Metroid II
Prologue
"Clear the way!"
Major Wrakham stepped aside as a doctor in scrubs, holding disinfected gloves up in front of him like a shield, scurried down the hall and through the double doors into the operating theater. Wrackham didn't follow, instead turning left and through another door. He scanned the room quickly. It was big, and looked even bigger with the distorting all-white hospital color scheme, swallowing the small group of figures crowded up near the glass wall.
Wrakham stepped in to join the other Galactic federation officers, led by Colonel Feldman, listening to an excited doctor. The colonel held up a hand and the doctor cut off.
"Major, what can you tell me?"
Wrakham took a settling breath. "We know the bare bones, sir, but we're still working out the details." Feldman nodded at him to continue. "Wrakham gestured through the glass to a swarming operating room. Through the crowd of doctors and specialists he could just barely catch a glimpse of orange power armor. "This is the bounty hunter Samus Aran. She was contracted to escort a research team based out of the Biological Space Labs, on a mission to capture and research local wildlife on the planet SR-388. There was some sort of incident on the planet's surface, though we don't have details. The mission was a success, and the research team remained on the B.S.L. Station, while Aran departed in her gunship for parts unknown. However, shortly after takeoff Aran's ship began drifting. She failed to respond to hails and continued to drift further off course and into a nearby asteroid belt. Her ship's automatic safety systems detected imminent impact and ejected the cockpit before being destroyed. The B.S.L. Staff were able to recover the pod, but they reported medical issues beyond their experience. They requested an emergency medical evacuation and did their best to keep her stable. The medical evacuation likewise were . . . uncertain of their diagnosis and delivered her here."
Colonel Feldman nodded. "I see. Doctor, if you would continue?"
"Right." She cleared her throat. "Samus Aran is displaying unprecedented medical conditions. She appears to have contracted a parasitic virus unlike anything we have ever seen. It reproduces extremely quickly, forming in small slicks in the crevices of the power armor, but it is already spreading, and the percentage of surface area that is infected are growing every hour. What it is doing to her beneath the armor I cannot venture to say."
"What's your prognosis?"
"Honestly? We have never seen anything like it. The slicks are spreading faster than we can scrape them off. Even now, we're preparing to surgically remove portions of her armor. But if we don't make a breakthrough soon, I give her a day, two at the outside. We're already preparing quarantine measures for everyone that has come into contact with her, including myself once I get in there. So, if you have any more questions, ask them now."
Feldman frowned, rubbing his chin in thought. "Yes, I do have a request. Before you remove the armor, extract any data and sensor logs and transfer them to Major Wrakham and his people for analysis."
"Sir?"
"The doctor has made it clear, major. Aran is an asset to the Federation, one I will not lose if there is any chance to save her. Put whatever assignments you have on hold. From now on, your only priority is to review those logs and see if you can learn anything about this parasite. Go over every scrap from the very first moment she stepped foot on that planet. With all due respect to the good doctor and her people, but from her report, it sounds like our best hope lies with you."
Major Wrakham settled into his office chair and pulled up the raw logs on his computer console. There wasn't much to work with. There were logs, a surprising number of them, actually, considering that she worked alone with almost no supervision. But they were voice only. There was a lot of sensor data on the suits system memory, but it was heavily encrypted, and by the time they got cracked it it would be too late. So this was what he had to work with.
He leaned back in his chair, put his boots up on his desk, slipped on his headset and closed eyes. Well, here goes nothing.
