars over his right bicep sat down at the table across from her. He removed his helmet, reveling a spill of blond hair that was longer than regulation, and blue eyes, almost perfect skin. Angseth supposed he could be considered handsome by a few. He lifted his hand revealing a small round key-chain like device. He depressed a button and Angseth felt her cuffs loosen. She brought her arms to her side, feeling the tenseness in her shoulders release.
“Captain Fredrick I assume.” Angseth pulled herself up and sat up straight in her chair. The angle was awkward and uncomfortable, even with her arms freed, her legs were still pinned.
He spoke as if he never heard her. “I am Captain Fredrick, commanding officer of the Battleship Seacrest. And you my lady are far removed from your post.” He tossed his hair carelessly from his eyes, never once making eye contact with her, reading aloud from a data prompter. Fredrick drew his bottom lip over his teeth, creating sucking sounds before he continued. “You are aware that a Captain abandoning their post is a fate punishable by death. However we of the Confederation understand the nature of kidnapping, and that a Captain of your caliber would be worth quite a ransom. It’s a damn shame that such a highly decorated bounty hunter so loyal to the Confederation would have fallen into such desperation.” Fredrick leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Now if you only sign those papers, then we will gladly escort you back to your post and forgive this little discrepancy.”
Angseth studied his gaze for a moment. She didn’t like those eyes. “And what do these papers say Captain?” She asked.
“It is simply a report that Samus Aran had kidnapped you and we safely brought you back.” He began to spin the key-chain on his finger. Angseth studied it as it spun around. It required a power-suit to use. There was no way for Angseth to duplicate the electric frequency without a suit. The key would be useless to her.
Instead she studied the papers. A standard pen lay next to the stack. She agreed that she was in serious trouble for leaving her post, but Aran did not kidnap her. If she didn’t sign the papers, Fredrick would have every right to kill her here and now. However if she did sign them, Aran would be taken into custody. Captain Fredrick would be aware of this.
Angseth didn’t know much about him, but she had met Fredrick on a few occasions, usually in the company of Admiral Mirson. Mirson liked to keep his men close. His favorite ship Captains and Fleet Admirals were obvious. They usually had the choice of newer vessels, assignments, and hand-picked crews. All Mirson asked in return was unending loyalty, and the occasional special assignment. Angseth would bet every penny in her bank account that this was a special assignment. Yet she couldn’t complain about the favorites system. It was no secret that Angseth herself was one of Admiral Mizzen’s favorite. It was how she kept her crew together, how she was able to maintain a steady crew and secret relationship with Briar.
Even though the Seven Admirals were powerful, they were not above the Senate and the general law of the land. Mirson would need a legal reason to arrest Aran. Angseth began to wonder if she had played right into their plan. She knew that Fredrick didn’t believe the kidnapping story. It was a more convenient way to leave the paper work behind them.
“I have all night Mervera.”
Angseth felt her blood begin to boil. She hated it when people called her by her first name. She managed to bite back her anger. She then said softly,
“I need time to think.”
Fredrick stood, taking his helmet with him. He pressed the button on the key-chain again and Angseth’s wrists slammed back together, drawn by a minor force shield. “I’ll give you an hour. Think it over carefully.”
Angseth stared down at the paper, and readjusted how her arms lay. She tried to think past her headache by reading the first line out loud. “I Mervera Diane Angseth, swear that all the information contained within this report is accurate as of this day,” She sighed deeply. If anything that line added to her headache, caused it to settle in the back of her head and spine once more.
Why on paper and not a data pad? Why such a permanent and easily disposed of medium? She shook her head, causing the metroid fang to sway out of her shirt. Vera was at a loss for how she could leave this situation with as little bloodshed as possible. She supposed that she could take the heroes way out and stand by her morals, or she could go the way of the coward, and take the bait then let the blame fall on Aran.
Those can’t be the only two options. I don’t necessarily have to choose the options that Fredrick has set before me. Angseth closed her eyes, trying to push the pain back enough so she could think. Okay, what is my current scenario? You are cuffed and restrained aboard an “enemy” ship. They have offered you a way off, but if you take it, someone you care about will die. So why am I here? Why haven’t they just killed her and me by now? Because they want you alive, and they want her alive. Why? To follow protocol. And the paper documents? Paper is still an accepted form of documentation, even though it takes longer to process than digital files. Time, they’re trying to buy time. Time to make everything look like normal, so no one would question the situation. Captain Fredrick is as much Mirson’s lackey as Thomas is. Mirson would send someone he trusted to ensure the completion of this mission, to ensure Aran’s capture and for myself to just disappear. After I sign the paperwork, there is no guarantee that I will make it back to the Mabus. Its been known that Mirson has been trying to break away from the Seven Admirals, and has had his share of events that just don’t add up. So now, how do I break away from him?
Angseth began to review alternate scenarios in her mind. She could not stay here, but she had no escape route. Aran couldn’t stay on the planet either, that is, if she was still on the planet. Vera began to review the terrain she remembered and the way she had come. Her mind suddenly fixated on the odd sight she had seen while seeking a place to hide.
An entire clearing had been covered in ice. Obviously not natural, but ice and coolant, like the kind marine issued ice guns made. The guns basically shot a beam that would super-cool any water, no matter how small the amount, in an object and in the air. They were used for various terra-forming exercises, or to clear roadways. Once the ice formed, it was easier to break up materials. She couldn’t guarantee that they had never been used on living things, as it tended to kill them.
Metroids don’t like cold. They don’t like Ice.
Angseth suddenly lifted her head, her eyes wide with sudden realization. “Aran…” It all made sense now. Her clear armor, no or little existing bone structure, her dream where her life-force was taken and given to Aran, the dried up pirates on the Seattle, and Angseth’s own power suit. She had started with over four full tanks, and after Aran had touched her, all the energy drained. Metroids sucked the power out of things.
Samus Aran had become a Metroid.
With that thought, the stack of papers before her ceased to exist. Angseth began to take inventory of what she had at her disposal.
I’ll need to move fast, or they will be all over me. My cybernetic leg will help, but I can’t take down solders in power suits with it alone. I have my strength. Not many people know about that. I need to get out of here!
Angseth knew that she had been in tough situations before, and as long she kept a cool head she could get out of them. This wasn’t just her own life on the line. She didn’t know exactly what they needed Aran for, but if Aran was a Metroid, one of the most dangerous little critters the cosmos could throw at civilization, then a weapon of that magnitude did not belong in the hands of anyone, let alone Admiral Mirson.
What is standard procedure for holding a prisoner like myself? Two guards outside the door. I’m not sure which ship, or exactly where in it I am, but by the general size I can guess I am in a briefing room, not a holding cell. That’s a big mistake on Fredrick’s part if I am. That means that this will be a low-level security area. I need to get out, find Aran, and see if I can break her out. I don’t think I’ll need to do much after that. Aran is a grown woman and can take care of herself.
Angseth then turned her attention to her cuffs. If she could get her hands free, then she could free her feet. She tested them again, to see what kind of give they had. Standard issue cuffs were solid chunks of metal that locked together on the outer and inner wrist. It wasn’t impossible to break them, just difficult. From the weight and feel, they were composed of Talloric alloy. A decent substance, but still not good enough to contain her. The key to breaking these cuffs were in the locking mechanism. If one were able to break the outer locks, then the middle only required a twisting maneuver to pop the remaining lock. Angseth took a deep breath, and began to twist her wrists outward. The metal bit into her skin as she pulled. The muscles in her arms and back began to ache as she strained, yet the metal still held its form.
“Come on…” The metal didn’t give as it should have. The edges of the cuffs bit further into her skin, sending waves of pain up her arms and into her shoulders. Angseth bit back her cries as tears escaped down her cheeks. The cuffs were giving a little, but not enough to twist them open. “Come on…I refuse to die here…I promised Briar that I would be back.” She let up, relaxing her arms. Angseth took in a deep breath and let it through her lips in a hiss. Once again she closed her eyes, then took a few more deep breaths. She let her mind clear until her body relaxed. Vera knew that she needed to stop wasting energy fighting both the pain and the cuffs. It was hard enough to fight a war on two fronts.
She began to pull again, this time embracing the pain, allowing it to fuel the anger and frustration that often got her into trouble. Anger management was something that had to be self-taught. On the Isrec mining colony, Anger was considered a status symbol. One had to be angry enough to fight the rock and keep coming back the next day to do it all over. In typical Confederation society, mostly everyone was docile, so happy in their individual illusions of security that anger was not necessary. People like Angseth stood out like blood on a white canvas. Miners had been called barbaric, subhuman and so many other terms. For whatever reason, Angseth and her people grew angry. And when they grew angry, things tended to get smashed.
The first lock finally snapped.
Angseth let out another hissing breath, then twisted her wrists in opposite directions, causing the center lock to pop open. The metal hit the floor with a loud clatter. She brought her hands in front of her, and then examined her wrists. Deep purple bruises were already evident on her wrists and top of her hands. They would be sore tomorrow. She then began to scan the room for a weapon.
As expected, there was nothing save for the table, and the chair she sat on. The chair was one of those flimsy things made of soft plastic and steel tubes. The whole thing was too soft to be of any use. The table, as she had observed earlier, had been bolted firmly to the floor.
Vibrations through the floor signaled a presence outside the door. It hadn’t been an hour yet had it? No, perhaps twenty minutes at best. Angseth quickly put her hands behind her back once more, and resumed the position that Fredrick had left her in. Improvisation would be her best tactic at the moment.
Captain Fredrick stepped into the room once again, and paused beside the table. Angseth saw the remains of the cuffs out of the corner of her eye, and grew still. Perhaps he wouldn’t see them. The sliding door hissed as it closed. Fredrick stood for a moment tapping away at his datapad. She watched his feet as they moved around to the opposite side of the table, paused, then circled back toward the door again. Vera tried not to appear too tense or relaxed. She needed him to sit down, to get off his feet so she could be the first onto hers. He drew his lips over his teeth again, creating another sound, loud and clear even through his helmet. He must have had his air vents open, that was the only way she could think of that such a disgusting sound would travel. His heavy feet then circled back around the side of the table, sounds of the chair being moved, a slight creak as his weight settled. She heard a hissing sound, then the sound of his helmet being placed on the table.
“Now Mervera,”
Angseth took in a deep breath. “Please use my formal title until I have been tried. Until then I am still Captain Angseth.” She still wasn’t out of the woods yet. He could still see the remains of the cuffs if he bothered to look.
Fredrick gave her a wry smile. He pulled the paperwork close and scanned it.
Angseth adjusted her shoulders, hoping that it didn’t seem unnatural for movement with restraints. She searched with her fingers over the back of the chair until her knuckles brushed against some of the piping holding the plastic pieces in place.
“Oh, silly me, you’re still cuffed.” He smiled more broadly. “Perhaps I should go ahead and loosen those for you.” He stood, his hand reaching for the key-chain as well as the pistol at his side.
Dammit, I need him to stay put! With her head still hanging she searched for something to stall him, finally she said. “What guarantee do I have that you will allow me to leave?”
Fredrick paused, his gaze resting on the back of her head. “As far as anyone else is concerned, this is a training exercise, other than that they would have no reason to detain you.”
“But I just need to sign the paperwork.” Angseth looked up, and fixed her gaze on his eyes. “I’ll sign, but I would like one question answered, if you would.”
“I’m not obligated to answer anything.” His smile faded, replaced by a neutral expression, one best saved for meetings and confrontation.
Angseth looked over the table at him, her brown eyes locked onto his features, staring him in the eye, watching his features. He began to grow defensive, good. Nervous? Even better. It was his fault for doing something as stupid as coming in here alone. If she stared at him long enough, she could make him crumble, but that wasn’t her goal.
“Did you manage to capture Samus Aran?”
Fredrick didn’t speak, nor did he make the mistake of trying to stare Angseth down. There was subtle movement at the side of his head, his ear had twitched. Small, subtle movement, almost hidden by his hair. That was the only sign Angseth needed. She smiled. Fredrick’s stony glare dropped for a moment as he pondered the meaning behind that smile.
Angseth gripped the chair by the steel bars, and suddenly stood, bringing the chair over her head and down onto Captain Fredrick’s surprised noggin. The chair bent and distorted as it glanced off his head and then hit the shoulder of his armor. He stumbled, reaching at his side for his pistol. In the same movement, Angseth swung her body up and over the top of the table, her cuffed feet met Fredrick’s chin, she could feel his teeth graze over her bare skin. The momentum carried them both to the floor on the opposite side of the table. Angseth slid to Fredrick’s right side, landing on her right hip.
“You bitch,” He hissed through the blood on his face.
Angseth wrested the pistol from his hand. “You were going to kill me anyway.” She leveled the barrel at his head. “Now give me the key to these leg braces or I’ll use your face for a lock-pick instead.”
Fredrick stopped fighting, and held his hands up in surrender. “On my left, in the side pocket. Aran is held in the dome at the center of the camp.”
“Talkative now are we?”
“I have always respected you, which is why I didn’t have you killed to begin with.”
“Are you regretting that decision now?”
“No.”
Talking was bad, talking bought him time, time Angseth didn’t have. Angseth kept the gun leveled on him as she rummaged around in his storage pouch. There was the usual junk, random key cards, candies. Her fingers finally settled on the familiar weight of the cuff keys. She leaned over and insert the key in the lock and twisted. The cuffs fell to the ground. She rolled, hiding behind the thicker part of the table, taking the leg cuffs with her. Once the gun had been taken from his face Fredrick hit his personal com and summoned his guards.
“You’ll not get far Angseth.” He breathed.
“We’ll see about that.”
The door slid open, spilling three guards into the room. Angseth cocked her cybernetic leg back, and kicked the table near the base, where the bolts attached it to the floor. The bolts bent then snapped with the high-force kick, flipping the table over and bringing it down on the marines on the opposite side. She then jumped to her feet and ran over the bottom of the table, pressing and keeping the few pinned marines down. A third on the other side lifted his power cannon. Angseth sprang, and cocked her leg back, then felt her knee connect with his faceplate. He fell and she rode his body to the ground, and out the door.
I’ve got to hurry.
Her bare foot hit the grated floor, her footfalls muffled by her flesh. The cybernetic leg rested with a hydraulic sounding hiss. The hall stretched out to her right and left, plain, bare, and disorienting. At any moment an alarm would be raised if it hadn’t already and the hall could lock off. Large metal plates would drop from the ceiling or walls and block off her escape. This was a War Wasp model craft; she could tell by the way the plates in the floor had been arranged. The plates were designed to move and shift as the craft moved and contorted to the terrain. It was a drop ship but equipped with heavy firepower.
Angseth began running to her left. If she was correct, then this hall would lead from the officers briefing room and toward a hall that ran along the interior of the outer hull. There would be airlocks, and conduit ducts.
I know they want me out of the way. But why? If Aran has become a Metroid, then why would they want to kill me? Did I just stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time?
Angseth slowed her pace she came to a corner, she put her back against the wall, and slid down to a crouch on the floor. Holding her pistol at the ready, she quickly peeked around the corner. The hall was clear on either side. She held the pistol close to her, and began running up the hall staying low. She could feel distant movement in the metal floor. They were coming for her and from the feel of things, they were coming fast. After running for a few yards, she came to an airlock. She stood with her back against the door and peeked out the view window.
The marines had set up a standard base camp. Already several different structures had been erected, including a large dome in the middle of the camp. There were five drop ships that had been arranged in a circular pattern around the camp. Everything was textbook. To any casual observer, the whole operation looked like a basic training mission. For all intents and purposes it was. None of the troops had that edge of fear in their voices.
She reached over and hit the button to open the airlock. Once the door had opened wide enough to allow her body to pass through, she dropped to her knees, then grabbed the bottom edge of the airlock. She swung her legs outside and let her body hang for a moment while she located a suitable landing point for the twenty-foot drop below her.
This will really hurt in bare feet.
She found an empty patch of ground then aligned herself and dropped. Surprisingly the ground was softer than expected. Angseth rolled with the impact of her fall. So far, so good. She continued toward a stack of supply crates, and looked up nervously toward the still open airlock. Angseth would need a suit. It would be suicide to move around without one. Once a suit could be acquired, then she would investigate the central dome.
The dome was a standard field science lab, mainly used to store and document specimens, or conduct minor research on minerals that had been discovered. A pair of guards stood outside the main entrance of the dome, and another pair by the secondary entrance. An exterior fence had been erected, and guards stood posted along the perimeter. Whatever was in there, they didn’t want it getting out. Her fighter also had a perimeter fence erected around it, although there were considerably fewer guards.
Angseth heard the sound of power suit clad footfalls. She ducked behind the crate again, staying low to the ground. She slowly peeked around the corner of the crates to see a lone marine walking toward her. She waited for him to come closer, then stood and grabbed him from behind, then wrestled him down behind the crates. Either she was higher on adrenaline than she had previously thought, or this marine had no idea of how to use his suit to the fullest. Angseth prayed for the later.
Once his body hit the ground, he began to struggle. Now the actuators in his suit kicked in. He bucked underneath her reaching for his power rifle. Angseth pinned one foot in the middle of his back, then pushed the muzzle of the pistol past the protective plating on his neck, and against the interior Kevlar composite fabric. The marine stopped struggling, and lifted his hands in surrender.
“If you want to live, you won’t move, got that?” She grabbed his shoulder and rolled him over, then had to smile when she read his name strip. “Got that, Private Jones?”
Jones grew very still. Angseth slowly pulled the pistol away from his neck, and pulled back, still keeping the gun pointing on his head.
This is the guy that stepped on my head. Turned off his com line, defied orders and climbed down the cliff-face to step on my head. Angseth mused. She looked him over, mentally measuring to see if his armor would fit. Jones appeared to be about her size, broad in the shoulder and hip.
Jones began to smile. Not even an hour earlier he had been talking to some of the other troops in his squad. As usual the topic of discussion was how much ass they had gotten, or the ass to come. Jones, for once, had been on the outside of the conversation, preferring to listen in. His tastes ran a different path than that of his comrades. Most of them had holos of girls back home, smiling, blond-haired, blue-eyed pin-up style pictures. He had been ridiculed for his taste in women before, and after getting commended for his heroic actions earlier, he didn’t wish to sour the evening.
Currently there was a battlefield angel holding him at gun point. In her own armor, Angseth was easily as large as most human men in the marines. However this vision before him was a woman in every sense of the word. Her body was athletic and toned. Muscles were evident under her dark sienna skin. Biceps bigger than his own crested over the round barrel of her pistol in his line of sight. Strong capable hands closed around the grip and trigger. She had a narrow waist and hips only slightly more narrow than her shoulders. He couldn’t see much past her black t-shirt, but Jones would bet his next years salary that she would have a tight washboard stomach to match those toned arms.
Angseth narrowed intense brown eyes on Jones. Jones would never forget those eyes for the rest of his life. Those eyes had first glared at him from behind the toe of his boot, now they were filled with annoyance and determination. However they we not cruel, they did not hate. She spoke, and he listened.
“Remove your armor.”
Private Jones scrambled to remove his cumbersome exoskeleton as quickly as he could. As Private Jones became more exposed, Angseth began to wish that she had found someone else. Jones was…. happy to comply with her wishes. On second thought, this could work to her advantage. Not many men responded to her in this way, and that gave her leverage.
When his legs had been freed from his power suit, Angseth slipped the leg cuffs around his ankles, and then locked them. He could scream, but it would be worse if he ran away. She held her gun steady as she began to slip into the cast-off pieces of armor.
“One question Jones, what were you doing over here by yourself?” She asked.
“You’ll have to earn that information beautiful.” Jones responded with a smirk.
Angseth resisted the urge to rearrange his teeth. She pulled on his boots, and asked the question again a little more firmly.
“Getting beer sir.”
“You’re an idiot.” Angseth pondered for a moment if she should just go ahead and shoot him.
“So they say sir,”
Angseth reached for his helmet, then slipped it on. “I really should beat the shit out of you.” She opened the crate and peered inside. It had been stocked full of beer. Somebody obviously thought this would be a normal training mission. Angseth cleared out a few cases, and then grabbed Jones by his camouflage printed clothing and tossed him inside. She shut the lid, then picked up a case of beer and tucked it under her arm. If Jones had been on a beer run, then so would she.
Dear goddess, I want to know whose stupid idea it was to host a training mission, and to capture both Aran and myself in it.
Angseth heard a voice cackle over the com.
“Attention, detainee Captain Angseth has escaped from her holding cell. She is to be considered armed and dangerous.”
Angseth didn’t break her stride. She now had a power suit, now she needed to get Aran and get out. Easier said than done. She drew closer to the dome, trying to remember if Jones slouched when he walked, did he have a limp? If she couldn’t get his walk down right, then this disguise wouldn’t last long. Troops that knew Jones would be on to her soon.
Once again the com cackled. “Attention, detainee Captain Angseth has escaped from her holding cell. She is to be considered armed and dangerous.”
Angseth walked up to the central dome. Jones wouldn’t have clearance to this place, but he might have been used as an errand boy on occasion. The guards on the perimeter didn’t seem to notice her. They would be too busy scanning the horizon for more incoming enemy craft, and any suspicious activity in the camp. As long as she acted like the idiot that Jones was, they would have no reason to suspect her. As predicted, the guards at the main door stopped her.
“I need clearance.” The marine on the right reached out and placed a hand against her shoulder, stopping her.
Angseth didn’t pause. In order to perform covert operations, and reduce suspicion, she had to act as naturally as possible. She first lifted the case of beer, then pointed to the dome.
The marine paused and said, “Did they put you on distribution detail again?”
Angseth shook her head and tapped the side of the helmet, then cupped her hand over where her ear would have been. She bent at the waist as if she were having trouble hearing him.
“God dammit Jones you really need to get that fixed.”
Angseth nodded inside Jones’ power suit, then opened the case of beer and pulled one out. She dropped it into his hand, and then patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. The marines parted, allowing “Jones” to pass.
Vera shook her head as she entered the dome. In her early days as a marine someone had pulled a similar stunt on her. Beer bribes were not an uncommon form of currency among the young and bored.
The dome itself was simply a large tent with a steel composite reinforced frame. When building science domes in the field, installing electrical components was unnecessary. All the utilities, plumbing, electrical, and others were already built into the frame. It consisted of one room, divided off into smaller sections. The floor was dirt, with a layer of grating suspended about a foot off the floor. Cables ran in the space between the grate and the dirt, carrying energy and water to various parts of the dome. Angseth stepped out onto a catwalk that ran around the perimeter of the dome. The center of the room had been divided off from the rest by chain-link fence reinforced with a minor shield. A cluster of scientists sat clustered around a set of holo-screens. Their gaze was fixed on whatever the screens displayed. The signal was encrypted, and Jones’ suit did not have the proper decryption filters for Angseth to read the holo-screens.
The center of the room drew her attention. Blocked off by the chain-link, was a conglomerate of coolant tanks, power cables and transformers. Placed in the center of all this mess was a stasis tube laying horizontally on the floor. The inside of the stasis tube had been frosted over, preventing Angseth from seeing what could be inside.
She set the beer down, and began to slowly walk around the perimeter of the fence, looking for a door or opening of some kind. Angseth finally located the entrance, a simple gate that had been left unlocked. She pushed it open, then stepped inside. The machines and cooling towers hummed around her as she stepped toward the stasis tube. Through the frost she could make out pale yellows and muted red tones. Angseth stopped next to it, then raised her hand and wiped the frost away.
Aran lay inside, her hands and feet bound by restraining cuffs. The armor, now her skin, had become even more transparent. The bones that had been very evident earlier were now little more than suggestions of space inside the suit, or had melted away altogether. Angseth leaned closer, studying the glass and the frost that had built up inside the stasis tube. A thermometer on the side if the case read the temperature at well below freezing.
Angseth bit her bottom lip, and began looking for a control panel. Something inside the stasis pod suddenly caught her eye.
Something had moved inside Aran’s arm. Something had flickered by under the surface of the armor. Angseth leaned closer, to get a better look. There was something inside Aran’s arm. Something thick and long, that appeared to be like a tentacle. It moved again, rotating and spinning within the firm clear shell of the Varia suit. Angseth followed the long squirming thing up through Aran’s bicep and to the large round shoulders. Angseth felt suddenly cold and frozen when she studied the contents of Aran’s helmet.
Aran’s skull had somehow changed shape. Aran’s skull wasn’t even connected to her body anymore. It rolled and free-floated, rotating completely inside the helmet. A few tentacles pulled up from the lower reaches of the suit and trailed after the skull as it spun around. Angseth’s throat felt dry, her body went numb as the head spun. Soon she could see the remains of a cheekbone, small pieces of cartilage in Aran’s nose that hadn’t been absorbed by the armor. A pair of sapphire blue human eyes fixed on Angseth. A jaw and accompanying teeth began to move weakly behind the clear visor. They clicked together once, twice, then hung loosely affixed to an equally glass-like jaw.
Angseth tore her gaze away from the stasis tube, and then stepped backward. Now the adrenaline was kicking in. She took another step back, and ran into a cooling tower. That thing in the stasis tank was not Samus Aran. That thing was a nightmare pulled from the minds of many delusional scientists.
The cooling tower fell to the ground making a loud hollow sound. Angseth continued to step backward and tripped over the cooling tower.
No…No…that’s not Samus! THAT’S NOT SAMUS!!
A sound came from the stasis tube, Angseth looked back up at the tube to see one of Aran’s hands weakly lift and knock on the inside of the glass. Angseth didn’t want to see anymore. She didn’t want to look at the stasis tank and the writhing mass of skull and glass inside.
“Jones!”
Angseth began to scoot away from the tank while down on all fours. She knocked over another cooling tower, then somehow managed to find her feet.
“Jones! What the hell are you doing in here?”
No, No, get out of here. Get in your ship and fly far the fuck away from this place. That thing is not Samus, and if it was, she is far beyond your help now. Angseth felt an old familiar friend rise up in her breast. Fear. And Fear and brought his good buddy Panic. Usually Angseth had done a good job keeping both Fear and Panic away, or at least never saw them both together, but right now they had come in and blasted down the door of Common Sense.
“Private Jones!” The com cackled to life inside her helmet. “State your location!”
The com didn’t exist. Her own disguise at the moment didn’t exist. At the moment all that mattered were Fear and Panic. She stood and began running. The beast was behind her, the Demon was ready to come and devour her soul any moment now, and she would need to put as much distance between herself and it as possible.
“Jones! What is your location?”
Disguise be dammed. Her ship was out there, sitting serenely and fully repaired by now. Yes, marines and heavy artillery surrounded it, but that wouldn’t stop her. She could take them, whether she could or not. She would reach her ship or die trying. Because Fear and Panic told her that the thing in the tank wanted her. Angseth would not suffer the same fate as Samus; she would not go quietly into that never-ending night.
She ran, barreling past the two guards at the door, knocking each one over. She picked up speed once outside, and then broke into a full adrenaline induced run. The tentacles within the shell of Aran’s body had shaken her sanity. No, there was no possible explanation of how that could be Aran, not the clear skin, not the obvious facial cartilage showing through the clear and semi-clear areas of the facemask. It all had to be some extravagant hoax to try to catch her, and get her court marshaled or worse.
“Attention, Detainee Captain Angseth has been spotted near the central science dome. Apprehend and proceed with caution.”
Angseth ran faster as shouts were raised around her in the camp. Before the guards around her craft had time to react and train their weapons on her, Angseth had scaled a stack of crates, and used them as a platform to jump from. She sailed over the heads of the marines, and landed on the wing of her fighter. Her feet had no sooner touched the metal of her ship when laser fire began peppering the metal around her. Angseth tucked her head down and ran along the wing, then made a dive for the interior
of her cockpit.
She hit her steering column hard, then cringed when her ship began to emit an intruder alarm.
“Unauthorized personnel detected.”
“Shit,” Angseth opened her com to her ship and shouted, “Voice print verify! Mervera Diane Angseth!”
“Voice print confirmed.”
Angseth ducked another barrage of laser fire, and gave another voice command to her ship. “Raise shields!”
The shields activated as Angseth pulled herself up onto her seat. Once the shields had been activated she sat safe and sound inside her own protected bubble. The canopy on her ship lowered, as she locked her feet onto the pegs.
There wasn’t enough time to fully warm the engines. The take-off would be rough. The drop-ships surrounding her craft began to level their main guns on her fighter. Her holo-screens began to display the statistics of the various ships around her as well as a radar read-out of all those attacking her craft. Angseth stood in the pegs and gunned her engines.
The fighter lurched forward, dragging along the ground and churning up earth with the wings. An alarm inside the cock-pit sounded as the drop ship to her left fired upon her fighter. Angseth let out a small surprised shriek as her shields absorbed the almost point-blank impact. The blast caused her fighter to list sharply to the right, dragging one wing in the dirt. Angseth gunned the engines again causing the fighter to a sharp 180-degree turn, and rear upward, placing its engines on the ground.
Angseth jumped on the accelerator, giving the thrusters everything she had. The fighter spun, then launched upward like a wayward Saturn 5 rocket. Smoke, dust and ash spread through the camp causing disorientation and confusion among the troops.
The fighter had only launched 300 meters into the air before an alarm went in the cock-pit notifying Angseth of another incoming attack. “Come on…Come on…” She waited for the next shell launch, and then rolled with the impact. The jarring on her shields caused her ship to list sharply to the left. However she was still on an upward trajectory. A few holograms around her began blinking showing critical main engine damage.
Angseth growled, then pulled a holo-screen close and began to manually bypass secondary systems within the engines. “All right assholes.” Angseth hissed. “If you want to take me down you had better get creative!” She braced herself as she input the last codes.
“Warning, dangerous proximity to other vessels,”
“Override!” Angseth shouted. She could see more ships coming after her on the radar. The shields couldn’t take any more impacts. The next one would destroy her fighter and her along with it.
A low vibration moved though her ship as the primary engines shut down. Angseth felt her internal organs take on the consistency of water as time appeared to ripple around her. The vibration spread through her cybernetic leg and into her bones. The warp core had been engaged. Angseth held onto her steering bar as the pressure finally overcame her.
Angseth’s fighter left the atmosphere in a crack of thunder. The wake from the energy as the fighter warped out proceeded to topple a few drop ships, and in some cases causeing minor damage to the hulls. For a one hundred mile radius a massive dust cloud rolled across the planet.
It would be two days before help could arrive.
Chapter Text
Chapter 7:
“In other news, Chairman Kltrlf has announced the lifting of trade sanctions within the Kartera system to allow more goods to flow to those suffering from a recent earthquake on their home world of Starkartera IX. She is confident that this decision will assist the people of Starkartera IX in their recovery efforts to-“
The holo-screen flickered to a new channel, depicting some movie that cast a faint glow over the darkened room. Alien music pumped over the sound system, composed of odd sounds and distorted melodies. The music added to the comfortable cacophony in the bar. Bottles of liquor, with labels in strange languages lined a glass shelf before a large mirror. A bartender that seemed to be made of mostly granite stood mountain-like behind the bar top composed of polished slate. In his hands he held and polished a glass that had been carved from a solid chunk of crystal. Once this piece had been cleaned and dried to satisfaction, the bartender put it away with the others.
Races of many systems came through Feld’s Bar. Most of them hailed from the surrounding mining stations, and some were only passing through while transporting goods across the galaxy. Feld listened to his customers talk. Languages and dialects from all over the Lower Systems flew through the air created a melody unlike any other. News from the Border, Outer Reaches, and even the Kessel Empire ran across his mind, the more juicy bits filed away for later perusal.
The creature that stumbled into his bar five minutes ago was turning heads. It stood about two and half pierce tall, and wore odd black clothing. It walked with a slight limp, either due to an injury, or perhaps it was some kind of cultural dance, like how the Ipsim race refused to enter a room that was not perfectly round, or had least had circles as part of the décor. This creature was about a third of the height of anyone else on this entire station. It limped over to the bar, extended arms that had been previously tucked into its clothing, hoisted itself onto one of the bar stools, and then sat down. Feld thought it comical that this tiny dark skinned fleshy creature was sitting at his bar, barely tall enough to even reach his kneecaps, like child imitating an adult. Atop the creatures head was a small patch of fur, cut closely to the skin. At what the bartender took to be it’s front, all of the being’s sensory organs sat clustered in one spot. Feld had seen better looking guests, but none so odd.
Feld put on his most professional demeanor and walked over to see if the little beast wanted a drink. After all, It was a customer, and at Feld’s Bar everyone was welcome.
Feld spoke in Bfre, the most common language in this sector. “What would you like?”
The creature looked up, fixing all of it’s sensory organs toward Feld. Even though Feld had never seen one of these things before, he could tell that this little beast was exhausted. It surprised Feld even more that the beast answered in flawless Hlset, the native language of his people.
“Do you accept Confederation Credits?” it asked.
Feld paused, then responded in Hlset. “Confederation? You’re a little far from home.”
The creature nodded. “It’s all I have on me.”
Feld thought for a moment. Confederation Credits did have a decent exchange rate, especially if he went through the right sources. “I’ll accept them, although I don’t expect anyone else on this station to.”
“Thank you. I would just like a glass of water then.”
Feld went to the opposite end of the bar, searching for a glass that could possibly be small enough for this creature to drink from. He eventually found a shot glass, then filled it with water.
“Hey barkeep!” a voice whispered harshly at his elbow.
Feld nodded. “I’ll be there in a moment to take your order.”
“You gonna let that Human stay here?”
“Human?” Feld look down the bar toward to the little black-clad creature. “Is that what that is?”
“Yeah, you better be careful. Rumor has it that the Confederation is expanding in this sector. I’ve just gotten back from a delivery on the Frontier. That Human is military. Those are Captains ranking bars on its clothing.”
Feld grew quite for a moment, then spoke. “I have never turned anyone away because of origin or alignment, but your concern is noted.” He walked down toward the end of the bar, where the beast still sat.
The Human looked up as Feld set the glass of water down before it. He paused a moment before letting go of the glass. A subtle warning.
Humans were dangerous. Anyone could see their long and bloody history in carving out kingdoms in the stars. This was a ranking officer, and humans always traveled in packs. Did this one have a pack waiting somewhere? For the safety of his other patrons, Feld decided to ask for more information.
“Are you alone?”
The Humans shoulders seemed to slump, as if it had been expecting a question of this nature. “Yes. I came to this station alone. I became lost in a wayward warp. I am Captain Angseth of the Confederation Battle Cruiser fleets,” it paused and took a sip of water. The shot glass seemed to be just the right size for it. “If I am making your other customers nervous, I’ll pay and leave.”
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you for the information. The water is on the house.”
The creature rubbed it’s head, right above its eyes. “I promise not to cause any trouble.”
As the bartender walked away, Angseth held the glass before her, looking down at her reflection on the surface of the water. It wouldn’t surprise her if she were the only Human on the station. Mining stations always had a wide variety of races. However Humans were not usually among them. Humans, while considered numerous and dangerous, were not the first choice when it came to mining. Angseth wouldn’t argue. Even her race was only qualified to mine “soft” resources.
This station was just beyond the Border, a line of space that divided the Confederation territories from the other kingdoms and empires in the rest of space. The patrons of this bar were understandably wary around Humans. Beyond the Border were mainly peaceful underdeveloped races. The only thing that really saved them was the battered moral code that had been established during the Federation Era. However Federation laws had been lacking adaptation qualities when it came to the changing needs of society and the dawn of newer more productive industrial age.
Transition between the “Galactic Federation” and the birth of the “Galactic Confederation of Allied Systems” had not been an easy one. In the history logs it had been referred to as the “Bloodless War.” Only one injury had occurred during this fragile time, one representative had assaulted another over a disagreement in new trade guidelines. The new laws and documents had then been recorded in a large database labeled “Confederation Laws and Reform Constitution.”
As a result of the new laws, room for a larger military had been made. Instead of the military acting as a police force, political entities were allowed to govern their own space and sectors, thereby freeing up much needed manpower to help quell uprisings, and fend off the occasional invading force. The military had been taken out of the hands of the Senate Chairman, and placed in the hands of the Seven Admirals. The Seven Admirals in turn each acted as the Governor in Chief of their own sectors of space. Each sector had been named after one major constellations that had been used for navigation in the past. This also made the naming of planets and newly found systems much easier.
During the transition phase, Angseth had been promoted to ship Captain. That title meant that she could Captain any vessel from the size of a drop-ship to a mega cruiser. Anything larger than a mega cruiser, or a vessel that carried civilians, she would need a ranking of Admiral. Even the rank of Admiral had been broken down into several levels. Admiral I enabled her to command a civilian-bearing vessel. Admiral II, and she could command up to five ships. Admiral III, and she would have the charge of a station. Fleet Admiral, and she could have an entire fleet, up to one hundred ships at her command. That rank was followed by Fleet Admiral I, II, and III. To be a System Admiral, also known as one of the Seven Admirals, one had to be elected by a military tribunal.
Angseth knew that at least three of the Seven Admirals regretted her promotion as she had only caused them trouble ever since. Admiral Mizzen had taken her under his wing so to speak. She was the Captain he deployed when something needed to be done. Not because she was the best, or even the most organized, but because she was reliable. She would take any mission from him without question, and never looked back once the mission had been completed. Because of this she was granted certain favors within Mizzen’s fleet.
Interracial couples were often frowned upon. Planet-side, citizens felt that no greater injustice could be done to the survival of a species. In space, the concept of race ceased to exist when one had been working alongside an individual for an extended amount of time. She and Briar had been dating for ten years now. Admiral Mizzen had been kind enough to turn his head and allow Briar and Angseth to serve on the same vessel. Angseth knew Mizzen well enough by now to know that this was Mizzen’s little way of getting back at the system, to plant one small seed of change in an otherwise barren landscape. Likewise, even married couples of the same species were not supposed to work together on the same ship. Dr. Sakari and Zaine Bearn were not supposed to be assigned the same ship to serve their term. Once again Mizzen had purposefully placed the two together under Angseth’s command. To keep a low profile, Angseth had been performing training missions on her last two tours of duty. Each tour lasted roughly three years. In those three years Angseth had been assigned a crew of some of the roughest cadets she had ever laid eyes on. In exchange for the luxury of being able to sustain a working relationship, she had been assigned the duty of repeatedly turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse. One by one the wills of her cadets had been molded under her watchful eye.
And when another assignment landed on her desk signed by Mizzen, she only needed to nod and sign onto it.
Angseth drank deeply from her glass of water. The water tasted as pure as water on a station could. It was lukewarm, with no ice to keep it cool. All the same it felt good going down her throat. She set the glass back down, watching the water settle and creating a mirror-like surface once more. She missed Briar. Over the nagging guilt in her heart, there was the guilt of placing him in a position she knew that he didn’t like. The crew was still young, but good and eager to do their best. Briar seemed to be more attuned to their needs and wants better than Angseth had been. If anyone could keep that crew together Briar could.
After she had lost her leg, Nevada had been the one to help her walk again, to help her find a cybernetics specialist that could create a limb strong enough for daily wear and tear. He had been there throughout her recovery, and when she returned to active duty, Nevada had quit his position as Medical Personnel for a new career as a Security Officer. Angseth didn’t quite know exactly who made the first move, herself or him. But one night she found herself in his arms, locked in a deep embrace with his lips over hers. She could still remember how his small whiskers had brushed her cheek. Nevada's embrace had always been warm and his fur and scales so comforting on her skin. She liked it when they were laying in bed together watching some program on the holo-screen, and she could hear as well as feel him purr.
Angseth suddenly shook her head and then took another sip of water.
This isn’t good. Already I’m starting to miss him, my ship and my nice warm bunk. I need to stay focused. I’m out here for a reason.
Instead she turned her thoughts away from the warm and comforting, and to the more pressing matters at the moment. When her ship had come out of warp, two missiles had followed, and even though their warheads had been rendered inactive by the longer flight, two heavy objects slammed into what had been left of her main engines. It had been by sheer luck that she had made it to this station by using minor thrusters. It would be a miracle if she could actually have her ship repaired on this station. Currently her ship was parked in a repair bay on the lower levels. A mechanic named “Clersk” had requested some time to go over the ship and see if there was anything he could do. Angseth agreed only because she was hungry, thirsty, and most of her rations had been taken along with her Captain’s power suit. The rations still left in her ship she wanted to keep in her ship in the event that she needed them later. If her fighter were fixed, this wouldn’t be her last stop.
Once she had reached the upper commerce levels her hunger had left. But she was thirsty. Angseth had stepped into Feld’s Bar because in comparison, it had been the quietest she had come across thus far. The water had helped to clear her head, and allow her mind to wander into more comfortable mindsets. Once she left this station, Angseth didn’t know if she should return to the Mabus, or perhaps gather more information about Aran’s capture. During her trip to this station, Angseth discovered that the file Aran had transmitted to her was still stored in her ships computer. Angseth had scanned the file, and then sighed.
The file had a standard military encryption, but had been written entirely in Chozo. Angseth didn’t know Chozo, and the Confederation data banks only had limited samples of Chozo language. The Chozo were an ancient race, very reclusive, and only participated in Confederation Senate meetings when advancements in new technology threatened their migratory routes, which in and of themselves were kept secret. Angseth knew that if she downloaded the right program from the Confederation data banks, then she stood a chance of translating the file. However, if she did download the program, then the Confederation would know where she was. At the moment Angseth didn’t know if it would benefit her or not for the bulk of the Confederation to know her location, and why it was so far away from her post on the Mabus.
Angseth didn’t even know if the file was genuine, or if that thing really was Samus Aran. But who else could write in fluent Chozo? Depending on how badly she needed the file translated, Angseth could either return to the Mabus and download a program to translate the file there, or find a sample of already translated Chozo language to compare the file to. If she just had an image of an inscription then she could run it through a basic multi-lingual program on her fighter and have it over with. The biggest problem she had with this decision was that her fighter currently had no files on it from which to pull an image from. Again she was faced with the possibility that if she had logged into the Confederation data banks to retrieve an image, then they would know her location. Angseth didn’t want the Confederation to know her location, especially after what had happened on FQ3-59.
No one had ever attempted to warp out while still in the atmosphere of a planet. The idea of warping from the atmosphere of a habitable world was almost akin to slamming a station or warhead into it. There was no telling what kind of chaos her wake had caused, or how many innocent lives she had taken with that maneuver. Angseth suddenly lost her thirst. Her limbs felt cold and heavy. For the first time since docking on this station she felt regretful of her actions. The Marines had been there to train. Most of them wouldn’t have even been carrying live ammo. Had her wake sucked a few of them into the upper stratosphere? If so, what kind of repercussions would that action have? Perhaps even Aran had been caught in the wake, the fragile dome of the research center caved in to expose the interior to whatever elements Angseth had disturbed with her stupid lack of fore-thought!
That thing is not Samus Aran. Angseth rested her head on the bar top. The smooth slate cool against her cheek. Whatever it is, it is not Aran. Not anymore.
Angseth pulled the water closer, and sat up again. Whatever had happened after she left, if she was really in trouble she would hear about it on the military communications band in her fighter.
Stop worrying and think! You have a file; it must be an important file for Aran to upload it to you directly. Now where can I find a sample of Chozo writing?
Angseth drummed her fingers on the table. Searching her memory for as much Chozo lore as she could remember. She couldn’t go to the Chozo directly, they were a bit too elusive for that. Not even the Seven Admirals had access to their migratory routes. Which left the few ruins of the lost Chozo Empire that still existed after all this time. Zebes would not be of any use to her, that world had been destroyed long ago. What other known colonies did the Chozo have?
“Tallon IV,” Angseth breathed. “But the ruins there had been destroyed, not to mention the acute radiation levels on the surface,” she looked into her glass of water as if to find an answer in the numerous grooves and scratches in the bottom of the glass. “But what other choice do I have?”
“Human!” Someone across the bar called in pigeon-tongued standard.
Angseth lifted her head to the call, even though to only call someone by their race was considered to be rude. She spoke in Brfe, and the creature seemed to be surprised. As surprised as a creature with no eyes could be, at least not any eyes that she could see. “I speak Brfe. Come again?”
The creatures surprise melted away and became replaced by anger. “Cursed Humans taking the mines! Have ye not enough land to keep yourselves satisfied?”
Angseth paused. She had not been made aware of any Human colonies in this sector, especially not beyond the Border, it would break an innumerable amount of treaties, perhaps a private company was expanding their own property? She responded back to the creature. “I was not made aware of any Human activity in this sector. I am not here to take.”
At this point Feld walked over to silence the outburst. Before things could get any worse, Angseth left a few credits on the bar top and slipped out of her chair. She didn’t want to get the patrons of the bar any more tension over a Human present.
Vera stepped out into the hall. Feld’s Bar opened into one of the central commerce pillars of the station. This particular area didn’t receive many visitors due to newer areas that had been constructed, but this pillar still received a fair amount of traffic. She stepped out into the main flow of pedestrians, keeping close to the walls. Vera shifted and moved between legs, tentacles, and hooves. Most people on this station were much taller than Angseth, not to mention stronger. She never failed to feel like a small child darting around the ankles of adults on her way to her destination. A few creatures stopped to gaze down at her, most didn’t even notice her presence. She learned a long time ago that larger races didn’t look down often, and it was just better to keep out of the way.
Angseth stood near the wall and waited for one of the many elevators to open. She would take this one down to the lower bays. Hopefully Clersk would take Confederation Credits, and her fighter wouldn’t require much work. The elevator doors opened and Angseth stepped inside, taking a place near the wall again. A few other passengers stepped on, loaded with belongings, food, tools, and smelling of all the odd substances that one could find on a station. She folded her arms and stood in thought as the doors shut. The trip would take about ten minutes.
So where to now? The Mabus , or Tallon IV?
Her mind kept going back to her brief stay on FQ3-59. Memories of Aran’s body on a bed of ice and frost, tentacles moving underneath her clear armor.
But I’ve seen that face before? Where have I seen that creature before?
Angseth looked up and watched the floors tick by. Her thirst and hunger had returned, yet nerves prevented her from going back to get food or drink. This station was large enough to have something that resembled take-out. She wished she had thought of that sooner.
Clersk was a large creature. He hailed from a dense world and seemed to be more suited for the mines than as a mechanic. Angseth was a quarter of his size. Clersk had dark blue plated skin, and wore mechanics overalls made of rough fabric. Angseth’s fighter looked like a model craft next to his massive form. When she stepped into his shop, she noticed a tarp had been placed over her fighter and Clersk was sitting at his workbench tinkering with some small piece of machinery.
“Welcome back.” Clersk stated. His standard was almost flawless.
Angseth pushed her hands into her pockets and walked up to Clersk’s workbench. “So what’s the verdict?”
“Not good. Missile bay doors are jammed, right rear thrusters have been almost destroyed, central guidance is out, and your landing gear as well as tow-hook have been damaged.”
“How long would it take you to fix it?”
“A week to get the parts, perhaps another two or three to fix. Price is yet to be determined.”
Angseth didn’t have three weeks. She didn’t like that Clersk had not yet named a price. She stood for a moment, studying her craft. “What if we scrapped the engines entirely, sold them here, and put another assembly on?”
“That would cut down on the time.” He lifted his head and looked back at her fighter, seeming to weigh the options in his mind. “But that is a military craft, I don’t know if I can get high-grade enough engines for such a ship.”
Angseth sighed. “Mechanic Clerk, I have a lot of places to go. I need my ship to get to those places. I currently have ten thousand Confederation Credits on my person. All of those including another fifty thousand will be transferred to you provided that you can repair my ship within forty-eight hours. I don’t care if you must completely gut the main engine cavity to replace them entirely. I must be able to leave in the next forty-eight hours.”
“If you have that much money, why not just buy a new ship?”
Angseth smiled. “Because I’ve had this one for so long. It was the one that took my leg. Selling this ship would be like giving away a family member.”
“All the same, can’t be done in forty-eight hours.”
“I can help. Not the first time I’ve had to work on my own craft, I just need tools.”
Clersk didn’t seem to be amused. He paused a moment, then said. “Ten thousand credits, in addition to the money I get from selling the engines.”
“Fair enough.” Angseth sat down on the wing of her fighter. May Mizzen forgive her for selling Confederation property. She guessed that if came up, then she at least had a good enough excuse for her actions.
Something on the ceiling caught her eye. Bolted to the rafters was a ring of engines. “What are those?”
“A project. Engines designed for racing vehicles.”
“How much would those set me back?”
“Your fighter is too heavy for those to be of any use.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Angseth pulled her hands out of her coat, then unzipped it and slipped it off her shoulders.
“You’re a female.” Clersk stated.
Angseth paused.
“Human females are known for their docility.”
“With a few exceptions.” Angseth tossed her coat into the cockpit of her fighter. “People on this station have been staring a bit hard since I arrived.”
“Not many have seen a Human before.”
“I had been talking to someone in Feld’s Bar who said that Humans had been making a push into this sector. I find that a bit odd because I would have heard about settlements. Then again beyond this point there are no planets with resources that the Humans would covet. I’m not like most Humans. It is part of my creed to help all races, not just the one I was born into, otherwise I could not call myself a ship Captain.”
“You are different from some other Humans. So what is the news from the Confederation?”
“The Confederation…” she began. “Is going though the usual growing pains. You would think that so many races that have decided to unite under one banner would be a little more willing to get along with each other.”
Clersk nodded. “Such is the case with this station. Quite often it ceases to be a melting pot and more like a war zone. It doesn’t even take the threat of a different race, sometimes there are people from different tribes or clans wishing to tear out each others throats.”
Angseth felt a soft smile spread over her lips. “My ship has no fewer than ten different species that serve on it. I’ve always worked hard to have a diverse yet cooperative crew.”
Clersk studied her for a moment, then stood to his full height and began to reach for the ring of engines hanging from the rafters.
“Find a buyer?”
“No, a test pilot.”
Vera laughed.
Angseth sat inside her cockpit leaning on the steering bar and practically standing on the accelerator. Clersks small bay echoed with the sound of engines whirring and whining as the new engines in Angseth’s fighter struggled to ignite.
“Keep it up! A little more now!”
“My accelerator pedal is touching steel!”
“Turn it off!”
Angseth let up on the accelerator. The ship jarred, shaking in it’s restraint harness, then the engines shut down. She leaned out of her cockpit, and glanced back to the rear of the ship where Clersk stood, an over-sized wrench in one hand. He pulled a panel free then reached inside. Angseth pulled herself out of the cockpit and sat on the edge of the open canopy.
“I’ve adjusted the fuel flow to provide more power to the engines. They may be fast, but they’re also thirsty.” Clersk stated as he worked.
“That won’t interfere with the warp core will it?”
“No, the warp core is a separate system.” He closed the panel, then shoved the wrench into his back pocket. “Alright, give it another shot.”
Angseth slipped back inside her fighter and sat down. She started up the engines again, filling the bay with spitting and hissing noises.
“Dammit! Gun it as if the entire Gamma Fleet was on your ass!”
Vera hissed, then literally stood and jumped on the accelerator. The engines spat once more then settled into a more familiar whine. He fighter pulled at the restraints, almost bucking Angseth out of her seat.
“Alright good! Cut it off!”
Angseth rocked backward and let up on the accelerator. She laughed a little not expecting that kind of power. “Was that better?”
“You’d never make it as a racing pilot, but the new engines are now fully installed. Just a bit more tweaking and clean-up is necessary.” Clersk set his testing panel down on the nearest workbench.
“I can handle clean-up. You’ve already been at it for twelve hours.” Vera climbed out of her cockpit once more, and then walked to the rear of the ship. The original ring of engines had been broken down and placed in smaller clusters inside her old engine compartments. It had taken them the longest to modify the rear of her ship so it could contain the new engines, yet still maintain its structural integrity. Vera thought that the new engine cluster gave her ship a more gritty edge, made more so by the lack of matching paint. Like all new toys, she was eager to give these an official test run.
Angseth stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Thanks Clersk. It looks great. Um…do we have any of those TerLog dumplings left?”
“A few I think.”
“Good, I’m hungry all over again.”
“That’s odd. Humans don’t usually eat TerLog,”
“I grew up on the Isrec Mining rings. I fear no food.”
Clersk laughed heartily. “You’re welcome to rest over-night. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”
Angseth smiled. “You can be sure that I’ll be sending new customers your way.”
“That would be nice.” Clersk nodded. “Maybe if I get enough I can open my own complex.”
“Complex?”
“Yeah, a shop this small is nice, but I dream of a larger shop where I can handle larger ships and engines.”
“That does sound nice.” Angseth began to clean up around her fighter, putting various tools back from where Clersk had gotten them. Partly out of politeness, and partly to settle her nerves. Once she had finished, she stepped into her cockpit, and opened one of her rear compartments. Jones’ armor had been stored earlier in the section below where it could charge. She would have to put it on again before she left. Vera pulled a black blanket from a compartment, and removed her coat. She could sleep in her jumpsuit but would rather not. Nothing in her opinion was worse than clothes that had been slept in that also happened to contain electronic components. Instead she dressed in a pair of sweat pants and loose shirt.
Angseth stepped out onto the wing, the pistol she had taken from Captain Fredrick tucked into a shoulder harness. She had wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and sat down. The blanket matched the flat black of her ship. If she rested in just the right way, she could hide completely.
Vera liked the smell of engine fluids, and the smell of metal and tools. It reminded her of home, of the fighter bays of the Mabus, the smell of power suits.
With the small comfort of the gun at her side and the scent of metal in the air, she slept.
Vera had been chasing Aran for over four hours. She had crawled through tunnels, scaled cliff-faces, and even flew with the aid of a stolen jetpack she had lifted from some pirates. She had used the jetpack to gain access to high plateaus, and reach other areas her power suit usually couldn’t reach. Angseth had lost sight of Aran, and now she had to find her again.
Locating Aran had been hard enough when Vera discovered that Aran had somehow acquired a new suit, and even more difficult when she witnessed the Hunter ducking in and out of various transport-like portals, then popping back up in different areas of Aether. The Splinters were still a pain, but not so much a challenge as just annoying.
Angseth had alighted on a tall spire of rock in the hopes of gaining a better view of the landscape. Scouting of this nature was frustrating; Aran had already been all over this terrain before Angseth. There was nothing that Angseth could discover that Aran hadn’t already climbed all over. Which left the question that Angseth voiced into seemingly empty air.
“Where could Aran have gone?”
The jetpack thumped lightly against her back. Pirate technology wasn’t made for it’s stealth, but it more than made up for it in mobility. It was rough technology, but easily repaired. She had been impressed with its simple yet effective construction. The pack consisted of twin central units. One held highly flammable liquid to provide thrust, the other super coolant. Two air intake valves sat near her shoulders pumping oxygen to help provide thrust. The fuel itself burned clean creating little or no light like normal combustibles would do. Which meant that she could use the pack at night and not worry about being seen. Provided that the engine was kept clean it would not create a vapor trail. Jetpack use in the Federation had been discouraged due to the lack of practical purposes. Jetpacks also had the habit of structural instability due to intense pressure and warping of the framework from heat. The Pirates had overcome this by using super coolant that cycled through different chambers within the pack and framework. The coolant also acted as an accelerant in conjunction with the liquid fuel. When the fuel and coolant mixed, it created a chemical reaction between the two substances. The result was intense thrust and no heat to trace it by. The thought had crossed her mind that perhaps some Federation scientists could reverse engineer it for use among the GI’s. The pack was perfect for basic reconnaissance of this nature. It also taught her a good deal more about flying.
A glint of gold caught her eye. No, it wasn’t Aran. Aran had changed suits earlier. She no longer wore the gold-colored Varia suit. The last that Angseth had seen her, she had been wearing some dark contraption that looked as if someone had disassembled a jet engine and made a suit out of it. No this glint of gold was different, a pirate perhaps?
The glare of the sun lifted from the gold fleck. The glare wasn’t as bright, but now that the object in question had been brought to her attention it became hard to ignore it. The piece of gold metal moved in short hops and jerks, almost as if something had taken hold of some shiny piece of metal and began dragging it along the ground.
Angseth crouched, the jetpack still thumping against her back. She adjusted the zoom function on her visor to examine the piece of metal. Her preliminary scans told her the object was over two hundred fifty yards away. The gold flickered again, and Angseth was finally able to make out the backside of some poor Pirate. The Pirate’s body dragged the ground pulled by some unseen force. Vera scanned the area then felt her mouth drop when her scanner fell on what had been dragging the Pirate, picking at the body like a vulture on carrion.
A lone Metroid dipped down, picking up the Pirates arm, and used its small set of fangs to pick at the armor, in an effort to get to the chewy center of the pirates carapace. Perhaps the fangs weren’t fangs at all, maybe they were more reminiscent of talons? A Metroid was a creature seemingly carved from green glass. Its body resembled a melting half-sphere, with six ivory talon-fangs on the under side of its body. Inside the glass-like shell, were three red orbs that pulsed from within. Occasional arcs of energy would travel between the orbs. The Pirate’s body jumped as the Metroid tugged. The thought occurred to Angseth that perhaps the Pirate was still alive.
It is kind of cute. Angseth mused. The next thought that came to mind was the desire to get out of the open in the event that the “cute little thing” decided to give up on the Pirate and chew on something a little more lively, like her. This brought her attention to another current problem. The jetpack was loud. The Metroid was close enough to hear or feel it. If Angseth started the pack up again, it would alert the tiny green speck to her presence. She had already fought many creatures on this planet, and had no desire to add a Metroid to that list.
Perhaps if I climbed down… Angseth peeked over the side of the column of rock.
Smooth stone all the way down.
“Great.” Angseth breathed. She quickly glanced back over her shoulder at the Metroid. The Pirate lay completely still, and as her HUD verified, completely dead. The Metroid on the other hand was nowhere to be found.
Oh shit, where did that little day-glow booger go?
Angseth expanded her sensor range. She was sure that the Metroid had seen her. It was going to come up behind her, or some other angle and the last thing she felt would be those sharp little talon-fangs biting into her neck.
Her HUD suddenly blipped, causing her to jump. Her radar indicated a non-friendly to her immediate right. Angseth felt her fear crawl up her throat as she turned her head to revel a strange sight.
A Metroid hovered in mid-air roughly twenty feet away from her. Its talon-fangs shiny and ivory-colored in the shifting light of Aether’s sun. The creatures green shell almost gem-like when viewed at this range. One of the first things that occurred to Angseth was the sheer size of the Metroid, roughly four feet across at its widest point. Vera froze. For a moment the Metroid was still, giving Angseth the false hope that maybe it hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe it didn’t know, maybe she had to move for this living emerald to see her. She could count four whole seconds before the Metroid began to perform a little dance of sorts.
The dance started as a wiggle, almost like a dropped coin coming to rest on the ground. It then gradually ceased wobbling side-to-side, and then began to pulse vertically.
What is wrong with it?
The Metroid completed its little dance and paused. Angseth pulled herself to a standing position. She was unsure as to what would happen next. For the moment curiosity had won over survival. She stood amazed as those talon-fangs were suddenly exposed and the Metroid flew at her full force. Angseth gasped, and took a step backward. Her foot rested on the edge of the rock, and she slipped, her arms pin-wheeled as her body began to fall backward.
“Screee!!”
Gravity took hold as the Metroid suddenly buzzed by her head. The small talons on its underside scraped her visor. Angseth crossed her eyes looking at the surface of the visor as she fell.
The little bastard left drool!
Vera fumbled for her jetpack controls as her body fell through the air. The Metroid had missed her, but was already performing another little dance of doom before her.
Okay, it was cute the first time, but that thing is too big to move like that!
The jet pack came to life, propelling her toward the ground at an even faster rate. Angseth quickly twisted to correct her trajectory. Once she recovered from her fall, she headed skyward. Her HUD blipped again.
“Sker-Ree!”
“Gah!” Angseth performed a barrel roll to evade the Metroid. She held her breath as the little green dot zipped past her. “Tenacious aren’t you?” She steadied herself in mid-air and lifted her power rifle, then squeezed the trigger and let off a burst of charged shots. The Metroid made a displeased gurgling noise, but was otherwise unharmed. “You’re a tough little booger too.”
“Sker-“
Angseth let her head drop back as she headed higher into the sky. She had tested the jetpack already to an altitude of only three thousand feet. Any higher than that and the chemical reaction lost thrust from the changes in air pressure. Perhaps the Metroid couldn’t fly that high, or the altitude would affect it somehow.
“Sker-Ree!”
The Metroid slammed into her back, dead center of the jetpack. Angseth heard a crunching sound in her ears, her eyes opened wider when she saw one talon-fang tying to press it’s way into the plasteel composite of her helmet. Her HUD also read that she was loosing altitude. The Metroid had either damaged her jetpack or it was strong enough to overpower the pack. Angseth raised her rifle and rammed the muzzle of it against the soft fleshy underbelly of the Metroid, then let loose with another burst of charged shots.
The Metroid screeched and immediately let go. Angseth once again found herself in the middle of a free-fall. Now she didn’t know if the jetpack had been damaged or just stalled out. She groped for the re-start switch, hyperventilating inside her helmet. Thoughts of all those training holo-videos she had seen ran through her mind of poor soldiers that had suddenly found themselves on the losing side of a fight with the ground. She had giggled nervously as the poor soul on the holo-vid had executed an almost perfect face-plant from one thousand feet. Now the thought of the holo-vid only served to cause more fear rise up in her chest. She didn’t survive this long to die with a crushed face and broken spine. Angseth could see her former perch in the distance, tall and serene like the landscape around it.
The jetpack suddenly sputtered to life on her back, and while it no longer had the power to provide upward lift, it at least created a bit of resistance to gravity. Angseth righted herself, then started to descend at an angle, allowing her body to slow before it could hit the ground.
She hit the dusty ground of Aether with enough impact to rattle her bones. Angseth ran for a few feet with the momentum of the fall, and then fell to the ground, her helmet grinding into rough sand. She lay still for a moment waiting for a damage report-- if her body or suit had one to offer. After a moment the pain kicked in. The stimulants could do nothing to stop this new round of torment. It would be a miracle if she didn’t need some kind of reconstructive surgery on her knees if she happened to survive.
“Sker-Ree!”
“Not again.” Angseth rolled, new adrenaline coursing through her. The dust before her flew as the Metroid narrowly missed her head. Angseth fired a few more rounds at it, only to receive another annoyed gurgle. She hissed and fired again, then felt hopelessness come over her when the shots deflected off the Metroid’s emerald surface creating no damage.
The Metroid began to dance again, and flew at Angseth fangs exposed. Angseth could only scoot feebly backwards as the Metroid locked onto her arm and back.
“Get off!” Angseth lifted her gun again and rested the barrel on her shoulder, then pulled the trigger. Most of the shots deflected off the surface of the Metroid, while one went stray and ruptured one of the hoses on the jetpack, causing super coolant to spray over the Metroid.
The creature screamed, then let go and backed away.
Angseth didn’t waste any time in putting as much distance between herself and Metroid as possible. The Metroid still reeled from the coolant running over its shell.
“You don’t like that do you?” she studied the Metroid, pausing for just a moment. Angseth reached over her shoulder and kinked the hose, keeping the coolant inside. She then reached for the controls, and adjusted the flow for maximum pressure. The hose began to vibrate with the increased force. Vera then pulled the hose around to her side and began to spray coolant on the Metroid from a distance. The creature acted like an undead in contact with holy water.
As more coolant dripped down the Metroids green surface, Angseth began to notice thin cracks begin to spread across the Metroids shell. “You really don’t like cold.”
The Metroid gurgled again then began to move away, chattering. Angseth began to look for an escape route. The Metroid really didn’t deserve to die. The flow of coolant stopped and the Metroid lazily drifted toward Angseth once more. Angseth struggled to shrug the remnants of the jetpack off. This whole battle had been less than graceful, real fights rarely did end gracefully. The straps for the jetpack had become entwined in her power suit.
Angseth began to scramble for her gun again when the Metroid shook off the remnants of the coolant, then began its now familiar wiggles and gyrations. The gun was too far away for Angseth to reach. The Metroid flew at her again, making a final dive for Angseth’s face.
Angseth gave up on both the jetpack and her rifle. She instead reached for her combat knife. Vera raised the blade in time to catch the Metroids soft and fleshy underbelly, impaling the creature on her arm. Talons scratched and dug into her power suit, making deep grooves and snapping cables. Angseth twisted her hand, creating a deeper wound inside the Metroid. It began to struggle, not so much as wiggle, but used all the force it could muster to escape.
Angseth felt a jerk on her arm, gasped as the Metroid began dragging her body along the ground. Her body lifted and became airborne momentarily. The Metroid slammed her body against rocks and other outcroppings.
“GRAAAHH!” Angseth twisted her own body until her feet touched the ground. The Metroid continued to drag her through sand and gravel. All the while the Metroid made a noise akin to a slowly dieing emergency siren. She could feel her armor begin to give. Once the artificial tendons in her armor went, her own muscles would be next. Her forearm would be pulled right off at the elbow. She needed to stop the Metroid from dragging her around like a toy.
Angseth kept her footing, alternately running or sliding along loose sand. Once she had herself righted, she began to seek ways to stop the Metroid’s rampage. She still held tight to the knife inside the Metroid, while the Metroid still held tightly to her arm. Vera spied an opportunity. She extended her right foot out, and caught a small shrub on her ankle. This allowed her the little bit of leverage she needed. She twisted her body and threw her weight into directing the Metroids flight path toward the ground. She let go of the knife, and used the momentum to yank her arm out of the creature. The Metroid slammed into the ground, and began to roll away, it’s shell now cracked and splintered.
“I’m sorry big guy.” Angseth breathed. She grabbed the straps of the jetpack and pulled until they snapped. The jetpack fell to the ground, crushed and silent. The Metroid before her rolled into a boulder before coming to a stop. It whined and shrieked. Angseth could make out the shape of her knife wedged between two of the red orbs inside the Metroid. It was bleeding, hurt, injured, and in terrible pain.
Angseth looked at her arm, the armor had been all but shredded. She could even see the surface of her jumpsuit past the plasteel. That was too close to her own skin for comfort. She looked back up at the Metroid. It had lost its ability to fly, or survive. There was no way to know how long it would sit there, screaming, perhaps getting eaten by native creatures.
A thought suddenly came to her. The Purple Shit would hear the Metroid. The Purple Shit would come and take over the Metroid’s body. Angseth didn’t want to think about the possibilities if the Purple Shit somehow gained control of a Metroid. The Purple Shit preyed on the weak. The Metroid was weak. Angseth turned, heading back to where she last saw her rifle. She didn’t want to kill the Metroid, but the consequences of leaving it alive, intact, or weak outweighed its welfare. Metroids were wild creatures, they could not be tamed.
Her hand closed around her rifle. She checked the clip to see how many rounds she had left. Twenty. Little or no sand had gotten into the main mechanism of her rifle, meaning that it would still fire properly. She slowly started back toward the Metroid.
The Metroid was still in the same position, whining and trilling sadly. Angseth paused, then lifted the rifle to her shoulder. Her HUD reveled a targeting reticule, and locked onto the Metroid. Her fingers on her right hand slipped through the trigger guard, while her left closed around the grip on the barrel.
I don’t want to kill it. But I need to. It fought well, it only wants to live. A dangerous as it is, it only wants to live.
Angseth lowered the gun and shook her head. She couldn’t start getting compassionate for her enemy now. Was it battlefield stress? Had her sanity finally reached a breaking point? The Metroid wasn’t even an intelligent creature. For intents and purposes it was a pet, a lower life-form from even the Pirates she fought. Yet it had fought. It had fought to live.
Yet my comrades fought to live. So had the Splinters the Purple Shit eventually overcame. The possessed Pirates fought to live, but the Purple Shit came, and took them too. I can’t let it take this Metroid! I can’t afford compassion!
Angseth lifted the rifle again, crosshairs once again rested on the Metroid. Vera closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She didn’t have any one thing to focus on, so she focused on nothing, she took all the pity in her heart and removed it. It was in the way, she could not work with compassion or remorse to block her path. Angseth opened her eyes again.
The first shot hit one of the cracks, causing it to spread and spider-web across the Metroids green surface. She fired a second shot, a third, and then a forth. By the fifth shot, the Metroid exploded.
Angseth stood silent long after firm jelly-like chunks rained down around her. Normal status screens returned to the interior of her HUD. For a moment her brain could not register exactly what had happened. In the space of four minutes she had spotted, fought with, and killed one of the deadliest creatures in the known universe. Her knife sat nestled just inside what was left of the Metroid.
She felt cold. Even long after she shouldered her weapon and began to walk away, leaving her knife. She walked toward the shade of a rock. Halfway there, her legs gave out, and she fell to the ground. The last of her stimulants had been used to combat the Metroid. The next few hours, possibly days were going to be pure agony unless she could keep focused and gather new equipment.
Her HUD blipped. This time the signal registered as a “friendly”. Angseth slowly turned her head to look in the direction of the signal.
Aran stood upon the rim of the canyon, no longer wearing the darker suit, but now wearing a suit made of shiny silver-like metal. Aran stood for a moment, almost casually, watching Angseth. Angseth pushed herself up on her hands and knees, then rolled toward the rock, leaning against it. Aran lifted her right arm, and with it her arm cannon in a salute-like greeting.
Angseth lifted her rifle, returning the salute. She lifted her left hand and made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, giving the universal gesture for “OK.”
Aran nodded, and turned. Angseth watched dumbstruck as Aran proceeded to jump into the air, and turn into a ball of spinning fire. Using some unknown mechanism, Aran’s body then self-propelled across the wide expanse of canyon to a cave on the other side.
Vera’s jaw dropped open when she witnessed the stream of fire spin over her head. No wonder she had been having so much trouble tracking the Hunter! How many more pieces of technology did Aran have? Words failed her. Instead Angseth leaned against the rock, studying the cave that Aran had disappeared into. Should she follow? There would be more dangerous creatures there, more ammo, new experiences.
Yes. She would follow. She would Aran to her death if need be.
Angseth took a deep breath and pulled herself to her feet, a scream ripping from her throat. Her knees and back screamed with her as she stood. First she needed to return to the area where she had seen the Pirates with the jet packs.
She would need a new one.
…Maybe some new stimulants too.
Chapter Text
Chapter 8:
Angseth had never been to Tallon IV. She had read about the planet, seen video feed, and even spoken to a few individuals who were still allowed to walk on its surface. She had still been a Cadet when she first heard about Aran’s exploits on that planet. She had listened with wide eyes and an open heart about the defeat of the Gamma Fleet Pirates and the discovery of previously unknown Chozo ruins. If Angseth looked back though her old log books, she would probably find the original audio file of the story as it had been told to her so many years ago.
According to what little she could afford to access of the Confederation data banks, Tallon IV was a class M planet, with a perfectly breathable atmosphere, high mountains, vast fertile plains, green life-giving forests, and more radiation than would be considered safe for any known species. Research into the Chozo ruins had made it easier to identify the radiation and had been one of the many tasty nuggets of information Aran had brought back with her after dealing with the Gamma Fleet. The pirates had been using it in all manner of illegal experiments, with ghastly results. One of which had been the dead Omega Pirate she had encountered with her troops back on the Seattle.
Phazon was a relatively new contaminant. It had been first documented over one hundred years ago by a research team that had been searching for new minerals to mine in the Outer Reaches. Phazon, it was discovered, could exsist in all common forms of matter, as a liquid, a solid and as a gas. All forms were equally deadly. Preliminary tests revealed it to be a highly radioactive substance that emited ionising radiation. This radiation proved to be so strong that it could dissolve unprotected organic matter at an alarmingly rapid pace. Research conducted on living subjects indicated that it contained highly mutative qualites as well. The mutations were often very painful, and ultimatly caused long and agonizing deaths. This information came curtesy of Rovien, and the experiments were soon discontinued. The scientists researching the substance then mysteriously went into hiding.
An asteroid roughly the size of a small battle cruiser and made mostly of Phazon slammed into Tallon IV long ago. Exactly how long ago, Confederation records did not have recorded. The Chozo were very protective of any relevant information. The resulting dust cloud scattered radiation particles over the vast majority of the planet, turning this once perfectly habitable world into a disaster never before seen. The Chozo, who tried to clean up this mess, ultimately abandoned Tallon IV, leaving all their possessions behind. Tallon IV had since been deemed too toxic to be used for any further colonization, yet the planet was too much of an asset to simply destroy. So there the Phazon radiation stayed, poisoning the planets core and subsequently the creatures living on its surface.
Angseth knew that journeying to Tallon IV would be dangerous. If the Chozo, one of the most advanced races in the universe, decided that a radiation mess was too much for them to clean up, then it was a Big Problem.
She guided her fighter in stealth mode past the markers and satellites that warned anyone of sound mind and body to turn back now, or face purple poison death. Angseth felt the urge to pause and perhaps rethink her actions, but ultimately curiosity drove her forward. Clersk had done a fantastic job on her fighter. The old bird now had more pick up and go than it had when it was new. There were still a few bugs, but nothing that would stop her ship from functioning.
Angseth guided her fighter into a gentler planet fall than the slamming she had taken on FQ3-59. Her sensors lit up, relaying back preliminary scans of the surface and air, telling her which were the more dangerous areas, and should be avoided. She didn’t intend on staying long, Vera just needed enough time to grab a sample of Chozo scripture and run it through her basic universal language program to read the file that Aran had given her.
That thing wasn’t Aran.
She shook the thought away. It stood to reason that if she truly felt the squirming writhing thing wasn’t Aran, then perhaps she should never have come here.
Flames licked at the windows around her before blue sky and clouds began to show through. The light tan earth of Tallon IV spread below her, stretching beyond white puffy clouds. Even from this height, Angseth could see the tallest point on Tallon IV, a volcano that extended clear to the stratosphere. It had been created when floating Chozo cities had crashed to the planets surface in an effort to stem the flow of Phazon coming from the impact crater. Phazon readings were the highest in that area, and not even the shields and Aura on her fighter would keep that radiation out. Angseth and her borrowed power suit would not be going there.
Jones’ suit actually fit quite well. The chest was a little roomy, which Angseth didn’t mind. Breathing room was always a plus. Her cybernetic leg was a little pressed for space, but other wise worked and behaved well when snug inside a power suit. Comfort to be had all around.
The most ideal location to acquire a Chozo artifact would be the impact crater, but Angseth had already ruled against venturing in that direction. Where else could there be Chozo Ruins that weren’t drenched in Phazon?
Angseth pulled up a map, scanning areas of relatively low-level radiation, and cross-referencing with known ruins. She then had a hit.
“Phendrana drifts,” Angseth said softly. She pulled up a few more maps to get a precise location on the ruins. She switched over to autopilot, allowing the ships computer to guide her down to the planets surface. She reviewed her maps, then looked up as her radar emitted a beep.
“Who else is here?” She leaned forward, devoting her full attention to her radar. It listed the blip as an unknown vessel. That did little to put Angseth’s mind at ease. Was it a Chozo policing vessel? Perhaps a Confederation ship?
She soon learned that it was none of the above. After a moment her ships computer confirmed that it was a small Pirate scout vessel. Angseth smirked. “After more Phazon are we? Didn’t you guys give up on that stuff fifteen years ago?” She mused. Even though she had equipped her fighter with all the stealth-enhancing programs and designs available, she still felt exposed. With any amount of luck she could avoid a potential run-in with the pirates.
The ships computer corrected her heading toward the Phendrana drifts. Angseth kept an eye on that blip on her radar until it slid from view. If they had seen her they weren’t ready to pick a fight. Angseth was ready to ignore them if they were equally as willing to ignore her. Literally two ships passing in the night.
Tinting fell over her cockpit window and view screens as the fighter approached the vast sheet of blue and white known as Phendrana Drift.
The mountain range was one of the largest and most severe of any habitable planet in the Confederation. At one time this mountain peak outside Angseth’s window had been the highest point on Tallon IV, Samus Aran had changed that well over twenty years ago. The eastern slope of the mountain descended toward the earth at a steep 45 degree angle covered by a sheet of ice almost a mile and half thick in some areas. The glacier had been known as Phendrana. The Phendrana Drifts were the areas of broken ice at the base of the mountain, creating caves, deep crevices, and other pockets of life the Chozo used to build their cities and temples in and around. Fresh water that came from the melting glacier fed nearby frozen lakes and arctic seas at the mountain base.
Scans revealed tolerable amounts of Phazon in the area, and she would be safe as long as she didn’t spend too much time outside her of ship; no more than twenty-four hours exposure to the elements. Angseth began to suit up once more, pulling on pieces of armor bearing Jones’ name in Standard, and stripes of Private rank on the shoulders and arms of her suit. She smiled despite herself. The last time she wore stripes of this nature had been a whole other adventure in her life.
The fighter began its decent toward Phendrana as Angseth clicked the last chunk of armor in place. Tucked away in one of the bottom compartments of the craft, she had snow and ice gear stowed. The gear had been for use with her other power suit, but would also fit Jones’ suit. She snapped the snow spikes in place, and then activated the main battery cells. The suit then pressurized and calibrated to her body. Angseth took control of the steering bar, and slightly altered the ships course. The temples were not visible from the air and she would need to enter the ice caves to find an access route to them. She would also need to find a safe place to hide her craft. Hopefully one of the ice caves would serve as a temporary hangar for her short stay.
Angseth guided her craft through blue valleys and cracks in the ice, until she came upon a flat plain with an ice cavern at one end. The cavern was almost ideal. The fighter would remain hidden, but she would still need to be stealthy. She circled around once, checking the interior of the cave, which she found to be smooth, and without much of an incline.
“Perfect, I can land and take off easily from there,” Angseth said aloud. She then shook her head. No, no more talking to herself, once she started she knew it would become hard to stop. Everyone had their own ways of dealing with the inevitable solitary duty; Angseth’s tactic was to make friends with that little voice in the back of her head.
Her fighter fit snugly in the cave, the wings and other extremities had least two meters worth of clearance on either side and above. Outside the entrance of the cave the plain extended for almost three miles before it began to slope. The slope then ended in a system of ice caves. Angseth would navigate the caves until she found the ruins. She was curious to see how these ruins held up to the elemental abuse they received on a daily basis.
The ships canopy hissed open, and the first thing that Angseth noticed was the intense cold. She could feel it seeping in subtly through the armor. For the first time she began to have doubts that Jones’ armor may not stand up to weather this intense. It had all the standard equipment, which in theory meant that it could withstand extreme temperature. Yet practical use and theory were often two different circumstances.
Her feet hit the packed snow, and immediately the heating coils went to work. Angseth searched the HUD for the power suits features, and found the option that allowed for temperature manipulation. She changed the controls from “auto” to “manual” and closed the window. Moving around would be more than enough to keep her warm, with insulation this heavy around her skin. The internal heating system of the power suit would draw too much on the battery life. The heating coils faded, keeping her body temperature regular. Angseth reached inside the fighter and pulled out Jones’ power rifle. She hated the newer designs. It fit over her dominant arm, blocking her right hand from any use. Why, oh why couldn’t Jones have been right-handed? Then she could have the cannon mounted on her left arm instead of her dominant arm. Angseth was ambidextrous when it came to fire arms. However further scrutiny of the mini-cannon revealed one saving grace. By sliding and moving a few panels, she could easily transform the unit from an arm-mounted mini cannon into a short-range rifle. For the moment she would keep it as an arm-mounted unit.
Distance in the snow could be deceiving. Before stepping out of the cave, Angseth lowered the blast visor on her helmet to block the glare of the sun off the surface of the snow. She checked her ammo supply to find ten full clips along with a pleasant surprise. Ten Sticky Mines. The mines were small flat disks, with a gel-like substance on one side. This gel would stick to almost any surface. Once the mines were placed, she would move a safe distance away, and then use a laser sight on the gun to detonate the mine. The mine could be set for use with different laser frequencies. Angseth also had the standard issue of plasma pellets, and good ol’ standard slugs.
Vera took a deep breath, then stretched, extending her arms above her head. Once she felt limber enough, she began to run. The gravity on Tallon IV was light compared to that on the Mabus, allowing Angseth to travel greater distances with each step. There was still resistance, but not as much. All things considered, running through the snow on Tallon IV was a nice enough way to start her day. It had been a while since she had gone for a pleasant run on the surface of a world. Through her HUD she could see the entrance to one of the many caves that had either been melted or chiseled away from the glacier. As she neared, she became reluctant to enter the caves for fear of becoming lost in a labyrinth of ice and snow. Angseth began to wish that she had some extra troops with her to conduct a safer exploration of the caves but it was too late for that now.
She enjoyed the run, and slowed as she came to the caves. Three miles had passed behind her easily.
I guess that’s not too bad for forty-three years.
Vera lifted her left hand to her helmet and pressed a small panel on the side. Different choices highlighted on her HUD, and she scrolled down to the GPS function, then checked her location against a map she had on file. The ruins were just ahead of her, past the ice caves and whatever maze contained within. She sifted through the maps, searching for some kind of clue for safer passage. There were two visible paths before her: the cave to her left, and the cave to her right. Her maps offered no help as to the correct choice. For the third time she referenced her GPS, then ultimately chose the cave on her right.
Almost immediately, she was greeted with new choices. Angseth stood in place then used the coordinates of this position to mark a place on her GPS. This digital beacon would serve as a trail marker of sorts on her way back.
Angseth chose the left path this time, at each turn leaving another digital marker on her GPS.
Wish me luck Briar.
Hours had passed, and Angseth was still trekking through the caves. It wouldn’t be such a chore if she didn’t need to backtrack so many times. Her GPS was keeping fantastic track of all the caves she had explored thus far, and she had been over the ground so many times she almost didn’t need to continue stopping to create digital markers. There had been the occasional critter, mainly cave dwellers and the random creature that had become lost in the caves while in pursuit of prey.
Angseth had been tempted for some time to turn back and hop in her ship, then continue by air to the temples--all elements of stealth be damned. She rounded another corner, and then used her grapple beam to pull herself up onto another ledge. She stood and looked out over the cavern before her, wondering if this hall-like cave would be the right choice. Vera turned her back on the cavern, and examined the hall she had just discovered.
You know Vera, you could find the temples just as easily if you just climb back into your nice warm ship and get airborne--wait, that isn’t ice down there…
She paused, looking up the long corridor at a vague shape. Instinctively, she held the mini cannon at the ready and slowly crept up the hall. There was unnatural, greenish light up ahead. Angseth didn’t want to run into anyone else here. For the past few hours she had been undisturbed and hoped it would remain that way. She kept close to the wall, initiating the whole spectrum of scans that Jones had equipped in his armor. Angseth, technically speaking, was currently trespassing on Chozo territory. If they found her here they had all rights to do what they pleased with her.
Her scans revealed nothing alive. Instead the form had been a construct of light and shadows. Angseth chided herself for becoming so anxious; yet felt that her caution had been justified. She had spotted a space pirate scout vessel earlier. It stood to reason that Pirates were at least lurking. Vera leaned against the wall and paused until she calmed. She needed to keep a clear head and stop jumping at every last little noise and shadow.
The hall ahead contained a slight bend due to another hall merging into it. Angseth took in a last deep breath and ran for the merging hall. She quickly closed the distance then rounded the corner. Once again she paused, marking the location in her GPS. The green glow was still present, yet not one blip on her radar. The light reflected off the ice-coated walls of the cave bathing everything in the same flat green hue. Her GPS indicated that the ruins were just ahead. Could the green light be radiating from the ruins? If that was the case, then it was possible that the Phazon radiation had already penetrated too deeply. None of her sensors were picking up any unusual readings however. Only the amounts of radiation that would normally be found in the environment. Angseth kept her mini cannon at the ready as she started back up the path. The icy floor soon wore away and Angseth looked down to study the new terrain.
Her feet rested on paving stones, large smooth rocks that had been cut and placed together to create a road or path. This particular passage seemed to follow the path of stones and led closer to the green light. The cave began to open, gradually exposing a larger chamber. Angseth cautiously covered the last few yards then paused. All around her were the unidentified light sources.
Angseth giggled, then lowered the mini cannon. The floor of the temple was covered in bioluminescent plant life. Small fern-like plants with broad leaves with glowing green veins. The stems of the plants shone brighter than any emergency glow stick the Confederation could issue. The light from these plants illuminated the high ceiling of the temple, which was held aloft by large columns carved to appear like giant Chozo statues holding the beams in place.
The GPS stated that she was still 100 yards off from her target. Angseth stepped into the large room; the plants brushed her armor as she moved toward the center. “It must be another chamber off the main corridor. I wish I had more time to explore, I’ve wasted enough time as is.” As she moved through the temple she noticed small streams of melting glacier water winding their way through cracks in the paving stones. Readings revealed that the air was slightly warmer in here. Perhaps the rise in temperature was some leftover Chozo technology, or maybe even a side effect of Phazon radiation.
Curiosity finally got the better of Vera, and she reached out for one of the plants. The leaf broke under her fingers, spreading green bioluminescent gel over the finger pads of her armor. She dropped the leaf. It was never a good idea to take plant samples without the proper equipment. Angseth continued on her way to the opposite end of the chamber and toward what she perceived was a door.
As she grew closer, Angseth learned that it was in fact not a door, but a large portal-like wall carving. No Chozo script adorned this piece of sculpture either. Even if there had been script in here she still couldn’t use it as a translation piece.
Angseth supposed that if worse came to worse she had enough ammo to blast her way out of the room, but the Chozo had long been masters of resident localized psyonics, and Vera had no desire to piss off Chozo ghosts. Reports and rumors had given her the impression that the things were quite nasty.
She moved once more to the center of the room, and began scanning the walls with as many filters and thermal scans that Jones had equipped in his suit, plus a few more that she had downloaded from the main computer on her fighter. When the scans came up negative, she checked the maps she had of the area, both of her own explorations, and previous expeditions on the surface of Tallon IV, Phendrana Drifts. As far as she could tell, this chamber had been previously unexplored, or had been undocumented in the Confederation archives.
Vera paced the room, running her hands over the walls, the carvings, hell; even the damn glowing plants were suspect at this point. Anything could possibly trigger a doorway to open. After making two entire circuits of the room, Angseth suddenly paused, looking down. A small rectangular opening roughly thigh-high had been embedded in the wall about a yard before her. She felt her eyebrow twitch, another nervous gesture she had picked up in basic training.
She had memories of chasing down Aran on Aether. Aran had the unique ability to assume an alternate form of a golden colored sphere called a Morph Ball. She used this alternate form to access other areas through small cracks that she would normally have been too big or too cumbersome to navigate in her armor. Angseth had chased Aran in her Morph Ball form through many tunnels and cracks. Angseth did not posses a Morph Ball form, nor did she know what she would do with it if she had one. Angseth remembered that Aran in her suit had been tall, six feet and five inches easily. Angseth stood a grand total of five foot four inches, five nine in a power suit. Aran could roll away at decent speeds in her Morph Ball form while Angseth had been on hands and knees trying to catch up.
Angseth disconnected the mini cannon from her arm, and slung it to her back. She then dropped to her knees and marked her position on the GPS at the entrance of the tunnel. Vera leaned forward on her hands, feeling her weight and that of Jones’ armor settle on her wrists and palms. Her back and hips popped, reminding her that she was probably too old to be on hands and knees like this. She then began to crawl, her body slipped into familiar rhythm.
Maybe that’s why the Chozo invented the Morph Ball, so they would never forget what it like to be a child.
Something skittered ahead of her in the dark. Angseth suddenly dropped to her stomach and slung the cannon off her back. She turned her night vision on and looked in that direction. Small spiky creatures bounced and rolled away down the tunnel.
That’s right, get out of the way little guys, I don’t want to hurt you.
Vera crawled on her stomach until the critters cleared out. As she pushed herself back up on hands and knees, she slung the cannon to her back again.
It’s probably a good thing that I’m planning to retire after all of this. Maybe the tribunal will be a little nicer to me when I’m court marshaled.
The passageway twisted and turned a few times before leading Angseth into a large room this one more familiar and colder than the one she had left. This room she recognized from the files she had reviewed earlier. The ceiling was even higher in here, the walls had been white at one point before twenty plus years of dirt, grime, and non-use had taken over. Moonlight reflecting from the glaciers outside cast light blue afterglow that drove the shadows back.
Angseth pulled herself out of the tunnel and into the white-gray hall. Columns lined the hall on either side, with statues of Chozo scholars placed between them. Erie did not quite cover the feel of the place. Not one sound or minor vibration had been present to break the stillness. The only thing that moved in here had been sun or moonlight as it carved a path across the floor. Not even the occasional snowflake could survive in this hall. Vera’s footsteps echoed as she crossed the floor and stood at the base of the largest statue in the room.
The statue was that of a Chozo scholar. Angseth couldn’t tell which one. She paused, tilting her head up to admire the statue. The Scholar held what seemed to be a bowl or plate aloft. Vera stepped closer to get a better look, and felt an irregularity in the floor. After a moment, she looked down.
The floor at the base of statue had long ago frozen to ice. Preserved in the ice was a footprint slightly larger than Angseth’s own. Angseth studied it for a moment, and then realization came over her.
Aran had been here, she had stood on this very spot and scanned the writing engraved on the stone before her. Angseth stepped back then raised her left hand to the side of her helmet. For a moment her fingers hovered over the switch for her scanner, and then her arm fell. All the positive emotion she had earlier while running left her in a flood. She suddenly felt very heavy, her arms like lead encased in iron.
Samus Aran stood here.
Angseth’s knees felt weak. She couldn’t stop the flow of memories now. Her mind had locked them away as she had fled FQ3-59.
“But it wasn’t Samus in that cryo-tube!” Angseth shook her head, but was no longer able to deny it. Her knees suddenly gave out, and Vera hit the floor, catching herself on her hands. “It wasn’t her! It wasn’t! I don’t know what that thing was but it wasn’t her!” She shouted to all the Chozo statues around her. They gazed solemnly down, each clutching a symbol of virtue in their claw-like hands.
Aran had been the one in the cryo-tube. She had known it all along; in the depths of Vera’s soul she had known it, yet she continued to deny it. Aran had asked her for help, in the only way she could. Angseth had seen the only display of weakness she had known from Aran, and then she had run. She had screamed like a child, and fled from the boogieman in the closet.
“Oh goddess, she had asked me for help, and I…I just turned and fled, I just turned and then denied what I had seen,” Angseth began to babble. For the first time since leaving the Mabus, Angseth felt the entire gravity of the situation fall on her conscience. She had left her crew, abandoned her post, and left the love of her life in charge of her mess while she chased down a shadow. And when it all seemed to be justifiable she had fled from someone near and dear to her in their hour of need.
What has happened to her? What has happened to Aran? Why did it happen to her? —And I just left her! I just left her and ran away!
Angseth began to feel tears pull at her eyes, her head tilted forward and she watched small droplets begin to form on the inside of her visor. She leaned forward and felt her helmet rest on the base of the statue. Angseth studied the footprint through her tears, each ripple and line clearly etched in her mind.
Samus Aran is left-handed.
What makes you say that Private Angseth?
I mean, think about it, if that Power Cannon is on her right arm, then she would need to use her left to access computer terminals.
The Power Cannon acts as a universal conduit.
What if there isn’t an I/O port? The Power Cannon has no dexterity!
Look Private, I have argued with you about fictitious heroes long enough, just please, for the sake of the rest of the crew, keep your fantasies down to a dull roar.
Whatever, Crany.
Angseth stared at the footprint until the shakes and tears faded. Everything had overwhelmed her. She needed to get back to her ship, to her crew and to those that counted on her to guide them through whatever trouble the universe could throw at them. Why had she done something so childish as chasing Aran clear across the universe? Did she hold Thomas and Svenson in that high regard? No. Truthfully she trusted them as far as she could throw a star cruiser.
Aran, I have followed in your footsteps, stumbling to remain in your shadow. Due to my recent actions, I deserve to hang up my Captain’s bars and accept whatever fate I have coming to me. I owe you my life. You not only saved me from death but set an example that I have always strived to follow. You helped to shape the world I live in and given me hope and dreams to follow. With your actions you taught me loyalty and respect, you taught me appreciation for all races and cultures. Even now you’re teaching me a valuable lesson. To always fight and strive for the greater good, it doesn’t matter if I must risk my own life for it. Angseth studied the inscription. She couldn’t read what it said, but for the moment it served as something better to rest her eyes on than her own tears. I don’t know what has happened to you, but I promise to set things right, I will find you.
Vera remained stationary for a moment. Already she had spent too much time on the surface of this world. Once she arrived back at the Mabus she would need to go through some major detoxification procedures. Yet she didn’t want to get up just yet. This moment had been too long in coming. Perhaps it had been all the distractions of her position that had prevented her from thinking this situation through more clearly. She had done some very stupid things in the past week, and currently she didn’t know which was the stupider choice, leaving her crew, or leaving Aran.
The hall was still quiet, but it didn’t seem as eerie anymore. It was silent, peaceful, more like a chapel. Her HUD beeped, indicating both her current power level in the armor, as well as a confirmation of a full scan of the script before her. Angseth regained her feet, feeling simultaneously silly and relived. Those emotions would fade, and what happened here would stay here. She now had a goal, the path she needed to take was clear to her. First she needed to get back to the Mabus, then call Admiral Mizzen and relay the information she had gathered to him. She would also need to give him the full copy of the file Aran had given her. He would have more resources than she currently did. Once Admiral Mizzen became involved she could pull the Mabus away from this bogus mission to SR3-88 and then use every resource at her disposal to get Aran back. Aran was a highly decorated Bounty Hunter and the Confederation owed her for this insult.
Angseth was just another cog in this great machine, but it had always been her opinion that the squeaky wheel got the grease.
Vera kept her gait steady as she ran through the temple, and toward the ice caves. It had been a while since she could cut loose and just run for the sake of running. She had a treadmill in her quarters aboard the Mabus, but running on a treadmill and running over ground were completely different. Ground tended to be uneven and required subconscious adjustments to cover terrain. A treadmill is a smooth surface, and felt more like creative skipping than running.
Angseth checked her GPS on her way out of the temple. The caves were ethereal in the darkness. Everything seemed to be either black or outlined in vague traces of moonlight. Minerals trapped in the ice flickered in her passing light like fireflies. The map in her HUD led her through the caves with a small margin of error. The glacier was still slipping, moving, albeit slowly. Her coordinates were now slightly off, and some tunnels that she had taken previously had been blocked by falling ice or swept away completely.
Her radar suddenly blipped.
Vera stopped running, and moved for cover, pulling the mini cannon from her back. The blip had been close. She locked the mini cannon onto her forearm, and held it at the ready. She killed all of the external lighting on her suit and began searching through different visual filters for her night vision. After a moment Angseth was able to make out the walls and darker corners of the ice tunnel. Ahead of her she could see another turn, and a solid wall of ice that she guessed had been about twenty inches thick. The blip faded off her radar. It didn’t just leave her radar, it vanished completely.
She remembered that pirate scout ship earlier. Had they come here in search of her? Or was this just a chance meeting?
After a long tense moment Angseth stood and began to move through the cave toward the bend. If she could get out in the open she could summon her ship for support, but the entrance of the caves was still a good two miles ahead of her. The blip hadn’t returned, and Vera was prepared to write it off as just another lost critter in the caves. Perhaps the extreme temperatures and construction of the ice caves was throwing off the mid-grade scanners that came equipped on Jones’ suit. Since the caves were constantly shifting, all she had to go on were the GPS coordinates. After the bend, there should be a shorter hall, and then a larger open cavern.
As she rounded the corner, Angseth halted abruptly. The shorter hall had crumbled, expanding the cavern. Snow and ice had fallen from the roof and piled on the floor. Her radar indicated no other living things in the area, and after a cursory scan Angseth began to run across the cavern. In just a few steps she settled into her mile-eating gait. She ran up one of the piles of snow and readied herself to jump down the other side.
It had always been in Angseth’s experience that unless one had been fighting in zero gravity, it was almost impossible to alter trajectory once your feet had left the ground. Angseth’s feet had left the packed snow of the mound, and both in the corner of her eye and dead center of her radar, she spotted her blip again. At the moment she couldn’t make out much, just what appeared to be a glowing yellow spike thrust up at her airborne body. Angseth suddenly activated her jet pack, and spun. She could feel the spike scrape against the side of her armored leg, but it did no damage, not yet. The sudden activation of her thrusters caused her to loose all control of her decent. She spun in the air, then slammed into the packed snow, her right shoulder taking the brunt of her fall. Her arm became numb and gradually sensation returned.
Angseth quickly rolled and gained her feet to face her attacker. They still remained stationary behind the pile of snow, but now Vera had a clearer vantage point. Even though she now had visual confirmation, It still didn’t show up on the radar. The glowing yellow spike she could see now was actually a beam saber coming from its right wrist. It moved, standing up to its full height and fully exposing itself to Angseth’s line of sight. Angseth remained steady, not sure of exactly when she had pulled the mini cannon from her back, but it had already been mounted to her right arm.
Her attacker was humanoid, wearing flat gray armor that looked as if it had seen many battles. She couldn’t quite pin one central point of origin in the armor’s construction. Its helmet was a bit on the small side, with one large yellow face shield taking up almost half its total surface area. It walked upright, with human-like shaped feet and legs, narrow waist and large almost barrel chest. Its left arm had been fully plated with a round shoulder piece and heavily armored forearm. Its right arm had a straight shoulder plate, lighter bicep and forearm, with a generator for the beam saber. From the crown of its head a long tassel extended down its back. To Angseth he looked rough, definitely not military of any kind. Yet it disturbed her that even though she had visual confirmation, still nothing appeared on her radar and her scanners refused to acknowledge the presence of anything.
For a moment they stood, staring each other down. Angseth had no wish to get into a conflict with anyone. Everything about this person spoke to her of their tactics. Heavily armored left arm and lightly armored right arm meant that he was built for close combat with his beam saber. The left arm was used as a shield, the right was kept light to allow for more maneuverability of the beam saber. In a point and shoot world of battle tactics, Angseth could admire those that stuck to more traditional methods of battle.
Its stealth suddenly dropped. Angseth could see it fall away on her scanners as if it had been a shroud around him. Now her radar lit up. Before she had to be right on top of him for it to register. Not only did she receive a full scan, but information from her ship now poured in. He was fully cybernetic, with only brain and central nervous system still intact. There was no other body inside the suit. Aside from his beam saber, he was armed to the teeth. Her ship retrieved a few files and Angseth read them quickly. Her body began to tense, and she immediately became defensive.
Before her stood a bounty hunter that went by the name of Weavel. A pirate that had been injured to the point of death by Aran, and then became a cybernetic warrior. His beam saber was known as a Battlehammer. That information was enough to make Vera thank whatever gods were out there that she had managed to perform a mid-air dodge away from that weapon. The Battlehammer was a traditional close combat weapon that most of Gamma Fleet Pirates used. Reports had circulated that one of these Battlehammers had enough power to penetrate the hull of a battle cruiser when in the right hands. It would have torn through Jones standard issue armor as if it were made of tissue.
Angseth felt small, and very defenseless against this Bounty Hunter. More importantly, why was he here? Did he come here to find her, or something else? She spied the exit. Maybe she could outrun him. Vera lifted her foot, and paused. Her scanners indicated that the floor was highly unstable and less than five inches thick in places. This thin sheet of ice, in combination with the weight of the snow and two heavily armored individuals wouldn’t stand up to much abuse. She needed to get out of here without first angering Weavel, and secondly, without causing the floor to cave in. She wasn’t sure how deep the fissure was below them, but she was willing to bet that it wouldn’t be an easy landing.
Vera slowly stood, and lowered her weapon. She then opened her com line. “I’m not here for you, and I’m sure you’re not here to battle me. The floor in here, as you probably know, is unstable. Even if we were to battle, lets not do it here.”
Weavel’s head tilted as if he were contemplating her words. He then lowered his weapons and nodded once. Angseth breathed a sigh of relief, and began to study the floor, searching for any other areas that may be too weak to walk across.
I am so happy I didn’t go through the floor when I landed. Angseth took a step, for the moment Weavel was silent. Perhaps he was in the same predicament that she found herself in. How heavy was his cybernetic body anyway? She searched for another safe area, and shuffled toward the opposite exit. The exit was no more than a thin crack in the wall that hopefully still led to another system of more stable ice caves. For a moment she thought about asking Weavel if that was the way he came.
“You can’t get out that way.”
Angseth heard the voice over her com, yet it didn’t have a vocal quality, it was if it had been piped directly to her com line, almost computerized, yet still with emotion.
“I thought so. Do you know the way out?”
“No. I fell from up there,” Weavel pointed to the collapsed ceiling.
“Oh, so that’s how that happened, then I guess I scared the crap out of you when I jumped.”
“If you had landed on this side, the whole floor would have caved in. I had to divert you somehow.”
Angseth stood her ground, feeling a little foolish. She would be stupid enough to think that just because she had an easy time of it the way in, that it would be the same the way out. It would have been hazardous if she had fallen through the floor. Then again, now that she thought on it, he had known how she would react all along. She spoke to Weavel again.
“Thank you, for helping me.”
“You are only a Private. A lone one at that…Jones?”
Angseth balked, Private? Then she groaned. The suit. She was still in Jones’ crappy standard issue suit. “Yeah…A Private.” She spat.
“I must admit I am curious as to why a Marine would be here alone. You don’t look or act like a scout.”
“One could ask the same of a Bounty Hunter.”
“Touché.”
Angseth smirked despite herself. She turned her scanners to the collapsed roof. Large chunks of ice still hung precariously on the rim. “If one of those falls,”
“Exactly.”
“Shit, and there is no way out back the I came either,” Angseth began scanning the wall. “I need to get up there.”
A targeting laser suddenly touched the side of her helmet.
“If you start climbing as recklessly as you ran in here, then the rest will definitely cave in.”
“Please give me a little more credit than that. I admit I was in the wrong when I came in here, but I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
Angseth began scanning her maps again; seeking for any markers that she had made that hadn’t been altered by the shift in the glacier. Weavel kept his gaze fixed on the opening above, and began moving slowly toward the crevice that Angseth had previously come from.
“Do whatever your foolish head would like after I leave this cave.”
Angseth held still, the targeting laser never left her faceplate. If she moved, he would shoot. It was that easy to understand. Weavel took a few more steps toward the other entrance, when one of the blocks of ice overhead broke away and fell. Angseth jumped closer to the wall, and extended her snow spikes to their full length to drive into the wall. The floor gave under the weight of the falling block. Angseth scrambled to drive her spikes into the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Weavel fall. It was only then that she noticed heavy damage on his back.
Angseth drove a final spike into the wall, then extended her grapple beam and felt it snag Weavel’s leg. She kicked out and drove her feet into the wall, using all the power she could muster in her cybernetic limb to create an anchoring point. Snow and ice fell past her into the newly opened fissure below. After a moment the snow settled, leaving only powder-like mist floating around them. There was still weight on the other end of the line. The beam hadn’t been disrupted. Angseth found herself bent over backward, her cybernetic leg anchored into another precarious section of ice. She looked down the line at Weavel’s foot caught in the grapple beam.
“Are you okay?” She called over the com.
A pause then, “I’m here.”
“I’m going to zip you up, hold tight,” Angseth began to retract the grapple beam. The beam flickered and strained. “Shit,”
“Just swing and toss me, I’ll manage.”
Angseth searched the darkness past Weavel’s foot. Her scanners relayed back information. The pit underneath them was definitely just that, a deep gaping maw extending into the earth. It wasn’t bottomless, but was pretty close. “Bullshit, there’s nowhere to land.”
“Drop me!”
“No! The pit is too deep!”
Weavel paused, his arms outstretched, as if he were balancing in midair. “Why did you grab me?”
“Can’t we talk about this later?” Angseth grunted.
“Why?”
“You stopped me from making a bad mistake, I’m grateful.”
“That’s all?”
“At the moment, you’re not an enemy, so there is no reason I should let you die!”
Weavel grew quiet and still at the other end of the line.
She called into the com. “Divert 50 percent of power to the Grapple Beam.”
Her suit compensated, and Angseth felt more strain from Weavel’s weight on her leg. Fifty percent of the suits power was now in the grapple beam, and the rest was used to keep her suit functioning. Angseth began to retract the beam again and Weavel’s body slowly rose toward her outstretched hand. When his body grew close she felt jarring on the line. Angseth froze as Weavel’s torso twisted in half, and his upper body began crawling toward her, using his own legs as a makeshift ladder. His right hand closed over her left wrist, and he hoisted his upper torso over the span of the grapple beam. Angseth felt more stress on her leg as he began climbing up her body in much the same fashion.
Weavel’s lower torso and legs then zipped straight up to Angseth’s hand, allowing her to get a good grip.
“Take my hand.”
Angseth looked up toward Weavel, who had anchored himself in another location, away from the block of snow where Angseth had entrenched herself. Weavel extended a hand toward her. Angseth exhaled sharply, then readjusted her grip on Weavel’s legs. She then commenced to one of the most intense sit-ups she had ever attempted in her life. Weavel held his hand out as she slowly rose, Angseth grunted as she sat up, the power suit shuffled power around the muscle compensation mechanisms. She reached out and grabbed Weavel’s hand. No sooner has his cybernetic hand closed over her wrist than the ice shelf below her began to crumble away. Angseth scrambled to kick the ice off her cybernetic leg before it could pull her down with it. The sudden gravity and weight pulled on her arm. She felt the burn and strain travel through her power suit, as well as along her shoulders and back. After a moment Angseth was left hanging, holding tightly to Weavel’s wrist with her right hand, and holding Weavel’s lower torso with her left, dangling over an icy abyss. She would be sore in the morning.
“How are you holding up?”
Angseth looked up at Weavel’s face. Then it struck her that she could not see through his visor. “I’m good,”
Weavel began to pull her up toward the ice wall he had anchored himself to. Angseth reached outward and embedded one of her ice grips into the wall. Once she had a grip, Weavel let go.
“We’re even now,” he said. “You’re on your own from here.”
“Thanks,” Angseth held his legs out toward him, and Weavel took them back.
“I hope I never find you on the wrong side of my Battlehammer, Jones.”
Angseth took in a breath. “My name isn’t Jones. I had to borrow this suit.”
“Oh? Interesting surprise.”
“I am Captain Angseth, of the battle cruiser Mabus.”
Weavel paused for a moment, and although Angseth couldn’t hear him, she could swear that he was laughing under that unforgiving visor. “Very well then…Captain.”
Angseth pulled herself into a more comfortable position then looked upward toward the open hole in the roof. Weavel lifted his legs and draped them around his shoulders, then began to crawl along the side of the ice wall, gradually looking for a way down. She began to climb, using her scanners a bit more liberally to identify weak points. After a few moments, she pulled herself over the rim and onto a flat plain covered in snow.
For a moment she rested, and ran a diagnostic on her suit. As she predicted, the compensation mechanisms in her right and left arms had been strained and were not operating up to full capacity. For someone who had been accustomed to lower gravity, this could have been a problem, but since she had been accustomed to higher gravity for most of her life, it wouldn’t hinder her as much. On the other hand, she hadn’t lost any weapons during her climb, and had cut her time in half to reach her ship.
She sat up and scanned the snow below her. The hole behind her seemed to be the only weak point in this plain. Using her GPS she could trace her way back to her ship without navigating the caves. In retrospect, perhaps her chance meeting with Weavel had been very fortunate. Angseth made it a point not to deal with too many bounty hunters. Most of the time she had no use for them, and if there was something that a fully stocked battle cruiser couldn’t handle, then she doubted a one-man army could.
Unless the hunter was Samus Aran.
Angseth began running again, still keeping a decent pace, yet using her scanners to their fullest. Night had fallen hours ago. The sky was immense, dark purple with tiny pinpoints of light from the stars. Tallon IV’s moons seemed to be large glowing orbs in the sky. Moon and starlight reflected off the snow and ice creating a very serene effect on her visor. Angseth sighed contently. It was a cold night for a jog, but at least she felt up to it. She turned off most of the functions of her HUD, preferring to travel by light of the twin moons. Her GPS would beep and tick if she started on the wrong heading. The thing she did watch however had been the temperature. Since the sun had set, her HUD read that the temperature had dropped dramatically. She could not survive outside this suit, or even outside her fighter in conditions like this. If she so much as pulled off her helmet, she would die in a matter of minutes.
She kept her pace, following the ticks and beeps from her computer. The terrain was familiar, and her ship was less than two miles away. Now the flat expanse of snow gave way to wind blown hills. Angseth cleared the first snowy rise, and paused. The terrain had changed. The rolling dunes were still present, however dotting the landscape in several places were clusters of ice crystals, sprouting up from the snow like grass. Angseth came to a full stop and activated her full range of scanners.
She stood on the rise, looking out over the snow. Perhaps the wind had carried enough snow away to uncover part of the ice caves beneath. The cave where she had stored her ship could be seen in the distance. Between herself and the cave, she counted three clusters of icicles. Her scanners picked up nothing unusual, yet the clusters of ice crystals seemed out of place somehow.
If I go around them, then I could lose my heading,
She held the mini-cannon at the ready and resumed her pace. If the ice crystals were dangerous, Angseth felt safe in the common knowledge that it was often harder to hit a moving target. She had passed one of the ice clusters, leaving approximately twenty feet of distance between herself and it. Suddenly, her foot sank into the snow up to her knee. Angseth tripped, hyper-extending her cybernetic leg. She lay still for a moment, biting back the pain from her joints and fading adrenaline rush.
Something in the air had changed. For a moment Angseth lay searching her surroundings, then slowly pulled herself to a sitting position.
The ice clusters had vanished.
“Oh shit,” Angseth reached for her mini-cannon, frantically searching the snow in the immediate area. The damn thing had slipped from her back.
She almost missed it. At first she thought that perhaps she had overreacted, maybe she just didn’t see the crystals before. No, the ice crystals had returned, however the ice crystal had now sprouted a pair of legs. Long, thick legs that ended in a bean-shaped body. Angseth began to realize these were not ice clusters anymore, but living creatures, BIG living creatures.
“Sheegoth,” Angseth breathed.
The Sheegoth stood fully, and shook the remainder of the snow from its body, then turned to face Angseth. She remained frozen when two more Sheegoth rose from the ground at either side of her. Angseth found herself staring into four opal-like eyes and below them, rows of very healthy teeth. The Sheegoth roared, and took a step toward Angseth. The two on either side also began to charge.
Vera pulled her mini-cannon close, and then tucked and rolled away from their charge. She narrowly avoided one pair of feet, but was unable to dodge the other two Sheegoth. Vera screamed aloud as one lowered its horns rammed her in the side, rolling her across the snow. The third stomped one massive foot, crushing her cybernetic leg.
Angseth gasped as she felt her leg bend and snap. The break caused stress on what had been left of her femur, causing immense pain in her hip. Shock washed over her when she realized what caused the pain.
The pins. The support pins for my cybernetic leg have been bent!
Vera felt her body hit the snow once more. The three Sheegoth were about to stomp her again. That was how they worked, as a pack. One would tackle, and the other two would stomp their prey.
Move! Move or die Mervera!
Angseth tucked her knees into her chest and rolled between the legs of the charging Sheegoth. Immediately her hip and remains of her leg protested. Standing would not be an option, however her new location provided an opportunity. The Sheegoth’s back was now toward her, leaving its vulnerable point exposed.
Angseth let loose with a burst from the mini-cannon. A few of the ice crystals fell away and exposed unprotected soft pink flesh. The Sheegoth turned with a roar; it’s pack mates were already closing in.
I can’t keep up this pace!
Angseth grabbed one of the sticky mines, and tossed it high into the air. As predicted, the mine arched and attached to the back of the Sheegoth on her left. Once again she was slammed and rolled. She tucked her arms and legs to her chest to minimize the impact. Once again snow and ice covered her visor. She shook the snow loose, and reached for another sticky mine. The Sheegoth on her right lowered its horns, charged, and scooped Angseth off the snow. Angseth had time to place another sticky mine before the Sheegoth tossed her body into the air.
Vera was momentary stunned from the impact, but felt her heart stop when she realized that she had been tossed over seven yards above the ground.
Oh this is going to hurt…
Angseth used what little energy she had left in her power suits thrusters to maneuver her body to land on the Sheegoth’s back. As she fell, She let off a few bursts, destroying the ice shell upon it’s back. The ice crystals fell, and her body landed not a moment later. Almost immediately she felt a snap deep within her hip. She simultaneously screamed and fired at the soft flesh, exposing its internal organs. The Sheegoth bucked, roaring in pain. Angseth tumbled from the creatures back and hit the snow again.
The other two Sheegoth parted, making way for their pack mate. Angseth rolled to a position on all fours. It felt as if her entire right side of her body were on fire. She narrowed her gaze at the Sheegoth. The old familiar rage came over her again. Fight or flight. The one gift and benefit of growing up on the Isrec mining rings. Angseth lifted the mini-cannon again, and aimed for the sticky mine on the back of the first Sheegoth. She fired, and the mine exploded sending ice crystals flying. The other Sheegoth that she had previously landed on stumbled a final time and gave one last roar. Angseth breathed deeply and rose to her knees. Her back then joined the chorus of pain that her hip and leg had been singing.
Vera was suddenly jerked backward. Her right arm went numb. Her feet left the ground, and Angseth was vaguely aware of her body getting tossed and shaken vigorously. It took a moment for her to gain her bearings and realize that the Sheegoth had grabbed her arm mid-bicep and had been shaking her. When Angseth felt her feet hit the ground again, she took aim and fired at the sticky mine on it’s back.
Chunks of ice crystals hit the back of her head along with a hot blast. The Sheegoth ran for a few more yards, dragging Angseth before collapsing, its jaws still closed around her arm.
Stillness returned to the world. The moons still reflected off the snow, which were now covered in dark patches of blood. Angseth took in deep breath after deep breath. With tear-filled eyes she slowly took note of her situation.
The snow around her had been trampled and covered in gore. Her cybernetic leg lay in no fewer than five pieces. Plating from her power suit had broken off and lay scattered in the moonlight. Locked down on her arm was the Sheegoth. Its teeth had pierced her armor and skin. The adrenaline in her system blocked the pain for the moment.
Angseth let her head rock back. Adrenaline faded as cold icy air filled her lungs. The danger had gone for the moment, and all that had been left were three Sheegoth corpses, one at her side with jaws clamped down on her right arm. Her ship was still miles away across the frozen tundra, and a good amount of her own blood was seeping through the snow.
“Ok….think...think Vera,” She said to herself before turning her full attention to the Sheegoth on her arm. Sensation had begun to return to what was left of her fingers. She lifted her left arm, and grabbed a tooth, then tried to push the Sheegoth’s mouth open. It didn’t give an inch.
Angseth readjusted her angle of approach, and tried pushing again. Still nothing.
“Dammit! I did not come all this way just to die stuck in the snow!”
She turned her head and studied the teeth. They hadn’t completely closed, due to her arm pinned neatly between two of them. Another tooth had come down on her armor like a guillotine. Perhaps she could roll the Sheegoth on its side and use gravity to shift its mouth open. Vera vetoed this idea when she found it nearly impossible to brace either part of her body against the creature’s side to push it over. Once again she was back to square one.
Her leg wasn’t bleeding as badly as it could have been. Even though most of it had broken away, the connection pieces were still capping off the end above her knee. The air was colder now that dawn was near. Her blood flowed in a steady trickle down the side of the Sheegoth’s chin and mist-like vapor came from the heat of the wound. With a grunt Angseth pulled her left leg closer, and removed a knife from a sheath on her calf. She didn’t know what good a knife would do her when a point-blank shot with her mini-cannon didn’t even so much as phase the creature before. Perhaps if she worried at it enough, she could cut the tooth away and pull her arm out. Her right arm contained the only means to remotely control her ship. She needed her arm, or most importantly, the electronics surrounding it.
Angseth lifted the knife with her left hand, and found a place to drive it in. As soon as the tough hide of the Sheegoth met the plasteel of her knife, the tip bent and chipped.
I am not dieing this way! Angseth lifted the knife higher and began to drive it in deeper, causing chips and cracks to spread across the blade’s silver surface. With one last blow, the knife shattered, leaving only a cracked hilt in Angseth’s hand. For a moment she stared at it in disbelief. Knives of that nature didn’t break easily and apparently neither did Sheegoth hide.
She tossed the broken knife away, and took in another deep breath of stale air. She scanned the ground, looking for something else that she could use to chip away at the carcass. Her gaze drifted back to her mangled arm. Oddly enough she could still feel her fingers. They were cold, and rested on something soft which Angseth guessed was the Sheegoth’s tongue. Aside from minor sensation in her fingers, her arm was nothing more than a bloody mess that ended at her bicep.
Vera’s searching paid off, her eyes rested on her rifle that had landed just a few feet away from the Sheegoth. She reached out with her left foot and drew it closer, feeling better once she had it near. Once again she desperately searched her surroundings for another solution to her problem. In the back of her mind was the realization that the longer she waited, the more likely rigor mortis would set in on the Sheegoth, further locking her arm in place. Nothing in her immediate grasp could help her break free.
There must be some way I can get out of this!
Her body began to grow colder, her muscles beginning to relax. Angseth knew that her body was in the early stages of shut down. She had felt her body near death before, had given up all hope for the sweet release of death. That had been long ago, on Aether. Now she fought against the coming dark. Her body was cold, yes, but she could still move and think.
Will I allow my own death for the sake of my right arm?
She examined the wound again. Her arm wasn’t going anywhere, and as long as she was attached to it, she wasn’t going anywhere either.
Just settle down, it’s not like you haven’t lost a limb before. Angseth pushed that morbid thought away, unaware of exactly where in the back of her mind it came from. But even though she had pushed it away, the practical application of that line of thinking hadn’t eluded her. Even if she did manage to free herself, she would be badly wounded, and need immediate medical attention. She would die from blood loss if she weren’t careful.
I can either die from blood loss, or I can die from exposure while trapped with this dead Sheegoth.
Angseth then began to ponder what she would do after she had freed herself from the Sheegoth.
That’s an easy decision. Grab a sticky mine and blow the head off that creature, and pull out the com system to summon my ship.
That seemed to be a feasible plan, if a bit gory, but first she needed to part ways with her arm.
She glanced down at the remains of her cybernetic leg. Once again she pulled her good leg up toward her left arm, then began removing the remnants of her boot. The cold air barely affected her at this point. She knew that she had to get to her ship, and send out an SOS. She pulled away at the inner boot, until her bare foot had been exposed. It seemed almost unnaturally untouched compared to the rest of her body, clean, dark sienna skin, surrounded by worn and beaten metal. Angseth rested the mini cannon across her lap and began sliding panels to the side. She clicked the stock into place, and slid the trigger back toward the stock. Once the gun had been transformed, she turned it around until she looked down the barrel. Panic and fear began to rise up in her chest as she held the barrel a few inches away from her bicep.
I need to do this. I need to survive or I’ll never see Nevada again.
Vera also had to face the possibility that the flack would destroy her helmet in the process. She felt that it would be better to damage her helmet than her face.
It took a moment for Angseth to bite back her fear and tears as she slipped her toe through the trigger guard. All the gruesome details of the procedure went through her mind, all the little calculations she would need to make in order to pull this off correctly without causing any further damage to her body. She would need to measure the thickness of her arm almost blind, she would need to keep the gun steady, and hope that when she squeezed the trigger that she didn’t alter the trajectory of the burst. She couldn’t afford to miss her arm and hit her head instead.
She tightened her grip on the barrel of the gun, and then used the leverage to help pull the trigger with her near-frozen toe.
Click.
At first she thought that the gun hadn’t fired, she didn’t feel any thing, no pain, not even the report from the gun. Then burning heat cut through her arm, ripping through her armor and bone. The tundra echoed her scream, more from fear than pain. Her hand burned from holding the barrel even through what had been left of her armor. Angseth felt her body lean to the left, then hit the bloody snow around her. She dropped the gun and held the stump of her right arm. Her HUD now dark, she could only see with what little light filtered through her visor. Telltale dark cracks spider-webbed from one corner. The flack had compromised the integrity of her helmet. Right now it was little more than something to keep the wind off her face. She let go of what remained her right arm and pulled the remains of her helmet from her head. The air was cold, and she almost pushed the helmet back on. It rolled off her head and hit the snow in two pieces. Vera returned her hand to the stump once more trying to stop the flow of blood. The pain finally kicked in along with shock that left her feeling cold and numb. Her sense of balance had also been affected by the sudden loss of weight on her right side. Both from her missing cybernetic leg, and now arm. Her thoughts turned toward her next task. In light of recent developments, freeing her other arm from the Sheegoth was out of the question. She could barely see clearly, let alone have the ability to aim and point the rifle with any kind of accuracy.
Missing both her right arm and leg, and unable to walk or even properly crawl, Angseth had never felt more alone and helpless, she had lost a lot of blood, the odds were against her and,
Stop it right now Vera, you can make it! Stop panicking about the could-be and should-be! Get your ass moving and get your com system out of that Sheegoth!
Angseth lifted her head, her vision clearing, everything became suddenly and surprisingly clear. She would need to push herself, survival was never easy, and if she were to survive she needed to push herself. She dropped her left arm from the stump then reached out for the mini-cannon and sticky mines. Her vision began to take on a blue tint around the edges. For a moment she pondered what the blue tinting could mean, perhaps it was some kind of odd reaction in her body due to the extreme cold and lack of blood. There was one thing she was sure of however, right now she had focus, she had gained intense focus and she needed to keep it. The more she focused, the more blue crept into her vision. Colors seemed to brighten, grow deeper. More important than that, she found new strength and no pain. Everything had gone numb. There was only her target, and the comforting blue outlining all objects in her line of sight.
Alright bastard, give me back my arm! Angseth threw a sticky mine at the Sheegoth, and it landed right in the middle of its head. She scooted back through the blood and Sheegoth bits until she had reached a safe distance. Through the blue haze in her vision she aimed her targeting laser at the mine, then giggled at the resulting blast.
Stop it Vera,
But she couldn’t stop giggling. Despite all her problems at the moment, from the frostbite on her toes and face, to her missing limbs, she felt damn good, as if she could do anything. Even as bits of Sheegoth rained down around her, Angseth skittered forward and climbed up on its carcass. The sticky mine didn’t turn the entire creature to pulp as she had wished. Once again the beasts tough hide had won out over technology. The sticky mine had only succeeded in making a small dent in the Sheegoth’s head. Angseth scrutinized the cranial cavity, and then with an almost inhuman roar, drove her hand deep inside, pulling and scooping brain and tissue out of the way until she reached the roof of the Sheegoth’s mouth. With another punch, she broke through the fragile layer of cartilage, her fingers finding the com attached to her arm. More blue, more light. The colors and sudden burst of energy were addictive. Part of her recoiled in horror when she realized that she was still giggling.
With one last forceful push, she drove her left hand inside, and grabbed the wrist of her no-longer-attached right arm. After asserting her grip, she then began to pull. The wrist bent, allowing part of the arm to travel up through the Sheegoth’s head. Angseth let go, and took a grip on the wrist again, and began tugging. Working her arm back and forth until she pulled it through the hole in the crown of the Sheegoth. Now she no longer giggled, but outright laughed at the gruesome sight of a plated hand of a marine poking through the head of a dead Sheegoth. Fingers outspread, palm open, almost as if someone were trying to wave down a passerby.
Angseth stopped laughing long enough to focus her attention on the com. Whatever was happening gave her more energy than any stimulant, and whatever had overcome her had to potency of being downright illegal. Somehow with only her left hand—her weak hand—she managed to crack the armor as if were made of light grade plastic, she pulled the shards away, then rescued the com from her wrist. For a moment she studied her bent arm and wrist, and was satisfied. Her arm was stuck, here on Tallon IV, while she would soon leave.
Vera slid off the side of the Sheegoth, and hit the ground with more force than she had anticipated. Her right stump protested, but the pain faded when she ceased to focus on it. She lifted the com to her line of sight, then pressed the buttons in the proper sequence to summon her ship to her location. With that completed, she rested against the body of the Sheegoth. Her vision still swimming with blue light.
If I had given up on Aether, I wouldn’t be here to survive this new dilemma. She mused.
The sun was finally rising. As the slow orange glow graced the horizon, her limbs began to grow heavy. She could feel her breath begin to grow shallower. Any moment now her ship would crest that final ridge, and she would set a course for the nearest Confederation base. To hell with the consequences.
At the edges of her vision, outlined in blue, she could see dark shadows moving in. They quickly glided over the snow, always staying at the corner of her vision. They didn’t seem like ghosts or spirits, yet they always stayed off to the side, out of her line of sight. Angseth reached for her gun anyway.
I’ll be damned if I get taken out by anything other than an act of God at this point.
The figures came closer, never running, but not moving slowly either. They came at a steady pace, the sun bright behind them, light spreading over the snow. More disturbing to her was that the figures cast no shadows. They finally came close enough for Angseth to begin making out features, or to get ready to start shooting. She tried to lift her left arm, but the strength she possessed earlier had gone, yet the blue light at the edge of her vision stayed.
The creatures approaching her were tall, with thin legs and arms. They moved with smooth long strides, and wore power armor of some kind. Not military make, or at least not any design she could readily recognize. Ornate crests decorated the helmets. They didn’t appear to have come from general infantry and the decoration looked more like Honor Guard of some kind. They came closer, lifting claw-like feet through the snow.
One knelt before Angseth. An inner mechanism in the helmet lifted the blast sheild enough so she could make out its facial features. Her back protested as she lifted her head slightly to get a better view. She looked into small, round, brown bird-like eyes, powerful beak, and brightly colored feathers. Angseth vaguely felt her head drop back as the creature lowered it’s visor once more.
The Chozo.
The blue intensified as the Chozo took a step backward, and seemed to communicate to the others that had closed in. They began walking away.
Angseth leaned forward and once again the energy surged through her. “Wait!” Her voice ripped through her throat. “Don’t leave! Please help me!” Her throat began to burn. Vera was dimly aware of the taste of blood at the back of her throat. “Aran! Aran needs help!”
The Chozo paused as a group, looking back at her.
“Aran!” Angseth fought for her voice. “She was…captured! Please, Help!”
The blue light intensified, she could see a ship coming in, but not her own. This one was silent, and seemed to have been carved from one solid piece of metal. The Chozo now surrounded her, her body levitated from the snow. Angseth’s weight seemed to settle at the center of her back. She cried out as the pins in her hip shifted once again. One of the Chozo troops looked back at her, visor lifted with pale green eyes regarding her. She looked past the Chozo toward the ship. They carried her inside, and the blue haze consumed her vision.
If I die now, I’m really going to be pissed.
Chapter Text
“What a mess,” a gruff voice announced to no one in particular. “What have we recovered thus far?” Mirson rubbed his forehead, and turned from a hologram displaying an image of the surface of FQ3-59. He took a moment to collect himself while Anderson, his assistant, stood at the side of his desk brushing dust from his uniform. “Report please.”
“There were many injuries, but miraculously no deaths.” Anderson paused a moment to peruse the information. His dark hands curled around the datapad, almost if this information was the last piece of driftwood in the ocean. Mirson had observed that Anderson liked to have a firm grip on things, both physically and otherwise. Wrinkles had formed in the man’s brow after years of constant worry. Most of the other Admirals thought Mirson was uptight. Not many had the chance to see Anderson in full swing. Mirson liked men who were on top of their objectives, and this dark skinned human was the most effective organizational mind in the Seven Systems. “The drop ships are heavily damaged, and as you can see displayed on the holo, FQ3-59 has developed quite an impressive dust storm.”
His head ached, yet once again Mirson turned back to his view screen to examine the many scans of the planet again. From a distance it seemed that the world had developed a bruise. Large gray-blue clouds smeared and spread across the planets surface. Outside his view window he could see lightning and other atmospherical phenomenon. “Did Aran do this before she had been apprehended?”
“We are not sure as to who caused this destruction, the warp signature in the atmosphere gave us our first clue as to the events that have taken place. However, by piecing together transmissions before the occurrences, we know that both Aran and Captain Angseth of the Mabus had been apprehended. There is reason to believe that she caused this mess.”
“Evidence?”
“Aran had been sealed in a stasis chamber the entire time. Captain Fredrick had Angseth in protective custody.”
“So she had broken free?”
“Given her violent tendencies, questionable lineage, and the possibility of facing a tribunal, I would say yes.”
Mirson took in a deep breath, and lifted his hand to rub his temple. “Damn this is a huge mess.” He leaned back in his chair; the leather creaked and sagged under his weight. “Decided to go out in a blaze of glory did she?”
“One would think Admiral. There is no good reason why she shouldn’t be smeared across the stars by now. No one has ever attempted a warp maneuver while still in a planets atmosphere, and with good reason.”
“Instability, yes,” Mirson took his hand from his temple and began to study the myriad of holo screens surrounding his desk, each bearing a report complete with video feed, still scans, and in-depth readings of the area.
“Admiral?” A voice came from a small speaker on his desk.
Mirson’s gaze went from the holo screens, to his com line. “Yes Laura?”
“There is a Corporal Wayne here to see you. He tells me it’s about findings on the surface.”
Mirson side-glanced the holo screens again. He then looked to his assistant for confirmation.
Anderson nodded.
“Send him in Laura.”
The door across the room buzzed and opened. Mirson and Anderson could smell the Corporal before he even entered. The scent was thick and earthy, coupled with human sweat mixed with hydrolic fluid. The Corporal entered the room still wearing his full power suit, dusty and scorched; his helmet tucked under one arm. He stopped and saluted before Mirson’s desk.
“Yes Corporal?”
“Sir, we have uncovered the prisoner, as well as the few remaining scientists that were still trapped in the dome.”
“What is the prisoners status?”
“Stable, still sealed within the stasis tank.”
“And where is the prisoner now located?”
“Aboard the drop ship Keran, awaiting further orders.”
Mirson resisted a smile behind his steepled fingers. “Thank you Corporal. Anderson, please make arrangements for the prisoner on board the Caesar.”
Anderson moved from his place behind Mirson’s chair. “Come with me please Corporal, we can talk on the way.”
Mirson watched as his men left the office, then turned around to his view window to watch the lightning jump from cloud to cloud in the atmosphere of FQ3-59. Ships moved from his mega-carrier to the planets surface. As he watched, another voice came over the com on his desk. This time certainly not his secretary Laura.
“Angseth interfered.”
“I’m well aware of her actions.” Mirson said under his breath. “Can anyone else hear you?”
“Don’t insult me Mirson. I am only a voice in your head.”
“Good.” Mirson sneered. “Had you been able to capture the bounty hunter on your own, we wouldn’t have this mess.”
“You say ‘capture’ as if it is an easy task. Aran isn’t the one I want however.”
“I gave you the Seattle on a silver platter. I kept all forces away from the area more than long enough for you to capture her. Perhaps you think that was an easy task? As well as covertly ascertaining Aran’s whereabouts while pulling troops from the area without drawing suspicions?”
“Temper, temper, Admiral.”
“Either way, Aran is in my possession now. I can thank you for that.”
“I suppose now you want my research?”
“Yes. That had been part of the bargain.”
“However I still haven’t received my half of the exchange.”
Mirson scowled. “If Angseth is still alive, I will have her dealt with.”
“And if I find her first?”
“Then do with her as you please.”
The com fell silent.
Mirson sipped from a glass of water. “Perhaps this alliance should have been formed sooner.”
“Lieutenant Briar. We are within range of SR3-88.”
“On main screen please.”
For a moment the main screen was dark, then incoming scans of the planet were displayed. Briar looked up from his notes to study the scans.
His notes in conjunction with reports helped him to make sense of the information before him. Many years ago, an orbiting space station had been attacked by a parasite only known as “X”. Briar had prepared a thesis on X many years ago as part of his graduating exam from Orion Medical Academy. He pulled out the old file and re-read his notes. X, as it soon became apparent, was a good name for the parasite. Like the random unknown it represented, X could take the form of whatever it wished. Through preliminary research it had been discovered that X was composed of very many small creatures that would form colonies and attack in a group to consume an energy source. However unlike most parasites, X would also assume the same energy pattern, form, and eventual shape of its prey. This, Briar had theorized, allowed X to infiltrate hives of potential energy sources. Since X was so versatile, it had no other known predators, except for the now extinct Metroid. The report had won him a D+, nothing more. Briar still felt that had been because he didn’t choose one of the professors pet subjects. Amazing how bitterness for people long gone could turn up in the oddest corners of the mind.
X had come from SR3-88, the same world as the Metroids. This one little ball of dirt had caused so much trouble and tension in the galaxy. When one spoke of Metroids, one spoke of the Metroid Hunter, the myth, the legend, the hear-say. Due to lack of concrete evidence, most of the Hunters exploits had been reduced to nothing more than fairy tales. Yet the records did show some concrete facts, some of which Briar had accessed in Angseth’s files and had displayed before him as an aid.
Fact: Samus Aran is a real person.
Fact: Samus Aran has access to highly advanced technology, something that under less dire conditions would cause he or she to become a potential threat to the Confederation.
Fact: Aran had been the one to pick up many distress calls and succeed with a less-than-orthodox vigilante attitude.
Fact: Wherever Metroid activity is suspected, rather than lose more troops, the Confederation would send out for Aran to wipe out the threat, and the Confederation would pay him/her afterward. The Confederation would then come in, clean up the mess, and begin a vigorous cover-up campaign.
Fact: Aran’s authorization master code had been used to activate the orbiting stations self-destruct sequence.
Then came information that even though he knew there was no way it could be proven, he still kept before him as something to chew on.
Fiction: Aran was a member of the Confederation policing effort.
Fiction: Aran was the sole reason the Pirate planet Zebes exploded. Briar was certain that he/she had a decent hand in it, but no one person could possibly destroy an entire planet.
Fiction: Aran convinced the Senate to pass endangered species legislation to help the survival of the Metroids.
And contrary to popular belief, Aran is not a God/Goddess.
Even with all this information, there were a few undetermined rumors. No one knew for certain if Aran was male or female. Records were still conflicting. Vera swore up and down that Aran is a “she”, however all Chozo documents listed Aran as a “he”. Briar was certain it didn’t really matter. Aran’s involvement on Tallon IV or with the true inhabitants of Aether for that matter was still sketchy. Briar knew that the Chozo had been working very closely with the Luminoth of late, and while it seemed as if Aran had something to do with it, there had been no concrete proof to be found.
The last bit of folklore had been the hardest to determine, and it was the one that bothered Briar the most. The possible repercussions if the rumor proved to be true were disastrous.
Had Aran been injected with Metroid DNA in order to combat the threat known as X?
The idea that any creature could hunt down and feed on microscopic parasites was still hard to swallow. The only answer he could ever receive on both of these questions was floating outside the ship.
SR3-88. Home of two extinct species: Metroids, and X.
Confederation records did indicate that the orbiting space station had crashed into the planet, with Aran as the one who had programmed it to do so. Mervera was much more current on the Metroid lore than he had ever been. When the station crashed, it took much of the gathered information to the grave with it….
…Along with a fourth of the planet.
SR3-88 had once been a habitable world, like many other desert environments, but with an atmosphere that had been fully breathable to many races. It wouldn’t have taken much to terra-form it, even though the local fauna was quite deadly. Deemed so deadly in fact that someone who shouldn’t be mentioned again took it into their head that the best way to cure a disease was to shoot the patient. The station had taken out a fourth of the planets surface, sending up a dust cloud and polluting the once pleasant atmosphere. SR3-88 was a planet that looked as if some god had come along and taken a bite out of it.
SR3-88 now had its own asteroid field, and system of rings. Even from this distance he could see the glowing embers of the planets molten core. Large spires of rock stretched far into the atmosphere and into space. The planet had been wounded but it wasn’t dead.
Briar recorded his visual confirmation in the Mabus’ logbook. A formality. He then called to his Coms officer. “Osa, please hail Captain Svenson on a private channel.”
“Yes sir.”
It only took a moment for Svenson to appear on a holo at Briars side.
“Good afternoon.” Svenson yawned.
“Good afternoon Captain.” Briar began. “Our official ETA on SR3-88 is in three hours and twenty-seven minutes. What’s left of SR3-88 doesn’t look as if it would be very welcoming to a landing party.”
“The Socrates is equipped with drop ships capable of withstanding these conditions. Once in orbit I will send vessels over to begin unloading our equipment from your holding bays.”
“First I would like to ensure the safety of my crew. Do any of your scans detect the presence of X?”
“Not at this distance.” Svenson’s voice dropped in volume. “Have you heard from Captain Angseth?”
Briar grew defensive, even though he did his best not to show it; still the subconscious movement of his ears gave him away. “No, I have not.”
Svenson noticed that Briars ears didn’t so much as fold backward, but shifted. He took a moment to gauge Briars level of annoyance before he spoke again. “Once in orbit, might I invite you over for a celebratory dinner?”
Briar opened his mouth to decline and then saw the expression on Svenson’s face alter slightly. The man had something to say that he wanted off his chest and off the record. Briars ears shifted forward again, a minor gesture he hoped that Svenson would notice. Svenson soon registered slight relief.
“I accept your invitation.”
“Thank you, Thomas will join us as well.”
Briar shifted his left ear back, then slowly moved it forward. “Confirmed. I’ll keep a com line open once in orbit around SR3-88.” He closed the channel, then pushed himself away from the seat of the Captains chair. His back popped as he stretched. He grabbed on of the grips on the side and worked out the wrinkles on the right leg of his uniform. “Bagra, you have the bridge.”
“Yes sir.” Bagra left her station and headed to the Captain’s chair. Briar pushed away from the chair and in the direction of the exit hatch. He paused a moment to watch the dance as everyone shifted around to cover different posts.
Briar swung into the hexagonal doorway and felt gravity take hold as he stepped through. Once again his joints spoke to him. His body always ached when he went from zero G to gravity suited to a denser world. Crew members greeted him as he walked up the hall, finally stopping before his office. The door hissed open, then shut behind him. The room re-pressurized, and Briar could feel his ears pop as he sat down behind his desk. For a moment he sat quietly, his mind unable to focus on anything work related. Svenson had brought up a few ghosts when he asked about Angseth, and Briar needed a moment to shoo them away.
Vera has been absent before, but she’s always at least sent me a message to let me know that she was okay.
He was still confused, and worried. She was out there alone, unescorted, and probably beating herself up over leaving the Mabus. Things were fine here. Textbook even. Briar tried to think past all of that, but couldn’t help but worry. She had been his mate for the past ten years, and try as he might, he couldn’t set aside ten years of memories with one thought.
Nevada turned his head to the window to watch the stars scroll by.
Mervera, please come back alive.
The Socrates was a modest science vessel. Her crew were diligent, watchful, trained professionals. Briar almost envied Svenson and his fifty or so scientists. Their living quarters were very spartan, as was the mess hall and the bridge. Even though the rooms were sparse, every hall and empty closet on the Socrates had been lined with equipment. In some cases, footlockers and machinery blocked passage through the halls, and had to be climbed over or even detour through the maintenance ducts to gain access to certain areas of the ship. The scientists did not seem to mind, as they had to occasionally navigate their way around some odd piece of machinery or coils of wire. Briar on the other hand found the going a little difficult. Thomas behind him kept humming or whistling some silly tune. It only annoyed Briar because the tune sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Something he had heard in his childhood perhaps.
Once he had been seated in the officers dining hall Briar felt more comfortable. This room didn’t have much furniture either. The floor was covered in plain low-pile carpet, with a simple round table bolted to the floor in the center of the room. The table itself had room for five people, so there would be two empty chairs tonight. Yet even with the lack of furnishings, it was an efficient space. Briar knew immediately that Angseth would love it.
Svenson took his seat after his guests. “I do apologize for the obstacle course.”
Thomas was the first to speak. “So they shorted you on cargo space?”
“Oh no, there is plenty of cargo space, it’s just all full.”
“Is that why so much of your equipment is on our crafts?” Briar asked, albeit bitterly.
“What we couldn’t find space for in the halls of our own ship, yes.” Svenson shot back.
Thomas smiled and shook his head.
Briar once again spoke. “Your crew seems to be content to climb all over the equipment. Aren’t you afraid that something will get broken?”
“Not really. These machines are our teachers. They sleep now, but when they awaken class will begin.”
“Both you and Captain Angseth share a knack for poetry!” Thomas laughed.
Svenson smiled. “I don’t find it surprising. Poetry is one of mankind’s initial responses for making words of what the mind can barely comprehend.”
Briar disagreed with Thomas. Svenson and Angseth were nothing alike. Svenson was one of those people that did a good majority of his talking while gesturing with his hands. For the moment Briar kept his mouth shut before saying, “I take it this meeting was not called to discuss poetry, gentlemen.”
“To the point Lieutenant.” Thomas laughed. “I am also curious of what Svenson has to say.”
Svenson placed his hands on the table, loosely folded. Briar noticed that it was a typical nervous gesture of his. “So soon? I had hoped we could eat first.” After a moment of careful contemplation, he asked, “Why are we here?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Thomas responded with all sincerity.
Svenson darted his red eyes between Thomas and Briar, his hands clenched on the table, almost as if he were in the process of being interrogated by heavily armed thugs.
Briar carefully spoke. “I think what Svenson means is why are the three of us out at this corner of the galaxy when our efforts would obviously be put to better use elsewhere.”
Thomas grew silent; he took this with quiet grace. For a moment he looked years older. Just one quick glance held a maturity that Briar hadn’t noticed at first. Svenson nodded before speaking. “It has never been part of protocol to send two completely battle-ready cruisers to escort a science vessel. Perhaps light artillery ships, but never a full cruiser, let alone two of them. My mission is to only gather small samples from the surface.”
Briar once again filed that under “interesting.” Was all that equipment really necessary to gather soil samples?
“Perhaps they felt that Metroids could still be an issue and wanted to ensure that the scientists had enough cannon fodder to complete their research.” Thomas replied snidely.
The comment was not lost on Briar. “That would be a reason that Angseth could have been sent here, as she is one of the few individuals to have ever come in contact with a Metroid and lived to tell about it.”
Svenson unfolded his hands and laid them flat on the table. “That doesn’t explain why Thomas is here.”
“Maybe my uncle wanted me out of the way for whatever reason.”
“That is a theory.”
Briar had no wish to pursue this conversation any further. Svenson appeared to be nervous around Thomas, both here and at the wedding. He picked up his glass of water and spoke. “Or it could just be that Mirson wanted extra security for this mission.”
The smirk returned to Thomas’ features. “It doesn’t seem at all strange to you?”
“That a System Admiral would send two battle cruisers to escort a science vessel that would only be collecting soil samples? Yes, it does seem odd, however I refuse to sit and speculate on a conspiracy theory without further evidence. If the two of you manage to come up with some concrete evidence, then I might play this game with you. Until then I have my orders.” Briar set his glass down.
Svenson and Thomas exchanged glances. The door opening broke the silence. The cook of the Socrates entered carrying a few trays. He set them on the table and lifted the stainless steel domes from their food. Briar had to admit that he was very hungry, and the food looked good even if the conversation wasn’t. The cook left, taking the domes with him.
“I see now.” Thomas said aloud. “Captain Angseth doesn’t feel the same as you do. I can tell that from the way she looks at Admiral Mirson.” He set his blue eyes on Briar. Once again Briar steeled himself against the way his blue gaze penetrated into his soul, as if this young captain were decades older. “Tell me Lieutenant. What would Captain Angseth say if she were here now?”
Briar pinned his ears back as both Svenson and Thomas set their gaze on him. The steak on his plate was now the furthest thing on his mind. Svenson appeared pleading, Thomas looked as if he already knew the answer.
Briar cleared his throat. “I cannot say for certain, but I feel that she would agree with the both of you, however she would be reluctant to further ignite matters without proof.”
Svenson pulled his plate closer. “I do not have proof, only circumstantial evidence.”
“Oh do share.” Thomas said carefully. He appeared amused. He too pulled his plate of food closer, cutting into his steak with zest.
Svenson sat for a moment, before speaking. “These three ships, the Socrates, the Regal and the Mabus, are all over fifty years old. Theoretically all these vessels are too outdated to compete with newer ones. Captain Thomas here had been pulled from duty aboard a new vessel, the Infinity, for service aboard the Regal.”
“That is true, however it was my understanding that it would only be for a limited time. I was not Captain of the Infinity, only a secondary officer.” Thomas offered.
“I still don’t understand why all of us were pulled from our normal duties to come way out here in the middle of nowhere.” Svenson hissed. Briar was impressed. This scrawny man had mean a streak after all.
Thomas snickered. “Sounds as if all of us are getting shelved.”
Svenson turned his attention to his food. “That is what I don’t understand. Angseth I could understand, she’s near retirement, I don’t have anything to set me apart from any other science officer. However Thomas is still young with much potential.”
Briar chewed on his steak, medium rare, just as he liked it. If they insisted on ruining his meal by undermining his superiors by making odd speculations… that was fine. He could up the ante and make everyone even more nervous. “Perhaps Thomas is a mole?” He stated while raising an eyebrow.
Svenson looked pale, Thomas appeared to be amused. “And why do you say that?” Thomas asked.
“Thomas is the only one who seems to have been purposely placed here, and a recent addition to the Admirals family. He would seem the likely choice, then again I could be the mole.” Briar sipped his water. “As I said, we can sit and spout conspiracy theories until we are blue in the face, it won’t do us any good.”
Svenson admitted defeat by finally taking a bite of his food. Briar felt that Thomas’ face would split open from the grin he wore. Thomas lifted his glass of water to his mouth, and then set it down. He leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes from Briar. Finally he spoke. “Captain Angseth chooses her men well. I can’t wait until I have another opportunity to speak with her.”
“Calendar Girl.” Briar suddenly said.
Thomas paused. “Beg pardon?”
“Calendar Girl. That was the song you were whistling earlier. I had trouble placing it.”
Thomas burst out laughing, while Svenson looked confused. Thomas wiped a tear from his eye. “I didn’t think anyone else knew that song!”
“Its an old one. I remember it was one of the bits of Human culture that had been taught in my classes. In Vocational Education we had the opportunity to study different aspects of different cultures to prepare for our introduction into the Confederation. Earth Musical Studies had been one of my favorites.”
“So you learned ‘Calendar Girl’?” Svenson asked. “Learn something new every day.”
“I’ll share with the two of you a secret, so that in the future if you so desire you can embarrass this mole.” Thomas smiled. “When I was younger I had a terrible stutter. I learned to overcome it through singing. I chose to study the genre of Earth music known as Do-Wop because it often involved singing in various pitches and tones that I found to be great practice. Most of the songs stuck. I’m a hit when I get drunk.”
This did cause Briar to smile. It was the only bit of useful information he had received the entire night.
Weavel sat waiting. He waited while perched high on the ice wall, cybernetic fingers growing stiff in the cold. He waited until that walking disaster of a Confederate Marine pulled himself over the rim of the cavern and began walking along the glacier toward whatever goal he had. Weavel waited because he didn’t trust the Marines actions. His survival instincts told him to drop off the wall and get lost in the ice cavern as soon as possible, however his better thinking had told him to sit still and keep an eye on the Confederate freak.
Private or Captain, that fool had no reason to be here alone.
Perhaps he was another traveling soul that had stolen a Marine’s armor, not the first time it had happened. Or could he be someone who just lost their sanity? Saw one too many dead bodies and decided to go on his own little adventure? He had introduced himself as “Angseth.” Now that was an unusual name, yet somewhat familiar.
Weavel shook the thought away, and focused on his decent down the wall of ice. The cavern was quiet, save for the sound of his hands digging into the wall. The moons high above gave some light, turning the ice wall before him into a giant white glowing surface broken only by small dark dents. Normally he would not leave such an obvious trail, but at the moment he had no other choice. If he used anything other than his hands, then he risked another cave-in. The Bounty Hunter paused and looked over his shoulder again, scanning the lip of the cavern. The Marine was gone. Why had that Marine been here anyway? So far out of the Confederation mainstream, and solo at that. That fact didn’t settle well with him.
Whatever, Weavel had a file to translate. He had insisted that Samus change her default language setting in her craft from Chozo to Standard. Even through all the clear plating, and exposed bone structure she could show some facial emotion. She had only smirked and gave a light chuckle in response to his request.
Damned woman.
Now because of her stubbornness, Weavel had to hunt down a piece of Chozo scripture he could use to translate the data with. All had been going well until he encountered the Sheegoth.
In his haste he had decided to run along the top of the glacier, using his sensors and scanners to locate weak points to avoid. He didn’t want to waste precious time solving the patterns and puzzles in the caves below. Everything had been going smoothly. He ran, watching the sunset over the tundra, when suddenly he had been attacked from behind.
The Sheegoth never registered on his scanners until he had been right on top of them. They were the only creatures in the universe that could render advanced scanners useless. The Sheegoth rose from the ground and gored him in the back. Weavel then hit a weak patch of ice and fell into this cave. The snow didn’t even have time to fully settle when that Marine came charging in here like a freight train. He drew his weapon as an instinct, not intending to hurt, but at least divert. It seemed as if the Marine just wanted out of this cave as much as he did.
Weavel slung his legs off his shoulders and gave them a flick. The legs straightened out and locked. Weavel braced his right hand in the wall, then used his left to swing his legs like some large olive green club. The wall cracked, exposing a small cave beyond. Perhaps even the same system that Marine had come through. He swung once more and the thin ice gave way, creating an opening large enough for him to slip through. Once on the other side Weavel reconnected his legs, stood, and scanned the narrow hall.
Footprints on the floor led him to one conclusion. The Marine had been here already. Weavel took a step, and a jolt went through his torso as his lower half locked into place. Now curiosity really did have the better of him. Where had that Marine gone? Did he have time to investigate and still complete his mission? Weavel paused for a moment, reading his scanners and radiation information. Scans reveled trace amounts of Phazon in the area, then again Tallon IV was bathed in Phazon. His cybernetic body had an almost inherent immunity to the substance, and his organic components, what little remained of them, were heavily shielded. In other words, he had a little time to explore.
Samus would lecture him at length over the way he never seemed to explore his surroundings enough. He had to give her one thing, she was thorough. She could move quickly over almost any terrain. He envied that. Well, now he was going to take a page out of her training manual and do some in-depth exploration.
Damned Woman.
The Marines footprints were not hard to follow, and since they seemed to lead in the direction Weavel needed to travel in the first place, he didn’t argue. Two for one. His radiation counter kept a steady beep and click. The beeps and clicks would grow louder and faster as the radiation grew. In the past Weavel had discovered that radiation could move in pockets. In one place, nothing, it other places, off the chart. As he moved through the halls and tunnels, he saw that the Marine had made no effort to hide his tracks.
Cobble stones soon appeared under his feet. The Bounty Hunter examined the ice walls, and eventually entered another hall. A light green glow spread over the walls. This hall opened into another cavern. His radiation counter suddenly spiked, causing him to stop and wince. He looked around to see that he wasn’t in a cavern, but a temple.
Phazon radiation in this lower temple was high. Not high enough to corrupt his shielding, but high enough to cause these plants before him to take on a light green glow. The footprints on the ground indicated that the Marine had also been through here. That bastard must have had some pretty decent shielding to survive in here and make it out alive. Weavel felt fortunate that the Marine had done the majority of the exploration for him. Samus would just have to remain disappointed. He followed the footprints until they led him to a small opening in the wall. Once again he broke his body down into just his legs, and his upper torso. He set his lower half at the entrance to the tunnel, engaging the stationary turret function to hopefully dissuade any other explorers. He then raised himself up on his hands turned feet, and began to briskly trot up the tunnel.
Why hadn’t Samus translated the file? Usually she would translate any information before she delivered it to him. Perhaps she had been in a hurry. But if the file had some new information, what couldn’t she share with him before disappearing? He had waited the required twenty-four hours before trying to contact her. This file was her only reply. More curious than her disappearance, was the only piece of standard writing contained in the file.
Copy 1 of 2.
Which of course made Weavel wonder who the hell could Samus have trusted enough to give another copy to. She made back-ups of everything, perhaps the second copy went into her own personal data banks, but that just didn’t suit her. She had called him dense before, laughed at him the only way someone could through a text message. She never spoke to him. Weavel felt that she had lost the ability to, if she ever had the ability in the first place. Chozo didn’t talk. For such an intelligent race, they lacked developed enough vocal cords for communication of that kind. Since Weavel had met her two years ago, they only communicated through text. Why have the file encrypted in Chozo, then one piece of standard thrown in? Weavel knew it was Samus’ idea of a clue.
Their last conversation went through his mind, as he moved through the small tunnel. Perhaps there was a clue there.
You’ve been silent lately, you haven’t checked in a while Aran.
I’ve been compiling data, and comparing readings.
On what?
My obsession, Metroids. The Confederation wishes to speak to me about them. I don’t think I should go, not after the recent piece of information you had given me about SR3-88.
Then plead for the Chozo Council to interfere on your behalf.
I can’t do that.
Why? Does it break your code of honor?
No. Simply put, I just don’t know who among the Chozo I can trust anymore. I’ll send the report along to you as soon as I finish.
Wait, where are you? I can meet you.
You better hurry. I’m enroute to the Seattle. I received a distress call. You know I can’t turn it down.
Take care of yourself.
Weavel slowed as he left the tunnel. Aran couldn’t go back to her own people. Weavel could sympathize with that. What information could possibly be in that file?
He stopped before the statue in the hall, however he didn’t even look up at the glyphs on the stone before him, instead he stared at the floor. In the snow he saw two sets of footprints. One recognized as the tread of Samus’ boot, the other, standard issue Marine. His own print was soon added to the collection.
Weavel suddenly had an idea of who received the other file. But if the Confederation was after her, why give a copy to a crazy Private?
Angseth.
“Captain…” Weavel said aloud. “Aether, the only survivor of the Aether incident.”
Weavel had never been hit by lightning thankfully, but that sudden idea must have been what it felt like. He quickly scanned the passage, then began hauling ass back through the tunnel. The clumsy Marine couldn’t have gotten far. Marines didn’t know how to run! The huddled together in such easily disposed of groups! Weavel exploded out of the tunnel and collected his lower torso. How much time had passed? Did he even have a prayer of catching up to her?
Marines were not known for their skill. Numbers, yes, he could give them that, but never their skill. Then again, he was trailing Angseth, and that woman had more than her fair share of lore built-up around her. Now that he thought about it, Samus had mentioned her once or twice. What could a Marine know about running?!
An alert ran across his visor, bringing Weavel to a grinding halt. His ships computer relayed some disturbing information. A Chozo vessel had entered the atmosphere. This was not good news. Before his ship went dormant, it stated the newcomer as a fully armed escort vessel. Weavel had no choice but to find some corner to hide in. Bounty Hunter or not, he couldn’t take on a full platoon of Chozo troops.
The Glacier provided many nooks in which to cram his body, however in the end he settled for staking out the cavern he had fallen into. Here he could still receive encrypted signals from his craft, as well as guard the terrain. Once again he was thankful that Samus had shared some of her technology with him. Otherwise he would never be able to track Chozo vessels.
I don’t know who I can trust among the Chozo anymore.
Weavel huffed; the sound came from a speaker on his shoulder like a digital blur. For that damn Marine’s sake, I hope she knows how to run like all hell is after her.
The sun had risen before Weavel considered it safe to venture out of hiding. He had spent those hours alert, tense, and shielding his existence. He scaled the ice wall, using the same hand-holds he had already created. Once again he stood on the broad flat glacier of Phendrana. The morning air was still, and beasts of all persuasions began to awaken. Partly to his relief, the Marines footprints were still visible, leading to the south. No wind had carried them away, and the cold night air had covered them in a layer of ice. The Chozo would have had no problem locating her. Had she come here with the Chozo? No, that couldn’t be the case. He remembered a Confederation single-man fighter showing up on his radar briefly when he was seeking a place to land.
The Bounty Hunter followed the prints once more, keeping weapons at the ready in the event that something attacked him. He crested a ridge, then paused, looking down at a collection of creatures feasting upon some carrion. He shot a few rounds to scare away the creatures, and then began to investigate the scene.
Three Sheegoth carcasses lay scattered, the snow under their bodies the color of rust—blood long since spilled. Among the bodies were a few fragments of Marine armor.
Stupid Marine.
Weavel began a leisurely walk down the hill. No sense in rushing, everything down there was dead. He walked around the carcasses, shooing away the last remaining scavengers. Sheegoth bits here, Marine armor there, this had been one fierce battle.
Who had won?
Somewhere in his metal breast he held onto the hope that the Marine was still breathing. As a rule, the Chozo would have left no prints. He suddenly rested his scanners on a leg.
Is that all that’s left?
Weavel knelt to inspect the leg and gazed upon the blood-splattered armor. The leg was cybernetic, and not entirely whole. It lay in many pieces in a ten-foot radius. One cybernetic leg did not a Marine make. Further inspection of the area revealed nothing but more armor fragments. Nothing organic. He was ready to move on when he spied something strange.
Sheegoth on Tallon IV did not have crested horns that resembled human hands. Weavel went to investigate. His scanners gave a reading that startled him. The hand alone had enough Phazon radiation to make his sensors buzz. The hand also sprouted right through the crown of the Sheegoth’s head, straight through the brainpan. No one, regardless of their point of origin was strong enough to punch through a Sheegoths noggin. Scanners also showed that there was no Marine in the Sheegoths gut. One leg, one arm…where was the rest of her? Had the Chozo interfered at the right moment? He noticed a splattered blood trail, identified as human that stopped suddenly, the pattern indicated that the blood had been running off the edge of a platform of sorts.
Weavel took a step back, and after examining the scene for a moment; he came to a conclusion that Samus would most likely scoff at.
Angseth must have been ambushed by this group of Sheegoth, losing her leg and arm in the process. Angseth, after killing the beasts, then reached into the Sheegoth’s head and pulled her arm out before it had a chance to swallow.
In that moment Weavel came to the conclusion that this Marine was not only stupid, but also one crazy bitch that he had no desire to butt heads with.
What odd friends you have Samus.
Chapter Text
Angseth was choking, her head underwater, fluid in her lungs, clawed hands holding her under. She struggled against the hands, weak, and fighting back that primordial fear of drowning. Humans couldn’t live underwater. Pain ran screaming through her mind, down her spine and through what was left of her limbs. The fluid filled her lungs, and she gagged, even though she wasn’t quite drowning, her body still supplied with enough oxygen. After a moment her body became lucid and she felt numb. Maybe she was drowning. Angseth pushed against the clawed hands, against the heavy fluid.
She opened her eyes and watched the last bubble of air leave her lips. The water around her seemed to have been tinted pink, whether it came from her blood in the water or something else she couldn’t tell and frankly didn’t care. Vera watched the bubbles rise through the water. They took on a dark purple hue as they broke the silver surface.
Phazon,
She relaxed, her panic subsided and the hands lifted from her body. She could see smoke-like wisps of purple rising from her pores toward the surface of the water. The smoke looked dead, dangerous. Startled, Vera looked past the surface of the water toward faces peering down at her.
Chozo…
Angseth remembered the one on the left. Smoky blue feathers framing another white mask-like arrangement of feathers around its green eyes. It peered through the water at her, its expression unreadable. More purple wisps came from her pores and clouded the fluid, which had the wrong weight and texture to be water. Either the fluid held a sedative, or she was just that tired. Angseth closed her eyes once more. Her body relaxed and everything seemed to settle. For the moment she was safe.
Angseth awoke again to the sound of light rustling. There was no danger here, some deeper instinct told her. She was warm; sensation came back to her fingers and toes. She lay on something soft, inviting. Her body naked save for a gown much like a large soft cotton T-shirt. The room was dimly lit by soft glowing shades of orange and pink. The effect was very soothing, like a sun set. Angseth sat up slowly, her body relaxed, muscles loose and responsive. Soft things ran down her arm and settled against her bare leg.
Feathers?
She looked around and discovered that she sat in a large basket, with white and brown downy feathers surrounding her. The cotton T-shirt she wore had alien words or glyphs across her left breast. The room was oval shaped with curved walls and floor. The only other fixture in the room aside from the basket in which she sat, was a small button-like fixture on the ceiling. It cast a light pink light down on her. Angseth still felt sleepy, almost dizzy.
Its like I’m sitting in a large egg. She pondered. The air was pleasant and clean. I can remember the Sheegoth, losing my right arm. The Fluid, purple smoke…what does that mean? Angseth turned her attention to her right arm. It stopped mid-bicep, her flesh neatly stitched over the stump. Upon looking down at her right leg she discovered all traces of cybernetics had been removed.
“What the hell?” Angseth ran her fingers over the sensitive skin. She hadn’t seen her leg this naked in years. With a sigh she flopped back into the basket, and watched the feathers flutter up around her. She still felt very tired. “One arm and one leg down. Two more to go.” She ran her fingers through her hair. Normally the loss of a limb would have sent her into another depression, however her mind either hadn’t registered the fact yet, or she genuinely didn’t care. Angseth felt perfectly content to remain here surrounded by the feathers in this basket.
Stop.
So soft, so inviting.
Wait a minute.
It would be so easy to just sleep again.
I’m not thinking like myself.
Just sleep.
“These aren’t my thoughts.” She sat up again, this time fixing her gaze on that small red button on the ceiling. That had to be where it came from. Even though she had no psychic talents, she knew when someone was trying to guide her thinking. “I don’t know who you are, but stop that subliminal shit right now. Show yourself!”
Just go to sleep Vera, dream good dreams. If the light goes away, the pain will return.
Angseth shook the thought away. “I’m willing to take that risk!” She began to search the basket and room for a weapon of some kind. Nothing new turned up. Vera began to ponder the practicality of using the basket itself to hurl at the ceiling. Just as this thought crossed her mind, the pink light went out.
The sensation that followed was one that Angseth would never forget. Immediately her leg, arm and to a greater degree, her back simultaneously sang with their respective aches and pains. Her body was letting her know that all was not well. She fell back into the feathers, and assumed the fetal position. Sore wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the pain running through her body. Vera closed her eyes and tried to think past the pain. The feathers were no longer as soft, but still smelled sweet. She suddenly sensed another presence in the room. Angseth opened her eyes and forced herself to look up at the visitor.
At first it seemed that nothing had changed, but then she noticed a few more additions to the room. Perched at even intervals on the walls surrounding her, were several multicolored spheres. Each of them had been placed about halfway up the wall. Another cramp rocked her body as she examined the spheres. Bright sharp pains in her joints punctuated slow dull aches as she moved. Angseth focused on the sphere directly before her. If she focused on that, then she could push the pain away, and eventually surpass it.
A breeze blew over her skin, almost like the shift in air she felt while standing under an air vent. For a moment Vera took her attention from the spheres before her and glanced at the button on the ceiling. The soft pink light was back. However “light” wasn’t the right word. The last that she had checked, light had no easily discernable weight. She could feel this light settle on her skin. Moreover she could feel it soak into her skin. If she would just rest, then the pain would go away.
Angseth didn’t want the pain to go away, the pain let her know that she was still in the physical realm. Beside that, she had been in pain before, and this wasn’t pain, this was soreness, and when one is sore, isn’t it just better to sleep it off? All creatures rested when they were in pain, it was a natural response to physical trauma.
I have never owned an animal or even encountered them outside of the odd mission. This line of logic won’t work with me. Angseth thought bitterly.
The longer the light stayed, the more her body began to relax, the more she felt her aggressions slip away. Vera clung to one fear, that of more injury to life and the few limbs she had left, the rest she allowed to become subdued in the light. Slowly that one last fear even became little more than a curiosity. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, her tongue seemed to have relaxed as well, causing her words to slur.
“Friends? Or will you try to kill me?” Now that it was out, the question seemed ridiculous.
The spheres were silent. They no longer felt so strange.
No harm will come to you Marine. Rest. Matters will be discussed later.
Angseth really had no choice, rest was a good idea and damn these feathers were comfortable.
Waking up this time around was more conventional. Angseth’s eyes peeled open, her body no longer had that effervescent feeling, and in its place was something she could only describe as a hangover. Nausea, muscles that felt as dry and unyielding as bridge cables, and her head seemed to weigh twice what it should. Vera moved her right arm to push herself to sit; however her elbow didn’t connect. She turned her attention to that arm, and felt memories rise about previous nights. Even though she could remember raising the gun and pulling the trigger with her toe, the fact that her arm was now gone still hadn’t set in fully.
You’d think that I’d get accustomed to waking up and finding my limbs missing.
Angseth stared at the stump for a few moments, still trying to process the memories of Tallon IV. Had she really blown her arm off? And what was that sudden burst of strength she had? She remembered climbing on top of the Sheegoth, and pulling her arm out through its head. She could remember the blue tinting in her vision. Normally she would have blamed it on fluctuations in her visor due to heavy damage, but at the time she wasn’t wearing a helmet. Her head began to ache as she tried to make sense of everything. Vera soon turned her attention back to what was left of her arm. It really is gone. No more writing with that hand, no more two-handed sports. The more she focused on her pale bruised flesh, another thought occurred to her. I will need to drain my entire savings account to buy a new arm and leg, and find a reputable cybernetics doctor. That was something else she didn’t want to think about. When she had been fitted for her cybernetic leg, the calibration process had been very painful. The human leg contained well over one thousand different nerves that had to be tested. Vera could only say “ow” in so many different pitches. If Nevada hadn’t been there, she would have killed that mechanic.
Nevada,
She missed him. He was probably worried sick about her. Vera still remembered sitting in the cybernetic doctor’s operating room, some egghead at her feet, tightening and loosening different screws. Nevada had recommended this guy. Nevada had also been the one to read her emotions, and make the necessary precautions. When the calibrations had gotten particularly painful, he held Vera back, and placed the thickest part of his forearm in her mouth, giving her something to take her aggressions out on. She had drawn blood, leaving a scar that was still visible to this day. Angseth didn’t discover until much later that bites of this nature were considered a form of foreplay on his world. Small things that turned out to be very big things endeared him to her.
Angseth took in another breath to clear her mind and calm herself. “I’ll be back as soon as I can Kitty. I love you.”
I have to be strong, I need to keep my head or I will never see Nevada again. A half-chuckle left her throat. I can always buy new limbs, my head would be a bit harder to replace.
This time she rolled to her left, and pushed herself to a sitting position. The light above her had gone from pink to blue. Now that she took notice, the whole color scheme of the room had changed. The light seemed more natural. The orange and red sunset had been replaced by what appeared to be daylight as seen through frosted glass. The room was sparse, save for herself, the basket, and the feathers filling it. Angseth’s hand suddenly jumped to her neck, yes, the necklace with the fang was still there. She felt relief come over her. They had removed all of her clothing and the remains of Jones’ armor, from the look of things, did a wonderful job of cleaning up all the blood and gore that had covered her body. The spheres were no longer perched on the walls around her.
Angseth stretched and her gaze fell to the opposite end of the basket. Leaning against the side of the basket was a primitive prosthetic leg. It reminded her of her first one, a leather cuff went around her thigh, with a swivel joint in place of the knee. The shin was just a long metal shaft that ended in a foot-shaped piece of metal. She immediately reached for the leg, and pulled it toward her. She also noticed a pair of pants set at the end of the basket. “Thank goodness.” Vera sighed.
Her first task wasn’t going to be easy. She needed to get the leg strapped on with only one arm. Angseth pondered it for a moment, then slipped the cuff over her thigh, and braced the foot against the end of the basket. She then used her left hand to pull the straps so they were snug, not tight. Now for the second order of business: Pants. Those took a little longer to pull up to her waist. They were lose, like hospital scrubs, and just as comfortable.
“Ok Vera, here goes.” Angseth swung her legs off the side of the basket, and felt her feet connect with the floor. She carefully pushed herself to stand, and wondered if her subconscious remembered more about walking on a prosthetic than she did. Her balance was off, and the stump of her right arm stuck straight out, as if to help compensate. She still had all the aches as before, but the nausea had subsided. Angseth shuffled a couple of laps around the basket, loosening and tightening straps as needed. On her third lap, she almost tripped over another sphere on the floor. Vera almost jumped, and raised a hand to her chest. Just like the night before, no warning, no sound, just a sudden presence.
She took a step back and almost lost her balance, and then recovered, leaning on the basket. “You guys need to stop doing that.” She ran her hand through her hair, one of her many nervous gestures.
The sphere rolled backward a few feet, then stopped. The joints in the sphere began to take on an inner light. It seeped from the cracks and seams, becoming brighter as panels pulled apart. Angseth remembered that Aran had the same technology, a Morph Ball. There was a sound like an electric egg cracking open, and then standing before her was one of the Chozo.
The Chozo were a bird-like race that seemed to be as old as the universe itself. Through all of the expanding the Confederation had done since its beginning, they had yet to discover territory that the Chozo hadn’t already conquered, used, then moved on. While the Chozo played only a minimal role in interstellar politics, their influence and political sway was immense. They had been one of the major donors of technology, if not culture. Vera’s mind raced through the mountains of files and studies done of Chozo culture, and realized that she still hadn’t the vaguest idea of how their society and laws worked. She didn’t even know one scrap of their language. Surprising since she spoke seven languages fluently, and could at least say “yes” and “no” in twenty others. Angseth had been able to pick up languages faster than most people. Yet the Chozo were just simply elusive. All this added up in her mind that she was really out of her league here. She had no idea if this place was a hospital room or jail cell, or if this Chozo before her was a nurse or executioner. The lack of information made her very nervous.
As Angseth stood looking up at this creature, the thought occurred to her that she had never understood just how tall the Chozo were. All the scans and holos she had seen of them didn’t do any justice. This one stood at seven feet easily. It had expressionate bird-like eyes, and a shiny black beak. Light gray feathers lay smooth against its skin. Angseth herself stood at only five feet four inches. She had to look up a long way to meet the Chozo eyes. Angseth had grown accustomed to taller beings, so what difference did two feet make?
The Chozo lifted its left hand/claw as well as its right. The right it placed on its chest, over its heart. The left began to trace symbols in the air, forming tight precise shapes. Sometimes the fingers folded, other times they spread and created new forms. Angseth watched fascinated trying to read into or make sense of the symbols. A headache began to settle in, almost as if her brain couldn’t completely wrap around what she had just seen.
“…with me.”
Angseth snapped her attention away from the hands and focused her attention on the Chozo’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” She had been almost hypnotized by the patterns traced in the air. The Chozo began to make the patterns again, Angseth fought not to watch, instead she focused on the voice. She knew the voice was a universal translating device, but the speech was smoother than anything she had ever encountered before.
“Please turn and place your left hand behind your back. I have instructions to bring you with me.”
Angseth hesitated for a moment but slowly turned around, placing her left hand behind her back, typical of a prisoner escort. The chances of this place being a hospital were diminishing rapidly. She looked down and saw another sphere on the floor. This one was blue, with a red almost flame-like pattern on the plates. If they were planning on killing me, they’ve already had plenty of opportunities. Vera studied this new addition and then felt a clawed hand grab her wrist. This startled her, and she took a moment to calm herself. Right now it didn’t take much to set off her adrenaline. She was high-strung enough being in an unfamiliar environment, with creatures she had never met before, and missing two very important limbs. Angseth wasn’t certain how the Chozo felt about her presence and the chances that she would be welcomed with open arms were very slim.
“Please follow behind the sphere, move slowly.”
Angseth kept her eye on the ball as it rolled away from her toward an opening in the wall. Some of her anxiety faded and became replaced by curiosity when she noticed that the flame design stayed stationary even as the sphere itself moved. She looked over her shoulder toward the first Chozo. “Where are you taking me?” Confederation law stated that they owed her at least that much information.
“The tribunal wishes to speak with you. Your fate will be decided then.”
Angseth faced forward again. The sphere rolled through the opening, and it widened enough for Angseth and the Chozo to pass through. Your fate will be decided then. That line didn’t sit well with her. Fear crept in, compounding what had already been present. She hadn’t been this afraid since she held her ground against the Splinters. The Chozo were apparently very tough on trespassers.
They stepped into the hall, filled with more natural seeming light coming through the same frosted glass. Angseth looked away from the sphere at her new surroundings. The walls were smooth, the walls ceiling and floor all the same hue. Almost as if she were walking in a giant seashell, very disorienting, almost sterile.
“Please continue moving forward.”
Angseth turned her attention back to the Morph Ball before her. It rolled, it’s blue flames flickering just above its glossy surface. They continued down a gentle slope, the only remote landmark in this barren hall. No doors, no windows, only even light and slowly sloping floor. Eventually the sphere stopped, and light began to seep from the joints. Vera stopped and stood still as the Morph Ball split apart and another Chozo appeared before her. The flame design seemed to transfer to its armor. The Chozo behind her let go of her wrist and stood to her left, while the other took a place on her right. The wall opposite her appeared to melt away, revealing a large room. In the center of the room sat a blue cube that seemed to be made of some kind of gel.
The Chozo escorted Angseth into the room, and stopped just shy of the cube. Vera soon observed that the room seemed to have been composed of two layers. The first layer being the area she stood in. A force field separated her from the other layer of the room. She couldn’t make out many details in that layer, the field distorted her view. The field began to clear when the wall closed behind her.
At first there only seemed to be colors, directly before her, mainly red, to her left, blue, and her right, green. Soon the colors sharpened, and Vera began to make out three Chozo, each seated, perhaps even perched, and clad in very ornate robes. The garments themselves were not as impressive as the large headdress each wore. Until she knew proper titles to address each with, her mind assigned each of them a temporary name according to their dominant color scheme.
Directly before her sat Red, seemingly the elder of the three. He wore many layers of red robes in many different hues. The effect was much like a sunrise that had been twisted and woven into fabric. His claw-like hands appeared soft, with neatly manicured nails, trimmed short and painted dark maroon. His fingers were covered in gold rings, most of them set with red stones. Some as dark as pomegranate seeds, others glowed with an inner light. The hem of his robes bore designs that seemed deliberate, almost as if they could be writing of some form. Angseth’s eye followed these designs along the hem of his robe until her attention became drawn to his beak. It too, had a dark maroon color, then painted, or perhaps even carved with intricate designs, different from the ones on his robes. Dark feathers led to the base of his headdress, it extended almost three feet off his head, sweeping back like some kind of elaborate exaggerated crest. Feathers, bells, and precious metals glistened, chimed and shifted with every move and twitch of his head. Angseth then ventured to look Red in the eye. Deep brown set in a mask of white feathers locked onto hers, and for a moment, Vera felt her heart stop, as if he had looked right through her and saw every last secret her body possessed.
She quickly looked away, taking a moment to examine Blue and Green. They wore robes and headdress of a similar kind in their respective colors, neither of them however met her eyes as Red had.
”Please be seated.” Red spoke. Except he wasn’t speaking, he wore another universal translating device on or near his person. Angseth tried to listen, but had been captured by the intricate and delicate patterns his fingers traced in the air. She felt like a cat that had trained her gaze on the hops and skips of a sparrow.
Vera tore her gaze away, and then took a seat on the cube. It was firm, yet soft. She turned to face the tribunal. She had been through plenty of inquisitions before, and thus far, this one didn’t appear to be any different.
”State your name, rank and planet of origin.” Blue spoke.
Angseth took in another tense breath, she felt nervous and afraid. Nevada. She swallowed her anxiety and spoke aloud, meeting Blue’s eyes. “My name is Mervera Diane Angseth, Captain of the Confederation Battle Cruiser Mabus. My commanding officer is System Admiral Mizzen of the Orion sector. I claim no home world.” The last wasn’t entirely true, she had no home world, but still paid the taxes on Osiris VI, where she owned property.
Red, Blue and Green seemed to speak amongst themselves, due to all the finger shaking and hand flailing. After a moment, they turned back to Angseth.
“Are you aware of the warrant for your immediate capture?”
Angseth felt those words hit her, even though it didn’t really surprise her. She answered truthfully. “No, I was not aware of any warrant.”
“The warrant had been issued by System Admiral Mirson. What was your business on Tallon IV?”
“I…” She thought over her words. If she told the truth, then she would also need to admit that she was away from her post. There was no use in denying it. Vera didn’t want to face a panel of Chozo telepaths. “I had been looking for a sample of Chozo writing to use to aid me in translating a data file I had received from the Bounty Hunter Samus Aran.”
Red spoke. “We found this file when searching the data banks on your ship. It reveals nothing of interest.”
“Were you not briefed on the dangers of Tallon IV? Perhaps you completely ignored the satellites?” Green demanded.
“I, I had known.”
“What has removed you from your post?” Blue asked.
Angseth closed her mouth. She didn’t like it when people became pushy, regardless of what race they were.
Red suddenly let loose a loud squawk. Deafening in the silent room. Angseth almost jumped. Blue and Green calmed, silenced for the moment. Red then spoke. “Enlighten us, How did you come to Tallon IV?”
Angseth stood from the cube. Her right leg had begun to ache. “I had been assigned to escort a science vessel to SR3-88. En route we received an SOS from a deep space station, the Seattle. Upon reaching the Seattle, we discovered Gamma Fleet Pirate activity, as well as Aran and Pirate Captain Ridley engaged in heavy combat. Their battle had destroyed the fusion reactor in the heart of the station. Gamma Fleet then retreated, and Aran gave chase. I then authorized the release of several fighters to assist. I joined them. When the Pirate ship warped out, Aran and I were caught in the wake. I chose to join her in pursuit.”
“Why?”
Angseth looked to the floor, a smile creeping over her lips. “I owe her one.”
“Angseth. The sole surviving Marine of the Aether incident?”
“I am, only because of Aran’s help.”
Silence all around. Not even Blue had anything to say. Then Green asked, “Tell us how you came across this file?”
“In our pursuit of the Pirates, we landed on an uncolonized world. Strangely, within twelve hours, Confederation Marines has landed with the intent of our capture. It was then that Aran transferred that file to me. We were captured, I escaped and she…” Angseth tried to fight back the rising tide of memories of that thing in the tank. “She was taken prisoner. I had hoped that if I were able to read the file, then I could help her.”
“I don’t believe that.” Blue retorted. Angseth was beginning to see that he was a bit of a skeptic. “Why give the information to you?”
“I am curious as well.” Green stated. “Why not contact her people?”
Angseth answered truthfully. “I don’t know.”
“This information, however insignificant, bought you a new lease on life.” Red announced. “When you had been found, our soldiers were willing to allow nature to take its course. Then you spoke of the Hatchling.”
Angseth let this sink in. She didn’t know how to begin thanking the Chozo for saving her life, but she did have questions. For a moment she searched for the words. “I have very few memories after I was found, before waking up in the room back there. I remember being held underwater, or something like water. I saw smoke rising from my body, it was purple in color. I just want to know what it was.”
For a moment the Chozo seemed confused. By the way they looked at each other, large multicolored headdresses jingled and swayed until they all reached a conclusion. Angseth wished that she had waited until a more appropriate time to ask.
“This ‘smoke’ was Phazon. You had been infected with the Madness. You were at death’s door, yet you still managed to summon your ship and cry out to our troops. Your body had been thoroughly saturated with Phazon radiation. Even after our efforts to purify you, some radiation remains. Our scientists are baffled at your ability to move at the moment.”
Angseth sat down again. This was all news to her.
“Your arm could not be saved. The remnants of your cybernetic leg had to be removed for sanitation purposes. The artificial collarbone in your right shoulder was untouched, and therefore not removed. The scaring on your left shoulder appeared to be an old wound, so it has not been touched.”
Angseth felt a blush come over her cheeks. The heavy scaring on her left shoulder had been caused by Briar during one of their more active lovemaking sessions. Did the Chozo know that? After so many years she didn’t embarrass easily. That one little mention did it. Her right collarbone had been replaced years ago when she first test-fired the Sigel--hopefully still tucked away in her ship. Herself and Briar had traveled out to a shooting range on some desert planet that had often been used as a firing range for low and high-quality ballistics. At the time she felt that she had been conservative, setting up a large sheet of alloy against a hill of gravel. Both to test the Sigel’s range and spread of its shots. Briar had been standing roughly twenty behind her when she stood, braced her feet and looked down the sight of that gun for the first time. When she had fired, the kick back of the Sigel broke her collarbone, and sent her airborne. She sailed twenty feet, slammed into Briar, and continued traveling with him another one hundred feet before both of them hit the ground, rolled ass over head and eventually skidded to a stop. The shot itself had gone stray, slammed through several large piles of gravel, then tore the arm clean off some experimental mechanized power armor almost a mile away. Briar had pulled her to her feet, then both of them hauled ass out of there, laughing the entire time.
Angseth brought her attention back to present.
Green spoke again. “What do you know of our Hatchling?”
“Only what I have told you.”
“We have not heard from the Hatchling in many years, this is the first time any outsider has given us any information about him. That alone was enough to buy your life. There had also been the warrant for your arrest. We are bound by treaty to surrender any fugitive.”
Angseth sighed. “I cannot speak against the treaty, but if I am surrendered, may I request to be returned to Admiral Mizzen? Mirson is likely to shoot me on sight.”
“Why do you feel this way?”
“I have evidence that could get him in a lot of trouble.”
“Was it upon his orders that the Hatchling was taken into custody?”
“I have reason to believe so.”
“Why?”
“I am not at liberty to say at the moment.” Angseth hoped that they wouldn’t pursue this line of questioning. Not that she wouldn’t answer them, but she would feel more comfortable after being briefed by Admiral Mizzen. “I had hoped to find that information in the file.”
Blue thought for a moment, then asked, “Samus gave the file to you, with no instruction, no orders, no indication as to what should be done with it?”
“Nothing at all.” Vera’s gaze darted between the three of them, she didn’t like the silence. “Why? What was in it?”
Red stood, his long robes pooled around his ankles. “We must discuss this among ourselves. Please return the Marine to his room.”
His? Angseth stood as the two other Chozo flanked her, and began to lead her out of the room. She bit back panic, and tried to reason away her fears. Chozo were known for their respect of law, and they would return her to Mirson, the one who issued the warrant. Mirson wouldn’t be kind. Even though none of these fears were entirely founded. Angseth was more afraid of lack of knowledge about this situation, than if they had just told her fate.
“Please follow.”
Angseth cast one last glance over her shoulder. Her eyes met Reds soulful orbs. In that one glance she relaxed. She would not go back to Mirson.
Back in her room, Angseth found a small hover table with a tray of food. Her escorts left, each one rolling silently away from wherever they had come. Vera walked over to the table, and downed the glass of water in one gulp. She felt thirsty, very thirsty. She hadn’t noticed it before because she had felt threatened and under stress. On the tray sat two bowls, one filled with golf-ball sized lumps, pale green in color. The other contained meat, lightly seared and as her nose told her, heavily spiced. Vera poured herself another glass of water and sat down on the basket, pulling the hover table closer. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t eaten anything in over forty-eight hours, maybe even longer. She had also lost a lot of blood back there on the Phendrana Drifts. For some reason the food didn’t interest her as much as the water.
I need to at least eat something.
She drank more water, savoring the flavor. The water tasted so very good. Vera couldn’t detect the slightest hint of chemicals; it tasted and felt as fresh and pure as water should be. After her second glass, she finally turned her attention to the food. She picked up a small fork and stabbed one of green balls. It reminded her of some over-sized pea. It had a soft rind on the outside that tore as she lifted it. Inside was a darker green ball. Hesitantly, Vera took a bite.
It tastes like boiled soybeans, like Edamame.
At least it didn’t taste as foreign as it looked. Vera helped herself to another, and then turned her attention to the meat. She picked up a piece and nibbled it. The texture was…off. It wasn’t like any other meat she had ever eaten. Was it even meat? Or was it some kind of dried vegetable? She had no idea what it was, but it tasted great.
I’d probably pay a lot of money for a dish like this in a Confederate eatery.
For once the water didn’t take center stage. Once she had tasted everything, Angseth dug in with gusto. The food was finished off all too quickly. Once again she reached for the water and finished off the pitcher. After eating she made a lap around her room, inspecting the walls trying not to dwell too much on her fate. Her memories of Tallon IV were still fuzzy. Had she really shot off her own arm?
The Chozo don’t appear to be a threat to me at the moment. I do want to get back to the Mabus, if that’s even permitted now. I can’t shake the feeling that Briar may be in trouble. I need to call him and see if he’s okay.
She sat down again, and looked at the empty pitcher of water. She should have rationed it.
Okay, now I’m bored.
Vera wasn’t sure exactly how long she spent bouncing off the walls in this room before another sphere appeared at her feet. The room was just as smooth and uninteresting as the inside of an egg. Angseth even thought that she could amuse herself for a while looking for a seam of the doorway in the wall. Nothing. This lead her to believe that the door was one solid piece of the wall that would break down at the molecular level, then reformed as they left. Made sense. Can’t break a lock on a door if there is no door. If they could render their own body mass down to the size of a beach ball, then non-living objects must be no challenge at all.
She was also trying her best not to focus too much on her missing arm. It had taken her months to get over the loss of her leg. Which brought about another thought. If a limb is gone, is it still considered missing if you know damn well what happened to it? Her leg had been cremated. She kept it in a little jar on her desk, nice conversation piece. Her own arm, as far as she knew, was still pinned between the now decomposing jaws of that Sheegoth. Perhaps some explorers in the future would come across the fossil and have themselves a good laugh over it. Maybe her arm would be mistaken for some odd variety of fish.
The thought caused her to giggle again, little girl fashion. Her mother would have said that it was very unbecoming of a woman in her mid-forties. Briar called it her “nervous giggle”. A kind of high-pitched squeak that was muffled by her closed mouth, and/or hand, sleeve, random wall or unfortunate sentient being. Yes, she knew that she only giggled like this when she was nervous, and trying to relax herself. No wonder so many people stayed away from her in basic training. Before joining the Marines she had never held a gun before in her life. The first time a power rifle dropped into her hands she tried to hold back the nervous giggles, and eventually turned her com off to avoid disturbing those around her. Turned out that she was a natural with a weapon.
The giggles eventually turned to tears. She wasn’t full out crying, but the traitorous drops of water crept from her eyes. Yes, she was now without two limbs, and it would cost her everything to replace them. For the moment she rolled over in the basket, and stared at the button in the ceiling.
The giggle fit had been at least an hour ago. At the moment Angseth amused herself by grabbing up feathers from the basket and sorting them by color. The feathers were all colors of the rainbow, leading her to think that they were artificial. This time the sphere that rolled into the room from nowhere wasn’t the blue one with the flames, this one was red colored, with some intricate design engraved in its surface. Angseth looked up from a pile of blue feathers. She had been wondering if she should take the extra step and separate the different hues of blue when she heard the sphere enter. She peeked over the edge of the basket and looked down at the red ball.
“Hey, I thought I told you guys to knock from now on.” Vera pulled herself from the feathers, and slid out of the basket. The now familiar glow came over the joints in the ball, then with the same cracking noise, another Chozo stood before her.
This one didn’t wear blue, but red armor, this time without the helmet. This was the first time she had the opportunity to get a good look at a Chozo that hadn’t been heavily decorated or covered in armor. The Chozo were bird-like, but that still didn’t quite explain it. Small round eyes, framed with white feathers. They had beaks, and their beaks varied as much as the different species of birds on Earth had. The one standing before her had a beak much like that of a sparrow or swallow. Small, yet precise. However this is where all the bird similarities ended. This one had a mask of green and white feathers around its eyes, as well as a feathered crest that swept back from the crown of its head. The power armor covered the rest of its body, yet when it moved its head from side to side, Angseth could make out scales peeking out from the power armor. She remembered Confederation records mentioning feathers as part of Chozo physiology, but not shiny gem-like scales.
The Chozo before her lifted its right hand and covered its heart, while the left hand made more complex gestures and signs in the air.
“Please follow me.”
Vera took a step, then noticed another ball behind her. How do they do that? Teleportation? Gotta be teleportation. She followed, trying not to look back at the ball rolling just shy of her heels.
This time she was led through a different set of halls, all still smooth like the inside of a seashell. Vera could imagine a hoard of these little gumballs rolling through these halls at top speed in one big multicolored mass. The thought brought a smile to her face, yet terrified her at the same time. She couldn’t think of any tactic to fend off an attack like that. Maybe a really big golf club. She snorted, and brought her hand up to cover her mouth to stem off the giggles.
Her two escorts left her standing before a definite doorway. The door was outlined in gold-colored metal, twisted into complex shapes, which seemed to hold some kind of meaning. The signs and symbols seemed too deliberate for just decoration. The space inside the symbols was another door like all the others she had encountered. Cream-colored and seemingly a part of the wall. The dominant color here seemed to be red. Red paint, red stones, and red gem-like pieces decorated the symbols.
As Vera stood admiring the doorframe, the door itself melted away. Light poured over her and she gasped.
Before Angseth had no clear grasp of her exact surroundings, no sense of place or purpose of her room. Now she could see her surroundings, and make sense of all of them. The room before her was large yet modest. The walls were painted light tan, with numerous symbols carved into them. The floor was covered in what seemed to be a red-colored rug. It didn’t seem much like carpeting, but more like a giant woven grass mat. More of those odd gel-like cubes had been placed in random areas of the room, creating places to sit. In the center of the room, a structure that could only be described as a desk stood. Holo screens flickered at all locations of the room. Seated behind the desk was Red. Angseth had taken to calling him Big Red in her mind. The Chozo were a tall race. Red seemed to have both height and girth. Big Red’s intricate headdress had been removed and placed in a stasis field to the right of the desk.
All of these things were unique and wonderful, however it wasn’t the items, or even Big Red himself that attracted her attention. The entire rear area of the room from floor to ceiling seemed to have been sliced away, providing a tremendous view.
Angseth was on a ship, a very big ship. From this point she could see continents and vegetation extend for miles beyond the window. The horizon even curved, a hint of blue atmosphere glowed at the edges of trees and buildings. Within this vast growth stretched silver rivers, lakes, cities, temples, and near the edge of her vision, even a desert. This office hovered above all of this life, darkness and stars pulled at the edges of the window, framing all of the wonders below her.
I had always heard rumors of these great ships. But I had never had the opportunity to see one.
“Captain?”
Vera tore her gaze away from the view, and focused her attention back into the room. Big Red had stepped from behind his desk and motioned with his right hand for Angseth to come forward.
“Captain Angseth, I have some news for you.”
Vera walked toward the desk, then stopped suddenly. She had walked right into a holo-conference. Around her she saw several holo screens hovering around her, some depicted unfamiliar Chozo, others were blank placeholders. She felt as if she were standing in a circle of people and also knew that elsewhere; her own image would be displayed on holo-screens somewhere across the cosmos. Angseth just prayed that she wouldn’t be wearing hospital scrubs in those holos. As soon as she stepped into the ring, she snapped to attention. There came a familiar voice behind her, low and deep, as if some god were bellowing from the inner reaches of a dark cave.
“ANG-SETH!”
Vera involuntarily tilted her head to her side, and her hand immediately went to the small of her back as she turned to face the holo screen.
“I called it didn’t I? I knew this meeting would be about you. What kind of hunch did you follow this time? What little space fairy popped onto your head and said ‘Vera, per-haps it would be fun to get lost on Tallon IV and have the Chozo come and rescue us’ Do you have such a sprite living in your head Captain? Why are you standing there Captain? Why are you standing THERE instead of the bridge of your SHIP? Did you have another lapse of sanity Captain? SPEAK.”
Angseth resisted the urge to rub her ears. She instead called out. “I was unaware of this meeting SIR!”
Big Red’s computerized translated voice cut through the tension. “Captain Angseth, is this your commanding officer?”
“Yes. Admiral Mizzen.”
Admiral Mizzen’s voice boomed through the com once more. Angseth noted that even with their advanced technology, the Chozo interface system still struggled with Mizzen’s voice. “At ease Captain. You’ve already ruined my day, don’t make it any harder than it already is.”
Vera’s shoulders relaxed. She really wanted to sit down.
“Now that all parties are present, lets get this over with. Angseth, keep your pie-hole shut until I ask you something. Can you manage that for ten minutes, or do I need to ask this fine gentleman here to get some extra help to restrain you?”
Vera had to struggle to keep a smile at bay. Admiral Mizzen was one of those military types that seemed to get too caught up in the role. New recruits found him impossible to cope with, but Angseth learned years ago that if one just sat and listened to him, what he said was actually damn amusing. The sad thing was that most people didn’t know how to relax long enough to just play along.
Admiral Mizzen was an intimidating figure. He was the tallest of all the System Admirals, and the biggest. To Angseth he resembled a dragon, some big red and orange fire-breathing lizard. He didn’t actually breathe fire, but he did have red scale-covered skin, complete with an orange horned crest framing his head. No matter how many times she had been in his office, Angseth still had trouble meeting his dark purple eyes, ever since that first time she dared to look into them.
Big Red spoke. “This meeting has been called in regards to the extradition of Captain Angseth.”
Mizzen appeared genuinely surprised. “Extradite? What did she do wrong now?”
“As I have already explained, Captain Angseth had been apprehended on the surface of Tallon IV. She had received life-threatening wounds from fighting the wildlife,”
“Sounds like something she would do.”
“--We have nursed her back to health, and discovered that Admiral Mirson had issued a warrant for her arrest. However, since you are her Commanding Officer. . .”
Mizzen seemed to chew on this for a moment. First off, the Chozo didn’t apprehend anyone, wounded or not. However Mizzen knew the rules and regulations enough to see that the Chozo had left him a loophole. Angseth read this thought as it crossed his features. She knew how he felt. She didn’t like getting funneled anywhere either. They would just have to trust the Chozo for a moment, and hopefully they wouldn’t make them eat too many of their own words. Finally Mizzen said.
“I was not aware of any such warrant, on what grounds had it been issued?”
Red pulled up a file. “I am now sending you a copy of what we had received.”
Mizzen read it aloud. “Captain Mervera Diane Angseth—That’s you—is wanted as a suspect and for questioning in the atmospherical disruption of planet FQ3-59. She is also wanted for aiding a known and wanted criminal. She is to be considered armed and very dangerous. Angseth was last seen in her fighter—Vera what is this?” He set heavy purple eyes on Angseth.
“I have never heard the warrant sir.” She responded flatly. She knew that gaze. Mizzen had pushed all joking aside and was now dead serious.
Admiral Mizzen rubbed his forehead and then said. “Mervera, I want you to tell me everything. Everything that had happened since you first set foot on Syren1.”
Angseth looked at Big Red and the other silent Chozo faces. “In present company sir?”
“Especially in present company.”
She couldn’t argue with that, or with Mizzen, it would do her no good. Vera drew in a deep breath, and began talking. She spoke of the wedding, Thomas and Svenson, her new orders, her suspicions, the Seattle. Here she needed to repeat herself several times when it came to her encounter with the pirates, and the Hunter. She left no stone unturned, and they spent a good three or four hours questioning her about FQ3-59. Angseth hoped her audiences weren’t too skeptical. It all sounded unrealistic in this telling. Her memory slowly came back to her as she spoke about Tallon IV and how she came there. However she didn’t mention the Bounty Hunter Weavel. She knew that she should have, she had orders to, but some little voice in the back of her mind stopped her from even hinting at his name for the moment.
Mizzen became silent for a long time after Angseth had finished. Big Red came over and offered her a glass of water, which she drank eagerly. Earlier Red had levitated one of the cubes over for her to sit on. Vera had finished off a second glass when she noticed Mizzen watching her. He waited until she had set the drink down before speaking again.
“Let me see your right arm Vera.”
Angseth stood and rolled up the sleeve, exposing the bruised stump. She could see his purple eyes darting around, examining the wound; finally he slowly nodded, then leaned back in his seat. Angseth let the sleeve fall loose again. The Admiral focused his attention on Big Red.
“We have a serious problem here.”
“Indeed we do. Aran is a member of the Chozo. We do not appreciate our people getting arrested without good reason.”
“I understand, however I personally cannot overstep Mirson’s authority to get Aran back.”
“Perhaps an arrangement can be made?”
Mizzen weighed his options. “Captain Angseth.”
“Sir.” She answered
“How badly do you want your hero back?”
“Sir, I owe her my life.”
Mizzen’s voice suddenly dropped an octave. Angseth knew that tone had the ability to shake objects and people he happened to be in the same room with. She had always liked that voice.
“Captain Mervera Angseth.”
“Sir.”
“I am removing you from your post aboard the Mabus temporarily. Lieutenant Commander Nevada Briar will take your place. Your new assignment will be aboard the Chozo colony ship Araia to assist their forces in recovering one of their own--since you have first-hand experience. Chairman Arashe, please use this little firecracker wisely. She is now officially under your command. Beat her if she misbehaves. You hear me, flog her until she is within an inch of her life begging for mercy from the heavens.”
Big Red bowed deeply, with surprising grace. “Thank you for this most generous gift Admiral.”
Gift? The word stuck in Angseth’s mind. The Chozo didn’t need her, they had plenty of their own…unless Mizzen was trying to gain some leverage in the Chozo community. Since she had been officially posted here, Mizzen now allied himself with the Chozo, and by accepting her, they had allied themselves with him.
I hate being used as collateral.
“Vera.” Mizzen said as he noticed her expression, caught between a pout and disgust. “Don’t go off and do something half-cocked like you’ve been prone to do. Let me handle this.”
“…sir.”
“What was that Marine?”
Angseth corrected “YES SIR!!”
Big Red, his name now known as Arashe, smiled gently.
“Be good Mervera, I mean it.” Mizzens final words were fatherly in tone.
Angseth began to let go of a breath she didn’t know she had been holding as the holo faded.
“My what a friendly soul.” Arashe commented. “Are you sure you wouldn’t have preferred Admiral Mirson?”
Angseth paused, the words still sinking in. She smiled, and tried to cover it with the back of her hand. Stop it, you’re old enough to have gained control of the giggles by now.
“Dear me child, what have I done?”
She held in the giggles until her face turned red and they became replaced by hiccups. When she woke up this morning she thought that she would be dead by nightfall. Her new post was almost as bad. She was terrible at Public Relations.
Arashe had settled into his seat, and Vera took the opportunity to sit down again. Arashe held out a glass of water and Angseth took it. The hiccups faded. Next would be the tears. She could at least hold out on those.
“Prison cells simply wont do for an ambassador of the Confederation. We shall remedy that.”
Angseth covered her face with her hand. She wanted to sleep. She just wanted to curl up in her bed aboard her ship, next to Briars fuzzy body and sleep.
“Vera,” Arashe held out a handkerchief. “Relax. You’re safe now. Mizzen just ensured that. You have been through quite a bit.”
Angseth looked up at the Chozo, her hand trembled and she struggled to hold the small square of fabric. “Thank You.”
Chapter Text
Angseth had expected a room, in a compound, or even on some far wing of an outcropping of some space station. Four walls, a bed, and maybe something to store her items in. This wasn’t a room. This was a house Arashe pointed out the different areas and their purposes. Angseth could figure out the rest for herself. In theory she could see herself staying here. But she had no idea that they would spoil her so much.
True to his word, Arashe had transferred her away from the prison sector, and she was given a fully furnished home on the surface of Agharta, the first layer of landmass that she had viewed from Areshe’s office. Agharta had everything that one required of a colony ship, although colony wasn’t quite the right phrase. The Chozo lived on these ships. They conducted all of their business from the ships, and they claimed no home world.
After crying her eyes out for the third time that day in Arashe’s office, the Chozo had helped her to calm down by offering her some tea. The tea did help to calm her nerves a bit, and he immediately called for an escort to lead her to the transport vessels. By this point, Angseth had no idea what kind of strange device to expect. She honestly thought that they would just teleport her to whatever destination they had in mind. Arashe had joined her in this little bubble thing that floated down to the surface continent known as Agharta. It was then that she had the opportunity to get a good look at her new surroundings.
Once on the surface it was impossible to tell that she was on a ship. The sky was blue, and the land had been covered in all manner of plant life. Everywhere small paved stone trails cut through the forest or along rivers, over simple wooden bridges and toward temples and other structures. Everyone here had an alternate Morph Ball form. Angseth occasionally saw Chozo walking or talking to each other, but mostly everyone rolled along the paths, each contained inside their own little multicolored spheres.
The bubble-like transport came to a halt near one of the lakes Angseth had seen from Arashe’s office. He helped her out of the transport, and they stood before a wall seemingly made of trees that had been woven and twisted together. She could see an opening in the trees, and beyond it, her new living quarters.
This wasn’t just a house, but three small buildings, arranged in a triangular shape, creating a space in the middle that contained a small garden complete with pond and waterfall. The structures stood off the ground, built on thick poles, much like traditional homes found on Earth in the Nippon Empire. They had sliding screens that separated the interior spaces made of a flat surface that acted like a hologram. She would notice later that the design on the screen changed as the day wore on. The first building served as a living space, complete with a small kitchen that included a replicator. The second building served as her office space. The communication systems were familiar, but like everything else here, more advanced. The third building would serve as her bedroom. It had been furnished with a bed much like the one on her ship, a small low dresser, and nightstand.
“These are your living quarters now, and in possible subsequent visits,” Arashe said through the translating device as he pushed open one of the screens. The inside had a wooden floor covered in large woven reed mats that were light green in color. Angseth noticed something to her right.
The Sigel had been placed on display in a stasis field. It had been cleaned up, with a round of clips hovering underneath it. Angseth felt her mouth drop, unaware of how the Chozo would have reacted to the banned technology locked away in a hidden compartment in her fighter. She brought her hand up and ran it through her hair. “I see you found my Sigel.”
“Oh yes,” Arashe turned to her with a smile. “We assumed that it was standard issue for all Confederate Captains.”
Vera felt a smile come over her. Arashe knew damn well that weapon was banned, but was allowing her to keep it. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to explore the rest of the home. One of the first things she noticed were all the plants in the dwelling. They decorated every room and grew from almost every corner of the building. The pool in the garden turned out to be heated, which led her to believe that it was to be used for a bath. Arashe confirmed her theory, and Vera began to grow excited, She hadn’t had a decent bath in such a long time--at least not one with real water. The home was pleasant, save for the fact that she had to bob and weave her way through all the plant life. She still wore the scrubs she had put on earlier that day, no shoes, and the prosthetic leg thumping along with her.
Her bedroom contained a sliding screen that lead out to a wooden deck. There were even more plants out here, and a stunning view of the lake. Angseth was feeling less and less like she was in the hands of an alien race, and more like she had been looking at a vacation home on some distant planet. She looked up at the wide expanse of blue over her head.
But its not a sky, its an artificial atmosphere, she looked across the horizon; clouds seemed to gather toward the east. It probably rains in here too. What a wonderful place. Why would Aran want to leave all of this behind?
Arashe stepped up behind her “Do you like your new living quarters?”
“Yes I do, its much more than I had expected,” Angseth turned to look up at him. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You will have two servants at your call. They will be here within the hour with fresh clothes and food. You will have limited access to the data banks on the Araia. The things that are mainly off-limits are our technology files and migration routes. All others should be free. Even the documentation on our Hatchling,” Arashe said with a smile. “The computer systems have been calibrated for a distant transmission channel. You will be able to communicate with the Mabus. Do you have any other family that you wish to speak to? I can have the systems calibrated for their location. Perhaps your mother and father?”
At that Angseth’s smile faded. She hadn’t thought about her mother or father in years. For a moment she studied the horizon, at the ripples of the artificial sun off the lakes surface. “You won’t need to. My parents were killed during the Pirate raids on the Isrec mining rings years ago.”
Arashe crossed both of his hands over his heart, and bowed. “Forgive me, I did not know.”
“Not many people do. The Isrec rings aren’t really productive enough to make news. It was no more than a footnote on some report I read.”
Vera spent a moment in silence. She had shed those tears years ago. Not only had the Pirates raided the colony for all useable ores and minerals, but they had also kidnapped a good majority of the people for whatever purposes. She still held the hope that one day she would encounter her parents somewhere in the slave trade. She hadn’t felt that hope much in later years.
“I will leave you to grow accustomed to your new surroundings.”
Angseth nodded, and saw Arashe to the door. She closed the screen after he left, then looked over at the Sigel. Her duffle bag had also been placed in the main room. Her fighter was the only thing missing from her personal possessions. She collected her duffle and shuffled into her bedroom, then glanced up the small hallway toward her office space.
Vera quickly closed the space, then sat down before the holo screens. Her left hand ran over the keys, occasionally stumbling over letters and buttons. She almost sobbed when the call went through.
“The Socrates has released another probe.”
Lieutenant Briar leaned closer to her holo, knowing that it wouldn’t do much good, force of habit mostly. “How many probes do they intend to send down there?”
“We’ve registered ten so far.”
Briar settled back into his seat,
Angseth’s seat, not mine.
and steepled his fingers. The probes seemed to be a bit of a stretch for a data-gathering mission. He would guess ten probes for possible colonization, but not a data run. Briar filed this away in the back of his mind under “interesting”, but said nothing more of it. Things had been fairly routine thus far, however there had not been any transmission from Admiral Mirson about further orders. SR3-88 had become a bit of a downer. A big dead brown and gray planet that the scientists picked at as if it were the giant fossil of some beast. Ten probes.
Then again, the Socrates had been pretty loaded when he had visited. Maybe they were ditching some excess weight? Briar pondered this as he announced that he was retiring for the night, then pushed away from his floating chair,
her chair
and guided his body to the door. Perhaps tomorrow morning he would dump his mental “interesting” bin and see if any random puzzle pieces matched up. He didn’t trust either Svenson or Thomas. The scientist had seemed eager to start on the dirt ball. If there was anything left alive down there, Svenson seemed determined to find it.
What if that paranoid goof did manage to find some of the last strands of “X”? In that case Briar didn’t want the Mabus anywhere near the planet, and in the event that it did infect his crew, could he find it in his heart to slam the Mabus into the planet in the hopes that he could destroy it? It seemed to be a violent solution to the problem, and it wasn’t even entirely effective the last time Someone Who Will Not Be Named Again tried it.
He stopped. Nevada had missed his room entirely. He shook his head and turned around, his tail lifting from the floor. Vera would have playfully smacked him and told him to wake up.
Like the layout of Angseth’s quarters, the first thing he encountered through the door of his room was an office space. A large desk stood in the center, decorated with various objects of his travels. Briar had noticed that no matter where he went, beings of all races had something that resembled an office. A sacred place to pray to the gods of order and commerce. Offerings of paper and information were presented to the gods regularly, and the worshipers referred to the holo screens like some all-seeing oracle to determine if the gods had heard their prayers.
“Lieutenant Briar?”
“Yes?” By habit he looked to the speakers on his desk. They were little things, unnoticed by many.
“There is call on your private line.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it in here.” Nevada sat down behind his desk. Speaking of gods, that was probably Mirson extending their sentence. He scratched his eye ridges, then turned his feline eyes toward the screen, and highlighted the bar that read, “Accept”.
“Nevada?” Came a welcome voice, and even more welcome features.
“Vera!” He leaned forward, excitement leaping into his chest.
Angseth was at a loss for words for a moment, looking away and wiping at her eyes with her left hand. “Hi…how have you been?”
Briar however was at no loss for desired information. “What happened? Where are you? Are you okay? Why didn’t you contact me sooner?!”
“I…I can answer a few of those, but I’m afraid the rest are…confidential.”
Nevada paused, absorbing her words. “Shit. You were reassigned.”
Vera nodded.
Nevada knew that it would be useless to ask questions about “where” and “how long”. Reassignment was a common military practice. Suddenly a loved one went away, and the only information their suffering family received was a brief call explaining that their loved one was alive well, and coming home soon. Sometimes “soon” meant twenty-four hours, and sometimes it meant years.
The look had also returned to his mates eyes. She had seen the far side of hell again and somehow managed to stumble back. So much was said in that one glance. The bin labeled “interesting” in the back of his mind suddenly dropped to the floor as if Vera had come over and kicked the thing into its side, sending pieces and fragments sliding over the workspace of his mind. The pieces drew together as if by some magnetic force. Vera’s next words made his blood run cold.
“Admiral Mizzen will be in touch with you shortly in regards to your new orders,” her lips said one thing, but her eyes said entirely another. Her eyes told him that this was going to get a lot worse before it got any better.
…have been assigned to guard Svenson’s vessel and proposed research facility on the planets surface.. Words from Mirson’s briefing ran through Briars mind. Another thought formed behind that. Ten probes. That was too excessive for research purposes. Ten probes perhaps spaced out over an amount of time, but not one after another successively. Taking into consideration what he had seen on the Socrates, this wasn’t a research mission. No, given his own experience in the field, these were supplies for a base of some kind. They weren’t probes at all, but units designed to deliver materials to the planets surface. No actual hard evidence, but from the sheer number of the probes…and the size of them.
“I love you Briar. I will try to be with you as soon as I can.”
“I love you too Vera.” His hand lifted to touch her cheek, but stopped when his hand disrupted the holo field. “There have always been forces bigger than ourselves, yet we have always survived.”
Vera nodded, her dark brown eyes fixing on his. Nevada felt his heart and arms ache, he just wanted to hold her again, feel her tiny heart beat against his chest and lick the sweat and tears off her cheek.
“Bye Nevada.”
“Goodbye Vera.”
The holo screens faded, and Briar leaned his head against his desk. The fang Angseth had given him slipped out of his collar and dangled from his neck. He watched it sway for a moment before lifting his head and activating the com. “Serec?”
“Yeah Briar?”
“Please meet me in cargo bay hold 15F.”
“If you had wanted to check out the odd piece of cargo, it’s too late.” Serec responded. “They picked that thing up yesterday.”
Briars image left the holo screen. Angseth rested her head on the edge of the table in her office space, the fang falling out of her shirt and dangled before her. She was completely unaware, but wouldn’t be surprised if someone had told her that Briar was currently sitting in the same position over half a galaxy away. Vera slowly looked up to observe her alien surroundings, suddenly overwhelmed with the immensity of her situation. Getting overwhelmed wasn’t in her nature, and she hated the tears that crept from her eyes. How dare they expose her weaknesses? How dare they escape so soon after being locked away in their dark closets? Tears of pain were welcome. Tears of desperation or of sheer stress were not. Anything that made her seem weak she had worked to lock away. Anything that could betray her standing among humans had been pushed to the deepest part of her mind. Still the tears crept, seeping from crushed dreams and lost friends like a fine distilled fluid.
Now is not the time to have a nervous breakdown. Not in this place, not this far away from. . .
Civilization is what she wanted to say, but that itself was a joke. The Chozo were one of the oldest races in the Five Galaxies and beyond. If there was civilization to be had, it was here.
She stood and shuffled into the bedroom. For a moment she stood before that large feather-stuffed bed, and felt her leg give. Her body hit the mattress, and her tears wet the soft pillows. Screw it, she would go ahead and cry. Cry for her arm, cry for Briar, and cry for Samus, all because she had been too much of a little scared bitch to help her.
That wasn’t Aran. . .Not anymore.
Vera kicked and felt the prosthetic fall to the floor. The bed was soft and this damn crying fit had been a long time coming.
The stimulants had been gotten, and she had acquired, then wrecked yet another jet pack. The air on Aether seemed to be getting clearer, and most of the dangerous critters were easily avoided or disposed of. Most of them seemed to run when she entered their lairs or stomping grounds anyway. Almost as if they recognized her as another predator or some scavenger that killed weaker creatures. Part of her mind told her that was the probably the case, although she felt that the only reason she didn’t encounter very many creatures was that Aran had killed them all.
Speaking of which; where the hell had Aran gone now? Angseth scanned the horizon and all the likely areas that she thought Aran might have visited at one point. Vera’s power suit had been patched together so many times it now looked like some grade school wielding project. Currently she had more stimulants and painkillers running through her system than she was sure were healthy for any living creature. Vera would be quite surprised if she made it out of this without gaining any new addictions.
Samus once again had vanished. The Hunter was now clad in a suit that looked as if it had been made from liquid mercury, and just as slippery. The Marine couldn’t seem to get a good bead on Aran’s location. Not to mention that the Hunter moved damn fast, whether in her Morph Ball form or just running. How did anyone have that much stamina? Angseth had prided herself in performing a five-mile run while wearing her power suit, but she couldn’t compete with Aran. After a while Angseth had given up trying to track her. She might as well have tried to catch the wind.
Already Vera had run through most of the areas that she could reach. Some places were just plain inaccessible. For a long time she had avoided all areas near the Pirate base. If she was having trouble fighting off wildlife, then she didn’t want to fight trained killers. Now she felt almost obligated to go and investigate since those bastards were the reason why she and her now deceased comrades ended up on this god-forsaken planet in the first place. Part of her wanted to explore, another part screamed for back-up that was no longer living. All of her teammates had been killed. Each of their names highlighted in red on her HUD. Every last one. People she had spent her life with, shared a few of her more intimate secrets with. For all intents and purposes, this crew had been her family. No, she couldn’t get lost in the past now, she would save the tears and pain for some other time.
Angseth stood near the entrance to what she guessed would be an expansive Pirate compound. Aran had already been here. No big surprise there, but damn the woman left quite a mess behind her. Strewn hither and yon were dead pirates. Some neatly shot in the head, others reduced to a paste, almost as if the molecules in their body had been vibrated at such a high frequency that they lost all structural integrity. At the moment Vera could care less about avenging her dead crewmembers, she was honestly too tired to even think about it, but she knew that the Pirates would have supplies. Hell, maybe they would have some spare suits lying around that she could use. Anything would be better than what she was wearing. Since Aran had already been through here, Vera didn’t expect much resistance.
She walked along the outside wall until she came to a convenient hole. Some kind of even heavy arms fire or mine had caused this crack, and almost compromised the whole side of the compound. Quiet as a mouse, Vera slipped inside, and flipped through her scanners until she came to night vision. As expected the interior was dark, and stank. The stench of the dead mingled with the scent of bodily fluids and other chemicals present in the air. The air was also disturbingly still compared to the dust storm outside. Dirt had gathered near the entrance, blown in by fierce winds. Angseth felt her feet slip for a moment before her boots gained a grip on the corrugated floor. She calmly began to walk up the hall toward the flickering light of computer screens beyond.
Every room she came to held more death. Mostly pirates, some local fauna, other scavengers like herself. Somewhere deeper inside the base she could hear disjointed sounds. Maybe the dying whines of some piece of machinery, or perhaps even the prolonged death throes of some creature. Angseth felt no fear as she moved through the halls, opening doors and investigating rooms for anything that could be salvageable. The computer banks held no interest for her; she couldn’t read what was on them anyway. Right now she was only interested in medical packs and any useable technology that Aran hadn’t already stripped. Vera even began kicking over the bodies of the dead, searching them for anything of value.
The hall eventually opened wider, until she stood on a platform over a pit of darkness. Her scanners indicated a large room below her, containing many pieces of technology, computers, and interestingly enough, one very large holo projector depicting a detailed map of all the planets in this system cluster. Vera searched until she could find a way down. At the moment she didn’t care too much about getting back up, she could worry about that later. She climbed down some fallen scaffolding and stood on the base level. More dead bodies and more of that horrible stench, still nothing useable.
Movement suddenly registered out of the corner of her eye. Angseth swung around and aimed her rifle toward her right. Samus stood there, once again her armor having changed to another color and hue. Apparently somewhere along the line she had dropped the silver armor for this darker version. The plating was hard. Purple and black in places then dark blue in others. Underlying the panels and plates was a blue light, seeping from her eyes and arm cannon. Across her chest and shoulders the blue and black light gave an intricate interplay revealing the underlying artificial muscle tone.
Samus stood there for a moment, regarding Angseth curiously, almost as if she had never seen her before.
“Its just you,” Angseth said, her throat dry. She lowered her weapon, and then slid it back into place on her back.
Samus’ head tilted to the side, then back, almost as is she were staring at Angseth down the line of her cheek. After a moment she turned, then began heading for a glowing piece of wall. At first Angseth had dismissed it as some exposed flickering wiring, but now that she actually focused on the section of wall, she began to realize that it wasn’t a blown holo panel after all, but another one of those portals that Aran had been jumping in and out of for the past forty-eight hours. Once again Aran began heading toward the portal. And this time Angseth had enough.
“Goddammit. I have been chasing your ass all over this damned planet and you still wont pause for long enough to give me a straight answer! Why do you keep leaving me? Huh? Marines are not supposed to leave others! I know you’re a bounty hunter, but hey! Come back dammit!”
Samus didn’t even so much as look back, she continued walking directly into the portal.
Angseth felt rage overcome her. She was tired, in pain, desperate, afraid and most of all angry. She would pin Samus down to the ground if she had to until she drew some answers out of her. Samus vanished into the portal, and this time Angseth ran right in, a battle cry ripping from her throat.
The sensation was entirely unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It felt like the roughest space jump that she had ever taken, and she didn’t handle jumps all that well to begin with. She could feel her entire body getting pulling along, each atom and molecule pulled and then reassembled in a separate three-dimensional space. For a moment she wasn’t even aware that her body had stopped moving, or that it had been moving at all. Her scream had been separated from her throat and what remained only sounded like the whimper of a lost child.
The world was dark, slowly she registered one point of light, and as she came to focus on the light she felt reasoning return to her. The light came from a crystal, which had been mounted on a staff. The light cast a circle around her, illuminating purple-colored sands and a world that seemed to have been caved from amethyst. Standing before her, just outside the light, was Samus. Samus now looked back at her almost defensively. Angseth gained her bearings again and stepped forward.
“Look the least you can do is…” Angseth stopped. As soon as her body left the circle of light, a light crackling sound began in her ears. Her entire body suddenly felt as if it had caught fire. Vera fell to her knees and drew her arms in toward her chest, almost as if that would make the pain stop.
The atmosphere, the atmosphere is corrosive! I need to get out of here!
She spun, reaching back for the circle of light, then the crystal suddenly flickered and went out. Samus suddenly stood next to Angseth. Vera shifted her gaze toward Samus’ feet. Instead of the familiar boots, she saw toes, actual real toes covered in some thick hide-like skin. As a clawed hand closed around her throat, the thought crossed Angseth’s mind that perhaps this wasn’t Aran.
Angseth felt her body pulled from the ground. For a moment she peered into two glowing eyes. No, this was not Aran! Vera kicked, and her foot found no target. The claws tightened, and she felt them pierce her armor and sink into her flesh. Something familiar overcame her. Her rage, her anger, her instinct intensified by her need to survive. Something was making it stronger. Something she didn’t know how to place.
Her vision began to grow more vivid, the colors of the world around her all the more intense, she could feel and respond to the energy flowing into her body. Blue light engulfed her, pulling at the blood in her veins, saturating every muscle fiber and every cell of her bones. Her hands wrapped around this Aran-creature’s arm, and instead of fighting that power, her body instinctively drew upon it. Almost immediately she felt stronger, more energized. For a moment she bathed in that blue light, pulled it around her like some kind of shroud.
The creature, stunned, let go.
Angseth felt her body fall to the ground, but the fall seemed to last for an extraordinary amount of time. Even the constant tick and pop in her ears from the atmosphere chewing into her armor seemed slowed. Vera righted herself and landed on the ground, her body sinking down to all fours. The energy outpouring from her hands and feet caused the dirt around her to stir. Her body had become hyper-alert. Every muscle was now working to its fullest, every cell expending its maximum amount of energy. And everywhere was the blue light. The entire world was alive with all the colors that energy possessed.
She remembered that the adults back in the Isrec mining colonies would speak of times that their bodies had reacted in this very same manner. When in times of stress, they would find that the world had changed to their will. Most attributed it to the gods. Angseth was finding herself attributing it to the blue light spilling forth from this Aran look-alike. She wanted more of that light. She found that her body craved that light to the extent that she craved another shot of stimulants. Was light even the correct term? Angseth sprang, determined to pull more of that light toward her. She had tasted this new drug, and now her body wanted more.
The creature jumped, and began to hover backward, it’s bare toes not touching the sand. Angseth chased it deeper into this dark other world, which had many of the same features of Aether, but not quite. The atmosphere creaked and popped in her ears, she could see her armor corroding away, small flecks of it fell away behind her as she ran. Angseth wanted more of that blue light. The blue light enabled her to survive, and she would tear through anything to get it. An instant power rush, and an instant addiction. The creature turned, and fired its weapon at her. Vera was unable to move fast enough and received the full blast directly in her chest. Before she hit the ground, three more shots impacted with her body. She hit the purple sand, her body slid, then began to tumble down a steep trench. She flipped once, her head striking a boulder. She fought the oncoming darkness, unsuccessfully.
The Araia was big, yet even that seemed to be an understatement. Vera felt that no word in the Standard tongue could describe accurately the enormity of the Araia. A colony ship wasn’t the right word to explain it either. Technically, Confederation data banks described a colony ship as a vessel large enough to sustain life for an extended amount of time. But colony ships usually had a destination and the people on the ship would eventually leave and settle on a planet somewhere. An artificial environment that had been meant to hold life for indefinite amounts of time would be considered a station. Most stations, were as their namesake implied, stationary. From what little information she had access to, the Chozo ships were not big mechanical beasts, but a collection of landmasses, that were held in place through whatever means they had devised over several epoch of their civilization.
Inside the Araia were no less than three other layers of landmass called Life Spheres, all placed within each other like Russian dolls. Each layer held another set of continents, more cities, and more technology. Preliminary research told her the Araia was the smallest of all the Chozo ships. The largest held over seven layers of Life Spheres. Each level contained its own unique ecosystem, flora and fauna. Hovering around each Life Sphere were smaller ships that contained office spaces, military training facilities, and of course, prisons. One of which Angseth had been in recently. A council, usually consisting of an odd number of members, headed each prison. This helped to ensure that a majority would rule in every decision.
The Chozo spoke in a kind of modified sign language. Thus far her escorts had been kind enough to wear universal translating devices. Angseth soon requested that they not use translation devices except in emergencies. She wanted to pick up the language on her own. The Chozo language required both hands to be used when signing. The right hand, the noun hand, was used to denote the subject, while the left hand was used to convey verbs. Vera was positive that if she studied enough then she could pick up the sign language, then again, there was the matter of her missing arm.
Which brought her to her current problem. After a few days of hobbling around on her prosthetic, she had enough, and began to look for a mechanic. She knew the Chozo had advanced cybernetic technology. The Confederation owed much of their own experience to Chozo tech. Finding a mechanic on the other hand was a little more difficult. She had no idea where to start, who to go to, and most importantly, how much it would cost her.
Arashe assigned two escorts to ensure that she was comfortable. Angseth still didn’t know their names per say, but had managed to memorize their hand signals. Since she was unaware of their gender, she picked two androgynous names. Vera called one Jamie, and the other Ryan. Through a little more research, Angseth discovered that the Chozo language didn’t have gender specific terms. Much of Chozo dialect didn’t translate nicely into Standard, and as she came to understand more, the reason was clear. Standard didn’t have room for the complex ideas that the Chozo took as a part of their daily lives. Translating anything into Standard was like trying to explain quantum physics to a Neanderthal.
The Chozo found truth in the soul, and the body was a tool or vessel, the two worked in unison, or not at all. An individual had gender, but this was not the deciding factor of their character. Angseth became sure that outside of mating, they really didn’t care. The Chozo word for “one person” was more complex, because they felt that it represented more. Angseth tried creating a direct translation into Standard, and came up with what she felt was the grammatical equivalent of Pi. The concept just never ended. Now that she knew that much, she didn’t mind that the translating devices always called her “he”. It was a lot simpler than what the Chozo really meant.
Of her two escorts, Jamie was the taller. Jamie had light cream-colored feathers, with dark brown eyes surrounded by a bright splash of white, creating a mask around “his” eyes. Jamie seemed to be fond of wearing pastel colors, long flowing wispy ethereal robes that changed color and design depending on what light he stood in. Jamie didn’t speak much; he seemed to be mainly the account holder, or even the muscle behind Ryan’s actions.
Ryan was shorter and predominately light blue in color, also with a white mask around his eyes. Much to Angseth’s delight and dismay, Ryan liked to talk. His hands moved at such a fast pace, that Angseth had given up on trying to follow the conversation. He was also the more vocal, prone to song-like chirps to gain the attention of others. With such a large vocal range, she asked Ryan why he hadn’t learned to speak Standard. His answer was simple and insulting. Why should he learn to grunt in a creative manner?
Angseth had settled into a morning routine. She would wake up, head into the main room, meditate for an hour or so, then eat breakfast, usually consisting of fruit and some kind of tea. She did crave a wider variety of food, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers. The majority of the day was spent searching through the databases on aspects of Chozo culture, and of course studying the language.
Waking up this morning so far didn’t prove to be any different. She pulled herself out of the very soft bed, and slipped on the prosthetic. The door in her room that led the balcony had been left cracked open the night before, and early morning light poured in along with the smell of flowers. She stood and dressed in one the nicer causal suits she had been given, then moved through the home to the main room. Waiting on the steps out front was a familiar sphere. Blue in color with the average amount of joints and gold pin striping creating a grid-like effect down the center. Angseth slid the front screen open allowing the ball to roll inside.
The Morph Ball began to glow as she walked past it toward the kitchen. Ryan then followed her to the food replicator.
“Good morning Ambassador.”
“Morning Ryan. What’s on the schedule today?” Vera moved past him, then pulled up a floor cushion and sat on it. She had never held the title of Ambassador before, and quite frankly, she was bored. Not even a week had passed and already she was wishing to be elsewhere. Jamie and Ryan had spent the past few days showing her around Chozo society. Not matter how much they tried to make her feel comfortable, Angseth still felt out of place. At first she had thought the post-traumatic depression had finally kicked in, but that didn’t prove to be the case. For the past ten years of her life she had never been allowed the luxury to relax. Her next breath was never promised. Now that things had become considerably slower, she missed the adrenaline rush.
“Good news Captain. A mechanic has been found that is familiar with human physiology and nervous system. He would like to see you later today.”
Vera sipped her tea. “Sounds good. I’ve been waiting for that news.”
Ryan sat before her, also bearing his own cup of tea. He was oddly quiet, not characteristic for this normally talkative bird.
“Where’s Jamie?”
“I have dismissed him.”
“Why? Did he need the day off?”
Ryan examined Angseth, searching her features. For a moment she could see something familiar in his expression, almost as if she had seen that exact same look on someone else’s face before. “I…felt it would be best to cut as many ties with Arashe as possible.”
“Oh?”
“To be honest with you, I have not been assigned by Arashe. The High Council chose me to look after your well-being.”
“Am I getting thrust into a political power play?” Angseth asked, taking a bite of her fruit. She hated to be blunt but she didn’t want to get into any more trouble than she already was. Forewarned was forearmed.
“One could say that.”
“Can I at least know why?”
“I cannot say at the moment.”
Angseth guessed as much.
“My hands are tied, but the moment I find how it affects you, then I’ll let you know,” Ryan smiled; his eyes showed his glee more than his lips however. “You must be excited to receive a new set of limbs.”
“Actually I am.”
“Later this afternoon I will come for you, and we shall see the Doctor together.”
“I don’t want anything too flashy. Just this side of functional will do. I don’t want to worry about going into a station and getting killed for the sake of spare parts.”
“We will be careful of that. How have you been feeling?”
“Much better. The pain in my muscles and joints hasn’t been flaring up as often anymore.”
Ryan paused again, then gracefully gained his feet. “Might I check my accounts using your computer counsel? I believe I must have left my personal unit at home.”
Angseth noticed that he didn’t even wait for her response, just went back into her office area. What the hell was going on now? After a moment Ryan came back out, the smile still gracing his features.
“I will return to escort you in the afternoon—oh my. I forgot to close out my clearance in the computer. Would you be a dear and do it for me? Bless you child.”
Once again he didn’t wait for an answer. Ryan quickly assumed his Morph Ball form then zipped away, leaving Angseth wondering what had gotten into him. She pulled herself to her feet, then went into the office, and gazed at the screen.
“Oh you bastard, what did you do?” Angseth smiled as she sat down.
For the past few days she had been reading up on Chozo history and culture in an attempt to gain any kind of knowledge about her new post. On more than one occasion, her limited clearance didn’t allow her to pursue any further study. There had been one glyph that she had been unable to find a meaning for. It seemed to her like two feathered snakes trying to eat each other, like an Ouroboros. Ryan had just given her a free pass into the depths of anything she ever wanted to know about the Chozo. She had nothing else to kill an afternoon with, so this was as welcome a distraction as any. After a following a few tangents, she had her answers. For a moment Angseth leaned back in her chair, her eyes darkened.
“Oh Ryan, what have you pulled me into?”
The Chozo were an ancient race, this much she knew. The Confederation revered them with almost god-like respect. There was no corner of the universe that the Chozo did not know, no technology unexplored. Chozo wasn’t even the name of their race. The first explorers from Earth that had stumbled across their temples hailed from the Nippon Empire. The name Chozo had been derived from the fact they found statues of bird people everywhere. In that tongue, Chozo meant “bird statue”. With all this information Angseth had no idea that the Chozo could be anything but benevolent. With this new information, she now knew otherwise, and frankly this new revelation scared the crap out of her.
The Chozo consisted of four different races. One was known as the Ltaoclazeuq. This was the race that had dealt the most with the Confederacy. However the Ltaoclazeuq were only one part of a much larger family. The family included the nations of the Colalt, Ltacehe, and the Acopiltaczet. Together they formed the race known as Inauhomenlapi. All of these separate nations were in constant war with one another. A long and bloody civil war that had spanned generations of Chozo, and no one knew how many millennia. Eventually the Colalt and Ltecehe packed up and found other homes very far away, while the Acopiltaczet and the Ltaoclazeuq remained, each fighting and scrambling for the same ground. The two nations were almost impossible to tell apart save for one difference. The Ltaoclazeuq had a white mask around their eyes, and the Acopiltaczet had a black mask of feathers around their eyes. This prejudice had been the cause of many wars and the worst arms race in recorded history. The Confederation sat very neatly in the middle of this chaos. No wonder they wished to hide this information from her.
Angseth sat back and studied the glyph for a moment. Two feathered snakes, biting each other’s tail, creating a circle of constant destruction. Light and Dark. Neither feathered serpent was more elaborate, or made to look evil, or good. They were equals, only their colors were different. Further information revealed that in the past two hundred years or so, the Acopiltaczet and the Ltaoclazeuq had formed a truce of sorts. They agreed not to meddle in the others affairs, and in turn, peace could be sustained.
But it wouldn’t take much to set either nation off.
Angseth turned off the computer, signing Ryan off as she silently thanked him. Still, why was this information important? And why did he feel that Arashe couldn’t be trusted? Was Arashe one of those people that tried to cause trouble just because it was there to be had? Suppose that she was in Arashe’s shoes for a moment. Suddenly a link the Confederation had dropped into her theoretical lap, allowing her access and leverage in the Confederation. Or perhaps if she was in Ryan’s place for the moment, trying to sway said Confederation link to another side. Each of them could dangle whatever treats they felt up to in front of her eyes in hopes to lure her away.
Vera closed her eyes. She needed more information and she needed to know who the hell she could trust here. Neither Ryan or Arashe would give her a straight answer, of that much she was certain. So all she could do for the moment was play along, and hope that some kind of opening would present itself.
I just want my limbs back.
The mechanic was a pleasant individual. Older and smaller than most of the Chozo she had seen so far. He smiled from behind a pair of holo glasses, his eyes small and squinted. His clothing was simple, minimal to what she had seen the others wearing, and exposed more his body than she had the privilege to see before. The Chozo were bird-like, but the only areas of their body that contained feathers was the head and near their ankles. The rest of their bodies were covered in a fine layer of shiny gem-like scales in many different patterns and colors. The mechanic had a crest of black feathers with glossy dark red scales covering his arms. A pattern of yellow diamonds started at his shoulders and continued under his clothing, which was very form fitting. Angseth was curious to see what the diamond pattern continued to look like on his back and along his spine.
The tiny Chozo circled around her as she stood on a glowing disk. Mechanisms circled around her, scanning and measuring her body from every angle. This was definitely a more in-depth scan than she had received when she gotten her last leg. He paused and began to sign to her. The Mechanic didn’t wear a translating device, and Vera was happy to try her hand at the language without the handicap.
How long did you have your former artificial limb?
“About ten years. Give or take. It was regularly calibrated once a year.” Angseth almost winced at the thought of it. Regular calibrations and regular intervals of teeth marks in Briars arm.
Do you prefer any features, or particular style?
Angseth thought Ryan would have told him earlier, but once again she repeated herself. “Something useable, with standard features. Not too expensive. I don’t want to get mugged because someone sees me walking around with some top-grade hardware.”
Understandable.
The Mechanic pulled a few holo screens closer, studying the information presented on them. He then began signing.
You are free to go.
“Hm? That’s it?”
Yes, come back tomorrow afternoon and I will have your new limbs ready.
Angseth stepped off the disk, and took her coat back from Ryan. She had been given a new Captains uniform. It made her feel a little more comfortable. She was glad that all this mechanic did was take a few scans, none of those painful tests she had taken before. “What kind of limbs will I get, walking? Multi-purpose? And most importantly, how much are they going to cost me?”
Custom. Each being is unique. All of my works are custom pieces. As for price, Ryan has already seen to that.
Angseth’s jaw dropped. Her last few legs she had picked out of a previously made line up. She would never have been able to afford custom pieces on her own.
As they left the small shop, Angseth walked a bit faster to catch up with Ryan, who was walking swiftly toward their transport. “Ryan.”
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
“Why?”
What do you mean? his hands moved slower now, obviously happy that she had taken the time to study up on the language.
Angseth looked at her left hand, then began to trace clumsy symbols and signs in the air. She couldn’t use her noun hand, so instead she would pause to indicate the noun, and then begin with her verbs. Why did you buy those limbs for me?
I wasn’t the one to purchase them. The High Council did. He turned around and began walking toward the transport again.
“Ryan.”
Once again he turned. This didn’t seem to be like him at all. Quiet and contemplating.
I would like to talk with you. Angseth folded her fingers in another clumsy way, hoping that Ryan saw what she meant. The symbols for “to talk” and “to move” were very similar due to the fact that they communicated through sign language.
Ryan seemed to relax immediately. A subtle gesture, but one that she had been able to notice. Why yes Angseth, I do believe that this a good day for a walk! He lifted his hand and sent the transport on its way, then turned with a big smile on his bird-like face. “I thought that you would never get it.”
Angseth’s jaw dropped for the second time that day. “You can speak Breft. Why didn’t you let me know before?”
“Everyone here can understand Standard. Not many here know of Breft. I knew that you would be familiar with it since you told Arashe about the station you had your fighter repaired on.” Ryan gently placed his hand in the small of her back, and began leading her down a system of trails.
“I need answers,”
“We all do. Even here in the forest, it seems that even the trees have ears.”
Angseth’s mouth abruptly snapped closed. This was one of the few nursery rhymes that she had learned in Breft. But now the double meaning was very clear. They were being watched. “How many ears would each tree have if it had ears?” She sang the next line.
“Many, Trees can hear anything.” Ryan laughed, completing the rhyme. “Your grasp of language is amazing. How many others do you know?”
“Native Syrese.”
“Too common.”
“Standard.”
“Given.”
“Breft,”
“Obviously.” Ryan nodded, since that was the language they currently spoke in.
“Kin’ Tara.”
“Interesting.”
“P’ara’shuin.”
“Perfect.” Ryan said. Now speaking in P’ara’shuin. “We can switch back and forth between as many of them as we need to during this conversation, to attempt to throw off any watchers. I will also help fill in your vocabulary in my language, that of the Ltaoclazeuq. Whenever I begin to sign, do your best to follow.”
“I will.” Angseth flexed the fingers on her left hand. Making those symbols and signs were hard on the tendons. She needed bird hands to pull off some of them.
“Ask away.” Ryan began to sign some words that she already knew. Angseth tried to follow. Trying to focus on two completely different languages at once.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“Your escort. Nothing more.”
“Will you ever tell me the truth?”
“In time you will discover it. I cannot say anything directly.”
“Fair enough,” Angseth stumbled. He had switched spoken languages again. The symbols he traced were more complex. “Can I trust either you or Arashe?”
“No.”
“Why? What do either of you represent that could cause me harm?”
“You are aware of the civil war between our peoples?”
“Yes, now I am.”
“The group Arashe represents wishes to wipe out or drive off the threat. I represent a group that wishes to preserve the peace. There are forces like us on both sides,” once again he switched to another language.
“I could guess that. Where do I come in?” Angseth wasn’t as familiar with this language, but at least she could follow.
“The Confederation’s main territory is right in the middle of all of this. In ‘no mans land’ so to speak. My group wishes to maintain peace for the sake of the new political force that has grown in the wake of so much blood shed. The Confederation is still young, and holds much promise.”
“And the group Arashe represents, wants to destroy the Confederation?”
“Not in such black and white terms. They want the Confederation to remain there as an outpost, and possibly even as a means to create more troops for the cause. A convenient obstacle.”
“And in no way either your or his group is thinking about the welfare of the people of the Confederation?”
Ryan grew quiet, helping her to focus on the more complex symbols he traced in the air. “I would like to think that is not the case. My group wishes not to fully immerse itself into Confederation politics until this whole mess has been dealt with.”
“So what are your groups motives?”
“We wish to continue the treaties with the Acopiltaczet so that peace can be maintained throughout the Chozo Empire and not interfere with the political maneuvers of other races.”
“And Arashe’s group?”
“To drive off the Acopiltaczet in order to achieve the same ends.”
Angseth sighed. “And either way requires bloodshed.”
“Unfortunately. But there had been a loophole of late.”
“Oh?”
“We wondered if there could be a way to have a neutral observer be a go-between, so that differences could be worked out between our two nations before it came to blows with each other. It almost seemed as if our gods had answered our prayers. Years ago, we found a small human child.”
“Samus.”
“Yes. Samus is my hatch-mate. We were raised together.”
“So you’re her brother,” Angseth stopped, and sat on a rock. Her leg was aching again. Ryan folded his legs underneath his body and began to hover in the air. Vera mulled this thought over for a moment. “Is that why . . .”
“She lived part of her life here with the Ltaoclazeuq, and part of her life with the Acopiltaczet. She acts as a unifying force for all three of our nations, including the Confederation.”
“So why are you giving me all this information?”
“Because Arashe attempted to hold this information from you. You know as well as I do that the best way to control a people is to control how much information they receive. I am not trying to control you, so I have given you as much information as I can. That said, please be careful how much information you reveal during these next few trials.”
“But why choose me?”
“We have not had contact with Samus for years. We know that she is still alive, but she has not reported in. This has made both of our groups very nervous. You have had contact with her, and more than that, brought back information as to why we have not heard back from her.”
“Why wont anyone tell me what’s in that file?”
“You will learn. We are approaching the main council chambers of Agharta. The delegates have much to ask you.”
“Why did you wait for so long?”
“Everyone wanted to be sure that you had settled in comfortably and recovered from your ordeal.”
“Sound mind and body?”
Ryan smiled again. Angseth was able to see that this was the mask that he hid behind. Just as her own face would turn to stone when she wanted to hide her emotions, Ryan put on a smile to thwart his enemies.
Angseth could stand to learn a few lessons from him.
Chapter Text
Chapter 12:
Angseth and Ryan stepped out of the forest then followed a stone path to one of the larger more ornate temples. Even from a distance she could tell that this had to be one of the more important structures. The temple was tall, brightly decorated, and covered in writing. Placed at regular intervals around the perimeter were Chozo in highly ornate power suits. Intricate designs had been engraved into the surface of their armor, and large headdress complete with exotic feathers swept back at an angle from the crown of their heads. Between each standing solder was another Chozo in Morph Ball form. Angseth found it amusing that the Chozo had no set color scheme for their power suits, or at least she hadn’t yet noticed anything that could be considered a uniform. Maybe the different colors or designs were a sign of rank? She made a note to check up on it later.
The Chozo seemed to have affection for light wispy fabrics. Maybe they represent clouds? Vera stopped before she theorized herself into a corner. She would discover more of their culture as time progressed. However, now that she really looked, no other Chozo seemed to wear the gold and red armor Aran had become famous for. The Chozo had armor and designs in every color of the rainbow, all except a true gold. More food for thought.
The outside of the temple looked as archaic as everything else in Agartha. Large stone blocks that had been covered with many intricate carvings and symbols made up the exterior of the temple. Some of the symbols she could read now. Now that she knew a bit of the sign language, the actual hieroglyphs themselves looked much like the designs she had been making with her hands. When she stepped inside the temple, Angseth suddenly remembered that she was on a ship. The interior was as advanced as anything that could be found anywhere in the Confederation. After walking around in wooded areas for the week, admiring all the old temples and greenery, Angseth had grown accustomed to the look and feel of Chozo culture. The first holo she came across after so long seemed to be an unknown oddity until something in the back of her mind recognized its function. Had she been out of the loop for that long?
The interior of the temple was open and grand. Before her stretched marble floors polished to a mirror finish. Columns held the roof aloft allowing as much light as possible to flow into the hall. Angseth looked upward and saw nothing but bright blue sky, some clouds and the backs of the guards standing around the perimeter. Angseth remembered that this technology was called Reflect. Basically holo cameras were placed around the roof or some other location, then holo projectors on the ceiling, or wall, or something other surface would feed the live image to the interior of a structure. When done correctly, the effect could be quite stunning.
This way please. Ryan was back to signing again. He escorted Angseth to the center of the temple, through crowds of multi-colored Chozo. Vera had wanted to stop and just admire all the interesting people around her, but kept her composure and followed Ryan to the center of the room. In the middle of the temple was a large metal disk set into the floor, large enough for ten people to stand on, and engraved with even more elaborate designs. It reminded Angseth of Celtic knot work. No one else stood on the disk, and Angseth soon discovered why.
As soon as she stepped on the disk, Angseth felt a vibration move through her body. This was either a teleporting stone, or some other localized Gate technology. She hated Jump Gates. The Mabus had always been too large to travel through one, but she had been through numerous times while traveling in her fighter or some other small craft. After years of getting sling-shot around the universe, she learned that Jump Gates made her puke, and she avoided them at all costs. This disk was like a Jump Gate, and when the buzzing stopped, she stumbled off the disk into the unknown, then waited for the nausea to hit. Surprisingly, it never did.
Ryan stepped beside her. Are you well?
“Yeah, I don’t handle jumps very well.”
Your senses have become quite attuned to any change in your environment. I’m envious.
“Paranoia will do that.” Angseth recovered herself, then look around. They were still in a temple, but the designs and décor had changed. There were less people here as well. “Where are we?”
The innermost sphere, Hyperborea. Ryan smiled over his shoulder to Angseth. I promise, no more Disk Gates.
Vera looked around as Ryan led her down a long hallway, the ceiling high and vaulted, and everything covered in hieroglyphs. At the other end of the hall stood another long row of guards, standing before a set of doors. Ryan escorted Angseth through these doors and into a large council chamber. The set up was one Angseth was familiar with. Seats were placed on many different levels, the focal point being the center of the floor where she supposed the main speaker would sit, or stand. Seated everywhere were multi-colored Chozo, all signing rapidly to each other. The room was alive with the rustle of fabrics and the occasional squawk. Vera scanned the room, noticing that each seat was marked by either a glyph or other symbol. Holo screens cluttered the room, and one holo cube had a familiar symbol displayed.
A Luminoth data glyph!
Angseth scanned the room, then saw him, a Luminoth signing away to some bright red Chozo, Arashe perhaps? The Luminoth were another tall race, like their namesake suggested, they resembled large insects, with a detailed exoskeleton, and small vestigial moth-like wings. From the top of their heads rose two antennas that were both elbowed and feathery. The Luminoth came in as wide a variety of colors as the Chozo themselves did. He didn’t wear any clothing, or at least not anything Vera could recognize as clothing. She decided to make it a point to speak to him later.
Come Captain. There is a place for you as well. Ryan led her to a tier of the council room. As she walked, all the activity in the room stopped, and everyone became eerily quiet. All eyes and antenna were turned toward her. Angseth felt her good spirits evaporate and become replaced with the hard steely feeling she usually saved for ranking officers. Her shoulders straightened as she moved toward a seat. She didn’t need Ryan to escort her anymore, she could see the Galactic Confederation symbol hovering over a chair.
Ryan left her and began making his way to the center of the council room. He stood at the focal point and then donned an elaborate headdress. Sounds came from all corners of the room as everyone stood from their seats and bowed toward him. Vera stood for a moment feeling very awkward. So my escort these past few days is actually the Chairman of a council. Great.
Ryan began to make elaborate gestures with his hands, each movement practiced and ceremonial. As his hands moved, a synthesized voice moved through the room, another translator. “As a courtesy for our Confederate representative, this meeting shall be held in Standard.”
There were a few answering noises, mainly universal translators switching on, however Angseth felt her gaze fix on Ryan. She knew that her expression must not have been a pleased one, but some kind of formal introduction would have been nice. Parts of their conversation earlier played back through her mind. He had said that she couldn’t trust him. So, why had he given her all the information that he had if she couldn’t trust his actions? She was confused. Between him and Arashe, she felt like she had been faced with a puzzle an instructor had presented her with in Basic Training. The puzzle consisted of two boxes, one, she was told held money, the other nothing. On top of the boxes was a pair of holos hovering over the surface displaying theater masks. And as she was told, one these faces always lied, and the other always told the truth. You could only choose one box to open, and that was the end of your turn. The idea was to ask each of the faces questions to figure out which box the money was in. After two questions, Angseth just pulled out her firearm and blew each box to pieces. She wasn’t allowed to keep the money because she hadn’t followed the rules, but it was more than worth the laugh she had gained from her platoon.
Now that she was faced with the dilemma of Arashe and Ryan, Vera wished that she had paid more attention. She couldn’t very well pick up a gun and shoot both of them to see what goodies they had.
“Everyone, this meeting has been called to discuss newly acquired information on the fate of Samus Aran. Everyone here has some kind of stake in his well being. Warriors, the doors if you would?” Ryan called out, signing at the same time.
Vera watched as Morph Balls unfolded from various positions around the room, Chozo warriors then stood and closed the doors to the meeting hall, then stood guard before them.
“Before I begin, I will introduce our guests. Ei-Aier, Head of Scientific Relations comes from our friends the Luminoth. And Captain Angseth of the Confederation. I will also add that Captain Angseth is the sole surviving marine of the possession of Aether by the Ing.”
Angseth only half-listened to his opening speech, she found herself fascinated by the way his hands moved as he signed what he spoke. She paid close attention to how he signed her name. So that’s what it looked like.
Ryan extended his hand, and holo screens began to float around him like so many butterflies. Angseth noticed that her own seat came alive with holo screens, set to semi opacity so she could still see through them to Ryan. “Risking his life, Captain Angseth was able to deliver this data to us. It contains the log books from Samus’ craft and power suit. It is also the first form of contact we’ve had with Samus for over five years. This file reveals why he has not made contact. Some is information we already have, most of it however is new.”
Angseth felt that she might as well get used to being referred to as a male in Chozo-speak.
“Over ten years ago, the virus known as ‘X’ had been found on an old colony, known to the Confederation as SR3-88. The only records that had survived with details of this virus were gleaned from preliminary transmissions before the destruction of SR3-88 and the orbiting science station. It was only now through this data that we are able to finally discover the events that had taken place there,” Ryan waved his hand again, and Angseth’s holo screen filled with the familiar information she had received on the disk.
…And the information was still in Chozo. After scanning the document however, she noticed that it wasn’t the dialect that she had been learning for the past few days. Back where I started.
Ryan then began to read passages from the disk, and slowly the story began to form before Angseth. She found herself amazed by Aran’s words. Angseth had never heard the Hunter speak, let alone have a chance to listen to her more intimate reflections from a logbook. Samus seemed to have a very practical and minimal way of writing, but with an underlying sense of humor, even through the more serious moments. Aboard the Mabus, Angseth’s logs consisted of a large checklist with only a few spaces left for comment. Vera hated filling them out. Aran’s however followed a more traditional format.
Roughly ten years ago, before Angseth had received her captain’s bars, Aran responded to a Federation request to assist scientists aboard an orbiting science station located near SR3-88. The scientist had discovered an energy anomaly known only as “X.” X seemingly consisted of free-willed predatory energy waves that infiltrated and multiplied in physical beings. X would then duplicate the characteristics of its prey. Aran had been summoned to assist in fighting off this threat. Since Metroids were assumed to be the natural predators of X, Aran had agreed to have Metroid DNA fused with her own. This began a frightening reaction in her body. Her power suit began to bond with her skin. The scientists had to surgically remove the Chozo armor from her body. It was now known that the armor, known as a Varia suit, had been infected with X, and her new Metroid DNA was trying to suck it dry. The scientist then assisted her in creating a new suit that could easily absorb X through its plating. Angseth was familiar with this bit of lore, she had seen brief captures from security cameras of what had become known as the Fusion Suit. The end result of that event had been the destruction of SR3-88.
As Angseth had suspected, the story did not end there. The fusion never stopped. The suit the scientists had made slowed the fusion process, but didn’t stop it. Metroids absorbed X, and produced insane amounts of energy from it. Aran’s logs revealed that in the absence of X, Metroids could make do on almost energy source. They also had an ability to use matter to create and harden the shell that surrounded its internal and more vulnerable organs. Aran also began to become more sensitive to cold temperatures. She had acquired another Varia suit that also worked as good insulation against the cold. But the minor comfort only lasted until she began to fuse with it as well. Aran soon lost the ability to remove the suit; it was then that she dropped out of contact with both the Chozo and Confederation.
Aran no longer craved food or water; she instead very reluctantly began to pull energy from living creatures to keep her own body alive. More than once in her logs she referred to the procedure as “Vamping-out” a bitter yet accurate term. She began a vicious campaign against the Gamma Fleet Pirates, pursuing their science vessels with the hope of gathering more data they may have had on the Metroids. Just being around other living creatures caused her predatory urges to kick in, and the Metroid appetite was insatiable. After many years of searching, she only discovered that her situation was getting worse. Not only had her body fused completely with the both the fusion suit and Varia suit, but seemed to become weaker. She also began to go through energy faster. If she didn’t feed on a regular schedule, her body would enter a coma-like state. Since her condition seemed to be deteriorating so rapidly, she went for more and more dangerous missions. Aran also alluded to an ally within the Gamma Fleet itself. Even though she never mentioned anyone by name, Angseth had a sudden revelation as to who it was.
I need to see if I can talk to Weavel at some point.
Aran’s last recorded mission had been in response to a SOS aboard the Seattle.
At this point, Ryan turned to Angseth. “Captain Angseth also received this SOS and averted her course to respond to it,” He gestured to the logs again. “Captain Angseth, would you please tell the council your own viewpoint upon arrival at the Seattle, and continue to the point where our scout ship found you?”
No, I can’t trust the bastard can I? If she told every little detail, the Chozo would be extremely pissed that one of their own had been taken into custody by the Confederation, however if she lied, then it wouldn’t be difficult to catch her in it, and appropriate action would be taken. I.e., she would wind back up in that jail-egg for however long.
Angseth stood from her seat, leaning more to the left on her good leg. Ever since her first month in Basic, she had been accustomed to standing when giving a report. “My name is Mervera Diane Angseth, Captain of the Confederation Battleship Mabus.” She stated her name and rank for the record. Her Chozo was not yet refined enough to give a report in, so Standard would have to do. “I’ll answer as many questions as I can during this testimony.” She reached to her side and took a small sip from a glass of water. “If there are any questions, please raise your . . . hand.”
Immediately several claws and palms met the air. Vera once again took a sip of her water. Partly because she was parched, and partly because it tasted so damn fresh and pure. After taking a deep breath she began to give her report.
She began with the Seattle, and meeting Aran there. She admitted that she had followed Aran in pursuit of the Pirates to FQ3-58, and received the data from her there. Nowhere in her testimony did she even hint at any other Confederation forces. For the most she told the truth. She had met Aran there, and she had left. Angseth just left out the conditions of her departure. When the subject of her arrest warrant inevitably came up, she stated that she was not at liberty to speak of it at the moment. This seemed to anger a few of the people present, but Ryan made sure that no further line of questioning addressed the warrant. It was easier to talk about her experiences on Tallon IV, and once again she left Weavel out of the telling. Had to remain consistent in her lies now. When she finished her tale, Angseth received one of the most rigorous cross-examinations of her life. The council picked, they pulled, each one searching for a loophole they could dig their beaks into and expose her story. Vera remained calm, even as tempers flared. These bastards acted like they already knew what happened and were just trying to get her to admit it. Yet another one of her lessons in Basic came through again today. If you make up a story or even part of it, stick to it, never change your story in any small part least you draw more suspicions. This wasn’t something she had learned in a classroom, no, one of her so-called friends at the time had left a footlocker full of contraband goods in Angseth’s bunk. Angseth knew that her friend had intentions of selling the stuff to other Marines, and needed Angseth to cover for her. Angseth had always been a good girl, and the Officers never thought to look in her bunk. That had been a very delicate dance everyday explaining away why there was an extra footlocker in her room, and also covering for her “friend”. When her friend was eventually caught, she tried to pin everything on Angseth. In turn Angseth leaned her “good girl” status to sway the Officers in her favor. On occasion, even years later after she transferred from the Marines to the Spaceforce, Officers would still question her about the trunk. Angseth stuck to the same story for so long, even she was starting to believe it.
And now in this room full of Chozo, she had to believe that there had been no one else on FQ3-59 with herself and Aran. Her freedom, and probably even the safety of the Confederation depended on it.
Two pitchers of water later Angseth finally finished her testimony, finished all the questions, and hoped that someone had recorded all of that because she wasn’t going to go through it again. She sat down, and was relived when the sound of Ryan’s translation device filled the council room.
“This meeting will recess for the evening. Please return tomorrow morning so we may discuss our actions, if any, we should take in this situation.”
Angseth leaned back in her seat. Everyone in the room seemed to be observing a kind of prayer ritual, even the Luminoth seemed to be praying or something to that extent. Vera really didn’t care anymore, she was tired and in the past few days she had been subjected to many technological and cultural wonders. But that had all become very overwhelming. Would Ryan still escort her around? Or would Jamie come in and take over again?
“Captain Angseth?” Ryan suddenly said.
Angseth sat up and looked around. The entire room was empty, save for Ryan and the Luminoth, Ei-Aier. “Did I fall asleep?” She pulled herself to her feet. “I am so sorry.”
“It was pure poetry when your snoring interrupted my closing remarks. Why didn’t you let me know that you were so tired?”
“I wasn’t sure that I was, I didn’t want to disturb your meeting.” Angseth paused for a moment, her eyes resting on Ei-Aier. Angseth always found it difficult to look into those multi-faceted eyes. Now that she was close enough, she could see Ei-Aier’s insect-like mouth.
Ryan had removed the headdress, and held his hand out to Angseth.
Angseth accepted his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Chairman?”
“I had wanted to observe you as yourself before I made the decision to include you in this meeting. I see that you have performed well.”
“Warn me next time before you decide to throw me to the wolves.” Angseth followed Ryan out of the meeting hall. “Did I cause that much concern by being here?”
“Admiral Mizzen practically slapped a warning label on you.”
Angseth tried to look annoyed or otherwise upset, but couldn’t stop the smile spreading over her lips.
“However I must admit you have a bit more restraint that other ambassadors of the Confederation.” He held the door open for Angseth and Ei-Aier. “The three of us have much to discuss about your upcoming trip to Aether.”
“My what?” Angseth politely hid a yawn. As comfortable as the prosthetic leg was, it still lacked a certain amount of grace. If she didn’t have a convenient Chozo or Luminoth to lean on, she would defiantly need a cane. “What about Aether? Shouldn’t this wait for the meeting tomorrow?”
“Yes…and no.”
So far Ei-Aier had been silent. Ryan led them back to the disk gate. Angseth closed her eyes as the jump mechanism washed through her body. They didn’t step out in the temple this time, but a pleasant garden. Vera looked around, still rubbing away sleepiness while surrounded by a dream-like landscape. In the light of the stars she could make out the shapes and smells of many beautiful plants and flowers. In the distance she could see mountains and vast forests.
Ryan led the two of them through the trees to what seemed to be a comfortable sitting area. Angseth gratefully sat down a stone bench, and noticed that the Luminoth chose to just hover in place, legs folded about four feet from the ground. Ryan took a seat on a stone bench across from Angseth.
“Do you mind if we just get to the point?” Angseth asked.
“Not at all.” Ryan pulled his legs up underneath his body, and also began to hover in midair. “We were able to read the file from the moment we pulled your near dead carcass from Tallon IV. However we were not able to comprehend the full extent of the information until we spoke to you. You did well, not letting on that Confederation forces had captured Aran. That would have put you in quite a tight spot in that council hall. However, given that you had already told Arashe, then it will not take long for news to travel, if it hasn’t already. We need to get you off the Araia for your own sake.”
“And just when I was getting used to that cute little house too.”
“We need Samus back. She is the only thing keeping the peace between our two nations. Admiral Mizzen gave us quite an opportunity by lending you to us. It would be easy to go in guns ablaze to get Aran back, but the potential backlash would be catastrophic. You present a method of having her returned without risking our alliance.”
Even in half-sleep, Angseth could see the pieces coming together. Admiral Mizzen let them have access to a Confederation officer so that it would be a Confederate who would claim finding an illegal prisoner held by another Admiral. It left both parties with relatively clean hands, and would avoid future friction. That was all well and good, but where did the Luminoth come in? Angseth addressed Ryan with this question. “Where does Ei-Aier fit in?”
Ei-Aier spoke Standard, but with a bit of a whistle, and in an unfamiliar accent. “I came to meet you, and assist in your visit to Aether as part of the dedication ceremony of a memorial dedicated to those lost in Dark Aether.”
Angseth felt the sleep leave her as those words settled into her mind. Dedication ceremony? She thought that she would at least have heard about this earlier, at least a few months in advance. “Why haven’t I heard about this sooner?”
“We tried to get in contact with you several times, all of our messages had to be routed through your commanding officer however. We left information with both Admiral Mizzen and Admiral Mirson. Neither of them relayed the message?”
Vera thought about the fact that she hadn’t checked her e-mail in weeks, and could also understand that if Mirson did have it out for her, then he wouldn’t relay the information anyway. Mizzen would want to deliver the invitation personally.
Ryan spoke up. “This ceremony provides a window of opportunity to get you out of the Chozo nations and into neutral territory. From there on out you’ll be Ei-Aier’s problem.”
Ei-Aier gave a whistling chuckle, his vestigial wings fluttered.
“Nice to know that I’m such a burden.” Angseth sighed. “Does Mizzen know?”
“We assume that he wouldn’t want to turn down the photo opportunity.” Ei-Aier said. “On a more serious note, after listening to your testimony, and reading the data from the file, our worst case scenario has been realized. For her own health, Samus Aran needs to be found and returned to her people. The adoption of the Metroid characteristics can be blamed on the Chozo blood that had been used to save her life when she was a child. The Chozo are one of the few races that had altered their DNA so they could more readily adapt to different environments.”
“So you feel that the Chozo and Metroid DNA fused as well to allow her to be a more effective predator?”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t a very comforting thought.”
“Myself and Ryan don’t feel so either. We need to study more so we can better reverse the process.”
“So why do you need me?”
“We want you to know exactly what it is you’re going to get into. With even the smallest amount of misinformation, you could seriously hurt yourself or Aran.”
“Everyone seems to think that I’m supposed to be the one to go and get her. What if I chose not to?”
“We know that you are a very reasonable woman. We also know that if you can help it, you will keep the peace in the Confederation. We also know that you are one of the best warriors the Confederation has to offer. How many other Marines would shoot off their own arm for the chance to live just that much longer?”
Angseth groaned. “Quit stroking my ego. I don’t know what you’re heard, but I’m not really—“
Ryan voice interrupted her. “If you don’t decide to get her back, we’ll just give you back to Mirson and let him deal with you.”
Vera raised an eyebrow. She hated being so neatly pinned under anyone’s foot, or this case, talons.
“Will you cooperate?” Ryan asked, his voice stern.
Angseth had to give in. She wanted to get Samus back, she honestly wanted to get moving and get back to her crew as well. At this point she didn’t know which to choose. Loyalty to someone she considered a friend, or at least a respected acquaintance, or loyalty to her job. “I…I’m going to need some time to think about it.”
“I trust you’ll make the right decision.”
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“Please let me know if you experience any discomfort.”
“I will.” Vera sighed as she reclined back in her hover chair. She was half tempted to watch the procedure, and half wishing that they had put her under from the start. She remembered all the pain and discomfort she had gone through when getting her first cybernetic leg. She had to remain awake for the procedure, and only limited local anesthetic. The Federation Marine Corp didn’t cover cybernetic operations, unless one had already been screened for special ops. And even then you had to sign your entire life away. The Federation would own you and any part they had bought to make you more efficient. Briar had found a good cybernetic mechanic, and he was better than most chop-shops that she had heard about. But even with all the technology at their disposal, some methods remained crude. She had to remain conscious to ensure that all the synthetic nerve endings were connected properly.
Right now that joyful little Chozo mechanic circled around her, checking various holo screens and read out displays. At least that’s what Vera thought they were. She wore very minimal clothing, a pair of shorts, and a sleeveless tank top that left her legs and arms exposed. Sitting on her right thigh, and what was left of her right arm were a series of what looked like pebbles. Ryan had warned her that they would be using fairly advanced technology to create her new limbs. He stated that they could have even gone out of their way to clone a new set of limbs for her, but that wouldn’t suit either of their needs.
“If we made limbs to only complement your physical make-up,” He explained. “Then there wouldn’t be enough room for additional equipment.”
Angseth had then fixed her gaze on Ryan, for a moment captivated by the flicker of turquoise blue scales that peeked from under his collar. “What kind of extra equipment do you feel that I need?”
“After this procedure, you will be capable of taking on the Morph Ball form. There are many benefits. By installing the mechanism in your arm and leg, you will be able to assume that form at any time that you chose. Consider it our gift,” Ryan shifted in his seat. “Second of all, a condensed power cannon will be installed in your right arm.”
Vera weighed her options. “Will I still have a fully functioning right hand?”
“Yes.” Ryan took a seat, hovering in mid-air like the Luminoth the night before. “When you recover, I’ll run you through basic training for both of your new gifts.”
“I can’t wait,” Angseth said sarcastically. The Cybernetic doctor seemed to be wrapping things up, and she was beginning to get nervous.
“Vera, we need your help, and we are willing to equip you with what you need.” Ryan turned his head as the mechanic whistled. “Ah, we begin. Please try to remain as still as you can.”
Angseth tried to relax, but felt her unease grow as the mechanic and Ryan left the little room. From above her, that now familiar pink light came. Angseth stared up into it, feeling it sink into her skin. For a moment she realized that during her entire stay on Araia, and it’s subsequent layers, she had witnessed such odd and subtle manipulations of technology. Most of it she couldn’t place a purpose for, or even identify that it was there. She knew that it all had an explanation, but so far Ryan or any of the others weren’t talking. What about the Morph Ball that she was getting? Even now the Confederation didn’t have any means to recreate that technology. What if the damn thing broke? Would she just trespass on another Chozo planet so they could come and fix it? What if someone else found out about the Morph Ball and a gang of station thugs jumped her to steal her new limbs to get that technology?
And most importantly, would she be able to pick out her own color scheme and pattern to customize her Morph Ball?
Two small blue lights appeared on either side of the pink spotlight. The blue lights drew closer, and to Vera they looked like miniature suns circling and scanning her body. One of the blue lights settled near her arm, the other over her leg. The pebbles on her arm began to melt, beading and running over her skin. She felt gravity loosen around her, allowing her to free-float.
Her body slowly rose from the chair, and the blue suns began to grow slightly larger. She began to get that familiar pins and needles feeling. Angseth lazily rolled her head to her right. The pink light was working it’s magic. She watched fascinated as plates, subtle wiring, and protective finishes were all snapped and welded together for her new cybernetic limb. It was like watching a mechanical diagram slowly come together around and on her arm. Angseth knew that if she had the strength to look, she would see the same thing happening to her leg.
I have no idea how it’s done, but I am very grateful that it doesn’t require nerve calibration. She felt her head drift back. That damn pink light was telling her that sleep would be a good idea right now, and on what grounds could she argue with the ways of a higher intelligence?
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Angseth could feel rhythmic movement under her body. Her sense of balance told her that she was upright, and most likely carried in someone’s arms. A glint of gold out of the corner of her eye told her who. Vera slowly came to, and began to regret it. The stims had worn off, and all of her nerves and senses were giving a damage report. Aran at least wasn’t shooting at anything this time. Thankfully the only sound that came to Angseth’s ears were the steady beat of Aran’s feet on the packed dirt, and the occasional clank as Angseth’s armor shifted. It hurt to even think about all the broken bones and sore muscles lurking underneath the fractured plasteel plates. Where the hell had she been last? What was her last memory? With all the stims in her system, combined with painkiller cocktails, the past few hours were a blur. It had something to do with Dark Aether. Had she really been that stupid?
Angseth opened her eyes just a little more. The oxygen in her suit had gone stale; it smelled like sweat and stress. Vera wished she could move so she could open the external vents and get some fresh air. Angseth could see a fine layer of dust covering her visor, along with a few specs and splatters of unknown origin. In her limited view window, she could also see the underside of Aran’s helmet. The Hunter was indeed carrying Angseth in her arms. That couldn’t be easy. Marine armor weighed close to two hundred pounds on its own. It could only be moved when all the different redundancies and muscle modifiers moved in synch. Throw in a dense-world human who was purt-near two hundred twenty pounds of muscle, and carrying someone became out of the question. Yet there Aran was, carrying this dumb Marine in her big heavy armor gods knew how far. It took her a moment for Angseth to register what was so different about the atmosphere.
Sunlight.
Angseth’s eyes opened wider as she forced her head to tilt backward. Every last little vertebrae and cell in her spine complained but she had to know, she had to see for herself.
The dark clouds were gone. The clouds had covered the sky and hovered over her since she had first set foot on this world. They had all parted and left the sky one big clear blue gem
Aran’s head turned as Angseth moved in her arms. For a moment Angseth thought that she could make out some of Samus’ features behind her green visor, but no, it was just a play of dust and light on her own. Another few minutes passed, and the Marine craft came into view. Angseth had mixed feelings about the Tyr. She and the rest of Bravo squad had come here aboard it. What would they think of the only survivor?
I was ordered to guard my post, and I did. I did everything I could, so did everyone else. There’s nothing more to say.
Aran stopped and knelt, setting Angseth down at the top of the lowered loading dock. She carefully took Angseth’s shoulders and leaned her against the control panel for the loading ramp. Vera whimpered as her weight settled on her back. The darkened interior of the ship was indiscernible with the dust over her visor. Aran stepped out of the light, and into the ship. Angseth tried to follow her movements through the dirty visor; dust, blood, and spittle prevented her from seeing more than a faint glimmer of gold.
Angseth flexed her fingers, and found that she could at least do this with only a minor degree of discomfort. She slowly raised her arm, and once more her back protested. Her vision even seemed to gray a little. She let her arm drop until the pain subsided.
If I can just lift it far enough for the muscle compensation to kick in, She thought as she closed her eyes and began lifting her arm again. Her teeth clenched as she struggled for the one inch. The armor registered her movement and immediately the auto-compensation activated allowing Angseth to lift her arm with minimal pain to her back. She raised her hand to her head, and depressed the emergency toggle for her helmet. The face-plate and both hemispheres of the helmet fell away and hit the floor with a loud crack.
Aran immediately swiveled around with her arm cannon at the ready. Angseth by now had been quite accustomed to staring down the barrel of the thing. The cannon lowered after the Hunter was convinced there was no danger.
Once the outside air hit her cheek, Angseth could tell that most of the left side of her face was swollen, but the cool breeze felt good. Sometime during her adventures the leather strip holding her hair back had snapped, and now her thick curly black hair spilled over the collar of her armor. Vera had always felt that her long hair was one of the things that set her apart from the other troops, and she was quite vain about it. When she had it pulled up in a ponytail, one of the guys in another squad said that it reminded him of a bundle of dark black grapes, each curl layering over another and displaying their own individual shine. If she lived through this, she couldn’t wait to get in the shower.
Aran walked back over, holding a canteen and a few vials of painkillers. She knelt, and held the canteen to Angseth’s lips. Vera felt the water touch her tongue, and no sensation was more welcome. She drank deeply, tears burning on her cheeks, carrying salt and dirt that stung her wounds. Aran slowly took the canteen away and set it down at Angseth’s side, then knelt they were on eye-level.
This time there was no play of light, no mistaking dust and sun. Angseth could see Samus’ eyes behind the green alien material that made up her visor. Her eyes reflected deep intelligence, and were the color of oceans as seen from space. But they were also tired and weary. Aran gave a short nod, then stood, dropping a rifle in Angseth’s lap. A smile crossed Angseth’s lips as Aran began walking down the loading ramp. She stopped at the bottom and hesitantly looked back over her shoulder.
Angseth looked at the rifle in her lap, one of Baker’s old stand-bys. Could he, and everyone else forgive her for stepping on their graves? They had all watched her back, and now here she sat, in an empty ship, surrounded by their memories, and she with the knowledge of what had happened, watching Samus Aran, Bounty Hunter walk down the loading ramp and into the sunset.
Vera gave herself a new burst of stimulants and painkillers, the pain flared, and then faded. She used some cables used to secure cargo to pull herself upright and stand on the top of the ramp.
“We will meet again.” Angseth somehow managed to speak. “I still have a post to defend.”
Aran nodded once, then raised her left hand and made a thumbs-up gesture. Angseth pondered the sign as Aran took on her Morph Ball form and buzzed away. Vera shook her head she moved to the cockpit.
The com line suddenly cackled to life, and Angseth nearly had a heart-attack. The com lines had all been silent ever since crashing here.
“Marine Battle Cruiser Jackson to transport vessel Tyr, come in,”
Angseth stumbled for the com.
“Battle Cruiser Jackson to transport Tyr, please come in,”
Angseth’s throat went dry despite the water she had drunk. “This is transport Tyr, I read you. We have sustained heavy losses and request immediate assistance,”
“Estimated loss?”
Angseth paused, then said, “Entire crew, save for myself.”
“What’s your name soldier?”
“SPC M. Angseth.” She sat in the nearest open seat. The Captain’s chair.
“Help is on the way, hold tight.”
Angseth leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. There would be time for tears later, right now she just wanted to get off this damn rock.
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“Angseth? Angseth?”
Vera didn’t want to open her eyes. Sleep this deep was precious; she fought against the current, reaching for her last dream. She wanted to finish it. Drop everything and go running all over Aether after Samus again.
“Captain?”
The dream faded and Angseth resigned herself to the rising tide of conscious thought. Sensation eventually returned to her limbs. Angseth could sense that she was lying on her stomach, and if that were the case, then all of the hair on that side her head would be flat. She could tell by the sounds and faint grass-like smell that she had been returned to her house. She lifted her arms and pushed herself upward, then rolled over.
Wait. Arms. Plural.
Suddenly awake, Angseth lifted her right hand and stared at it. Dark sienna flesh, fingernails, even those small annoying hairs on the back of her hand. Everything was there.
Hey! Even my fingerprints!
She quickly sat up then threw away the covers on her bed, then gasped.
A leg, a leg that looked like she had been born with it, save for an almost unnoticeable scar-like seam around her mid-thigh. Vera leaned forward and ran her hands along the surface. It had skin like a real leg, and most importantly, both her right hand and leg had the entire spectrum of touch-sensation. She could feel texture, hot, cold, everything. The skin tone matched perfectly, every last little wrinkle, crease, and fold. She had all five toes back! The bottom of her foot was just like the other one, complete with footprints. She giggled like a little girl when she began to wiggle all five toes independently of each other.
I can’t wait for Briar to see this! He’s never seen me with two legs before!
“Ahem.”
Angseth looked toward the sound of the voice, and discovered that she wasn’t alone in the room. Ryan sat a few feet away from her, hovering in the air. Unconsciously, Vera pulled her covers back up to cover her near-naked body. Although she was sure that Ryan could have gotten an eye-full when she was out cold if he wanted to.
For a moment they sat just looking at each other, and for the first time Vera noticed the very light carvings on Ryan’s beak. Not as ornate as Arashe’s, but still stunning to look at. His eyes were grass green, in lovely contrast with the lighter blue color of his feathers. He smiled, a few feathers on the crown of his head lifting much like a cockatoos, revealing a layer of white feathers underneath. His shirt had fallen loose around his shoulders, and for the first time, Angseth had the opportunity to study the scale pattern along his neck, and then to his chest.
She blushed and looked away when she realized that she had been checking him out. Heavens she hadn’t eyed someone up like that in a long time.
“I’ll just wait for you in your common room.” Ryan said with a smile as he pulled himself to a stand, and adjusted his shirt.
Angseth watched him leave, and pulled her sheets up tighter around her shoulders. She chuckled a little as she drew her legs up to her chest. She could feel the texture of the sheets against her skin. Briar wouldn’t be angry with her for looking, even if she did tell him. He might even be happy that her heart of stone was starting to crumble a bit.
Human men didn’t seem to be appealing to her tastes. At least not since Exetor. Losing him had hurt in the worst way. Angseth suddenly reached up and grabbed fistfuls of her hair.
You should be happy today! You just got a new set of wonderfully made custom limbs! You’ve cried those tears already! Let it go! Let Aether go!
Vera knew that could prove to be difficult in the near future, since Aether was her next stop. Had she been running away from the memories all this time? She began to sift through her clothes and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and loose shirt. She stood up from the bed and almost cried when she felt the carpet and wood under her bare feet. She eyed her boots in the corner, and decided against them.
Ryan and Ei-Aier were waiting for her in the main room. Ei-Aier looked huge in the small space. A ball of water hovered in the air between them, bubbling and tinted light green. Ryan turned as he entered, then began to sign to her.
How are your new arm and leg?
Angseth seated herself on one side of the bubble and signed back. Marvelous. But I had asked for something that didn’t look so high-tech.
We eventually decided against it. Once your basic training in complete, you will be quite capable of defending your own limbs.
Vera examined the ball of water.
“Have some tea,” Ei-Aier offered.
“I don’t see any cups.” She was still fascinated at whatever technology held this bubble aloft and hot. Now that she was close enough she could make out little tea leaves and a few blossoms bouncing around inside.
“You don’t need a cup.” Ei-Aier held up his hand, touched the outside of the bubble, and drew away a large bead of tea on the tips of his fingers. He then brought that to his lips and began to sip it.
Angseth studied the ball, then reach out her right hand, touched the bubble and drew away a small bubble on her fingertips. “Wow.” She marveled at the ball of tea for a moment. It still had all the weight and heat of a perfect cup of tea, but with the elasticity of a liquid. The longer she held her fingers against the sphere, the larger her share became. The ball rolled over the back of her hand, and she caught it with her left before it could hit the floor. She held it in both hands, then lifted the ball to her lips, and drank deeply. As she drank, the ball of tea became smaller, and eventually vanished. “That’s pretty intense.” Vera reached for another bead of tea, and then noticed a large trunk sitting in the stasis field under her Sigel. “What’s that?”
“Our gift to you.” Ei-Aier said. “A new power suit, of Luminoth design and make. We have made it to look just like your old Confederation Captains suit, complete with those terrible ranking armbands. Your fighter has also been repaired and modified. Complements of System Admiral Mizzen.”
Angseth shook her head. Must have been the old beast’s idea of a joke. She looked at Ryan and signed. So when do we start training?
When the time is right, your new abilities will surface, and then I will guide you through them. For the time, you are an honored guest of the Chozo. It has been much fun Angseth, but I’m afraid I do have a bit of business to attend to.
Vera smiled. This would be the first time she would have the opportunity to run around Agartha unescorted and she was eager to explore every last nook and cranny. Will Ei-Aier be going with you?
Yes, for the time, but both of us will join you later this evening. Ryan stood, his fingers resting on the sphere for a good thirty seconds. He seemed to pull enough tea to keep him for a while. Ei-Aier did likewise. Try not to get into too much trouble today.
“Me? Trouble?” Angseth sat trying to look innocent. The expression on Ryan’s face told her that it wasn’t working. Vera stood and saw both of them to the door. As soon as their multi-colored forms left her house, she ran through her main room, into her bedroom and grabbed a set of casual clothes along with her Captain’s jacket. As soon as she was dressed, she leapt off her back porch, and hit the ground running through the grass and trees.
The only thought on her mind was the location of her fighter.
Chapter Text
Chapter 13:
Weavel was on the prowl. There was a large bounty on the loose in this station and he was in the right place at the right time to capture it. However he wasn’t here to capture the bounty.
He was after another Hunter.
Not that the bounty head wouldn’t be a nice consolation prize. But Weavel still preferred that the Bounty were softened up a bit first. The Bounty the other Hunter was after is a large glass-like arachnid that was wanted on several different worlds for grand larceny, and industrial espionage. The Bounty went by the street name of “Sand”. Sand had been traced to this station, the Cincinnati, a hub for several of the largest banking firms in the Confederation.
The Cincinnati contained cutting edge communication and security systems. All in all, the station was a model of efficiency. It used a tidal system to generate hydro-electric power which ran all two thousand miles of its public transportation infrastructure. Run-off energy then went to power the civilian sector. The Confederate military also had a decent encampment here. The Cincinnati served as a recruiting base. Newly enlisted Privates and Airmen often served a few terms here before moving on to more advanced academies. The Cincinnati worked very closely with the Military Police to ensure that their own law enforcement core had the most advanced weaponry available to the civilian market. Due to its large civilian sector and housing potential, large shipping firms also held their central offices here. The station had also been ranked as one of the most secure and safest places to raise a family if one simply could not avoid working in space.
But for every bright point of light, there must also be an accompanying shadow. Despite its safety rating, that survey only covered all of the violent crime. Yes, there was an abnormal shortage of stabbings, muggings, and rape, but that was due to the fact that many of the organized crime syndicates also called the Cincinnati home. You don’t shit where you sleep. Therefore, most of the extremely violent crimes were relatively few and committed by inexperienced felons. For the most part, the organized crime rings kept to themselves and didn’t draw much attention to their activities or identities.
This atmosphere made the Cincinnati either a very good choice for Sand to call a hideout, or a very poor one, depending on how Weavel chose to address it. Sand most likely had friends here, and enemies, he might even be here looking for another job. Weavel didn’t care about why Sand had come here; the only thing that concerned him was Sand’s whereabouts. Simple logic. Where Sand was, so too would be his quarry. Know the prey, know the predator.
There were many bounty hunters, but only one that was referred to with a capital letter. Long ago, the Hunter had left Weavel for dead. She had dropped down into his bunker like a ball of golden fire and detonated one of the more deadly weapons in her arsenal. Weavel remembered the scent of all of his companions vaporized in an instant. Weavel could still remember the sound of her footsteps as she left the room. Her humanoid body seemed to be weightless as she ran for the nearest door.
Weavel’s body had been obliterated save for his upper torso and relatively untouched head. He could remember the smell of death and charred bodies. His legs and arms had been washed away in one golden wave. He could remember breathing in the ashy air, the taste and smell of so many dead. It would have been shameful for him to die as a common foot soldier. His people needed him to live.
Afterward Weavel faced the first of very many painful cybernetic implants. A secondary back-up crew had found his near-lifeless body and dragged him to a transport vessel. The transport vessel in turn had taken him back to one of their science vessels. Gamma Fleet didn’t normally take care of their wounded, but Weavel was different. When they rested his body in a stasis field used for advanced operations, he remembered the scent of someone else other than the scientists in the room. It was a scent and air of someone he would come to loathe in the near future.
Ridley.
Now Weavel was on the Cincinnati, looking for Sand, who would in turn reveal to him the location of the person who had made his life a living hell. Samus Aran either needed to finish the job, or die herself. The latter would make Weavel very happy, or at least make him feel justified in his unending torment. He could feel Ridley waiting in the back of his mind like some kind of sleeping worm. If Weavel made a wrong move, the worm would come to life and begin to complain.
Ridley always started by asking him what he was doing. As if the numerous scanners and sensors that impostor had around the universe weren’t enough, he needed Weavel to tell him what was happening. At first Weavel had been grateful for his new lease on life, and had sworn his allegiance to Ridley. Weavel soon regretted that choice. If he had known about the stupid ridiculous shit that Ridley would have him running to all corners of the universe for, then he would have shaken his way out of that stasis field on the science vessel and down the nearest incinerator hatch. If Ridley were not satisfied with his answer, he would send a jolt over the com-line that hit the direct nerve and pain center of Weavel’s brain. A sort of prod to get him to cooperate.
Weavel soon learned that it didn’t matter what he said or did, Ridley would just ride the jolt-switch until he was satisfied that Weavel was suffering enough. Sometimes, if Ridley felt particularly sadistic that day, he would remotely shut down Weavel’s cybernetic body, keeping only the life-support systems active. On very rare occasions, Ridley would just move in and posses Weavel’s body to finish a battle, or speak with a certain individual. Weavel had learned to withstand the pain, and he had learned to deal with the random shut-downs, Weavel had even learned to sit back and enjoy the ride when Ridley decided to use him as some kind of remote fighting robot--as unnerving as it was. Those things Weavel could deal with.
The thing that bothered him most was that Ridley was so damn annoying. What are you doing? Where have you been? Why did you do that when you could have done this? Where are you taking that artifact? When will you return to base for repairs? No you’re doing it all wrong, let me show you. When was the last time you had your ship inspected? Why haven’t you killed him/her/it yet? What is keeping you? Why can’t you be more efficient? Ridley sounded like some kind of possessive girlfriend or wife, and acted a lot like one. The sheer mental anguish and stress made Weavel loathe waking up everyday.
So far Ridley had been silent, even as Weavel made his usual rounds of the Cincinnati’s underworld. Sand had been here looking for work. Rumor had it that he was currently dwelling in the unused areas of the transportation system. There was a nice network of unused tunnels that ran parallel to the main transportation lines. It served as a convenient nest for illegal activity. The homeless lived there, assassins used the tunnels as a place to hide after a hit, and the usual flotsam that fell to the wayside collected there. It would make sense that Sand would want to call it a temporary home.
So Weavel began to patrol the Tunnels. He chose not to ask many questions because word would travel fast, and if Sand knew that two bounty hunters were after him, it would force him deeper into hiding. Weavel felt comfortable in the Tunnels. It was one of the only places he could walk around in full armor and not draw much attention. He wasn’t the only rough-looking being down here. The Tunnels were just that, Tunnels. Mile after mile of large cylinder-shaped halls, small stalls and make-shift housing lined the walls of the Tunnel, everywhere people moved around the debris, a large crowd of beings from all corners of the Seven Systems. He pushed his way through the crowd, only courteous enough to not get into a fight with anyone. On the way he passed drug users, and improvised gambling circles where anything from dice to fighting station rats were getting bet on. His scanners came to life as he perused the wares for sale, contraband electronics, weaponry. The Cincinnati also played host to one of the biggest and most organized Black Markets in the Confederation. Weavel knew that most of these vendors and gamblers had connections with their organized crime syndicates further up in the station.
He also needed to be careful that his upcoming battle didn’t damage much of the station. Ridley would not be pleased, and neither would Ridley’s friends that lived here. Weavel scanned the crowd, wondering exactly where a twelve-foot tall glass spider could hide. The Tunnel was an ideal place, however a bit cramped; someone would have seen him by now. Had he missed Aran?
A flash of gold caught his optics, and the familiar rush of excitement washed over him. No, it wasn’t Aran this time. It was some human slave girl that had been seemingly dipped in gold to make her more appealing. Weavel’s spirits fell. It wasn’t like him to start jumping to conclusions so readily. He doubted that he would encounter Aran out in the open here. She would most likely be elsewhere, perhaps hiding in some shaft waiting for her prey. This was only conjecture; Aran had been silent for some time. Silent meaning that her name hadn’t gone down in any registries for apprehending and claiming bounties for some time. She had been apparently doing her best to drop out of existence. Which meant that she could only be gearing up for some big operation. Usually Bounty Hunters would go silent when they were trying not to draw attention to themselves. The less people paying attention to you made it easier for you to spring a surprise raid. It was by sheer luck that Weavel discovered that Aran was after Sand. When he arrived on the Cincinnati he didn’t even know if Aran was here, then his scanners revealed trace amounts of energy exhaust from her Chozo vessel. Weavel felt that this would be the day he finally either died or got even with the damned woman.
He was losing hope however. The Tunnels were no longer the safe dark hide-out that he remembered. They had turned into some kind of vast flea-market. Sand or Aran wouldn’t be found here. It was too public, too open. Weavel began to search his internal maps and ships computer system to see if there were any other likely places that either Sand or Aran could be hiding. The maintenance tunnels and unused sections of this station were immense. Weavel stepped to the side behind a make-shift booth selling some kind of fried street food to peruse his logs. Damn he missed eating.
As he settled near the wall, a cry echoed over the din of the Tunnel. Not an easy feat since it was loud in here already. That cry was soon joined by several others. Out of curiosity, Weavel glanced upward to see the crowd of people look down toward one end of the tunnel, then turn and begin running in the opposite direction. He leaned forward, and peered around the corner of the booth to see what all the fuss was over. Roughly one hundred yards down the Tunnel, he could see that the crowd had thickened as people tried to outrun whatever this thing was. Then the bodies of the slower ones became caught up in some big wave, limbs, entire groups of people, booths, stalls, everything at the crest of this thing were suddenly slammed against the walls of the tunnel. If he didn’t act soon, Weavel would become caught up in this stampede too.
One single shot screamed over the heads of the crowd, a long golden-hued beam of energy that seemed more of a flare than a projectile. The crowd, not only trying to get away from this thing, but also worried about death from above, shrieked and ducked. Weavel felt his senses come alive with the anticipation of battle. Only person in the entire universe had such a beam, and her name was Samus Aran, the bitch that almost killed him.
The crowd had to pause to duck the beam, and this created the desired effect. The flesh tsunami slowed, bringing the culprit to surface. Weavel watched with fascination and excitement when another push of bodies birthed a twelve-foot glass spider. Sand skittered over the top of the crowd, now clinging to the walls of the Tunnel, it’s semi-transparent body taking on the color and texture of its surroundings. Weavel knew that Sand could only travel as fast as the crowd moved. By slowing the crowd, Aran had forced it out into the open. Weavel came out of hiding and prepared for the battle to come. He didn’t care about Sand. He wanted the Hunter.
She too surfaced, and Weavel’s scanners had difficulty locking on. She jumped, landing on the roof of another booth, then fired another shot at Sand. The Hunter was everything that Weavel had come to expect from reading her files and reports. She wore golden Chozo armor, accented with red, and green auxiliary power crystals set in key locations. Mounted on her right arm was one big green gun barrel, known as a Power Cannon. That one weapon had damn near brought entire planets to their knees. Weavel found a convenient crouching mecha-borg, and then hid behind him/it. Samus had taken it upon herself to do crowd control. As Sand ran along the walls and floor of the Tunnel, Aran jumped from structure to structure, alternately taking aim at Sand, and over the heads of all the innocent bystanders to keep them still or have them run for cover. How very thoughtful of her. Weavel felt that he wouldn’t waste the ammo on a tunnel full of whores and drug addicts.
Weavel scrambled to the top of the stall to his right. Moving through the crowd would be near impossible now. No, now that he had sight of her, he couldn’t lose it. Since Sand had been forced out into the open, the bounty head would start looking for a way out of the Tunnel. The nearest exit was a large crack in the wall about two hundred yards down. Sand and Samus were both heading in that direction. Weavel braced himself and fired a shot over the heads of the crowd toward Samus. The Hunter suddenly jumped, dodging the shot, but then affixing herself to the ceiling of the Tunnel. She turned and scanned the crowd for the source of the shot. Weavel jumped off the vendor’s roof and became lost in the running crowd.
Samus dropped from the ceiling, and began to chase Sand down the Tunnel again.
What are you doing? The sleeping worm in the back of his mind suddenly awoke. Weavel should have known that the shot would have gained Ridley’s attention. Where are you?
Weavel jumped to the nearest stall and began running along the surface through the Tunnel, taking alternate shots at Sand and Samus. He didn’t have time to play twenty questions with Ridley right now. Up ahead, Samus broke her stride to turn for a moment to take a shot at Weavel. Weavel jumped and dodged, then fired back. Samus, in turn, dodged once again, and Weavel’s shot smacked Sand in the lower abdomen. Sand shrieked, then jumped back into the crowd, tossing panicked pimps and arms dealers hither and yon.
Here the Tunnel became wider, and instead of one level of societies dregs, industrious merchants had created an almost three story mall filled mainly with houses of ill repute and cybernetic chop-shops. Sand gained more ground here because he was not limited to running along the ground. Now there were plenty of balconies, railings, and scaffoldings the he could hold onto and make his get away. Weavel rejoiced because that meant that the Hunter would be slowed by the thicker crowds as well as a few heavily armed body guards. The Pirates spirits fell as Aran jumped off the nearest balcony, then in perfect gymnast form, grabbed an adjacent bar, flipped over it once, then used that momentum to spring off, and after Sand, taking shots as her body sailed through the air.
Who are you chasing? Ridley wanted to know.
“I’m a bit busy right now.” Weavel grunted as he too ran off the side of that balcony, used the pole for leverage, and became airborne, firing shots at both Samus and Sand. He hit the opposite side of the Tunnel hard, but used that force to spring off again, after Samus and Sand. Sand moved as easily through this area as if he were out for a morning walk. Samus kept bouncing back and forth across Weavel’s scanners like some kind of golden monkey/cricket hybrid. Every time Samus lined up with Sand, she fired. Every time Weavel lined up with Samus, he fired, and ultimately ended up only hitting Sand. Occasionally Samus would turn, or back flip, or spin attack in a way so she could look back and taunt Weavel. He could see her expression through that green visor. She was playing with the two of them. Her smile was evident through the upturned corners of her eyes.
Sand never even so much as fired back. His only means of defense seemed to be throwing unsuspecting whores back at both Samus and Weavel. In some cases that could have been considered germ warfare. Bouncers and bodyguards of the various establishments soon stepped out of their safe little cubbies and began to fire upon all three of them. Weavel alternately used his Battlehammer as much as his pulse beam. Sand suddenly juked to the left, and all twelve feet of glass spider slipped through a crack that Weavel knew he would have difficulty navigating. Samus went right after him.
Don’t ignore me any longer Weavel.
“I’m busy!!” Weavel screamed. He ran for the crack in the wall, and then felt a jolt come over the com line that caused his body to tense and momentarily lock up. This sudden loss of control caused him to slam into and through a merchant stall selling jewelry.
Now look at what you’ve done. Ridley said with a small chuckle in his voice.
“Aran is getting away!” Weavel yelled into his com.
Oh! Well then, by all means. Continue your chase. Just try to keep in touch.
Weavel picked up his metal body from the floor of the stall, then leaped over the rubble and awkwardly stumbled after Aran and Sand. Ridley wasn’t in a good mood today. Usually he waited for Weavel to ignore him for a few more moments before he pulled a stunt like that. The crack in the wall opened into a small littered walkway on the inner hull of this sector of the station. The walkway hadn’t been part of the original design, some industrious individual had installed it long ago. Weavel wondered how something as large as Sand could creep along these halls, and even as he entered the hall, he lost sight of both of them. This walkway only lead to a larger network of catwalks that stretched and wound their way between the several layers of hulls different sections of the station had to offer. Sand would have little trouble navigating these halls. For that matter, neither would Aran.
The Pirate followed the sounds of battle down more narrow corridors, before he entered familiar territory. No, Aran wouldn’t be that stupid. Weavel rounded the next corner and found out where the two of them had disappeared.
The Cincinnati contained a vast network of transport tunnels. Large round tubes that wound their way through the station like giant metal snakes. These tubes carried traffic in the form of private vehicles, public transport, and large trains. The walls of the transport tunnels were coated with a screen that would repel the polarity of anything that came into its field. It also used alternating polarities to guide vehicles forward, very much like a giant rail-gun. Where most stations had anti-gravity lifts or transport tubes, the transport system aboard the Cincinnati kept pollution and fuel costs low. The only thing that even considered entering that death trap where the vehicles that traveled through it, the occasional maintenance crew, and Samus.
The dammed woman had escaped through a door used by the transportation authority to walk different sections of track. Weavel stepped through the door and onto a large platform. The platform overlooked a portion of the transport tunnels, and held storage lockers containing the gear used to repair the magnetic screen. Weavel thanked the gods when he saw that there were also small one-man craft stored on the platform. If they had come this way, then where was his quarry? He ran to edge of the platform and scanned the streaming lines of traffic around him. There was no way any living creature could survive in the transport tunnels for long. Weavel began to panic, maybe they had tricked him and went another way. How long would it take him to track them down again?
A small gold-colored ball bearing caught his eye. From this distance Samus in her Morph Ball form looked like something that had dropped out of a child’s toy. She rolled and zipped along the side if the transport tunnel walls diligently chasing something Weavel couldn’t yet make out. Weavel jumped on one of the maintenance craft, quickly hacked the control system, and then took off down the transport tunnel after them. The craft was nothing more than a floating platform with a control mechanism. Already he could tell that the platform would not be anywhere near fast enough to catch up with Aran, and Sand was nowhere in sight. All around him traffic went by at incredible speeds. If he could find some way to tap into the pulse system of the tunnel, he could move faster. Reluctantly he pulled out his only ace.
General Ridley? He asked over the com.
OH! The prodigal son speaks! Please allow me to savor the moment, ah, light from the heavens shines upon me this evening! Tell me my son, what is it I can do for you?
Weavel could feel Ridley’s words dripping with sarcasm, it made Weavel felt so dirty, nothing could wash the grime away. I need to tap into the pulse system to make this craft move faster, or else I will never catch them.
Tapping into the Cincinnati’s transport tunnel would tear that little maintenance platform of yours asunder. Done.
Weavel found something to hold onto as the platform suddenly began to move faster. Now he was able to keep pace with the slower vehicles in the tunnel, but still not fast enough to catch up with Aran. However he could make out Sand now. The arachnid had folded all of his legs in toward one point and was seemed to be swimming his way through the tunnel. Had the bastard installed a localized anti-grav unit?
The tunnel took one of its many turns, Weavel leaned hard to the right as the plating on the surface of his platform began to peel back and tear loose. Alright, if he couldn’t stop them, then perhaps he could slow them down. This craft had no weapons, or anything that could be used as a projectile. His own pulse shots weren’t doing a damn thing to either of them. That left him with only one option: cause as much collateral damage as possible.
Weavel leaned with the next turn, but purposely over compensated, sending the platform underneath another vehicle. He raised his Battlehammer, and tore the guts out of the inside of the car. Lacking its support thrusters, the car slammed to the floor of the tunnel, flipped once, and then went sailing into several other vehicles. The end result was a large traffic jam in the transport tunnel. Good, now that most of the obstacles had been taken care of, Weavel went into phase two of his plan. He pushed the platform to its limits; large pieces of plate and concrete flew off and hit other vehicles behind him, causing more chaos. Samus and Sand were still just two points on the horizon. In about half a mile, the tunnel would drop at a near ninety-degree angle, one of the few momentum points in the entire system. The drop had it’s own gravity well, and was used to either slow or speed traffic. Weavel needed to stop them before they reached that drop.
Inspiration hit, and Weavel guided the platform toward the wall of the tunnel. He extended his Battlehammer, and dragged it along the wall, cutting into the metal plating, and eventually, into the screen that created the magnetic field of the tunnel. As predicted, the circuit was broken, and the entire length of the tunnel shut down. Weavel held on as the platform dropped to the floor of the tunnel and began skidding toward the drop. He had forgotten that the interior had been coated with a substance that reduced friction to prevent the occasional bad pilot from completely ruining their craft in the event of a wipeout. Weavel had been in many wreaks before, and knew that if he leaned back enough and just held on, the platform would lose inertia and eventually stop.
As the drop grew closer, he saw Sand skid and lose himself over the edge. Samus popped out of her Morph Ball form and slid along the floor of the tunnel on her stomach. Her left hand reached out for anything she could get a good hold on before she too dropped over the edge and out of sight. Weavel guided his skidding platform in toward her, and before she could slip over the edge, she extended her grapple beam and watched it catch hold of the platform. The platform came to a halt, leaving Samus dangling over the deep abyss. After everything thing had slowed, she pulled herself up the short energy beam, and grabbed a hold of the edge of Weavels’ beaten transport.
With a smile Weavel calmly extended his Battlehammer, readying for one powerful decisive blow to the side of Aran’s head. He wasn’t going to get a chance for a nice shot like this for some time. But first he wanted her to look at him, he wanted to see the fear in her eyes, he wanted to see that damn playful smirk wiped off her face. He studied the top of her head, waiting for her to shift or move. There was something different about her armor, he could see that now that he was close enough. Around the edges, it appeared to have a transparent quality. She looked like someone had turned down the opacity on a hologram. If this woman before him was fluke and the real Samus was elsewhere, he was going to be pissed. Ridley surfaced again in his mind, not commenting, not taking control of Weavel’s body, just observing. Samus also smelled different. He knew the oily musk of Humans, and this wasn’t quite right. The Human stink was there, mixed with Chozo stink, and a new stink, a familiar stink.
Metroid stink.
This caused Weavel to pause. At that moment she looked up. Her eyes not showing any fear, in fact in her body language indicated that she showed no anxiety at all. Text began to scroll at the bottom of his HUD.
Mind giving me a hand? The text read.
Weavel almost lowered his weapon. “Give you a hand?”
Yes, either edge-camp or help me.
Weavel’s rage began to swell within his now non-existing heart. How dare she? Didn’t she have any clue as to who he is? If she didn’t, he needed to introduce himself. “And why should I, Weavel of the Gamma Fleet, help you?”
Because you’re not Gamma Fleet. You are Siafu.
All of his rage vanished as quickly as it had come, his Battlehammer was suddenly heavy, and he struggled to hold it at the ready.
I ask you, as a worthy foe, and implore upon your position as a Siafu prince, to please give me a hand up.
Weavel read the text carefully. How could she have known? How could she pull a stunt like this? She had called upon his station, she had called him a worthy foe? Wasn’t that enough to grant her that small favor? “You…destroyed my life…killed my people like so many insects…and now you want my mercy? You have bigger balls than I had first thought Samus!”
I didn’t kill your people, and you’re kidding yourself if you believe that. You’ve known for years that Ridley and Mother Brain had the entire Siafu race brainwashed. Ridley is still doing his best to keep all of you under his thumb. I don’t know how you managed to escape with your sanity still intact. But I’m glad you did.
Once again Weavel read and re-read each syllable. She knew. She already knew about him, and about the plight of the Siafu. “And what will I gain if I assist you?”
An ally against our common foe.
“Ridley.”
Weavel slowly withdrew his Battlehammer, and looked back down at her red-colored helmet. His hatred for Ridley was infinitely more than his hatred for Samus. He had been blind to the needs of his people as he pursued his own quest for revenge. Ridley had assisted him because if their Prince was working for him, then the Siafu had no choice but to follow the whims of their prince. In turn, Ridley had manipulated Weavel for his own gain.
Samus felt Weavel’s metal hand close around her wrist. She gave a push with her right foot as he pulled her up to the safety of the platform. For a moment Weavel was silent, just observing her. Finally he asked, “What are the conditions of this truce?”
I help you free your people, She lifted her left hand to the light. The transparent armor revealed the lines and curve of the bones in her hand. And you help me find out what’s happening to me.
For the first time, Weavel felt hope. “Deal.”
And for once, Ridley didn’t have a comment to make.
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A three days had passed since Angseth had received her new limbs. Days filled with more fun and relaxation than she had in a long time. In the morning she went jogging along the many trails scattered throughout Agartha. She never took the same trail twice, and never found an end to sources of amusement. She would climb up and over large rocks, and performed the occasional set of one-armed pull-ups from a convenient tree or ledge. In the afternoon she raided the Chozo libraries, soaking up as much information as she could.
One of the first things she had looked up in the libraries was the current stability of SR3-88-SOL. As she expected, as far as the Chozo were concerned, the star was old, but not unstable. If nothing else, this confirmed her beliefs that the mission that her got and her crew into this mess was bogus. If she couldn’t get Mirson on anything else, at least she could throw this in his face. The Librarian helped her save the file in a new information storage system located in her cybernetic arm. How damned convenient.
Vera spent her nights listening to either lectures or concerts where Chozo singers and orchestras would play music from all over the galaxy. At night she would stumble home pleasantly tired and step into her own personal bathing spring, talk to Ryan or Ei-Aier, then go to bed and do it all again the next day. The first day she still hadn’t figured out how to use her Morph Ball form. Ryan had spent much of his time laughing at her expense as he gave her instructions, then watched her ball her fleshy hands and feet in and roll around in her back yard like a bad gymnast. Ryan had an interesting laugh, high-pitched and long like the call of a peacock, except not as annoying. She had finally stood up and demanded to know what the trick was.
Have you ever flown in your dreams?
“You mean, as in without the aid of a jet or something?”
Yes.
“Never without my fighter.”
Well, it’s a lot like that. If you can summon up the same feeling of freedom and relaxation, then you should have no problem.
“I’ve always been bad with telekinetic technology.”
You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out.
Angseth had been waiting to learn how to use her Morph Ball form because everyone else here had one, and they seemed to always have a lot of fun. Ryan had then led her to what she could only describe as a playground. It consisted of tunnels and mazes, with tall stone towers that flirted with the edge of the atmosphere. Moving in large multi-colored flocks were smaller spheres. They rolled into and out of tunnels, up half-pipes and down again, and the air was thick with Chozo laughter. Angseth stood there for a moment, looking out over this massive obstacle course for all these Chozo kids, and realized that the Confederation had a lot of catching up to do.
That was about the time that Angseth felt a large clawed foot land in the center of her back. Ryan planted his talons between her shoulder blades and gave her a nudge. Angseth lost her balance and stumbled over the edge of the half-pipe she was standing on. As she dropped over the edge, she felt what she could only describe as a shift. For a moment her perceptions shifted, and her body became weightless. She hit the wall of the half-pipe, and realized that it was a friction-less surface. She felt only some minor jarring, but nothing compared to what she had been through recently. Her body felt smaller too.
That was about the time when the next wave of Chozo kids rounded the corner and came flying at her, giggling and bouncing. Angseth held her hands up and panicked. There was another shift, and she found herself standing upright on the floor of the half-pipe, which was decidedly not frictionless. Her hands still up defensively.
Had I just been a Morph Ball?
The flock of Chozo kids passed by her as easily as if they knew that she would be there. Angseth looked up at Ryan, who stood with his arms folded and smile on his face. He then signed to her, You better go catch them.
Angseth turned and watched the multi-colored horde bounce and roll away. Later Ryan would tell her that there was a smile on her features that could only have been made of pure wonder. Okay the shift. If she could remember the way the shift felt, then maybe she could do it again. It was a lot like shifting into a higher gear in her car, like going from neutral to first.
She was smaller again, and the surface around her frictionless once more. She went to look down at her hands, only to discover that she couldn’t move her hands to look at them. She could see all 360 degrees. Okay, so how do I move now?
Even though she couldn’t see her hands or feet now, she still knew that they were there. Since they were there, couldn’t she use them? Vera started walking, and she moved. She didn’t just move, she rolled.
Excitement spread through her as she began to run, and the sides and slopes of the tunnels began to rush past her. It didn’t take long for her to understand the mechanics of movement in this form. The faster she ran, the faster she rolled, however if she stopped running, she could coast, much like on a bicycle. Which brought her about to her next dilemma, how to stop. At first she just let her momentum run out, but then realized that if she made a conscious effort to stop, she could come to a grinding halt.
It didn’t take her long to catch up to the group of kids. They giggled and laughed as she caught up with them. They, in turn, forced her to learn new movements very quickly. Like when she was pinned against the outside wall, how to give a momentary hop to break herself away from the group, or avoid some random obstacle. If she panicked or balked at an obstacle, it would break her out of her Morph Ball form. Also, smashing into each other hurt. Smashing into objects hurt, falling long distances hurt. She didn’t gain any new armor, just a new way to move. At one point they rolled by a large pond, and the water was just still enough for her to get a good look at her new form.
She wasn’t a ball per say, more like a tire with ball-like capabilities. In the center was a glowing core that she assumed was her conscious self, and around her fluttered a series of plates and interlocking chips, that created a surface for her to roll on. She was also a little bigger than the kids, but not as big as the adults that ran around here. She kind of liked the design. Different, but still functional.
Angseth played with the Chozo children for the better part of the day. From morning until early evening she rolled, jumped, flipped, and just had fun through all the different paths and obstacles the course had to offer. She wouldn’t have quit in the evening, but older kids were coming to play and they were a little rougher. About the third time she had been bumped out of the half-pipes she called it quits.
Ryan apparently had spent the day conducting his business from a rock near the park. One eye always on Angseth, the other on whatever negotiations he was in the middle of. Vera stumbled up to him with a sheepish smile and a few new bruises. Ryan simply shut down his little collection of holo windows, and then gave her a healthy clap on the back. Angseth staggered and whimpered. I knew that you’d get the hang of it. Samus would run that course over and over until she fell asleep on the obstacles.
The next two days were filed with so many adventures at the Chozo’s expense. She loved to jog to the park in the morning and perform a couple of laps in her Morph Ball form with the Chozo kids. It became a morning ritual. Angseth currently sat in her own hot spring, basking in the warmth, and soaking her bruises and sore muscles away. The fragrant flowers helped to relax her mood, and from somewhere came music. She couldn’t tell if it was a rock or flower or whatever device that played it, but there was music, and that’s all that mattered to her. I really wish Briar were here. I miss him terribly. Especially since there are so many cute Chozo here.
She dipped under the water, and let the warm fluid run through her hair, and over her scalp. She bobbed up again and sighed deeply. It was one of those relaxed contented sighs that would make Briars ears stand straight up and his eyes reduce to narrow slits. The sigh said that she was very happy right now. Despite all this, I do miss the Mabus, my crew, all of my friends.
Earlier that evening she had opened the trunk with her new armor at Ei-Aiers request. It looked just like her old armor, no doubt about that, but even with a cursory glace she could see that it had more mobility and articulation points. Since she was already headed for a good soak, she didn’t bother to try it on. She approached bath time as an opportunity to purify her mind and body before taking up her new weapons and heading into battle once more. A warrior needed to be calm, cool, and at peace with ones self to be most effective in combat. That and her back was screaming at her because some teenager on the Morph Ball course rolled through her little pack of kids earlier as if he were trying to make the initial break at the start of a game of pool.
Ei-Aier had told her that they would be leaving for Aether soon. Vera wasn't afraid to admit she was more than a little nervous. She hadn’t been back to that world since the incident. There was no telling how things had changed, or what things had stayed the same. Or even what kind of nightmares awaited her once she got there. Like the wedding, her own imagination or memories would be the worst enemy. But for now there was only the warm water around her, the sweet smell of flowers, and light music. For the moment, she had peace.
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There was a clock above the door. The clock was digital, it kept standard time. No elaborations, no spinning holographic icons ticking away the seconds, only cold digits marked the passing of time. Angseth knew that she was in a chair outside the door, her hands held in strong cuffs behind her back. Her long hair was beginning to fall loose from the clip, and hung around her face in tight swollen curls.
How did I get here?
She closed her eyes. Trying to push through all the blue-purple haze in her mind to the last clear memory. She remembered Aether. She could remember falling asleep in the Captains chair, and waking up to find other marines surrounding her. She could remember the med-labs, and how everyone was amazed how quickly she was healing. Hell, Vera herself was amazed at how quickly she healed. She had been debriefed, and allowed a few days rest.
She had then been told to clean out her locker.
Pieces began to click into place. She had been placed back on the Arcet, her commanding vessel, a much larger carrier that held a full complement of troops along with several battle-ready drop ships. The Tyr had been one of them. All of the troops lockers were located in one area. Each squad was given a section of lockers called a pod. When your squadron was out on patrol, you had to unpack your bunk, stuff all your worldly possessions in a duffle bag, and place them in a storage locker that had been assigned to your troop. Angseth had just been told to go and get her stuff.
Bravo hadn’t been the only troop on patrol. This pod had been lumped in with four others, and they could be coming back at any time. Vera hoped that she didn’t encounter anyone else. It would be bad enough to see the black ribbons on the nameplates of the other lockers, let alone risk shedding tears before an entire group of relative strangers. She had wanted to ask someone to escort her down, but soon realized that she didn’t have many friends on this vessel. She had arrived here only a few days before getting sent on patrol aboard the Tyr.
This cluster of pods was quiet for the moment, and as she walked down the row of lockers she slowly read each of the nameplates. Each one had a black ribbon placed around them, a few had pictures taped to the front, or other signs of people having come and paid their respects. Federation protocol would leave the lockers untouched for twenty-one days, and then the contents removed and sent away to their various families. Angseth stopped in front of her locker, her name and rank plate out of place in this mausoleum. It was untouched, no pictures, no flowers, empty compared to the others. She reached for the keypad, and then stopped.
The keypad hung slightly loose, someone had broken her lock.
She quickly grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, her duffel with her clothing was still in there, and the one or two personal effects she had stored. Gifts she intended for her mother and father when she saw them again. Why would someone have broken in here? Outside of her traditional jewelry, there was nothing of value.
“So, how long?”
Angseth spun at the voice, startled. Her mind ran over her mental checklist for things that could have been missing.
Standing at the end of the row of lockers was a human she recognized, Brody’s cousin. She remembered that Brody, like herself had been trapped in a colony with no way out. So he and his cousin had also run away to join the Galactic Federation Marine Corp. They were so close they were like brothers. Each had a shaggy mop of brown hair and deep, almost brown, eyes. Mark, that was his name.
Mark didn’t look happy to see her. He wore the standard issue camouflaged blues, and a loose t-shirt. His booted feet were placed shoulder-width apart, and in his hands he held a data-pad. Angseth’s eyes widened when she saw the data pad. It was her personal journal and logs where she informally recorded everything that had happened to her. Mark had broken into her locker just to get at her personal files.
“Give that back.” Angseth breathed.
“How long Angseth?” Mark advanced on her, holding up the data pad. “How long were you sleeping with your Commanding Officer?”
“Give it back Mark.” Angseth whispered through gritted teeth.
“No! I want to know why it is a little slut like you made it back without a scratch! Where is my cousin you bitch?”
Angseth moved to snatch back her journal, and Mark quickly stepped back, holding it over his head. “GIVE IT BACK!”
“Mark stop!” Came another voice, female this time. Angseth looked around to see that almost an entire platoon had gathered once the noise had started. Their heads peeked around the lockers curiously.
“I had always thought Exetor was a noble man,” Mark snapped. “Too bad he had such bad taste.”
“Mark!”
Angseth felt that old rage overcome her again. The dust from the Agon wastes still had yet to be shaken from the soles of her boots, and already someone was defacing the memory and names of her comrades that had all passed on performing the duty they were sworn to. She reached out and her hand rested on the locker nearest to her. Her fingers ran delicately over pictures of the smiling faces looking back at the camera with such hope and joy in them, the promise of life cut short. She looked up and set cold hard brown eyes on Mark. He sneered back, while the members of his platoon either took a step back or rushed forward to prevent the inevitable fight.
She had fought the Ing, the Pirates, and even a Metroid in the past week. One loud-mouthed nosy Private was not going to be a hassle. Her first punch connected solidly with his jaw. The world then suddenly became clearer as the colors around her seemed to brighten and grow more intense. Mark fell to the ground, and Angseth kicked, his body jumped from the ground where she grabbed him and threw him through a wall of lockers. Even with her dense-world background, it didn’t warrant her being this strong. A shout went out through the cluster of pods, as more troops came in to either witness the fight or attempt to stop it. Angseth moved fast, before Marks body hit the ground she was on top of him. She landed blow after blow on his face and chest. She felt hands grab her shoulders, she shook then off, or threw them away. Before long she felt the mechanical grip of power suits as they grabbed her and lifted her from Mark’s bloody body. She screamed, kicked and fought with anyone that came close. Three fully armored Marines finally wrestled her to the ground, and pinned her arms to the side. She cursed and bucked as other marines in various stages of armor assembly came to stand guard or haul Mark’s beaten body away. She felt a sharp prick in the meat of her right arm as a medic injected her with enough sedative to knock a Sheegoth out for a few days. Her body became lucid as the power suited Marines slowly let go. When the fight had gone out of her, she cried.
The digital clock over the door still kept time as the memories returned. Understandably, memories of the brig and subsequent lines of questioning were blurred.
Did I kill him? Do I even care if I have? He shouldn’t have said those things. He deserved everything I did to him, that and more.
The door buzzed coldly, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked up past the strands of her dark hair as a large shape darkened the doorway. From her vantage it was difficult to make out any discernable features, but she didn’t wince at the sudden light. She had been through too much in the past two weeks to let anything like that bother her. At this point nothing could intimidate her. There was nothing for her here, in the Marine Corp. She had been saving up money for a ship, and after all this was over she fully intended to go solo, and the Federation could do nothing to stop her.
The mountain in the doorway held a data-pad aloft. The creature turned it’s head a little to the left and let light fall across his features. Sweeping back from the crown and temples of his head was a vast assortment of horns. For a moment she caught a glimpse at deep purple eyes before he looked to the data pad in his hands.
“Private Mervera Diane Angseth.” His said in almost an accusing tone. His voice was low and deep. She could feel it reverberate in the small hall and vibrate the bench she sat upon. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
Angseth looked away from him. She didn’t have time for this. “No idea.”
“No…idea…” He seemed to taste the words.
Angseth grit her teeth. She knew what he wanted to hear. “No idea, SIR.” She spat.
“I am someone who has apparently wasted his precious time to come all the way out here to commend a Private that has survived one of the worst disasters in Federation Marine Corp history. Instead I find myself looking down at a little creature about to be on the wrong end of an assault charge.” He stepped back into the room. “Get your carcass in here. I had hoped that the rumors of your foul temper were only that, rumors. I see that you need to do some maturing. Is that how you fended off the Ing and the Pirates? Sheer stubbornness?”
Angseth slowly stood. She could run now. Break the cuffs and never look back. Or she could step into the office with that dragon. But if she could hold out for a while longer, perhaps she could get enough money together to start bounty hunting. Practicality won out over a desperate move, and reluctantly she stepped through the door of the office.
The interior of the room was bright, lit by numerous lamps that had been bolted to the walls and shining upon shelves. Under most of them were small plants. Some had brightly colored flowers that seemed out of place in this room at the ass-end of space. The officer was seated at and around a desk. Now that she had a chance to get a good look at him, he looked like the result of a forced-breeding of a Centaur and a Dragon. His lower half consisted of a horse-like body covered in hard plate-like scales that had been covered with odd clothing, yet still within the standards of Federation uniform. He had cloven hooves, polished and lacquered to a shiny finish. His upper torso was long, and here he wore a standard Federation jacket. Around his right bicep were three bars, indicating that he was an Admiral. Angseth tried to count how many stars were in the bars to see if he was a ship, station, or fleet admiral. Instead she saw gold stars that formed a constellation. Orion.
This bastard was a System Admiral, the highest military rank possible.
She suddenly felt ill.
“Sit down private.” He looked over a file hovering over his desk. “State your name and rank please.”
Angseth spied a chair, then slowly sat down. “SPC Mervera Diane Angseth—SIR.”
“I am System Admiral Mizzen.”
Angseth tried to act unimpressed.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“I beat the snot out of some loudmouth Private.”
“Good, we’ve got that out of the way. Since he is still in critical condition, he isn’t talking. Thankfully, you made sure have enough witnesses. I want to know what the whole scuffle was about.”
Her mind went blank again. She remembered sitting in the holding cell, her head and hands had ached and they still ached. Her wrists had swollen under the restraining cuffs. Good old-fashioned fist-fights did a number on the body.
“You don’t remember do you?”
“I…”
“Disconnected voices. All you remember really is landing in the brig, loaded down with sedatives and suffering from a massive headache.” He reached into a drawer in the desk and pulled out a data pad. He set it down on the surface of the desk, and slid it toward her. “Did this have something to do with it?”
Angseth felt her temper flare again. “Yes.”
“Did that help jog your memory? Shake a few bolts loose?” He leaned back, and steepled his fingers. “Now tell me what happened, and take your time. I have all night.”
Angseth studied the data pad. It had been deactivated, but she would bet any amount of money that he had already read it from the first file to the last. “Mark…is Brody’s cousin. He…he had broken into my storage locker, and removed my personal data pad.”
“Broke into?”
“The lock keypad had been pried off.”
“Why would he have gone in there in the first place?”
“I don’t know. But, he started to…accuse me…I think he was angry that I made it back, and his cousin didn’t. He…called me, a slut, and other things.”
“Why did he do that?”
“You’ve read it already, why do you think?” She turned pleading brown eyes toward the System Admiral.
“I read one entry where you mentioned Exetor. We will get to that in a minute. Tell me what happened.”
“I asked him to give it back. And when he didn’t give it back, I got angry. I didn’t have time to play with him. It felt like he insulted the whole of Bravo squad. They weren’t there to defend themselves, so I did it for them.”
The Admiral seemed to think it over, then asked. “What was the relationship between Exetor and yourself?
“There was no relationship. It was a one-night stand. We met at a club on the Boston. I was out of uniform and so was he. We met, and hit it off, then parted ways. It wasn’t until a few days later that I met him as my new CO. From then on everything was business between the two of us.”
“Since Exetor isn’t here to confirm your story, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. But that leaves me with another problem.”
Angseth tried searching his face for any clue of his thoughts.
“Every time I conduct a background search on you, I get the same confusing conflicting answers. Your file tells me that you are twenty two, however experience tells me that you can’t be a day over eighteen.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I would like to know how an eighteen year old got four years of experience under her belt.”
The lie her father had told to get her in the Marine Corp had now been exposed. Sheepishly she admitted. “I’m nineteen.”
The Admiral was quiet for a moment. “You hail from the Isrec mining rings, correct?”
She looked to her lap. “Yes.”
“I’m going to make you an offer Angseth. An action like this is often rewarded with a dishonorable discharge, even for war heroes. For someone like yourself, the only place you can go to are those mines.”
“Even if I am discharged, I will never go back to the mines!”
“There are quite a few things stacked against you at the moment. Insubordination, fighting, and your reluctance to assimilate into the status quo. Your hair is much too long for regulation Private.”
“Regulation never stated a specific length.”
“And its an attitude like that which will get you into more trouble.” The Admiral grew quiet again, then spoke after a moment. “Rumor as it that you’re a fan of Samus Aran, the Bounty Hunter.”
“Doesn’t take long to find that out.”
His purple eyes scanned Angseth. “I remember Aran. I remember the day she came to my office to enlist.”
Angseth’s head lifted.
“I see that I have your attention now.” He folded his arms. “You do remind me quite a bit of her—mainly your attitude. But there are many differences as well.” He grew silent again, reading Angseth’s young face for any tell of emotion. She looked much younger with her eyes wide and curious. “Aran was good, damn good. On the firing range and agility courses she was unmatched. Her C.O. was a good man by the name of Adam…He tried in vain to rein that woman in. He had a lot of faith in her. All this may be inspiring to you, a young woman looking for a role model. However I feel that you should know the whole story. True, Aran was unmatched in her skill, however she was wasteful. There were times in exercise runs where she would break formation and run ahead to complete the objective on her own. There were also numerous instances where she would grab the bodies of her teammates and use them as shields or triggers to spring traps. Aran was never delicate when it came to combat. Graceful, yes, but never delicate. It soon became all to clear, that even through all her skill, she was not a team player. There is only one person on planet Aran, and that is Samus.”
Angseth scanned his eyes, remembering the sound of the rifle that had landed in her lap on Aether. That on subtle wave Aran gave her before she left for parts unknown. “Maybe…” Angseth bit her bottom lip. “Maybe that’s the way it should be then! No wonder she broke out on her own! Only so much can be gained from ceaseless training!”
The Admiral suddenly stood, and reached out his clawed hand and grabbed a fist-full of Angseth’s thick curly hair. Angseth didn’t even have time to gasp before her face was slammed to the table. “You’re not grasping what I’m saying Private. Aran cares only for herself.” He leaned in, hissing through his teeth. Angseth tried to search her soul for some of the spark she had earlier, but it had left as soon he grabbed her. “Aran is no more than an outlaw, a vigilante. She quit because we would not quench her thirst for revenge. She never progressed beyond Private because she had no compassion for others. It broke Adam’s heart to watch her go. To watch all that talent and skill go to waste for something as stupid as revenge.” His hand twisted Angseth’s mass of hair, forcing her to face him. “You also have that same talent, rough, but with much potential. Will you also break the sacred bond of fellowship to pursue foolish raids and quests? Yes there is money to be had, but many, many more enemies. You will never know peace or even rest for that matter. You will be nothing but a hired gun. And so I ask you Angseth, before I invest any more money and time into this pathetic mass of willpower before me,
“Are you a vigilante, or a Marine?”
Angseth tried to stop the tears, but the damn stubborn things wouldn’t listen. She breathed her answer. “…reen…”
“What was that Private?”
That subtle little wave as Aran walked away played back in her mind.
“I’m a Marine! SIR!” She shouted.
The Admiral let go of her of her hair. The clip had broken and now the bulk of it fell over her shoulders and back in long curly waves. Angseth pulled herself to a sitting position.
“Then start acting like one Private. You will go far, and your actions will be the deciding factor for many lives. You do have what it takes to lead, so stop wasting it. I’m recommending a transfer from the Marines to the Spaceforce where you will continue training in coms, and eventually a pilot. This helps both of us. You get to keep your job and I don’t have to look at any more paperwork about morons who were bothering you. I’ll also recommend counseling. If you take my offer Angseth, this incident will be officially recorded as medication in conjunction with post-traumatic stress. The file will be sealed, and it determination only be viewed if someone comes to me personally about it. Exetor’s widow already has enough on her plate, the last thing she needs to know is that her man was sleeping with a teenager. If you reject my offer, they’ll try to pin you with attempted manslaughter.”
Angseth’s throat felt dry, but she nodded slowly.
“And do something about that hair.”
“But,”
“Please stick with regulation. You’re leaving all those childish things behind you now Angseth. You are a grown woman in every sense of the word. Start taking responsibility like one.”
Angseth slowly nodded.
“Dismissed.”
Bank_of_the_Woods on Chapter 2 Thu 24 Aug 2023 10:11AM UTC
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Bank_of_the_Woods on Chapter 3 Tue 29 Aug 2023 12:47AM UTC
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Bank_of_the_Woods on Chapter 5 Wed 18 Oct 2023 08:32AM UTC
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Bank_of_the_Woods on Chapter 6 Wed 25 Oct 2023 10:00AM UTC
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Bank_of_the_Woods on Chapter 7 Sat 09 Dec 2023 06:53PM UTC
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TheBraillebarian on Chapter 10 Mon 08 Jan 2024 12:26AM UTC
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