What is this story? It's actually a collection of stories about Samus. As the summary says they will be told from Samus' point of view. They will primarily focus on the period of her life from the time when she left the Chozo up until the time of the first game. Although this first chapter falls out side that time frame, the majority of later chapters will be within it.
How did this story come about? The idea came from the characterization of Samus I created for my other fiction 'Attached'. I liked what I had done with her so much she just had to have her own story. So if you are reading Attached and would like to know more about who Samus is, this is the thing to read... though their will be differences in the details here and there, she is mostly the same person with the same history. And if you read this and like it you may want to check out 'Attached'. Anyway, on with the story.

Usual legal disclaimer: I don't own Samus or Metroid or any other Nintendo character.

Intro

--x--

These are my personal logs. It's by no account a complete record of my past. They are simply stories from my life. Each having some importance, some relevance to who I am as a person, or are just something I felt like telling. If you're reading this, you've probably read my mission logs already. And if you haven't, you still may know me by reputation. The hunter, the warrior, bane of the Space Pirates, the one and only survivor of the Chozo. You know what I do and what I have done, but you don't know... me, who I am. Samus Aran, the girl behind the mask, the lonely girl, the sad girl, the one with no friends or family, and no personal ties to hold her down. The one girl in all the world. This is who I am.

Ghosts of the Past

--x--

Samus Aran, twenty one years old,

This day was like any other, or so I thought. I had no idea when I woke up that morning that it would be the beginning of a new era of my life.

I had just gotten home from, of all things, grocery shopping. That's something normal people do, right? I need to eat after all. I'm not actually a machine, even though I think I'd like to be sometimes. I put the bags away in the fridge without unpacking them. I'd just pick off them as I went till they were empty. I was tired; I just wanted to sleep, and hopefully, not to dream. My clothes made a trail to the bed as they were stripped away and fell to the floor; boots, socks and shorts; leaving me in just panties and a T-shirt as I crash down on my bed.

I laid sprawled out, staring at the ceiling, wanting, but unable to sleep. Sleep was something that never came easy for me. My mind was always active, and when trying to sleep I'd frequently think of the most mundane things: the mechanical health of my ship, and what needed to be done on it to keep it working; the smallest details of my last hunt; what I could have done differently to improve my performance, or playing out hypothetical battles in my head.

The unusual question that occupied me this particular night was nothing other than the nature of my own existence. I'm rarely plagued by thoughts of this nature, but for some reason this night I dwelled on them, perhaps because I hadn't been too busy with bounty hunting recently and had nothing else to think about. What was I doing with my life? Where was I going? Was this all there was to it, this dayin, day-out doldrum. Would this be how it is for the rest of my life? Going to remote places across the galaxy and hunting down the dregs of society, earning enough to keep me going, merely surviving, but not really living? I had the certain and unmistakable sense there was something missing. If only I could figure out what, maybe then I could have gone to sleep.

I sat up and rested my head on my knees, looking out the window by my bed, watching the city, the capital city of planet Kortalth, the capital world of the Federation. Living here put me in a fairly central location within the Federation, so I could easily travel to any part of it should I need to. I watched the lanes of ships coming and going from the city, staring at them blankly, hoping somehow the repetitive motion would lull me to sleep. Though as the night dragged on what eventually got me to sleep was just sheer exhaustion.

My previous hope of a dream free sleep would not be fulfilled though. And as always when I dream, I'd remember that time... when I was just a child...

--x--

Samus Aran, three years old,

I remember it began with fire from the sky. Weapons fire from the attacking ships I assume, though I didn't know that at the time. I didn't really know what was happening; only that it was big, loud, and scary, and that I just wanted it to stop, or at least to feel safe from it. My natural thoughts were that home would be the place to make me safe again. But I also had a strong urge to run away from the commotion. This was a problem however, since all the noise was coming from where my home was. In the end, home won out over the instinct to flee.

I had been playing in a field just outside the small settlement, so it took me a few minutes to reach the buildings. By the time I got there, things had become much worse. Most of the structures were on fire, and there were people in the streets; some of them running like I was, others just laying on the ground. I didn't understand that they were dead. In addition to the din of the weapons, passing ships, and roaring flames, the air was filled with the sound of screams unlike any I had ever heard before; screams so terrible that they alone would have been as frightening as the attack itself was. There were monsters there too. To me they looked like giant upright walking bugs. They were chasing and attacking the people that were not yet laying on the ground. This was my first brutal encounter with the Space Pirates.

I couldn't process all that was happening, and I didn't quite get the threat to my own life. I just ran blindly into the war zone, trying to get home, acting purely on instinct. The fire from the sky continued as I went. There was an explosion from behind and I fell to the ground. I could feel the stinging all over me; the spray of rocks and pebbles from the blast left me with many tiny scuffs and cuts. As I got up, I realized that I had fallen on top of one of the people laying on the ground. I stared at the body for only a moment, the reality still not registering, before continuing forward.

I could finally see my house in the distance. It too was in flames. Though it may have been obvious to an adult at that point, the sight of my home burning made me feel, for the first time, that things might not turn out ok for me. I started to panic and lost my way. I stumbled around, blinded by fear. There was too much motion and chaos; my eyes refused to focus.

Though faint, I heard my name called over the clamor of destruction. When I heard it a second time I was able to regain my focus and see that it was my mother coming to find me. She ran to me in a panic and all I could do was stagger forward. A sense of calm was returned to me and I felt that the safety that I was seeking was going to be mine. In the midst of that nightmare I actually found it in me to smile at the sight of my mother coming to save me.

She couldn't have been more than ten feet away when it happened... When she disappeared under the influence of a plasma bolt. It happened so quickly I didn't understand what I saw; she was there one second and not the next. Though what remained of her covered most surfaces in the area, including myself.

"Mama?" I questioned weakly.

I looked about, thinking she had moved some place else near by. I didn't find her of course, but what I did find was frightening beyond belief. A huge winged demon stood there, cackling wickedly, his bony frame shaking with laughter. The flames, thick black smoke, and smell of burning flesh were the perfect terrifying backdrop for this creature of pure fear.

From his mouth sprung a powerful beam of concentrated plasma, the same as the one from before, aimed off into the distance somewhere. He fired his natural weapon a couple more times in quick succession, laughing even more. He then slowly arched his head around to look right at me. I remember his eyes most prominently, a hideous and frightful yellow that seemed to practically glow with evil. He screeched at me and spread his wings; I thought I would be attacked for sure, and in fact I don't know if I was or not, because I had lost consciousness; fainted at the sight of the demon rearing up at me. This was by far my most vivid memory of that day.

When I came to, it was night. The fires and clouds of smoke that hung over the ruined colony gave everything an eerie orange tone. The demon and his minions were gone. All the people were gone. I was alone; a state I'd get quite accustomed to over the years. I stood up and walked around aimlessly. There was a horrible stench in the air; the smell of death. It was around this time that I learned what death was. As I moved through the ruin the sight of dead bodies was inescapable. I approached one of the more intact ones and knelt beside it.

"Get up," I said as I shook the body.

Getting no response I grabbed its arm, and with every ounce of strength in my tiny body, I pulled until I turned him over onto his back. I knew this man, though I can't remember who he was now; I think he worked with my father. As I stood there looking down on his face the realization hit me that he's not sleeping, but that he was... 'broken' was the word that my mind associated with death at the time, and that he wasn't going to move or talk or do anything else ever again except lay there. It then connected that this was true for my mother as well. I probably should have wept at that realization, but by then I was just too numb to cry.

I wandered for hours after that, mostly in circles, covering the same familiar territory over and over. As the night got late, the temperature on K-2L would drop significantly and the winds usually picked up. I was forced to take shelter in one of the ruined structures. Crawling into one of the many tiny crevices in the rubble, I managed to escape the elements and catch some sleep at least. When morning came, I was plagued by a burning sensation in my mouth; I hadn't had any water in a while and had been breathing smoke-filled air for hours. A bit more collected from my sleep, I thought I should find a source of water or something to drink. I knew nothing of survival techniques of course, I only knew that I was thirsty.

It took me hours of searching but I eventually found a source of water. In one of the less damaged buildings there was a broken pipe where clean, fresh water flowed. I drank until I thought I'd burst. Feeling refreshed, I went out to find food next, as I was very hungry as well. I went from place to place looking for something to eat, though I found nothing. Frustrated, I abandoned the search of the structure I was in and I crossed the street to search the next. But something caught my eye as I exited.

I saw several figures moving around in the distance, and they didn't look human. I feared the monsters had returned and went back to the wrecked building and hid under some debris. I could hear them approaching. I stayed as quiet as I could, hoping they wouldn't notice me. I held my breath as they passed by. Only after they had moved on did I let it out, though I did so a little too loudly and I heard them returning. I could hear them speaking to each other, but didn't understand the language. There was then movement inside the structure, getting closer and closer to me. Peaking out from beneath the scrap, I could see feet moving about on the floor.

Suddenly, a large piece of debris was lifted off of the pile, exposing me. I scuttled further back into the wreckage, terrified. I am trapped. A figure hunched down and looked at me from behind a green-tinted visor, and then it extended its goldcolored metallic-looking hand into the pile of rubble, trying to grab me. I have nowhere left to go. It spoke to me in its language, but I didn't understand. I saw on its other arm a fairly imposing looking cannon. The sight of the weapon frightened me even further. The figure then pulled back from the wreckage and then began to remove its crimson helmet.

The face underneath startled me. I was met with large, round, completely black eyes, a smooth round head covered in brown, slicked back feathers, and in the center of its face a large falcon-like beak. The bird squawked at me again in its language, though without the helmet it sounds shriller than before. The creature again tried to reach for me but was stopped by another of its kind, who laid a talon on its shoulder.The first bird retreated and the second one knelt in front of me. Instead of imposing space armor, this one wore a simple brown robe, its head covered with a hood. It was a lot shorter than the first and its face looked more aged, with lines and wrinkles pronounced enough to be visible under its feathers, and sagging skin from either side of its beak. When it spoke, it was in my language, and in a voice to match its face, sounding like an old man would.

"Come out, little one. We mean you no harm," he said in a surprisingly warm voice.

He extended his talon-like hand to me, not grabbing like the other one in armor had, but open and inviting me to take it.

"Come on then, I won't hurt you."

After a cautious, tense minute I finally took his hand and was gently pulled from the pile of debris. He stood me up in front of him, dusted me off, and smoothed out my wrinkled clothes.

"Are you injured in any way?"

I only shook my head in response. He checked me over anyway, examining my limbs and turning me around a couple of times.

"Is there anyone else here?" he asked.

I hesitated, not sure how to answer. There were other people before, but they were all 'broken' now.

"No..." I said faintly.

"What of your parents?"

The question caught me off guard and caused me to contemplate what I had avoided thinking about the entire time. I looked down at my blood-stained clothes, now knowing it was my mother's blood that I wore. I could only shake my head as tears filled my eyes and my chest started heaving without my consent. The bird man pulled me to him and picked me up as I sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder.

He carried me out into the street, joining the others from his group. There were five in total; two of them wore that gold and red armor like the first one I had seen. Two others were dressed similar to the old bird that held me, wearing simple hooded robes. They squawked and chirped to each other in their strange language. It sounded similar to birds singing in the morning, only not quite as random. It had a strange rhythm to it that made it sound more intelligible, even if I couldn't understand it. After a while they stopped and the old bird spoke to me again.

"What is your name, little one?" he asked me.

"Sa- Samus," I managed with a voice hoarse from crying.

"Samus, is it?"

"Who... are you?"

"In your language they call us Chozo. We saw your settlement from space and came to see if everything was alright."

"It... it isn't."

"We can see that now. Listen, Samus, it's been decided that you will come to live with us."

"Oh...Ok," I said hesitantly, apprehensive about leaving the only place I knew as home. I had believed, even though everything was gone, that I would still always live there.

"You can't stay here after all," he said, as if he had seen my anxiety and instantly determined its cause.

I had no idea the life they had in store for me. Maybe if I had, I'd have chosen to simply waste away there on that now barren world. I find it strange that I remember it all so well; most children don't have such vivid memories of those earlier years. It's weird, because prior to that day, I don't have many clear memories at all; which is actually normal I suppose. I guess my normalcy was taken from me along with everything else. I stood in the bay of their ship as it rose into the air, looking out over the ruined settlement that was my home. It hit me then that everything I knew and everything I had ever known was gone, and that the only thing that survived of that place was myself.

--x--

I awoke a few hours later with a jump, out of breath, and soaked in sweat. At least I didn't get the shakes this time; although I usually wake up either the moment my mother is killed or when the demon lunges at me. I wondered why I remembered the Chozo this time; it had been a long while since I thought about them. Most of the time, when I wake up from the nightmare that is my past, I'm shaking with fear and completely unaware of my surroundings, and it takes me several minutes to come to my senses. I'm told I have post-traumatic stress disorder, of which nightmares and flashbacks are symptoms, as are emotional detachment, the numbing of feelings, heightened aggressiveness, and depression. I guess what I'm told is true. It's odd to see your personality summed up as a psychological disorder.

My shirt was drenched in sweat, making me even hotter than I was. I took it off and tossed it at the laundry basket, missing by about a foot. Getting up I went to the fridge and got myself something to drink. The cold air felt good on my bare chest, a welcomed relief from the heat, and I lingered with the door open a little longer that I otherwise would have. On my way back to bed my phone rang.

"Who the hell could that be this late?"

I answered the call and the image of a man in a military uniform appeared on the screen. I could tell by the insignia on his collar that he's an admiral.

"Miss Aran?"

"Yeah. What do you want?" I noticed him become distracted almost immediately upon seeing me, turning his eyes to the side somewhat.

"I'm... Admiral Jamison. The Federation wants your assistance with a particular problem." I detected a hint of nervousness in his voice. His eyes kept looking to me and then quickly away. I glanced down at my chest, realizing the only thing I had on was a pair of panties.

"What? You've never seen tits before?" I could see him squirm uncomfortably at this, which I enjoyed. "Now what the hell do you want? What problem?" I said, now more annoyed than anything else. I don't like government men to begin with, don't trust a one of them, and I discovered then I like it even less when they call me in the middle of the night asking for my help.

"Yes well... I can send you the full details once we have an agreement. It would be a contract job, payment received upon completion of the mission."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"The Space Pirates have stolen something from us, we want you to go in and make certain they aren't able to exploit it."

"Not interested." I hung up before he could answer.

Less than a minute later I got a second call.

"What part of 'not interested' don't you understa-- oh..." I stopped, realizing I'm talking to a different person entirely.

"Samus Aran?" the new person asked. Unlike the last guy, he isn't human, but a seloptian, the native species of this world and one of the founding members of the Federation. Not being human, he probably wouldn't be affected by my nudity. The government is full of seloptians and this particular one happened to be none other than the president. "This is President Ha'thail," he said, stating the obvious.

"I know who you are," I said lazily. "Look, I already told your lackey I'm not interested. You think I'll change my mind just 'cause you're the president?" I could see he wasn't accustomed to being spoken to that way, and it put him off guard. Again I derived some enjoyment from making him uncomfortable.

"Will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

I shrugged and waved my hand indicating for him to proceed. "Make it interesting or I'm hanging up and going back to bed."

"This is a precarious situation. The Space Pirates have stolen a very dangerous organism from us. It's imperative that we either get them back or destroy them before the pirates can make use of them."

"So just send your fleet. That's why you have a military, isn't it?"

"A military expedition takes resources; resources such as money. It would cost billions to mobilize an entire fleet and send them in. We are offering you five hundred thousand. It's far more economical for us," he said, though he was obviously lying. They didn't want to send troops so that they can deny any direct involvement or knowledge of? this organism. There would be no other reason they would involve outside help, especially if it was as important as he was making it out to be. And if they didn't want to be linked to it, then I figured I didn't need to be either.

"This isn't what I do... I catch criminals and fugitives, I don't fight one woman wars for hire. You want a mercenary, not a bounty hunter."

"Is there much difference these days?" He waits for me to answer but I don't feel like giving one to him. "Five hundred thousand is a lot of money. How much do you make per bounty head? Ten, twenty, fifty thousand at the most? We're offering you ten times as much. And if things work out there could be future opportunities for you."

"I do alright for myself. I make what I need to survive. I don't need any more."

"Then think of it as your patriotic duty as a citizen of the Federation, your nation needs--"

"Save that bull for the voters and your clean-cut toy soldiers. It won't work on me. There are plenty of other hunters out there, ask them. Why do you want me so bad?"

"Frankly? You're the best. I've seen your record. You have a 100 percent success rate. No hunter now or ever has accomplished such a feat. Honestly, your talent is going to waste on petty criminals."

I sighed in annoyance and looked away, unimpressed with this latest attempt to sway me. He leaned back in his chair as he received a file from an assistant.

"Have you ever heard of K-2L?"

Now I knew they'd been checking up on me. They wouldn't have known I'm originally from there without doing some serious investigating.

"Who hasn't?"

"Right. It was the site of one of the earliest and most brutal Space Pirate attacks on Federation soil."

"What's that have to do with this situation" I feign ignorance; I know exactly why he's bringing up my home.

"As you know, there were no survivors found. Yet... the colony manifest shows records of a three year old girl living there. Had she lived, she'd be about twenty one today."

"What's your point?"

"It's a tragedy, really. Such a young and innocent life cut so short. It's upsetting; in fact it's angering. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it. Those dammed Space Pirates. It makes me want to do something about it. Wouldn't you want to do something about it too? If not for yourself or for the Federation, then do it for that little girl. Avenge her death, show those pirates some justice."

"Rousing speech, Mr. President," I said as sarcastically as I can manage. "But I don't care about lost children and ghosts from long ago. I'd rather just forget it all."

"I see... Is there nothing I can do to make you reconsider?"

"I doubt it."

"At least let us send you the mission profile. Look it over, call if you change your mind."

"Fine, whatever," I said and finally hang up, relieved I don't have to talk to him any longer.

A few seconds later, the mission profile was received by my computer. I hit a button and produced a hard copy, which I took back to my bed to thumb through, just out of curiosity; I had no actual intention of taking the job. The organism they spoke of was called a Metroid, odd name I thought, a native to SR-388 and a subject of Federation research going on five years now. A few days prior a Federation research ship leaving SR-388 was hijacked and the captured Metroids were stolen. It was suspected that this ship was taken to a pirate base on planet...

I stopped reading, and blinked my eyes in disbelief. Planet Zebes, the place where I grew up under the supervision of the Chozo, was the site of the mission, for which the Federation had selected me, of all people. It couldn't have been a coincidence... but how could they have known I'd been raised there? It's not exactly something I advertise, and the Chozo didn't keep records like that. Even if they did, the Federation wouldn't have access to them. Was I chosen because of this, did they think I'd be more likely to take the job if I knew it involved returning to my old home? And how did they know?

I do briefly consider taking the job, but my previous logic won out again. I'm not a mercenary, this is not the type of work I do, and I don't really need the money. I shake the thought from my head and read on. There was information about Metroids; behavior, capabilities, and physiology. Something about an organic planetary defense computer called Mother Brain. I recall the Chozo having something like that on Zebes when I stayed there. The profile went on to estimate the size of the pirate force: a few hundred drones, some kind of enormous beast the pirates use as a guard, code named Kraid by the Federation, and...

I practically jumped back from the image; the papers were thrown to the floor on reflex. My hand was shaking... my heart was pounding. I clenched my fist tight and took a deep breath. Timidly, I picked the papers up off the floor one by one. I found the photo I dropped and matched it to the paper it was previously clipped to and set it aside on my bed, separate from the rest of the mission profile. It must have been ten minutes that I paced back and forth beside my bed, daring not to glance at the image again, wanting to know yet at the same time terrified to find out. I finally worked up the nerve to look again.

The glowing yellow eyes stared up at me from the photo as I leaned over the documents. Their intense gaze seemed to burn holes in the paper the photo was made out of. The face of the demon once again was in front of my eyes, without having to imagine or dream it. It awakened in me a fear I hadn't felt since that day long ago.

I read the attached paper; a bio of sorts, scraps of information the Federation had on the creature, which didn't amount to much. It was apparently a higher-up in the Space Pirate command structure, but it was unknown if it was their leader or not. Most of the information read like a rap sheet, listing past crimes, a long bloody history of hijackings, robbery, murder, mayhem, and slaughter. I'd expect nothing less from that demon. I quickly glanced through the list and finally got the confirmation I was looking for.

"Led the raid that destroyed Federation colony K-2L, and killed 327 colonists," the paper read.

"326," I spoke aloud, correcting the mistaken body count.

Quickly, I scan the paper for the final piece of information I desire; the name. The name of the one who took everything I ever knew; the name of the one who put me in hell, both physically on that day, and mentally for so many years after; the name of my mother's murderer. The name printed on the paper. The name... Ridley.

Armed with this new knowledge, I once again took the photo in hand and looked at it. The eyes stared back at me, only I was no longer afraid. My fear had quickly given way to something else; not entirely anger or vengeance, but determination, determination to no longer be haunted by that face, and the sense of purpose that I lacked before. I crumpled the photo into a ball and clenched my fist tightly around it. Something had changed in me at that moment, I can't quite say what exactly, but I no longer wanted to run from the past and forget it existed, I wanted to... no, I was compelled to confront it head-on. Included with the documents given to me was a contact number; Admiral Jamison's direct line.

With more clarity and certainty than I have ever had in my life, I got up from my bed, crossed the room, and dialed the phone.

Close log

--x--

Next Chapter: Learning to Fly