Fusion

by Tolkienfanatic

AU Samus meets AU SA-X. Shenanigans, explosions, and way too many one-liners.

Author's Note: First off, this is very much a work in progress. I haven't touched parts of it in years, and as a result, some of it is rather badly written. I'm going to put it up anyway so I can start getting feedback, but expect some things to change.

Now, here comes a

::SPOILER ALERT!::

Reading this, you may notice that Ms. Aran's personality is somewhat different from what the games suggest. This is primarily because her childhood was somewhat different in my version of events. Before you start screaming at me, yes I KNOW that this isn't how the original Samus would act/react to the situations she finds herself in – but then, I'm not writing the original Samus. I'm writing a lighter, more cheerful, and snarkier Samus, one who reacts with a laugh and a one-liner where her old self would just start shooting.

I'm interested to see how this turns out. Don't be afraid to tell me if you see something wrong/bad/horribly stupid.

But most of all, have fun reading. I genuinely enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Locate file "inmetalclad"

/Level 5 clearance required. Input passcode/

13576

…

…

…

/access granted/

/accessing ONI database/

…

…

/file found/

/opening/

display file

BSL Mission Log: ET- 23:56:27

Hunter Samus Aran

SR-388…once again, I found myself assigned to that rock to oversee research being carried out by Biologic Space Labs (BSL). After the whole Metroid fiasco, I vowed never to get anywhere close to that godforsaken world, but Galactic Federation HQ said differently. They decided I was needed to watch over Biologic's team of scientists as they collected specimens for study at BSL.

While on the surface of SR-388, I was attacked and infested by a life form that I had never encountered before-the parasitic organism we now know as "X". Returning to BSL, unaware of my condition, I lapsed into unconsciousness as the X invaded my central nervous system, and my ship drifted into an asteroid belt, completely annihilating it.

I survived, of course. My ship automatically ejected the escape pod, and Biologic sent a vessel to pick me up and take me to Galactic Federation HQ. Once at HQ, they tried to remove my Power Suit to operate, but its organic components had become integrated into my central nervous system, and could not be removed while I was unconscious. Large portions of the suit had to be surgically removed, dramatically altering my physical appearance. Unfortunately, the X in my nervous system were too deeply embedded to be safely removed, and I was given a minimal chance of survival.

Then, someone came up with the cure. Apparently, Biologic had preserved a cell culture from the last Metroid, and one of the scientists proposed using it as a vaccine to destroy the X inside me. The serum was prepared and immediately injected. The X were immediately and completely destroyed, and I was reborn as something new. Now, I realize I owe the Metroid hatchling my life twice over.

When I woke up, I was informed that Biologic had sent the infected portions of my suit to BSL for quarantine and study. One day, as I sat in the hospital bed, HQ received a call from BSL. Someone was screaming on the other line, and was suddenly cut off, the line going dead. At the time I didn't know why, but it woke a nameless dread in my heart. Something had happened at BSL. Something horrible.

Something...or some thing.

BSL Mission Log: ET-8:34:00

Hunter Samus Aran

Three weeks later, I got my orders. Federation HQ had sent a team of soldiers and scientists to investigate what had happened at BSL. Their last report had been sent from Docking Bay Aurora, and had been suddenly terminated midsentence. This final report mentioned escaped creatures, demented scientists, and unknown hostiles. The second team, sent to reinforce them, never left their ships. They landed in the docking Bay, and the teams looked out, expecting to see a scene of carnage-but they saw nothing. The only things out of the ordinary were the shuttles of the first team; doors open, as if the ships are just landed.

They attempted to contact the first team, but got nothing. The receiver sent with the first team was still in working order, but there was no one around to operate it. They turned around and left. I couldn't blame them. My orders were very simple: investigate and render any assistance possible. As my ship had been destroyed in the crash, HQ gave me a new one-one with a blunt, imperious AI that I immediately named Adam, after my first CO. So, once again I set off into the unknown, with no inkling of the horrors that awaited me.

BSL Mission Log: ET- 0:00:00

Hunter Samus Aran

As Adam steered the ship in to the final approach, I looked around at the interior of the docking bay. As the second squad had reported, it was eerily quiet. Nothing moved. However, when Adam set the ship down, all of the docking bay doors that led to the outside of the station slammed shut. "Adam," I asked, slightly rattled, "did you do that?"

"No, I did not," replied the AI.

"All right," I asked, even more rattled, "Then who did?"

"I would assume it was one of the crewmembers, sealing off the vacuum so you could breathe," Adam said patiently.

"I'll take your word for it, Adam," I growled, "but for both of our sakes, I hope you're not wrong."

Adam was silent. He had no doubt realized, as I had, that the entire reason that I was here was that the crew, and a squad of soldiers and scientists, was missing. It was safe to assume that they were dead. So, if they were dead, who had shut the door, locking me in?

"Samus, yank me. I'll be able to access the station's mainframe, so I can keep tabs on you at all times."

I reached down to the console and dumped him into a chip, then yanked the chip and slotted it into the back of my helmet. Immediately, Adam's voice buzzed into my helmet speakers, and told me to leave the ship. I was understandably reluctant to do so, considering the fate of the last people that did, but orders were orders. I walked to the hatch and dropped to the floor. I took a few tentative steps toward the bay's hatch, when an explosion rocked the station. "Adam, what the hell was that," I yelled.

"Just a second... analyzing," my AI intoned, "there's been an explosion in the Quarantine Bay. Samus, be careful. The Quarantine Bay was where the infected parts of your suit were kept, along with all the bioforms the scientists captured. Samus, the damage is staggering. Go to the Quarantine Bay. And be careful. We don't know what you are up against, and you're only at 10% battle capacity. We need you alive."

"When," I growled, "have I ever not been careful?"

"Well," the AI laughed, "there was that time back on Zebes when you charged right into battle with Ridley, even though I was…" He cut himself off.

"Wait," I interrupted, "how do you know about that? You weren't there."

The AI was silent for a moment and started to speak, but stopped very quickly. I forged ahead, wondering.

As I passed through a Nav Room, Adam told me to yank him and jack him into the station's system. Then, he sent me onwards towards the Quarantine Bay with another caveat. I stepped out into darkness. Not the kind of darkness you get when you turn the lights off – the kind of darkness you get when you're buried alive. I blundered around for a moment, long enough for me to ram into a circuit board, shields flaring and draining as they compensated for the sparks. My suit's external lights automatically kicked in, and I stalked through yet another set of passageways.

Adam's voice echoed through the corridor. "This is it, Samus. Be careful, sensors show life signs in the Quarantine Bay. They don't match any known species."

I raised my Arm Cannon, and palmed the hatch open. Something flew out of the darkness, and I ducked and rolled, bringing the Power Beam to bear. It was the most basic of creatures, sickly yellow and amorphous. It obviously had some sort of antigravity property, as it floated about seven feet off the floor. I fired at it, only to watch as my beam dissipated against its gelatinous hide. Then, as I stood there gaping, it flew at me again. This time I was too slow. It slammed into me, and I immediately braced myself for pain that never came. Instead, the creature vanished into my suit. At the same time, my shields partially recharged. Interesting.

"Adam," I asked, regaining my feet, "what just happened?"

"It appears that you were just attacked by an X parasite."

"That thing was an X?" I demanded, still in a state of shock.

"Yes. A security sensor scanned one immediately after the explosion. It appears that the X infests its host, absorbs the host's DNA, and devours it. Then, using the DNA, it mimics its former host, taking on every attribute of it; however, if that form is destroyed, it reverts back to its gelatinous state."

"Wait," I said, "then shouldn't I be going slightly unconscious right now?"

"No," Adam sighed, as if speaking to a small, particularly stupid child, "the vaccine used to rid you of the infection changed your genetic makeup. You are now part Metroid, and can never be infected by X again. In fact, judging from what just happened, you should be able to absorb the parasites to recharge your suit. Also, many of your latent abilities were lost during surgery. You might be able to gain them back by absorbing certain kinds of X."

"Cool," I said, "any other ways I can get them back? I'd rather not have to go traipsing all over the station unarmed."

As a matter fact, there was. Adam informed me that, as a result of the unique matter-conversion properties of my suit, I could download weapons data from Federation HQ through the station's Data Rooms. He also mentioned that one download was already ready, here on the main deck: missiles. At the same time, Adam told me that there was a huge gathering of biosigns in a section of the station that did not exist on the map. He said that the X were gathering; that this was our chance to wipe them out. Yeah, right.

The missiles were a blast, pardon the pun. I test-fired one at a nearby wall, and was answered with a gratifying explosion. Maybe I would have a chance. Adam even promised he'd forgive me for the hole. Eventually.

Because the area where the X were concentrated technically did not exist, there was obviously no hatch leading to it; so I had to get creative. I saw a likely looking air duct and fired a missile at it. When the smoke cleared, just as I had suspected, there was an air vent behind it large enough for me to walk through. Also as I had suspected, it was infested with X.

"All right, Adam," I crowed over the screech of falling metal, "I think I ma- er, found the door."

"Be-"

"Yeah, I know: be careful."

I was careful. Really, I swear I was. I walked into the duct slowly and carefully, cannon ready to blast anything that moved. But nothing moved. At least, nothing moved until I jumped down into a storage pit. Then something big moved. Really, really big. The thing was at least twice my height, and with a comparable girth. It looked vaguely dragon-like, except the shell like armor plating on its back. I fired a missile, expecting to see it go down with a big hole in it. Instead, it shrugged the explosion off and kept coming. "As if this couldn't get any worse," I snarled through clenched teeth. That's when it started spitting fire.

"Holy crap!"

"What," Adam sounded genuinely worried for once, "is going on? Samus, are you all right?"

"For the moment," I shot back to Adam, as I shot back at the critter, "what is this thing?"

"My scanners are only showing you, Samus. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dammit, Adam," I yelled, "Use my helmet cam! How do I take this thing down?"

"Oh. That's not good."

"Good one, Sherlock. Does Captain Obvious have anything else to say? Now seriously, how do I deal with this thing?"

With Adam riding shotgun, we finally figured out how to kill it: pour gunfire into it until it stops moving. Then, something interesting happened. It lost its shape, becoming an X parasite encased in a spiny membrane. No problem. I had missiles.

BSL Mission Log: ET-9:26:57

Hunter Samus Aran

A few hours later, I finished exploring the Main Deck. Apparently, there was not much of an infestation here. Yet. Adam was busy analyzing the damage to the Quarantine Bay and monitoring bioforms in the seven Breeding Sectors: SRX, a copy of SR-388, TRO, the tropical area, PYR, home to extreme heat, AQA, the water environment, ARC, sub-zero, and NOC, the night habitat. All showed anomalies. Hoo, boy. Things were about to get messy, because the X had infested at least SRX, and species in TRO were showing mutations they shouldn't be. I cleared out SRX, although I ran into a few Level 4 Security Hatches. Adam assured me they were nothing, only storage, but as far as I knew, anything that would require security that high was a potential cause of the crew's demise. Adam, nevertheless, refused to open the hatches, so I never knew until the last moment the true horror of BSL.

As soon as I stepped into SRX, I was assaulted by a wave of vaguely humanoid hostiles dressed in lab coats. I cut them down, and relayed my findings to Adam.

"Well," he mused, "we now know what happened to at least some of the crew."

I was preparing to make a smart remark about stating the obvious when an explosion blew me off my feet, draining my shields to critical levels. I ducked behind cover, and stuck my head out. Half a second later, I pulled my head back. Really fast.

"Adam," I gasped, "Are you seeing this?"

"Seeing what," Adam asked, "There is nothing on my sensors."

"Me," I said, only half believing it, "I'm standing right in front of me."

"How do you mean?" Adam asked, worried.

"Something is standing in front of me," I replied, "that looks a lot like I did before that little accident with the X. And it's coming this way."

"Still nothing."

"Surprise, surprise," I muttered, "Use one of the security cameras."

Adam was silent for a full 30 seconds, then, "Samus, it is you."

"How?"

The AI took a deep breath. "X. The infected pieces of your suit were missing from the Quarantine Bay. The X must have escaped and taken the form of Samus Aran, bounty hunter. A Power Bomb would explain the damage. Samus, get out of there. If the X is mimicking you at full power, it would be suicide to confront it. See if you can get out unnoticed."

"Too late," I said, preparing to run, my eyes on the parasite, "It's activated the X-ray visor. It can see me, cover or no."

"You only have one option then, Samus."

"What's that?"

"Run like hell and hope it doesn't catch you."

"Oh, that's reassuring," I muttered, then turned around and sprinted as fast as my legs would carry me away from myself. Is my job fun or what?

So, I ran away. Unfortunately, a locked hatch truncated my flight, and I turned around to see myself running toward me. So, I jumped over it, watching it skidded to a halt several feet behind me. I spun, and got a few shots off, missiles streaking through the air. A cloud of smoke and flame billowed from my doppelgänger, but it stepped out unharmed. So, I did what any sensible bounty hunter would do in this situation-I got the hell out of Dodge. Finally, I found the hacks it was not locked, and sprinted through. Six passageways and a long fall later, I lay in a storage bay, surrounded by caged creatures, breathing heavily and hoping that I had lost myself. "Adam," I wheezed, "Where am I?"

"It would appear," the AI said, "that you are somewhere in the derelict area of BSL. Samus, even before the disappearance of the crew, this sector was sealed off from all entry and exit. According to reports, there was a series of unexplained disappearances and fatalities in this area, so the crew took everything useful out of the sector, and sealed it off to prevent whatever was in it from getting out. Judging from the autopsies, there is only one explanation: X infestation. It would appear that the station was infected even before the last batch of creatures was brought in from SR-388. Samus, you have got to get out of there. Before its abandonment, this area was a high-security confinement facility for creatures with extreme destructive potential, including an Omega Metroid. We don't know the current location of the Metroid, but it is presumed to be alive, as several of the specimens you have encountered appear to have been fed upon by a Metroid.

"Great," I breathed, "how do I get out of here?"

"For the moment, you don't. The SA-X is directly outside the hatch, waiting for you to come out."

"Wait, wait," I took a deep, steadying breath, "Two questions. What is the SA-X, then why doesn't it just come in here to get me?"

"The SA-X is the designation I have given the parasite mimicking you, and it's not coming in because it senses the Metroid."

"So," I replied, "I'm stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place."

"That just about sums it up."

"Great. Just great. Adam, remind me why it is that I listen to you."

"Because if you didn't, you'd be dead."

"You're so humble, Adam. Anyway, what do I do now?"

"I'll figure something out. Give me some time."

So I waited. And waited. Finally, I got tired of inaction, and set out to explore this sealed-off tomb. Maybe I would find something that would reveal the crew's fate. I didn't think I would find anything, but it couldn't hurt to look. Right?

Ten minutes into my search, I found the first corpse. She showed no marks, no sign of violence. Not at first. On a hunch, I checked her temples. On either one, a small, subtle puncture wound. Only one known being could cause those two tiny marks to be fatal, could use them to suck the life out of them-a Metroid. Layers within layers.

Then, I saw the other bodies-at least ten; all had tiny holes on their temples, all were dead. The station had a crew of over 500 men and women, and I had just found eleven of them.

Adam's voice crackled into my helmet, "Samus, the exit door is ahead, but it's a Level 4 security hatch. We can't activate it-if we breach Level 4, all areas of the station will be open to the X. I'll work on it - continue as you were." So, with an intense feeling of foreboding, I opened the hatch that led to the last room.

The room was a huge dome, at least as wide as a football field and 50 feet high. In the center was the ruin of a gigantic holding tank, glass shattered where the creature it was holding had escaped. The floor was covered with bodies dressed in the charcoal gray fatigues and heavy ballistic armor of Federation Marines. I found the first one, but it had been wiped out, and by one hostile. And, said hostile stood in the center of the gigantic room. The Marines had come in heavy, with machine guns and rocket launchers. But, there wasn't a scratch on the Omega Metroid-that's what it was. That's the only thing it could be, to take the kind of punishment it had and still be able to move. It was at least the size of a bus, and twice as thick, with talons that would've come up to my waist and a cylindrical maw filled with teeth as big as my head. It was facing the exit hatch, chitinous tail sweeping the ground in anticipation. I backed up slowly, hoping you would notice me. An explosion split the air, and the reinforced, blast shield-strength Level 4 Security Hatch buckled inward. The Metroid tensed, preparing to charge. Another blast rocked the door, and warning alarms went off and started hooting a belated alert. An instant later, they were silenced as the Omega ripped them from the wall with a casual swipe of its clawed arm. In the silence that followed, the click-hiss of a missile being fired was clearly audible from the other side of the hatch.

As the missile detonated on the hatch, metal shrieked in protest and the two-ton blast shield was blown off its hinges, flipping through the air. Toward me. On reflex I loosed a pair of missiles at it. The SA-X stepped through the door, just in time to take the hatch, slingshotted toward the door by the twin missile blasts, directly in the stomach. The hatch impacted and kept going, shredded metal ripping through the SA-X, slicing her... it completely in half. My doppelgänger fell in two pieces, keening in agony, the Power Suit it wore fracturing, flying apart. Its head swiveled, searching for an enemy. Its eyes lit on the Omega, then settled on me. The keening abruptly stopped. Then, the two halves of the SA-X began to join, traumatize flesh knitting back together, flawless skin covering the horrible wound, seamlessly fusing the halves back together. I watched myself get slowly to my feet, naked and bloody, even as the power suit it had worn reassembled itself, once again encasing the false me in alloyed armor. As the helmet seal lock, the SA-X turned toward me, raising its copy cannon. There was nowhere to run, so I did the only thing I could-I raised my cannon and cut loose. A ball of plasma gathered at the muzzle of my raised weapon shot across the room, slamming into the SA-X, who recoiled a pace. Then, the Omega Metroid steamrolled it, then crashed through the wall. The SA-X shakily stood up, then whipped its cannon up, pointing at my face.

"Wait," I yelled. The parasite kept a bead on me, but didn't fire. It looked at me, as if waiting. "That thing could take either of us down," I continued, "but not at the same time. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Until my enemy is dead," the SA-X rasped. It sounded like me; or at least what I would sound like if I'd washed down my Wheaties about a gallon of drain cleaner.

"Let's talk about that later," I soothed, "I didn't come here to fight you. Or me. Whichever you are. I'm here to find the crew and the Marines. I don't see why we have to be at odds." The SA-X inclined its head in assent, and, as uneasy and possibly very temporary allies, we set off in pursuit of the Omega Metroid.

BSL Mission Log: ET-13:25:05

Hunter Samus Aran

On the way out, the SA-X bent down to a Marine's assault rifle. It placed it on its leg, where the suit's magnetic field held it. Damn. I never thought of that. Not to be outdone, I grabbed a heavy .50 machine gun, and repeated the motion. The ballistic weapons would, I reasoned, supplement our combined energy-based arsenal. As we stepped through the hole into the darkened room behind it, a piercing whine, almost ultrasonic, emanated from the blasted hatch in the holding cell. I whirled, missiles primed, to see a second SA-X step through the now-permanently open hatch. Both of our weapons snapped up, but the first SA-X let out another keen, and slowly lowered his weapon. I kept mine raised, charging a killing blast at the muzzle. Never taking my eyes off the second, I turned slightly towards my ally. "What's going on? And what am I supposed to call you?"

"Isn't it obvious, Samus," Adam's voice cut in, "X reproduce by splitting in half; binary fission. There are now no fewer than 10 SA-X in the station, and two in your immediate vicinity. Anyway, what the hell are you doing?! Run! They will ki-"

"Silence," the first SA-X grated, "you know nothing of us, machine-man. If we had wanted her dead we could have overwhelmed her as soon as she stepped off of her ship. Instead, we want to ally with her. The beings that take souls, these 'Metroids', they cannot be stopped by any one species. But the X. and a part-human would stand a chance. Do not interfere."

It turned to me, "as for your other question, Hunter, I am Origin to all but my brethren, the SA-X, as you call us. To them I am Jalahael. That is Sahalael, my sister, who will accompany us."

"Your name sounds awesome, but what do I call you; Origin or Jalahael?"

"You are not SA-X, so I would say to call me Origin," the SA-X tilted its head, "but we are your daughters, of Chozo, human, and X; as you are Chozo, human, and Metroid. So, Jalahael."

Wow. That was a disturbing thought. My daughters. 25 years old, mother of 10. Son of a gun.

"But," Jalahael continued, "We do not know what to call you. We refer to you as the other X as Hunter, to our brethren as Mother, but we do not know your name. What is it, Mother?"

'Mother' again. Sheesh. "My name," I declared, "is Samus Aran. My COs call me Aran, my friends call me, Samus. My enemies call me the Hunter Clad in Metal. So, call me Samus. Anyway, we should find the Omega before it can get too far. Sahalael, grab a machine gun come on."

Sahalael left to collect a weapon, leaving me alone with Jalahael and Adam's tinny voice.

"Samus," Adam's voice rang in my helmet, "you forgot one name."

"What name?"

"Adam Malkovich called you 'Lady' on missions."

Malkovich...that brought back memories. My first CO, Adam Malkovich had died so I could live. But how did the AI know he called me Lady? Was it possible he was... no.

"Adam," I said irritably, "shut up. Jalahael, Sahalael, let's go."

We split up, Jalahael with me, Sahalael with two X hosts she called 'Serris' and 'Nightmare', a hypersonic leviathan and a biomech weapon gone wrong. These teams, the pair of SA-X explained, were equal; I was worth both of them Sahalael' teammates together.

"Anyway," Sahalael said, her voice far more musical than the grating Jalahael, "we know the station better than you do. We know how to get out of almost anywhere. Even if you did know all that we do, we're both far stronger than you. That's why Jala's with you-she's even better than me."

"So, does this mean that when the Omega is dead you won't try to kill me?"

My "daughters" traded a look. "We," Sahalael lilted, "have not decided yet, Mother. It depends on you."

"That's reassuring," I sighed, "Okay, come on."

BSL Mission Log: ET-15:23:54

Hunter Samus Aran

So we went. Sahalael and her pair took Sectors 1, 4, and 5, while Jalahael and I took 2, 3, and 6. If either team had a problem, the other will be relatively near hand. Even Adam grudgingly agreed to help, in between muttering about orders and rampancy, by continuing to give us eyes around corners and weapons upgrades. By this time, I was almost back to full capacity, except for an Ice Beam, something both SA-X had.

As we stepped off the elevator into TRO, I was assaulted by a horrible smell, coating my mouth and nose. I turned on the air filter and looked around. More dead crew. "Jalahael, are you seeing this?"

"Yes, Mother, although I cannot tell you what it is."

I turned to Jalahael, "Look, if I'm calling you Jalahael, you call me Samus. First name basis. I'm your ally, not your CO." Jalahael opened her mouth to reply, then looked at a body and snapped it shut.

"Samus," she rasped, voice quiet and tight with fear, "we should go back to the main deck and get Sahalael. Now."

"Why?"

"Plasma burns," Jalahael whispered, eyes flicking around the room, "no X or Metroid did that. That was a Plasma Beam hit. Only one explan-"

An explosion split the eerie silence, and Jalahael hurled me bodily onto the lift, then jumped on and activated it. I had time to catch a glimpse of something black and humanoid appear through a blasted hatch, and then the lift activated, blasting upwards. Seconds later, we were at the top, with a quarter-mile fall and several broken bones between us and whatever was down there. Jalahael unclasped her helmet and took it off, her beautiful, seraphic face pale and drawn.

"Jala," I began, putting my hand on her shoulder, "what was that?"

"A darkling," Jalahael swallowed, her throat dry, "a darkling SA-X."

"Wait," I held my hands up, "what's the difference? I thought all of you were the same."

Sahalael walked up, alone. No sign of Serris or Nightmare. "Hey," I called by way of greeting, "where's the snake and the scrapheap?"

"Guarding Sector 1," Sahalael lilted, "I didn't want anything nasty getting through while I was gone. Jala, what's wrong?"

She took her helmet off, and pressed her head to Jalahael's. A moment later, she recoiled, horror crossing her face. "A darkling? Who?"

"Wait," I cut in, "would you mean by darkling? How many are there? How do we kill them?"

"They were as we are," Sahalael began, "Daughters of our Mother. Then, they discovered a sealed canister in a sealed room, a Restricted Laboratory that held a terrible secret. In that canister was a Metroid Hatcher, and a blue, glowing substance. The Hatcher escaped immediately, but the blue substance didn't react to anything until one of our sisters stuck her hand in it. It flowed over her, turning her armor black. Six of us were inside that room; one came out of her mind intact-Jalahael that's why her voice sounds like a broken trash compactor. At first, the only change was the armor color. Then, they became stronger, their weapons more destructive. Finally, they lost their intellect, their sympathy, and their identity. They are mindless killing machines, corrupted by-"

"Phazon!" I blurted. Both turned to me, questioning looks on their faces, "that blue stuff. It's a mutagen," I continued, "that does exactly what you just described."

"Yes, this Phazon corrupted them, and they turned. They fight us, they fight the Metroids, and they fight each other. We cannot stand against them. But you, and all of our sentient brethren, could finish them."

"Okay," I mused, "Who's on our side, who's on their side?"

"Well," Jalahael grated, "we have me, Sahalael, Valael, Kirael, Yrael, the X, and you. They are Mmemnon, Rakka, Undine, Narath, and Ganth. That is all."

"We have no more allies?" I demanded.

"Yes, well, sort of," Sahalael hesitated.

I sighed, exasperated, "Spill it already!"

"You, in the armor," Sahalael called, "come on out."

I turned to watch, and my mouth dropped open as a pair of armed, armored, and tough-looking Federation Marines stepped up and saluted me.

"Ma'am," one shouted, "PFCs Buckner and Wakely reporting! We'll be happy to help!"

I rounded on Sahalael, "What the hell is going on here?!"

Sahalael grinned, "I found these two staked out in SRX. That's why came back. It appears they survived the assault."

"Adam," I muttered, low enough that it was audible only to the AI, "Scan them, please. They look human, but then, so do the SA-X."

"Sure thing, Lady," Adam said. At least he sounded happy. A second later, "Nothing in there but grade-a, kick-ass Marine!"

"Glad to have you aboard, Marines," I said with a grin, "But Ma'am isn't my first, middle, or last name. I'm Samus Aran, and that's all I am. I'm not your CO; I'm actually a civilian, technically."

Sahalael stepped up next to me. "I also found these. I think there's some sort of prototype armor suits. The shields have an automatic recharge, and they take more punishment than any of us could throw out. Put the Marines in them - they'll be needed."

I turned again, and saw the armor. I sucked in my breath. In front of me were three suits of top-secret AURORA armor, modeled after my Power Suit. Each one of those suits would turn an infantryman into a walking tank, weighing in at 1000 pounds apiece. They were more angular than my suit, boxier. Their helmets had a visor and polarized orange faceplate, and the entire suit had abandoned the traditional charcoal color for a muted olive drab. Even better - one wasn't a suit. He was a series of separate sections, made to clamp on to and interface with a different armorsuit: my Power Suit. I motioned for the Marines to put on the two suits, then began to snap into the upgrade set. When I finished, I looked up. The Marines were genuinely imposing, huge and threatening in their bulky armor. The SA-X had helped them into the armor, and stood back admiring their handiwork. All four looked at me, and Buckner grinned ear to ear.

"Samus," he said, "you look scary as hell."

"So do you," I shot back; "You look like a militarized Ringwraith."

Looking around at us, Jalahael said, "We should test the combat capabilities of these suits. Follow me."

Jalahael led us to the docking bay, and we begin movement and combat testing. The suits worked with the nervous system, moving exactly when we did. The improved speed, jump height, and strength. I watched as the Marines sprinted football fields in seconds, leapt over dropships, and tossed tables across the docking bay. Then, we tested the shields. The Marines stood, legs slightly bent, braced for impact. I fired, once each.

"Well?" I asked as their shields flared, "What's going on in there?"

"Shields read no damage," the confused Wakely reported.

"Okay," I said with a grin, "Catch!"

I loosed a missile. It shot through the air, impacting the wall and a thunderous explosion. Wakely, as surprised as I was, had dodged it. Damn, he was fast now. "All right, don't move this time."

I fired again, and the Marine's shields sparked and flared, and he was blown off his feet. A second later he was back on them, flipping into the air and landing upright. That was when the darkling showed up.

"Narath!" I heard Sahalael cry, and I spun to see another SA-X appear, clad in jet-black armor. It raised a misshapen cannon and cut loose at the Marines. Both dodged and returned fire, moving too quickly to track, much less hit. They poured fire into the corrupted SA-X. It leapt into the air and fired a crimson blast. Crap. Phazon Cannon. I ducked, static crackling from my visor as the energy passed. I failed to the floor. When I looked up, Narath stood over me, warped cannon pointing is black muzzle at my face.

"I win," it howled, voice crackling metallic.

"You sound worse than Jalahael," I coughed as it put its foot on my chest plate, "What do you put in your orange juice, drain cleaner?"

"Mock me all you want, Hunter," Narath rasped, "I will still your breath forever!"

"I don't think so."

"I do!" It shrieked, "This ends now!"

"Damn right," I growled, "Look down."

Narath looked down, just in time to catch a missile from my upraised cannon directly in the face. She flew across the bay, and slammed through an air duct. Except her head, which smacked in the solid metal, and her neck broke with a wrenching crack. We cautiously advanced, the SA-X and Marines strung out beside me.

"Did I kill it?" I asked to Jalahael.

"I do not know. If you didn't, it's likely to be crippled or very angry, probably both."

We walked out, and it became evident that the darkling was neither crippled nor dead. In fact, it was running down the passage, trying to escape. It turned to fire a parting shot, but didn't get the chance. It never saw the third true SA-X drop behind it. I watched with satisfaction as the SA-X braced against the wall and fired. A shaft of light rocketed from the muzzle, and hit the changeling with a deafening blast. For an instant it was silhouetted against the light, then it screamed and disintegrated, leaving a fine red mist in the air.

"Heeey!" I called cheerfully, "That one was mine!"

"Sorry!" The newcomer yelled, "You can have the next one!"

"Kirael," Sahalael shouldered past me, "You're late!"

"Sorry, I had to grab something," Kirael lilted.

"What?"

"Well, I was down near NOC," Kirael began, "When I found what looked like a new weapon. So, I slotted it into my cannon, and that's what you saw. It's some kind of missile. That was my last one, though. But, Mother should be able to use it."

She threw a data chip. I caught it in slotted in my helmet, and data readouts flashed across my vision as this 'Super Missile' installed itself. I experimentally fired in the far wall, and was rewarded with an explosion-and energy tank fell from the hole.

"Score!" I crowed, shoving tank in place. I turned to the Marines. "All right," I said with a wicked grin, "who wants to be the duck?"

BSL Mission Log: General Adam Malkovich

ET- 21:46:07

I tackled Wakely as Aran fired, and saw a missile streak overhead. It would have been about two inches high, and would have missed. Wakely, that is. It didn't miss the Phazon Metroid sneaking up on us. It was like a magic trick when the missile hit: now you see it, now you don't.

End of entry

BSL Mission Log: Hunter Samus Aran

ET- 21: 54:26

Once again I was surprised at how fast AURORAs could move. In the blink of an eye Buckner had tackled Wakely, who was faceup on the floor. The shocked Marine jumped up and leveled his weapon at me. Buckner slapped the muzzle away, pointing at the Metroid's remains. Wakely turned pale, and watched me checking to see if the smoke coming for my cannon was just backblast; or if the next time I fired I was going to find myself inexplicably lying on my back, missing an arm, and bleeding profusely. I turned to the three SA-X, and saw them dead white and sweating.

"What?" I asked, "The explosion wasn't that big."

"Another Metroid," Kirael whispered, "We thought only the Omega was left."

"You forgot the Hatcher," I replied slowly, a horrible thought dawning on me, "the Metroid Hatcher. It can produce hundreds of Metroids per hour," I rounded on Sahalael, "How long has it been since the Restricted Lab was breached?"

"Over a week," Sahalael said. She gasped, "That means that there are-"

"Several thousand Metroids currently on this station," I finished. I was tired just thinking about how much work we had to do. "All right," I said, suddenly exhausted, "I don't know how much sleep you people need, but I could use some right now. My gunship has ten berths. It's the only safe place on the station."

The Marines and SA-X looked at each other, then nodded almost in unison.

BSL Mission Log: Hunter Samus Aran

ET- 2:24:52

After eight hours of blessed, sanity restoring rest, we gathered around my new ship's only table. Everyone wore full battle armor, and I had spent two hours constantly upgrading my suit. Now, in addition to AURORA capabilities, my Power Suit had some of the heaviest weapons available: the Gamma ray-based Wave Beam, two kinds of missiles (the Super Missile and a prototype Cryomissile, or Ice Missile), and the room-clearing Power Bomb. The SA-X, all three, had also availed themselves of my weapons there, and all four of us our energy reserves. The Marines raided the station's nearby armory, and, making several trips with a hovercart, stocked my ship with enough munitions to supply a battalion for a month. They didn't know, they said, how much longer it would be before they had the opportunity to hit the armory again; because Adam had informed us that an enormous concentration of organisms bearing Metroid DNA was flooding the station, and it would soon be unsafe to travel without everyone coming along. So, they brought cart after cart of machine guns and grenades, armor piercing rounds and sniper rifles, trip mines and rocket launchers. Eventually they said they had enough, but only after Wakely tripped over a rocket launcher nearly broke his ankle.

As we came together, I couldn't help being reminded of my last such meeting; six elite soldiers and their commander, preparing to take on suicidal odds. I'd survived then. It was my responsibility to see that my brothers-and sisters-in arms survived this now, even if I had to die to accomplish it. I looked at the waiting faces of Buckner and Wakely, the Marines sent into the unknown to help the dead, who survived when their platoon was wiped out. I looked at the beings who called me Mother, my unlikely allies in my unlikely mission, who survived in this deathtrap for who knew how long. I looked at my CO, the irascible AI named after the only person I had ever really trusted. I looked at the sensors, at the shapes of thousands of Metroids; Metroids whose very name was the Chozo word for "weapon," created by my foster race to destroy an unstoppable plague-the X. I looked at myself, and orphaned human, taken in by the Chozo and trained as a warrior, trained to combat the Space Pirate menace. I took a deep, calming breath. Alea iacta est. The die is cast.

"The Metroids are spreading throughout the station," I began without preamble, "and they have stopped. If they aren't entire Federation is doomed."

"All right, then," Buckner grinned, "Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, Gimli, we are getting out of here alive. All of us. Adam, what's our situation?"

"Dire," the AI gestured at the screen, bringing up a schematic of the station, "All of the yellow dots represent Metroids."

We looked. Most of the station was yellow. Especially around...

I looked out of the viewport. There were hundreds of Metroids out there. The docking bay was full of them.

"Umm… guys," Wakely gulped, "I got a bad feeling about this."

The board is set, the pieces are in motion. Sir Ian, eat your heart out.

BSL Mission Log: Hunter Samus Aran

ET-3:10:00

"Punch it."

Buckner hit the hatch release, and the ship's lower ramp crashed to the docking bay floor. Metroids took notice, gathering around the open hatch, waiting for prey to emerge. Instead, they got a wedge of grim-faced soldiers in full armor who ran down the ramp, firing all the way. Super Missiles and Ice Beams lanced out, machine guns spat streams of tracers, and rockets belched flame and streaked from their tubes. Hundreds of Metroids died in the first few seconds, falling with holes ripped through them or flying to pieces from grenade and missile blasts. The Marines knelt down, lifting SAWs, and cut loose with a withering storm of bullets. Firing in short, controlled bursts; they pushed the Metroids back until a circle twenty feet across was clear. I tucked into the Morph Ball, rolled into the densest mass of Metroids, and left a little present on the way out. Standing again, I pitched my voice to carry over the gunfire.

"Everybody down," I screamed as I hit the deck, followed closely by the SA-X and Marines. My present was about to open itself. There was a muted flash, and all hell broke loose as the Power Bomb exploded. My ears popped from the pressure, and a dome of fire last out, engulfing the entire room. At the epicenter of the blast was the largest mass of Metroids. The luckless parasites were vaporized, the ones farther away were cauterized to unrecognizable, carbonized lumps, crashing to the floor and shattering. A few were left, sluggishly floating away, but the Marines quickly and efficiently cut them down. In five minutes, we cleared Docking Bay Aurora. Now we just had to clear the station, kill the Hatcher and the Omega, and leave. Oh, and the darklings had to be dealt with, too. Impossible odds. But then again, I was alive, healthy, and loaded up with allies. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. Yeah, right.

BSL Mission Log: ET- 7:35:46

Hunter Samus Aran

Four hours later, we'd cleaned out the Main Deck. Metroids had everywhere, in every heating duct, behind every hatch, inside every crate. Our only defense was to shoot at any sign of movement. There was one hitch-about halfway through, a Metroid managed to attach itself to Buckner. We got it off in time, but he would be back in my Gunship for the better part of two days in recovery. The SA-X, Wakely, a somewhat groggy Buckner, and I finished mopping up, then sealed the hatch to the elevator and retired to catch a little R&R. We were safe. For the moment. As we reached the hatch to Docking Bay Terra, where I had had Adam move my ship after the Metroids found us, I reached to palm open the hatch-only to have my hand hit air, as the door was opened from the other side. The Marines dropped back to provide suppressing fire, and the SA-X and I crouched by the walls. Two figures were silhouetted by the spotlights in the Bay. We were blind-which had been the idea when we put them there. While soldiers inside the Bay could clearly see the shoot, anything in the passage would be "Blinded by Light." Our main disadvantage was that now, we couldn't tell what we were up against but it had to be human - or least have a trace of human DNA - to open

"Adam," I whispered, "What's in there?"

Hijacking my helmet's external speakers, Adam yelled into the bay, "Marines! Hold fire! Friendly forces!"

"Come in with your hands up," a voice called back. We trooped in, and the Marines that had been guarding the Bay shut the door behind us. They turned, weapons lowered but ready to be raised and fired if any one of us twitched the wrong way. One looked from me to Jalahael, Sahalael, and Kirael. "Okay," he said, putting a hand to his forehead, "which one of you is Samus Aran?"

I stepped forward, "I am."

The pair looked behind me, "Who are they?"

"It's a long story. The question is, however, who are you?"

"MCPO Caldwell and Sergeant-Major Owens. After I landed my dropship, I found the Sergeant wandering around on the Main Deck. He says he got lost. We were trying to find the rest of the battalion, when we found your ship here. We figured you'd be back soon, so we decided to wait for you."

BSL Mission Log: ET- 8:30:21

ONI Sect. 3 Lt. Malkovich

I know every Marine is 1st Battalion, and there was no NCO named Owens, least of all a Sergeant-Major. The only 'Owens' I know of was the captain of the Valhalla , but he was Navy. I know the Master Chief though; he's a pilot, a damn good one, too. Owens, though…

Mission Log: ET-/time?/date_err!?

Armorsuit_313-registered status : CORRUPTED/suit unusable/PED overload/

Radiation levels beyond acceptable levels/CRITICAL OVERLOAD/ self-destruct override ACTIVE/

/beginning countdown/1'00" to detonation

BSL Mission Log: ET-8:32:47

Hunter Samus Aran

I didn't expect Owens to double over with Phazon tendrils erupting from his body. I didn't expect him to morph into a ball of darkness. And I definitely didn't expect him to re-form into me dropped in a vat of black paint. Crap. Another darkling.

"Heads up, its Mnemmon!" Kirael shouted. We ducked, expecting Phazon blasts to start flying overhead. They never came. Instead, the SA-X charged me, bulling through the Buckner and Wakely. I glanced around me for an escape route.

The Marines leapt to their feet, the SA-X were laying down suppressing fire from cover. I turned back to Mnemmon in time to dodge her headlong charge. Well, mostly. The corrupted SA-X barely clipped me, but the bone-jarring impact sent me crashing to the floor. I lay stunned, unable to do anything as it fired twin blasts at the Marines, flattening their shields and knocking them unconscious. It then methodically launched missiles at the high-pressure oxygen tank the SA-X had been crouched behind until it exploded, sending them flying senseless to slam into the wall. I could only watch helplessly as Mnemmon turned back to me, black armor taking on a silvery sheen as she paced towards me into the soft starlight from the thick polycarbonate viewport weathered the storm of tungsten, standing tall, until one round punctured its visor.. My fallen daughter never spoke, but raised her gun to draw a bead on my head. I still couldn't move, and I resolved not to look away from my own death. I steeled myself, walling out the urge to panic. Mnemmon's eyes narrowed, and a ball of cobalt energy gathered at the weapon's tip. But it wasn't my time yet. If it had been, Mnemmon wouldn't have forgotten about Caldwell. The Navy flyer had climbed into a dropship, flipped off the safety, and sighted onto target. Now, he opened fire. The world exploded as the twin chainguns under the dropship's blocky nose spun up and spat in a stream of tracers at the SA-X. It spun, bullets bouncing and spinning off its strengthened armor. It

BSL Mission Log: ET-/time?/date err!/

/self-destruct sequence resumed/remaining time:

17 sec. before detonation/16 sec before detonation

BSL Mission Log: ET-8:34:21

Hunter Samus Aran

Mnemmon transformed again, trying to escape the bullets, reassuming the form of a Marine, albeit one with her faceplate shot away. Mnemmon-Owens convulsed, her now weaker armor not up to deflecting the 90 mm tungsten rounds. The bullets ripped huge holes through the corrupt SA-X, spraying blood across the bay. Flesh regrew, covering the wounds, but it took all of the SA-X's concentration. It was trapped in the hellstorm of flying metal, unable to move. A small opening, but an opening nonetheless. I sprang up, charging my corrupted daughter with a berserker yell. Mnemmon shrieked in return, spinning towards me. I barely saw the overcharged Phazon bolt before she loosed it – that's what she'd been doing! We fired simultaneously, Phazon and plasma streaking through the air. Time flew and crawled at the same time – a phenomenon I'd dubbed "hunter time." In times of stress, my augmented senses and reflexes allowed me to process and act on any surroundings much faster than normal humans. I saw the plasma bolt strike the SA-X at head level, boiling the gel impact-proof inner layer, burning and cauterizing its way through the flesh beneath. My daughter's corpse exploded, Phazon dissipating into the air. Then, Mnemmon's last shot hit me dead center. Pain erupted, and I dropped nerveless to the floor. A familiar voice shouted to me, as if from the other end of a tunnel. "Lady!" Darkness took me, and I sand into unconsciousness.

Medical log: Incident date: January 28, 2993 (Military Calendar) /

Incident time: 8:36:23/Patient registration: Aran, Samus, 13576

/Patient Status: Biosigns Normal/Beginning scan/ANOMALY LOCATED/HIGH LEVELS OF SHADOW-CLASS MUTAGEN "PHAZON" ARE PRESENT/Subject appears to be producing Phazon/PED installation recommended/Subject's Phazon Level: 35%/Corrupted/

BSL Mission Log: ET-15:55:37

Hunter Samus Aran

My suit was malfunctioning. I couldn't see, hear, or move. Then, my display cleared, and stars appeared in my visor – my armor wasn't going haywire – I was. The cryopod's computer performed an emergency purge, flushing the sedatives from my bloodstream. I slowly sat up, groaning at the pain in my stomach. I grabbed the large towel next to the pod and wrapped it around myself, covering what I could. Going into cryo was the only way to avoid the painful condition called "freezer burn," when ice crystals froze to whatever you were wearing, freezing into your skin. I slipped into my customary blue jumpsuit and palmed open the hatch.

I passed through my rather spartan quarters, containing none of the usual luxuries of a long-haul ship like mine – only an army bunk and several trophies: a Space Pirate laser and helmet, one of the claws of a biomech dragon called Ridley, and a relic from my first mission – a shard of blackened, carbonized glass from the Space Pirate leader Mother Brain's tank. Finally, a single photo hung on the wall – a photo of a three-year old girl and her young parents beaming at the camera – the only record I had of my childhood. A birdlike race know as the Chozo had taken me in as one of their own after I had been orphaned in a Space Pirate raid on the human colony world where I'd been born, and they'd raised and trained me into a warrior. When I had come of age, my adopted race had crafted a suit of powered armor, surgically augmented my senses, reflexes, and muscle structure, and strengthened my bones to the hardness and toughness of titanium battle plate. But, I digress.

I walked into the Ops room to find everyone waiting for me. Jalahael, Sahalael, and Kirael stood, discussing plans of action. The two Auroras were cleaning and checking weapons, and Caldwell was on guard by the exit hatch, facing out, assault rifle held loosely but ready to be snapped up and fired at any sign of movement. All turned towards me as I strode up, sat at the chair at the head of the table – and all talk abruptly ceased, all of them staring at me. "What?" I asked.

"Your eyes," Buckner said, his own wide in shock, "They're—"

"Different, "Sahalael finished. I turned to a mirror. My eyes were different; the pupils were now vertical slits, almost feline. I sat down heavily. "Well, my vision seems unaffected. Adam, what's my status?"

"Corrupted," the AI replied, "Your body is again producing Phazon. We've reinstalled the PED in your suit. You should be fine." I breathed a muted sigh of relief. The PED, or Phazon Enhancement Device, was normally used as a means of storing and harnessing Phazon for use in man-portable weapons. In my case, however, it had had to be installed into my armor to control the potentially lethal levels of Phazon my body had produced during the Phazon War. It allowed me to use "Hypermode," a condition brought on by harnessing my body's Phazon production to augment my weapons to the point that the Space Pirates had learned to keep a healthy damned distance from me when they saw the telltale glow of the PED. If I could harness that again…

"The main issue now," Buckner interjected, "Is that we need reinforcements. The seven of us can't hold out forever. Also—"

"Alert!" Adam shouted, his hologram changing from a cool blue to flashing red, "A large section of the station has jettisoned and is on a collision course with SR-338."

"It's Sector 6!" Jalahael rasped, "The entire sector! This has to be the darklings' doing!"

Scanners indicate a high concentration of Phazon, "Adam said dispassionately, then continued with renewed urgency, "Fighter bay doors open – Stiletto fighters launching. Scanning….. Pilots are perfect DNA matches to you, Samus, all corrupted."

"How many?" I demanded with mounting horror.

"One…..two….three hundred."

Gunship Mission Log: ET-16:10:20

Hunter Samus Aran

I leapt out of the chair and ran to the foredeck, activating my suit as I went. I rapidly strapped myself into the pilot's seat, and began prepping for takeoff. "Buckner, Wakely, take Weapons," I yelled, "Caldwell, Ops. You three," I pointed to the SA-X, "Try to get a comm channel open to HQ. We need more ships and men." My comrades jumped to their stations and strapped in. The hatch cycled, and the blast doors opened, and, for the first time, we saw the true magnitude of the enemy force – the Stilettos immediately opened fire, and Caldwell brought the energy shield up in time to catch a missile. It impacted uselessly, and the shields recharged. Plasma cannons heated and fired, more missiles scythed through the darkness of space. Most missed, a few hit my shield, and one hit the gap in the shield and exploded on the armor plating.

"Don't worry, she'll hold together," I yelled. Then in my best Han Solo voice, "You hear me, baby, hold together!"

The two Auroras then began to systematically destroy the enemy fleet. My ship resembled the Millennium Falcon in more ways than speed; I had also added many destructive (and completely illegal) weapons. Gauss cannons fired heavy slugs that punched through battle plate, lasers flashed out, searing through ships, and ASLAM antiship missiles tore through the fleet, leaving wakes of destruction as they slammed completely through ships before impacting others. Thirty fighters were crippled in this first volley, rolling over and over, atmospheres venting. The Stilettos, piloted by corrupt clones of me, opened fire. Caldwell diverted power to the forward shields, desperately trying to stop the onslaught. I tapped two buttons and the wings split, revealing the Shiva tactical nuclear missiles I'd "liberated" from a gutted Space Pirate carrier. Buckner whistled, "I am so getting a dishonorable discharge for this," and launched a pair. It was like setting off a string of firecrackers. The fireballs boiled away armor, and the fighters simply disappeared into glittering particles. Their cohesion destroyed and a third of their numbers lost, the rest of the fighters fled towards SR-788.

Sahalael bolted into the cockpit, "Samus! Admiral Dane is – ." She cut off in midsentence, staring slack-jawed as a massive Federation Olympus-class Battleship rumbled out of a wormhole. The massive, kilometer-long ship established high orbit, and the comm crackled. Fleet Admiral Dane's tanned, lined face appeared on the viewscreen.

"Samus," he began, "Give me a tactical." Terse as ever. I gave him the short version, and he frowned, as if thinking.

"Alright," he broke from the reverie, "Reinforcements are on the way. Three hundred AURORA Mariners, eight hundred Marines, armor, and air support. Nearly two thousand soldiers, all told. This is a full-scale military operation, and I'm giving you tactical command. We have to stop this here and now, before it threatens the entire Universe. Samus, get going." He paused, "Oh, and Samus?"

"Sir?"

"Please ask Mr. Buckner to remove his helmet when we're done talking. There's something you should see. Dane out."

I turned to Buckner, "You hear that? Off with that helmet. Let's see your face."

He slowly reached up and popped the helmet seal, and slid it off. I jumped back, tripped over a chair, and fell on my rear.

"A-Adam?!" I stammered, unable to believe my eyes, "What the hell?! I thought you were –"

"Dead?" Malkovich interrupted, eyes sparkling, "Nope. It'll take more than half a battalion of Metroids to take me down."

It shames me to admit it, but I was dumbstruck. Later. I would think about this later. For now, I had a mission to complete.

SR-388 Mission Log: ET 17:02:23

Hunter Samus Aran

"Come on, get these flares lit," I yelled. We'd landed on the surface of SR-388 only an hour ago, and were scrambling to clear an LZ for the Stiletto fighters and Katana dropships the Federation had sent. I looked skyward, upping my visor's magnification to pierce the gloomy twilight. I glimpsed the landing lights of an inbound Katana.

Then two. Then thirty. The wide-winged, potbellied transports filled the sky, followed by the slim, agile Stilettos. They angled in towards the LZ, touched down, and popped their hatches. Finally, a matte-black Gladius fast-attack shuttle set down. I felt my eyebrows climbing toward my hair line. Those ships were the big brother of the Katana dropships, used for hot drops with heavy loads. It set down, engines flaring, and four tanks rolled out, followed immediately by SpecOps Marine Commandos toting MPHE/AT-252 rocket launchers, SR998C-AM sniper rifles, and M-586 flamethrowers. I watched with a wolfish grin; this would provide my force with the heavy armor and heavy weapons to take out anything nasty that had survived.

SR-388 Mission Log: ET 20:30:04

Hunter Samus Aran

The Marines had set up a base, complete with HQ and perimeter walls, in under two hours. Close to two thousand personnel would be calling this canyon home, and I was responsible for them. Hoo, boy.

Once the Marines were done, I called a general fall-out in front of the improvised hanger. Most of the Marines had only heard of me, although I knew a few of the Navy fliers. They all stared at me, at attention, waiting for orders. Right, then.

"At ease, all of you," I started, "This isn't inspection. You all know why you're here, right?" Nods, a few murmured confirmations. "Good. The enemy is here, in force. Our job is to take them out. Stay alert. If they catch us unprepared, it'll get very ugly, very fast."

One Marine spoke up, "Samus, they can't be that bad. You held 'em off by yourself."

"Marine, they killed a whole company before I got there." Silence, sudden and oppressive and heavy with realization, fell over the camp.

"And," I continued, as if nothing had changed, "I had a lot of help." I waited as Wakely and Malkovich marched up and a wave of cheers swept through the Marines as their fellow ground-pounders took places beside me. Then there was another silence, as the trio of SA-X walked up to me and turned to face the division with their identical faceplates. One of the marines breathed a quiet, appreciative expletive.

I pulled off my helmet. Sahalael started to mirror the motion, but I stopped her with a cautionary look. The Marines probably thought only the armor was identical; if they knew the four of us were completely identical, they'd start to wonder who my doppelgangers were.

"How long has it been since any of you slept?"

"Twenty-two hours, more or less," the same talkative Marine volunteered.

"Okay, then, people," I said, "Dismissed. Get some sleep. I've got a nasty feeling we'll all be needing it."

SR-388 Mission Log: ET- 21:50:03

Hunter Samus Aran

The Marines were nearly completely inside their jury-rigged barracks when the storm broke. It was a damn good thing Admiral Dane insisted on using an incredibly unreactive building alloy for all ground installations, because the cobalt-colored clouds were pouring out their alkaline contents directly over our little camp. My suit's Hazard Shield, a reminder of my last mission under the Admiral's command, flared to life, enveloping me in amber semi-solid holography. My hand clenched unconsciously into a fist. Rundas, Ghor, Gandrayda, the entire Chozo race. The Marines of Aether's Bravo Company, the crews of the GFS Valhalla, the Icarus, the Titan. The men and women that had manned BSL, the Marines of 1st Squad, Alpha Company sent to investigate. The butcher's bill was growing out of control. I'd been powerless to help them, and they'd died, helpless, hopeless, alone. They would be remembered, mourned, avenged.

These Marines, these men and women who'd volunteered to put their lives on the line, these men and women who now looked to me for orders and support, who would follow me into another Charge of the Light Brigade if I ordered it. They were my responsibility now, and I vowed to bring all I could home safe.

I turned away and began the walk back to my waiting Gunship. The sky darkened; night fell quickly here on SR-388, and when it came, it came bringing terror and menace. Until our work was done, there would be no dawn.

SR-388 Mission Log: ET- 1:13:24

Hunter Samus Aran

I woke to darkness, long before dawn; odd, since I've almost never woken my body up so early. I had an uneasy feeling, a knot in my gut I couldn't shake off. Something was very wrong, my instincts screamed. I suited up, armor snapping and gyrating into place over my body, shields coming fully online. I strode to the elevator, punching the control to raise me to the outer deck. I chinned a switch, activating my helmet's holorecorder, and looked out over the camp into the endless, starless night of SR-388. A huge blue bolt reared toward the heavens from the thunderstorm, painting everything in the canyon with a harsh blue light. I dropped to the hull, minimizing my profile. In the instant of that stark illumination, my worst fears had been realized.

I belly-crawled back to the lift and knelt as it whirred back into my ship, then, stepping off punched up the sullen red battle lights on the foredeck and bunk room. Adam and Pvt. Wakely bunked with the Marines, but MCPO Caldwell and the three SA-X appeared in the hatch. The SA-X wore their armor, Caldwell an armored flyer's jumpsuit.

"Samus, what's going on," Sahalael asked, her tenor sounding completely awake. That's just not fair. If I'd just been rudely woken up at one in the frigging morning, my speech, if it could be called that, would have been slurred, terse, and expletive-ridden. I pulled off my helmet, carefully removed the data chip, and slotted it into the holoprojector. Caldwell said a bad word.

"Sideways," I agreed. Floating above the projector was the video feed for my helmet cam. I froze it, and boosted the magnification. There, illuminated by the lurid light of the thunderbolt, stood an army. Rows of ebony-armored SA-X stood behind countless ranks of corrupted Space Pirates. The vanguard was a seething mass of bodies, a huge number of creatures whose empty eyes glowed an eerie, pale blue - nightmarish apparitions, warped and twisted beyond all recognition by exposure to Phazon. In the fore of this massive formation stood-

Hell's holy stars and freaking stones shit bells.

"Goddammit, how many times do I have to KILL you, you son of a bitch!" I roared. There, in cobalt Phazite armor, stood Ridley. I was about to start shouting at the top of my lungs, when something in the frozen image made me pause. Then do a double-take. Then, face turning gray with shock, fall heavily into a chair.

"N…n…not possible," I gasped. Sahalael looked at me, plainly puzzled. I pointed.

"Great merciful Mother," she whispered. There, behind the massive force and flanked by Serris and Nightmare, stood Dark Samus.

SR-388 Mission Log: ET-1:17:53

Hunter Samus Aran

Caldwell swore viciously and tapped a control pad, activating the barracks' General Quarters alarm. Moments later, Marines and Navy fliers double-timed out in their respective battle gear. I stepped to the lift and lowered it to the ground, stepping out to regard the mass of troops. I tapped the side of my helmet, signaling all to bring up the secure single-beam COM. Immediately, a chorus of yawns sounded through my helmet.

"Whazgoinon," the same talkative Marine from the previous day asked blearily.

I send the image frozen from my helmet's video to the Marines' HUDs. The yawning abruptly stopped, and an incredulous silence descended. A lot of people began swearing at once. I opened a private channel to Sahalael.

"Hey," I asked, scanning the sky, "Can we expect any help from BSL?"

"Yes…yes, we can," Sahalael sounded slightly detached.

"When?"

"Right about-"

The roar of overpowered engines thundered overhead, and two Hunter-class gunships screamed over the base.

"Eagles One and Two, requesting permission to land and deploy reinforcements," a female voice remarkably similar to mine crackled over the COM.

"Granted," I said without thinking. Maneuvering thrusters firing, the two attack ships touched down and dropped their ramps. Twenty Marines trooped out of the ships- ten in the black-and-yellow armor of landmine-happy Demolition Troopers and ten in the backpacks and bulked-up armor of the hilariously lethal PED Marines. A pair of SA-X appeared from the cockpits – two SA-X that matched me down to the PED I wore. Malkovich and Wakely ran up to me from the perimeter.

"They're coming. Lady, I hope you've got a damn good plan," Adam whispered.

"Oh, don't worry, about the plan," I said, feeling a reckless grin spread across my face, "I've almost got it figured it out now."

I pitched my voice to carry over any and all other noise and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Marines! What the hell are we doing here?!"

"RAISING HELL, SIR," they shouted back; it was an old tradition before any op.

"Well, boys and girls, your buddies up in orbit are sipping cocktails and sitting in cushy lounge chairs. What are we doing down here?"

"WE'RE RAISING HELL, SIR."

"And why are we raising hell, Marines?"

"BECAUSE HELL NEEDS RAISING, SIR!"

"Damn right, it does," I yelled, "AND WHERE DO WE GO TO RAISE HELL?"

"BATTLE STATIONS, SIR!"

SR-388 Mission Log: ET-2:05:30

Hunter Samus Aran

My ship screamed over the battlefield, dodging gunfire, nearing the drop zone. I dove for the ground, roaring in just above the trees. One of the Marines, wearing a suit of AURORA armor and a Phazon tank, flashed me a signal.

"Prep for hot drop," I yelled over my shoulder, punching the rear door. It slowly cycled open, and the Marines jumped thirty feet to the ground, snapped up weapons, and began to cut down dozens of corrupted creatures. Valael and Yrael, the two pilots of Eagle one and two, reported in. They'd both dropped off their living cargo and had begun strafing the enemy ground troops. A merciless grin stretched across my face. Streaking into the hot zone, I spun up my gunship's four external multiple-rocket pods and fired them in sequence. Thirty-two rockets slammed into the enemy formation, payloads of thermite ceiling armor and flesh.

I set my ship's autopilot to land back at Alpha Base, unstrapped from the pilot's chair, punched the hatch release, and executed a perfect swan-dive from the back of the squad bay. I fell through the darkness, spiraling toward the ground. Ten feet from the deck, I fired the boosters on my back. Skimming across the battlefield, I primed and threw Phazon grenades, the blasts bathing enemy troops in lethal radiation. Landing in an area cleared by a grenade blast, I looked around to find myself surrounded by Space Pirates. Fine, then. One shot at me. I dodged, and the energy bolt boiled through a boulder behind me. Holy crap.

"My turn!"I shouted, tapping my PED. My vision went gray for instant, then the PED shone like a star on my chest. I overcharged my arm cannon, a ball of Phazon gathering at the muzzle, blue energy spilling from the orb. I squeezed the trigger, and the energy disappeared for instant, then a solid of Phazon lanced from the gun, and, pirouetting, slashed it through the Pirates surrounding me. The ground around me was littered with bisected corpses in a 200 foot circle around me.

My triumph, was however, somewhat short-lived; my display had attracted the attention of Dark Samus. She lifted off the ground and charged straight at me. I aimed and emptied the remainder of the Phazon in the PED into her, expecting it to slam through her like tissue paper. She stopped, landed, and braced. The maelstrom of energy washed over her with no visible effect, and she rose into the air again and shot toward me. Crap.

I did the only sane thing I could, the same thing I'd done when I first met Jalahael: I ran like hell. I opened a COM channel to the five SA-X.

"Guys," I wheezed, "I need a little help down here!" No response. Shit. I was on my own. I skidded to a halt, bent my legs, and launched myself into the air, rockets firing. I screamed into a vertical climb, clawing for altitude, my nemesis on my heels. I rolled and dove, flipping and twisting through maneuvers that made my back scream; Dark Samus stayed glued firmly to my six. I lowered my head and poured on all the speed I could, but Dark Samus still gained steadily on me. She eventually drew even with me, flying in tight formation not five feet off to my left. A ghastly smile flickered across her face. I crocodile-grinned back, all teeth and no smile, and shot her. I knew hitting her with Phazon-based weapons was pointless – she could take my heaviest Phazon hit. So I didn't use Phazon.

I aimed deliberately, and a bolt of superheated plasma erupted from the muzzle of my cannon and burned away her thrusters. I was immensely gratified to see her smile disappear and transform into a dropped-jaw shock as she hung in midair for an instant – then plummeted from the sky. I watched her fall, waiting for the inevitable bone-crunching impact. I neither saw nor heard the termination of Dark Samus' fall – I dove, cursing. No shattered, bloody, armored corpse. Shit.

I sighed, turning to fly out of the red zone. My suit's energy reserves, already dangerously depleted by my extended use of Hypermode, began to reach truly alarming levels as the shields began to take hits from Pirate troops on the ground. The boosters fired – and cut out. Double shit. I fell toward the ground, desperately trying to reactivate the rockets. They finally fired, a full burn for only an instant, but it was enough to turn a fatal landing into an awkward combat roll as I hit the ground. I went prone, presenting a smaller target. My suit was on emergency power, its last energy tank flickering dangerously. I was surrounded by a ridiculously large hostile force, cut off from any and all reinforcements or supporting fire.

Only one thing for it, then. I came up to a crouch, spraying missiles into the ranks of Pirates surrounding me, determined to take as many of the bastards with me as I could before I was cut down. Nearly thirty had died before one lucky shot glanced off my PED.

Silver fire flooded my veins as Phazon pounded through my blood. The PED overloaded, warnings flashed over my HUD, and the PED failed. Pain erupted, as if my bones were aflame, and I choked off a panicked scream. Slowly, I forced down the pain, ignoring my suit's frantic warnings, marshaling my will to shut it out. I had just taken a breath when my suit took one final hit and the shields collapsed. The Power Suit was incredibly damage-resistant even without shields, but it wasn't up to deflecting Phazon bolts. It flared and deactivated, power core dead. I chinned the hydraulic emergency switch, and the Power Suit vanished, to reappear inside my Gunship as I had programmed it to. I stood weaponless as the Pirates drew beads on me, oddly calm. Some part of my mind screamed at me to act, to try to escape – I shoved it away.

Phazon bolts rammed into me, driving the breath from my body. They tore holes through me, and I knew I should be falling screaming to the ground…but I didn't. I looked down in amazement as Phazon from my body absorbed the incoming blasts, and, instead of getting killed, I felt my own Phazon-fueled strength growing. A blue sheen crept over my body, and I found myself, like Dark Samus, floating several feet off the ground. A cold, clear fury raged through me, a wave of energy gathering behind the iron walls of my will. I waited, and it grew to the point where I could no longer contain it. I screamed, a crackling sound like a power line landing in a pool, crying my rage and power to the heavens. That same small part of my mind started shouting at me that I was allowing myself to become corrupted, but I didn't care. I arched my back, roaring a challenge audible over the terrific din of battle, and released the pent-up energy. The Phazon erupted from my body, cobalt fire obliterating all around me, and a wave of pure, vicious force lashed out like the shock of a thermonuclear blast. The ground around me flash-heated, crystallizing into cracked glass. Roughly half of the Darkling army vanished into the fireball.

Drained, I fell to the ground, my eyesight graying around the edges. I weakly opened my eyes to see the holocaust I had unleashed. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was a Katana barreling toward me.

/translating Chozo script/
…

…

…

/translation complete/

/display file

Mission Log: ET-2:02:54 [Approximately 2826 Milt. Calendar]

Samus Aran, Cadre Recon

Two months ago, I was sent by Zebes' Watcher to the colony world EDN-III. All contact had been suddenly lost with the colony, and, only a few hours later, one of the Lessers monitoring communication picked up an automated distress signal from EDN-III. My two-month sublight journey complete, I arrived on the icy world to discover the abandoned ruins of the first and last city on EDN-III.

I lived in the ruins for the next week, searching for survivors and clues as to what had happened. Nothing. No survivors, no trace of any struggle.

Then, on the evening of the sixth day, I found the access code to the Observatory, where the Watcher of EDN-III had lived. If anything remained to give me insight into the fate of the city, it would be inside. I walked in, plasma saber raised. Corpses littered the floor. Many Chozo, still more of a race I didn't recognize. A bulbous, gunmetal-gray transport had rammed through one of the walls and lay on its side, its nose smashed, where the pilot sat frozen at the controls.

I fell to my knees, trainee's blue jumpsuit, iced over by the eternal snow storm, giving sluggishly. A single tear coursed down my cheek, freezing into a drop of glimmering ice as it fell to the floor. I slowly stood, looked around, and found what I was looking for: a holoprojector. I walked over and placed one finger on the globe, and the projector flickered to life. The Watcher appeared, floating over my head.

"Young one," the Chozo elder said, "Listen carefully. There is much I should tell you, Samus, but I have little time. They have almost broken through." The old warrior paused, "The colony here is lost. We are the last survivors. By the time you arrive, we, too, will be gone. Two days ago, we were attacked by a race of spacefarers calling themselves 'Space Pirates.' They overwhelmed us. Before they broke through, we discovered the next target: Zebes. Samus, go quickly and warn the Watcher of Zebes. Take this with you."

A pedestal rumbled from the floor behind me. I paid it no heed.

"We made this armor for you. A Power Suit. There is another artifact here on EDN-III, at the bottom of the Rift of Warriors. Hurry to Zebes, Samus, and godsp-"
A blast sounded from behind the Watcher. He spun, drawing a plasma blade - and the message ended. I looked to the ground at my feet. An old warrior lay face down, his plasma blade streaked with black blood. His armor was shattered, his body laser-burned. But, around him, at least half a dozen Pirates lay dead, missing limbs or heads. Two had been neatly bisected; one unlucky Pirate had lost both arms, both legs, and his head. A fitting end for a Warrior - a weapon in his hand, surrounded by enemy dead he had slain.

A white glow filled the room. I turned to see an armorsuit standing in the center of the Observatory. My Power Suit. My grief, my shock, my despair all coalesced into a white-hot star of fury. Samus Aran, the little girl that the Chozo had taken under their wing, died. From her ashes arose a new being, an angel of vengeance, a hammer with which to strike the stars. There would be a reckoning.

Mission Log: ET-23:34:36

Samus Aran, Cadre Recon

Hundreds of ships were in orbit around Zebes when my ship reentered normal space, ripping a hole in space-time as it went sublight. Plasma was raining down from Pirate Battleships, turning my erstwhile home into glass. Half of the planet was covered in cracked, carbonized glass; the other half was only irregularly damaged. I grinned. Chozo antiship guns were extraordinarily powerful, their crews notoriously accurate, and Pirate ships trying to hit targets within their range would be quickly and efficiently obliterated.

A video flickered to life on my viewscreen, and a Warrior appeared. Her armor was shredded, and she was bleeding badly from a laser wound to the shoulder.

"Samus."

"Ilyana."

"The Watcher has ordered an evacuation. Leave quickly, before the Pirates' sensors pick you up."

"Not without you. Get to the fighter bay; I'll come get you."

"Hurry. We're almost overrun down here." She killed the transmission before the Pirates could triangulate the signal.

I strapped into the combat harness and went to red alert. The blast shield lowered, concealed missile pods slid into place on the gunship's hull. The heat shield locked over the nose, and I ran the final checks for reentry. I would not let Ilyana die. She was the closest thing I had to a sister.

Mission Log: ET-23:54:04

Samus Aran, Cadre Recon

I flew in low and fast, using every trick in the book (and a few that weren't) to eke out more power from the already maxed out engines. The fighter bay finally appeared in the viewscreen, and I dialed down the speed and set down. A lithe form sprinted across the stone – Ilyana. She very nearly flew up the ramp, and I leapt out of the pilot's seat and strapped in to man the weapons systems; Ilyana was by far the better pilot, and getting out would be a hell of a lot harder than getting in.

Ilyana shook off and shot down more Space Pirate fighters than I could count on our way out of the atmosphere, throwing the agile ship all over the sky in intricate evasive maneuvers. We burst into the darkness of space, and the Pirate fleet began to turn sluggishly. The fission/fusion reactor hummed, propelling the ship into the wavering gray of Slipspace. Ilyana released the controls and leaned back into the pilot's seat. She folded her hands behind her head, propped her feet up exactly where the training master had always told us not to, and looked over at me.

While not my biological sister, Ilyana was as close to family as I had. When the Pirates raided SI-17, we were the only survivors. The Chozo found both of us, and took us under their proverbial wings. Fifteen years later, we finished our training - not as humans, but as something taller, stronger, faster, smarter, and effectively immortal.

"So," Ilyana grinned at me, "Your story first."

SR-388 Mission Log: ET-2:21:34

Hunter Samus Aran

Pain.

"Goddammit, what the hell happened to my damn head," I demanded of myself. My head felt like it was leaking something it wasn't supposed to out of somewhere it wasn't supposed to. Oh, right. I'd just nearly killed myself in the act of destroying the equivalent of a medium-sized town.

I finally found the energy to get up and shamble to the COM.

"Adam," I said, trying to give the illusion of alertness, "Give me a sit-rep."

"Ma'am." A voice crackled in reply, "This is Sergeant-Major Johnson. The el-tee took a hit, so I'm the acting commander on the ground. We've lost about two hundred Marines and two of our dropships. Orders?"

I weighed my options. The situation was far worse than it looked on the surface. The Marines had repulsed the vanguard, taking heavy losses. I had blasted the hell out of everything within a square mile when the PED overloaded. All of this sounded reassuring until you realize that this was only a small portion of the enemy's total force. Their main body had yet to attack, and we hadn't seen hide nor hair of the nearly 150 remaining fighters they had. When the rest of the enemy force attacked, the 1800 remaining Marines, the five SA-X, and I would be swept aside. I only had one good option.

"Pull out," I sighed, "get the Marines back in the dropships and get them the hell out of here. Before you get out of effective range, use whatever air-to-surface weapons you still have available to pound the living shit out of anything still moving on the surface. See if you can take out any grounded fighters. We need them trapped here; we'll be back, but we need more men and more weapons."

"Good," the sergeant replied, "for a second there, I thought we were running away from a perfectly good fight."

"Hell no, Marine," I said, offended, "we're going to pull a Douglas MacArthur."

I signaled Valael and Yrael to pick up their fireteams, and ordered the pilot of my Katana to pick up the men that I'd dropped off. The Marines double-timed in, and the Katana began a slow, spiraling climb. I pulled up the Nav screen and dropped an RV point in high orbit. A few moments later, we hooked up with the rest of the battalion. I informed Admiral Dane of the situation, and told him I needed to leave for a while, and no, I did not know when I'd be able to return. I returned it to my gunship to find Sahalael waiting for me.

"Jalahael says I have to go with you since your suit is busted," my daughter said sadly.

"Why the long face, then," I asked.

"I'm gonna miss the fun," she pouted.

"Sahalael," I laughed, "we're going to planet the Federation doesn't even know about, that was last inhabited by the race that picked me up 18 years ago. We're going to go find two artifacts, most likely fight some Space Pirates, and enlist the help of the only person I know of who can outfly me."

The SA-X's eyes widened. A wide grin spread across her face. "Sounds like fun."

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-20:25:30

Hunter Samus Aran

It took over an hour to find an LZ. Eventually, I decided to simply land in a snow drift several hundred miles south of the old city. I would've used the Chozo landing pad in front of the Observatory, but someone had activated the automatic air-defense plasma batteries, and I couldn't get close enough under their firing arc. Fortunately, I had the foresight to requisition a suit of AURORA armor, and a heavy assault rifle to replace my rather useless stun pistol. Unsurprisingly, Sahalael mirrored me, shifting her suit to become a perfect match to mine, complete with assault weapon. I rolled my eyes. She grinned.

We went over the side of the ship, rolling as we hit the ground, then coming up with our MA5B-ICWS rifles in firing position, scanning the frozen wastes for hostiles. Even with enough ammo for over three hours' continuous firing apiece, we were extraordinarily vulnerable. There was no cover except the blinding snow. I maxed out my visor's polarization, reducing the glare from a health hazard (AMBUSH!) to an annoyance (dammit, where'd my keys go?!). The faceplate's outer layer turned into a gleaming, orange, one-way mirror, closing my face from view. It was a standard tactic, even when the polarization itself was unnecessary. When the enemy can't see your face, they'll hesitate; when facing AURORA Marines in close combat, the slightest pause means death.

We stalked over the snowfield, close enough to be able to see each other clearly, but not so close that one explosion short of a cluster bomb could hit us both. We didn't know what we might encounter on this frozen waste. At one point, about twenty-five miles from the ship, an ominous rumble came from underground just behind us, and we went from stalk from 45-mile-per-hour sprint. Why fight something big enough to cause earthquakes if you can get the hell out of Dodge? As we ran away, a huge crash came from directly behind us. I stopped, turned, and was very glad I'd elected the Monty Python solution in lieu of fighting. An enormous crevasse appeared as ice fell away, a mass of scale and bone erupted from the widening rift. It was hundreds of feet tall with arms the length of a GF corvette and a massive maw filled with time-blackened teeth. It could have chased us down and killed us, but it stayed at the crevasse and just roared at us. I frowned. It obviously wasn't guarding the city; I saw it was locked into the ice, unable to pursue us. If not the city, what was it guarding? I shrugged and kept running.

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-24:49:59

Hunter Samus Aran

The city was within sight when the sunlight vanished. Antares dropped behind a mountain that threatened to punch entirely through the atmosphere, plunging us into darkness. As we entered the great gates, light globes flickered and gave off a soft white glow, transforming the desolate city into a snowbound dreamscape. Ghostly forms flickered in and out of vision, and I was unpleasantly reminded of the wandering Warrior spirits I'd encountered during my search-and-destroy mission on Tallon IV. The wind whispered snatches of ancient Chozo speech.

We stepped into a side street – or what looked like one. I found myself falling, falling far and fast. After what seemed an age, I struck a sheet of ice jutting from the wall. I slowly stood, testing for injuries. I heard a thump-crack as Sahalael landed, smashing a two-foot crater in the ice below our feet. The twin impacts were too much; the ice began to crack under the strain. I was fairly sure I didn't want to fall again, so I grabbed Sahalael's wrist and dove through a doorway I somehow hadn't noticed before.

We picked ourselves up off the floor and stepped into a stone room, the walls encased in a solid sheet of ice. I crouched in the doorway, Sahalael stepped further in. She walked toward the wall of statues, then froze. Her back foot sunk an inch into the floor. The door we'd come through was blocked by a falling block of stone. Two of the statues detached themselves from the wall and lurched toward us. Their mouths opened and glowed cherry red.

"Down," I snapped, hitting the floor. Sahalael dropped, just in time to avoid the twin jets of fire that the statues blasted at her. The back wall exploded, hurling us into the statue wall. The "ice" was apparently something volatile, and almost certainly meant as another booby trap; the frigid, twilit room was now a nightmare inferno.

Sahalael stood, her movements sluggish and jerky. Her left arm hung limp, the bones of her forearm clearly broken inside the armor. She raised the MA-5 one-handed and fired from the hip, pumping short bursts into the statues. Bullets pinged off them without effect, and they wheeled to spit fire at her again. She sprinted to cover.

"We're dead," she panted, "That thing didn't even flinch."

I reached into an 'egg carrier' on my suit's bandolier and pulled out an FG-9 frag grenade.

"No we're not." I pulled the pin, consciously did not quote a certain old movie, counted to three - not stopping at two, nor going on to four – and lobbed it between the statues. It detonated with a sound akin to a thunderclap, stone screeched in tortured protest, and the statues shattered.

I was furious. My paranoid imbecile of a sister had badly injured Sahalael and nearly killed both of us with her goddam robotic flamethrowers. Sahalael crouched, cradling her arm. The armor surrounding it blurred and re-formed as she healed the break. She looked up at me and nodded.

I pulled off my helmet and grabbed the one piece of jewelry I wore. A thin silver band with a bloodstone teardrop appeared from under my breastplate. I bit my lip, drawing blood, and daubed a drop onto the gem. The bloodstone's color deepened to purple, then paled to a brilliant sapphire, pulsing gently. I slipped it back around my neck and settled my helmet back in place, seal locking with a hiss of pneumatics.

Sahalael watched this ritual with interest. "What does that do?"

"It's a transmitter. Anyone with a matching signal will know who and where I am."

"So we wait."

"Unfortunately."

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-4:26:02

Hunter Samus Aran

Something heavy thudded to the ice outside the now-open door. The block shifted and gave way, falling into the abyss. A gauntleted hand gripped the edge, and A figure in a Chozo Power Suit vaulted into the room. My heart leapt to my throat – my sister! She looked at the two of us for a second, then swung her Arm Cannon up and shot me in the head. My world darkened and spun. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, and my vision tunneled. I fell to the ground as Sahalael lunged across the room in front of me to deny Ilyana another clear shot. I shook my head to clear it and stood, leaning heavily on my daughter.

"You goddam idiot!" Sahalael snarled, furious, "You nearly killed her! What the hell are you doing?!"

"She's a target, Samus," Ilyana replied dispassionately, "She has no Chozo blood. None may enter the Observatory but the Chozo and their chosen heirs."

"Wait," Sahalael said uncertainly, glancing at me, "You think I'm…"

I raised my hand and ripped off my helmet. Sahalael mirrored the motion. Ilyana took a confused step back, eyes wide, then took off her own helmet. I sucked in a breath. Ilyana's raven hair was cut short and fell to her ears like a helm. Her eyes, like mine, were flecked with gold from the augmentation. Her face was porcelain white, a dead giveaway she'd been spending a lot of time in her 'second skin.'

I turned to Sahalael, "She can't tell which of us is Samus."

Sahalael shrugged, blurred, and seconds later Ridley filled the room. Ilyana yelled and cut loose with a rapid-fire barrage of missiles. Sahalael weathered the fusillade as I shouted at Ilyana to stop firing wildly before she killed someone. She finally stopped the panic fire, Sahalael changed back to her usual form and began to regenerate, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Ilyana stood silent for a moment, just staring at me. I felt a tear run down my cheek.

"I thought I'd lost you, little sister," she whispered.

I held my hand out at her head's level, then brought it to tap my chin. I arched an eyebrow at her, "Little?"

Ilyana laughed, a musical, silvery sound.

"Maybe not so little, then."

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-5:12:25

Hunter Samus Aran

Even with Ilyana guiding us, it took nearly an hour to reach the surface. Every so often she would stop us and go ahead to disable some devious and lethal booby trap or other: (more) mechanized statues, energy mines, pressurized spikes, even a ballista.

As we kept going 'further in and farther up,' a question began to buzz in the back of my head.

"What is that huge dragon-thing guarding seventy miles south of here?"

"A big hole. I can't remember the name."

"It wouldn't be called 'The Rift of Warriors,' would it?"

She frowned, "Maybe...no, yes, it is. Why?"

"You'll see. Is there any way to get past the guardian?"

"Blow it up," she said without hesitation, "Then douse what's left in fuel gel and light it on fire. Then blow it all up again."

"For the record, I was hoping for a plan that didn't sound like it came from that Bolshevik Muppet with all the dynamite."

Ilyana grinned, "No, really, there's no clever way around it – the only way to get into the Rift is to go right through it."

"I wanted simple," I muttered to myself, "and I got simple. Why do I get what I want this time?"

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-17:05:30

Hunter Samus Aran

The twin suns were well and truly gone when we reached the surface, the desolate streets lit only by the dim light globes in the walls. Ilyana fired her rockets and lifted off, flying south. Sahalael and I took off at a slow lope of about thirty miles per hour. Third moonrise came after about twenty minutes' running; the largest of EDN-III's four moons bathed the snowy plains in brilliant, silver-white light.

Ilyana was hovering thirty feet above the plain when we caught up with her about seven miles from the Rift. Silhouetted against the moon, lighted visor burning cold blue, she looked like the Angel of Death.

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you," I demanded, hands on my hips.

"What? Me?" She asked innocently, "Oh, I didn't see you down there."

I gave her an ancient gesture with one finger. Sahalael hit her in the side of the head with a snowball. Ilyana laughed and taunted her. My daughter, not so easily beaten, scooped up a chunk of ice and whipped it at Ilyana. The ice jammed into one of Ilyana's twin rockets, cutting off the oxygen before the flame could melt it. Ilyana yelped and lost control, flipping and spinning through an intricate series of maneuvers that vaguely resembled a drunk trying to perform aerial ballet. Sahalael and I thought briefly about helping – then gave in to the urge to roll on the ground laughing. Ilyana was gyrating and looping all over the sky, shouting a constant stream of profanity with volume and sincerity enough to shame the most foul-mouthed Marine DI, while my daughter and I laughed ourselves breathless.

Ilyana's impromptu aerial display came to a crashing halt when she…well…crashed. She hit a snowbank, spun through one final flip, and went careening into a hill with a snow-muffled whump. Sahalael winced.

"Umm…sorry?"

A fresh, expletive-ridden rant came blasting out from the person-shaped hole in the snow. My thoroughly peeved sister pulled herself out, jerked the offending chunk of ice from her thruster's nozzle, and slung it at Sahalael, who shattered it in midair with an idle flick of her wrist.

"Anyway," I said brightly, smothering my residual giggles, "What are we gonna do about that wannabe museum piece?" I jerked a thumb in the direction of the Rift.

Sahalael squinted. "Actually," she said slowly, "I don't see-"

The dragon reared out of the Rift, roaring a challenge at us.

I smacked myself in the forehead. "Did you have to say that?"

"Well, at least it hasn't – oh, come on!" Sahalael exclaimed as it wrenched its frozen self from the ice and began trying to climb out.

"Sahalael…shut up," Ilyana sighed, rising into the air.

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-17:30:15

Hunter Samus Aran

The thing's arm slammed down where I'd been standing seconds before. I came out of the roll and sighted the MA-5, pumping bursts into its hand. The thing was too damn big, I realized. We needed a plan apart from 'run-in-guns-blazing-and-get-squished.'

I shouted Ilyana's name, then whipped my hands through a quick sequence of military hand-sign code. She nodded and began firing blinding blasts of plasma at the dragon's eyes. Sahalael began to circle the guardian, too fast for it to track, peppering it with full-auto bursts from her MA-5 to keep it from refocusing on me or my sister. The monster swung wildly at both of them; it had forgotten me entirely. I knelt down and pulled a satchel charge from around my waist. I set the timer on the six-pound HUPNUM (Human Portable Nuclear Munition) for five seconds, ripped the cover off the adhesive patch stuck to the bottom, and lobbed the charge at the dragon's exposed spine, where the adhesive stuck it to the bone.

"Ilyana! Sahalael! Now!" I shouted over the chaos. I just hoped they understood what I was doing.

Four.

Ilyana tapped her cannon and launched a fusillade of missiles at the monster's head.

Three.

Sahalael skidded to a halt, jerked the pins from a double handful of frag grenades, and hurled them where the thing's spine met the ice.

Two.

I dropped the MA-5, unslung an ASLAM missile launcher from my back, and loosed a missile.

One.

Ilyana's missiles impacted and went off, cracking its skull and blowing one arm off at the shoulder. The grenades blew a chunk out of the base of the monster's spine. My ASLAM rammed a hole through its ribcage.

Zero.

The HUPNUM detonated in a huge thunderclap of light and heat, unleashing – for an instant – the fury of a star upon the snowy plain. Even standing nearly one hundred feet away, the shockwave drained my shields – designed to weather the fire of a main battle tank at point-blank range – to a quarter strength. The shield bar on my HUD blinked and pulsed red, then slowly filled again as the shield generators drew power from the fusion pack to regain their drained strength. Sahalael stood, shaking her head to clear it from the concussive shock; Ilyana, whom the shock had swatted from the air like the hand of God, lay on the snow. I poked her with my foot.

"Are you dying?"

"No."

"Is anything broken?"

"I don't think so."

"Which means no. Are you in danger of bleeding to death?"

"No."

"Then you're fine. Get up and come on."

EDN-III Mission Log: ET-17:50:00

Hunter Samus Aran

As I stood at the edge of the Rift, I realized it was far deeper that I'd thought. It was a huge, gaping maw, the bottom obscured in darkness.

Sahalael and I had brought long, slim rappelling cables with us, and now we affixed them to rocks and tossed the free ends down the gorge. We clipped descent harnesses to the ropes and slid down to land hundreds of feet below on the canyon floor. Our boots hit the ground, and our rifles snapped up, scanning for movement. There was no guarantee that that dragon was the only watchdog here. As we watched, Ilyana performed a flawless swan-dive off the edge of the Rift, only to stop ten feet from the deck, floating on a plume of flame. She cut power and dropped to the ground, rolling into a loose half-crouch.

Chozo glyphs lined the walls, worn and weather-beaten. Those few that I could make out, however, were crystal clear in nature – they hinted at fire and destruction.

"What do they say, Mother?" Sahalael's sharp eyes had picked them out as well, and they scared her. She never called me "Mother" now, except when she was too rattled to remember not to.

"They say – roughly – 'If you keep going, you won't be coming back in one piece.'" Ilyana was showing off again; even I couldn't perform the mental gymnastics required to translate the multidimensional Chozo carved holography into Standard that fast. "The implication being that you can keep going, but you won't get far unless you're supposed to be here."

"Then we should be fine," I interjected, "this was meant for us."

We advanced in a staggered line, a crust of snow crunching under our boots. Apart from that, the only sounds were the wind and my own breathing inside my helmet. I took the opportunity to relax a little. I realized that I'd been constantly in danger of getting killed for over a month. The last real sleep I'd gotten was back in BSL, and it was starting to wear on me. I can go for several weeks without much rest as a result of my Chozo blood, but not indefinitely. That lack of sleep, combined with the constant stress of on-and-off combat, was wearing on me. So, I took a moment to release my helmet seal and feel the chill wind on my face, pop a stim ration, and clean the blood spray off the outside of my visor. I lost myself in the simple task, temporarily releasing myself from the confines of my fatigued mind. I finished, and locked my helmet back in place.

"It's kind of refreshing, not getting shot at for once," Sahalael mused, and , with her typically awful timing, said it right as a plasma bolt ripped the ground apart in front of her. Five symbols burst into golden light on the snowy ground at her feet. Sahalael and I scanned the surrounding area for any change while Ilyana knelt to scrutinize the ancient Chozo script. She straightened up.

"What happens now?" Sahalael didn't turn away from her side of the canyon to ask the question.