With Friends Like These . . .

Chapter One

Solitude

She fell to her knees, exhausted, barely able to keep her eyes open, every fiber of her being thoroughly spent. Beads of perspiration dripped from her brow, running down her face, the visor of her helmet becoming cloudy with condensation as she allowed herself, at last, to breathe heavily.

Before her lay the bloodied, mangled remains of the Mother Brain, the artificial intelligence responsible for the corruption of Zebes, for the Space Pirates' attempt at interplanetary conquest. Far behind her, in the chambers above, lay the mutilated corpses of the Metroids, their threat nullified, as per her mission parameters. She shuddered involuntarily as she recalled the indescribable pain that had washed over her as the parasitic creatures had swarmed her, latching onto her with their mandibles of death, ravenously attempting to consume her very essence, that ephemeral something that defined her very being. Only her quick reflexes and the advanced technology she now possessed had allowed her to exploit the creatures' only weakness as she had frozen them, coating their gelatinous forms in layer upon layer of ice before mercilessly pummeling them with the full fury of her arsenal. You were lucky to have survived this, she had told herself in the aftermath. Don't make a habit of trying to survive such insurmountable odds. . . .

Her armor of orange, yellow, and red glistened in the cool luminescence of artificial light as she slowly forced herself to stand, her limbs screaming at her in protest as she did so. Taking a labored breath, she stepped forward, ignoring the shooting pain in her body as she made haste to escape from this planet she had once called home, but now had brought her nothing but death . . . destruction.

The klaxon exploded in her ears, its relentless tones sending shooting pain through her skull as she looked about, her highly-acute senses prepared for the worst. The guttural language of the Space Pirates tore through the chamber, their harsh consonants ringing through her mind, every syllable dripping with malice. Her eyes widened as in her HUD her armor's translation program sprang into action, lines of text scrolling into view. Her heart sank, her blood turned frigid as she made sense of the words before her: Self-destruct sequence activated. T-minus 250 seconds. Evacuate immediately.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she glanced back at the lifeless mass of tissue and metal that lay behind her. She . . . She couldn't have! It's not possible! This has to be a mistake! She couldn't have activated it! I killed her!

The red light streaming around her, the now-frantic ringing of countless alarm systems told her otherwise. Realizing she had no time to argue, no time to find a way of stopping the pending destruction, she did the only thing she could do: She ran.

Screaming in anger, in desperation, she flew through the door before her, her eyes darting about, searching for some way of escaping the inevitable. She cursed as she realized the path before her was a dead end, obstructed by a wall of impenetrable metal. Glancing upward, she smiled in relief as she saw her salvation: she was standing within a tall ventilation shaft just below the planet's surface. All she had to do was climb upward, and . . .

T-minus 200 seconds. The text scrolled across her HUD, soundlessly reminding her of her ever-encroaching deadline. Not wasting a second, she leapt into the air, the powerful hydraulics of her armor propelling her toward a maintenance overhang protruding from the side of the wall before her. Whirling about, she leapt to a similar platform on the other side of the shaft, taking care to ensure her footing was secure.

This is almost too easy, she thought to herself as she repeated the procedure, moving higher and higher up the shaft, the exit above growing closer with each well-timed leap. She felt her spirit soar as she reached the platform just beneath the exit hatch, her body involuntarily positioning itself to make the final leap that would set her free from the alarms, the red lights, the atmosphere of dread and death—

A loud explosion caught her by surprise, flame suddenly dancing before her as the maintenance hatch beneath her feet disintegrated, succumbing to the fire that now consumed the rusted metal. She felt herself falling, unable to stop herself, her armor no longer obeying her commands as she frantically attempted to summon something—anything—from her arsenal that could save her, her equipment unresponsive as she plummeted further and further until—

The impact did not hurt as much as she expected it would. Her relief at that small blessing turned to horror as she realized she no longer could feel anything. Her arms . . . Her legs . . . Her entire body denied her panicked orders as her broken, mangled form lay motionless at the base of the shaft.

T-minus 30 seconds. The text in her HUD slowly dissipated, along with her helmet and the rest of her armor as she lost control of herself, fear, panic, abject terror consuming her, rendering her incapable of maintaining the intense concentration required to keep her armor intact. Her lungs were on fire as they choked on the noxious atmosphere of the shaft as smoke and chemicals assaulted her exposed esophagus. Desperately, she tried to stretch out her hand, to pull herself upward, to do something to escape from this hell in which she was now imprisoned.

A loud, unfamiliar sound filled her ears, instantly deafening her. She saw a rush of flame move toward her, saw her exposed flesh turn to ash, bone exposed, rapidly disintegrating as the blue fire washed over her. Her destroyed lungs melted before she could even scream as the unbearable pain overtook her, and—

"No!"

Her heart raced, her breath coming in frantic gasps as she sat upright in the cockpit of her gunship, her long blonde hair soaked with perspiration, her skintight clothing clinging to her body, cold and clammy. Her eyes darted about, disoriented, as she gazed through the canopy of her vessel, the inky blackness of space peppered with unnumbered points of white light, its ethereal silence permeating the cockpit with a feeling of oppressive isolation.

Unstrapping herself from her pilot's seat, she rushed down the narrow corridor of the small spacecraft, her hand brushing over the hatch release for the 'fresher door. Kneeling before the basin within, her churning stomach emptied its contents as she retched over and over again, her skin pale, her hands shaking as she fought to calm herself from the horror that was the nightmare that had invaded her slumber.

That's not what happened! That's not what happened! That's not what happened! she repeated to herself over and over again, the words forming a litany of denial. You stopped them! You exterminated the Metroids! You escaped! You didn't die! You didn't. . . .

Wiping the bile from the corners of her mouth, she stood, placing her lips beneath the faucet, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of cool water from her vessel's condenser units, her command of her emotions returning to her as the bitter taste dissipated from her tongue. Gritting her teeth, she placed both hands on the edges of the sink as she stared into the mirror, staring at her own reflection for the first time since she had touched down on the planet.

The face gazing back at her was her own, the same she had always seen, yet in so many subtle, frightening ways it was not her own. Her eyes of blue bore a strange, haunted look that had not been present before, the pupils cloudy, uncertain. Her jaw was set more firmly than she recalled, clenched tightly as if trying to shut out a lifetime of horrors, to keep them from bursting forth from her throat in a series of anguished cries. The nightmare had brought to the forefront of her consciousness her long-repressed fears and terrors, fears she had spent so long mastering, banishing to the depths of her mind.

It's over now, she reminded herself. The Pirates are scattered and powerless. Zebes is free of them. Ridley . . . She swallowed as the image of her nemesis, the dragon-like beast that had torn her world apart so many years ago, appeared before her mind's eye, his golden pupils narrow, his gaping maw open wide as a bestial scream tore from his throat. Her heart began to race once more, her palms becoming moist as she remembered the viciousness, the relentlessness each of them had displayed toward each other during their recent battle.

You killed him, she reminded herself. He's dead. He can't hurt anyone ever again. Finally, you have avenged your parents.

Then why do I feel so empty? she asked herself in reply. Why don't I feel a sense of finality, of completion? Why don't I feel as though I can finally be at peace?

Because you never will. Her reflection seemed to take on a life of its own, its eyes narrowing, its head shaking back and forth ever-so-slightly. You are a warrior. Like it or not, you are not meant to find rest. There will always be the hunger, the thirst for the thrill of battle, the rush of walking the fine line between life and death. Her reflection's eyes seemed to glisten in the dim light of the 'fresher as she leaned in closer to the mirror, certain her mind was playing tricks on her. It is in your blood, after all. . . .

She brought her hand to her face, her fingertips resting upon her cheek, her gaze moving to the veins visible beneath the pale flesh on the underside of her wrist. My blood, she ruminated. And yet, not my blood. She frowned as a thought crossed her mind, one that she suddenly realized she had never considered before in spite of the obvious implication. You aren't even fully human anymore. Nor are you one of the Old Ones. She swallowed as images of her adopted people, the birdlike Chozo race, seemed to form all around her, their specter-like bodies encircling her. There are none like you in this universe. You are unique. Alone. . . .

She started as a feminine voice interrupted her thoughts. "Samus? Is everything all right?"

Sighing, Samus Aran, famed bounty hunter, armored warrior, deeply-scarred woman looked to the ceiling of the 'fresher, her eyes falling upon the small speaker embedded within. "I'm . . . I'm fine, Fortuna," she said as she allowed a stream of water to flow over her hands. "Really, I am."

The ship's artificial intelligence paused momentarily as it analyzed Samus's voice pattern, noting the faster-than-normal pace of her speech, the raised pitch, as well as her increased heart rate, her heightened body temperature. "Are you certain?" Fortuna responded. "My sensors indicate that you are currently under a higher-than-normal level of stress. Is there anything I can—"

"No." Samus cursed under her breath as she realized she had spoken far more abruptly than she intended, that she had treated her faithful companion with a level of disdain it did not deserve. Of course. Leave it to me to insist on an AI system that makes me feel sorry for it. Clearing her throat, she looked up at the speaker again. "I'm sorry, Fortuna. That was . . . I was rude to you just now. I guess I'm just . . . feeling a little jumpy, now that we're heading home."

"Indeed," Fortuna said. "I am relieved to hear that you are doing well. Please tell me you intend to rest once we have returned. You know how I worry about you."

Samus laughed despite herself, the AI never ceasing to astound her at how much more human it—she—could be than most humans Samus encountered. Splashing some water on her face, the bounty hunter exited the 'fresher, returning to the tight confines of the cockpit. "Where are we, exactly?" she asked. "I sort of lost track when I fell asleep. . . ."

"We have just passed through the Alpha-Four Quadrant," Fortuna said, her tone now informative, helpful. "Assuming all goes well, we should reach Fairhaven Station in about eight standard days."

Wonderful, Samus thought as she gazed once more at the vastness of the stars before her, her eyes mesmerized once more by the same beckoning force that had called to her as a child, had promised her a lifetime of adventure if she dared to give herself to its embrace. Reaching into the drawer at her side, she unwrapped a dried ration bar, hungrily consuming it, too hungry to care that it tasted like cardboard soaked in Kryffin sweat.

"After I get paid for this latest job," Samus said as she glanced over her gunship's instrumentation, "I'm getting you that engine tune-up I've been promising you. Just wait: You'll be point-seven-five faster than specs. How's that sound?"

"That sounds . . . excellent," Fortuna admitted, her voice betraying a hint of . . . was that excitement Samus heard?

"Glad you think so," Samus said as she made her final adjustments to the controls. "I'm going back to sleep," she said. "I'll be awake in time for our next scheduled status check. Just keep us on course, and let me know if anything unusual happens."

"Of course," Fortuna responded. "Pleasant dreams, Samus."

The bounty hunter shuddered slightly at the AI's words, her stomach turning uncomfortably as she closed her eyes, hoping to ward off another repeat of the nightmare that would not let her be. It will all be over soon, she told herself as she felt her consciousness slip away from her. Soon, we'll finally be able to relax for a while. You'll see. You'll see. . . .

AN: This is my first foray into the world of Metroid. Hopefully, it will be a worthy offering. More to come!