The Federation had known for three days that the Space Pirates were coming. There had been sightings as they dropped out of hyperspace long enough to be detected by long range beacons. Then, they dove back into hyperspace again, a few seconds out of their journey to the Core Systems. The Federation had a hundred ships that were perfectly capable of dealing with the Pirates, but they were so far out that in three days' time the Pirates would be at the governing planet and have decimated it and the five ships it had as a guard. The majority of the ships the Federation had were out looking for the Pirates themselves, and here they came to knock on the very door of the heart of the Federation. There were only fifty-nine ships on a course for Earth, but they would overwhelm the defenses of the planet without more than a scratch.
The Space Pirates were coming and there was nothing the Federation could do about it.
Deciding not to go out without a blaze of glory, the military alliance on the planet stocked their five ships with as much armaments as they had available, nearly to the brim, with each ship carrying only men and women trained to run the ships twenty-four hours a day. The soldiers would stay on the ground in case an assault was launched. The military leaders knew that wherever their soldiers were, they were likely to die. In the air, those fifty-nine ships would easily swat the five from the sky and take no prisoners, and they could easily bombard Earth's helpless cities without the soldiers being able to do anything about it.
The day before the fifty-nine ships came, there was a mass televised prayer, unto which all faiths were called upon to care for their flocks in this, their time of desperate need. Panic ran highest during this time. There was nothing to be done about it. The military's weren't the only satellites in the sky that could tell when a ship had dropped from hyperspace and could be seen.
There were mobs, there was looting, there was chaos. The only thing that kept the military from becoming involved in the personal struggles of the people was the fact that they were hellbent on preparations for stopping this unstoppable approaching wave of enemies. They let the world eat itself alive.
At five in the morning, Federation standard time, the first of the ships dropped from hyperspace on the dark side of Earth's moon. The five ships of Earth's defenses were routed to the area. They had not yet reached the moon at approximately five-fifteen when another group of ships had appeared opposite the planet, taking up position above key cities. Several minutes later a larger wave of ships, twenty-three in all, had joined the force on the dark side of the moon. The Earth's defenders had reached the moon's proximity by this time and had quickly realized their impending defeat at the hand of so many enemy ships. The rest of the Space Pirate fleet came in at different times, one or two at a time. The last to arrive was the behemoth, the pride of the Space Pirates: a captured Federation vessel named "Daedalus", carrying massive golden wings that bristled with numerous Pirate-augmented weapons.
The ships did not fight. The five defenders of Earth reached the nearly thirty ships on the dark side of the moon and had returned safely.
There was a communication. The Daedalus contacted the government of the Federation. Its message was short: "We need to talk."
Shortly thereafter, the larger half of the fifty-nine ships, the Daedalus breaking the tie, set down on the ground just outside what formerly had been called China. Troops were ready on the ground. They had surrounded the ships with every vehicle and weapon and soldier they could muster on three day's notice.
The Daedalus opened. Every port was opened, and the beings who comprised the Space Pirates poured forth from it like a flood. They descended on the ship and tore it apart, piece-by-piece, until it was cleaned of the weaponry it contained and the augmentations the Space Pirates had given it. The humans watched as the process was done quickly, efficiently, in a short span of an hour.
The leaders of the Federation government were brought on site. They had a chance to witness what appeared to be a hive at work. When the ship had been stripped of it Pirate components, the swarm collected into the other ships on the ground. Only a modest handful were left outside. They approached the leaders of the Federation, arms open in a symbolic gesture of helplessness. They carried no weapons.
When they were within hearing range of the leaders of the Federation, one spoke in perfect, albiet mechanized vocalizations of, English. "We wish to sue for peace with the Galactic Federation."
Thus began the first of many dark days in human history.
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Far away from Earth, but certainly aware of the events going on there, is a little pit stop on the way to nowhere named "Bounty's Bargain." This is the sort of place that likes to have a light in every dark corner so the local law enforcement can see where the scum is hiding and clean it out. This is also a place where the cure is often worse than the disease. This is a place where bounty hunters come to rest and resupply their premium weapons for premium prices. And this was the place Samus Aran, the most decorated and famous bounty hunter, was arrested. But we shall arrive at that soon.
As for the moment we, the author and the reader, arrive at this space station within just a few short moments of that "incident".
The bounty hunter sat at a bar. She wore her power suit, though her helmet was off. Her hair was tied back and was inside the suit. She had thought of cutting it short, but it had not interfered with neither her suit's functions nor her own personal comfort in it, so she did not act on the thought. She drank orange juice. There were no intoxicants onboard the station. The only patrons that were able to afford them were either bounty hunters or the local law, and neither wanted a clouded head when the other was so close as to be able to touch. In front of Samus was a plate of the slop that the Federation's top scientists had come up with. "It can be either solid or liquid, depending on consumers' palates. It has all the nutrients one would ever need. It is the perfect food." It had been in everyone's mind that ever ate it that the only thing the scientists had failed to perfect was the taste. It did not taste like chicken, it did not taste like dirt, it did not taste like anything. That is not to say it does not have a taste, only that nobody has any experiences with a taste that even vaguely resembles it. To Samus Aran, bounty hunter of the finest class, it was a meal.
She had seen the first reports of Space Pirates coming to Earth. She had been trying for two days to gain access to a vehicle that could get her to Earth without anybody knowing she was aboard until after the fact. She was looking to wound the Space Pirates in a desperate way. But even could she get a ship, how to sneak into the Pirates' ranks and wound them so grievously? she had wondered.
'Consequences be damned,' she thought. 'I am needed there. I have to go.'
A squadron of police came into the bar where Samus and several other of her bounty hunter peers ate and drank. She paid them no notice. A squadron was overkill for a place like this, but certainly not unheard of on routine patrols.
There had been a tension in the bar. Everybody onboard the station was closely watching the events surrounding the arrival of the Space Pirates on Earth. The squadron did not help the matters, but they did help maintain a note of civility to the place, which was what kept the bounty hunters from tearing the place apart from the inside out.
Each member of the squad knew the metallic gold and red design of the power suit Samus Aran had been known for. Several had seen it during combat with the forces of the Space Pirates in other places, and other times. They were straight to the eating Samus Aran. She became surrounded in an instant. 'Questioning me about some local yahoo, or asking for help. They always ask one of us for help, and my famousness gets me the prime position for it,' she thought. Her back was to the commanding officer, Chief Petty Officer Mark Briggs. She had placed another spoonful of scientifically engineer mush into her mouth, followed by the familiar taste of orange juice and swallowed.
Briggs had never seen Aran in combat, but her exploits were famous. He had even seen one bit of classified information about one of her older missions, quite on accident. He had not heard of the beast "Ridley", but had read about her defeat of it on Zebes. That had been an accident, of course, and also the only classified bit of knowledge about her he'd seen. Yet, in her presence not, her back to him, the way she seemed to ignore him completely as she ate, confident that they weren't here to do what they were about to do, she had his admiration and respect, and the knowledge that should they ever cross paths after this, his high-tailing it out of her way would be the only way to save himself.
"Samus Aran," he said in a high tone. She nodded her assertion that, yes, she was indeed the person that they had come for. "We are here to place you under arrest and provide escort to the planet Earth for war crimes."
The bar's patrons all turned toward the police surrounding the bounty hunter. They were all interested to see the famous, heroic Samus Aran on a rampage. They wanted to see blood. The spoon in her hand holding the slop shook.
"I am being charged for what?" she asked incredulously. Those closest to her could hear the sound of grinding teeth.
Briggs said in a less certain tone, small and almost a whisper, "War crimes." He watched her a few seconds. She did not move. He looked to his left, and the person there looked alien to him suddenly. He nodded, though, certain that this fellow was the same James Marshall he had served with for the last six months on this station. The other officer touched another and the two pulled their electrified night-sticks out. Seeing that, two more readied a set of shackles. "We are going to have to ask you to disarm," CPO Briggs said gaining confidence.
Samus Aran stood up from the bar and the officers that did not already have their hands full drew their guns from their holsters. They were all trained on the back of her head. "I am naked underneath this suit," she said. Thought of that went straight to every man in the bar. They imagined seeing Samus Aran strip down to her bare skin, the power suit she donned gone from the picture. Then each man pictured exactly how they would take her.
"Completely understandable. We can arrange to pick up some of your clothes if you would like. We all know how much a place like this needs its modesty," he said loudly, enough so that everybody could hear him. Samus turned to face the officer. He saw the anger in her face, and she saw the fear in his. And yet, he said, "Come with us, please." And she did.
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There was a sense of loading cargo that she got when she boarded the simple Federation Police cruiser. Important cargo - there were several ships to escort the one she was on - that was to do exactly as ordered on command or else be shot in the head. She spent a week onboard the ship, chained from wrist to ankle and to her own neck, and also locked into a spot on the wall of her cell. She was being treated as one of the most dangerous people the Federation dealt with. She knew she was, and she knew they were only being cautious. She was not released to use the restroom. She was not released to eat. She slept sitting up and in her own filth. By the eighth day of her incarceration, she looked like a caged animal. Nobody had gone near her except to push her tray of food near to her, which was the slop in solid form and water. They were all too fearful of her even though she showed no signs of resistance. Orders.
During the trip, Samus Aran's mind wandered. She could not do anything but think to pass the time. What she had thought consisted of these few, simple things, and grew into larger, more worrisome things: Who had gotten her arrested, why they had done it, and what would become of her. She would stand trial, there was no doubt about that. With her near celebrity status, she was guaranteed a trial. Other lesser-known war criminals had been found with a bullet in their skull before ever going to trial. But what had started as a "why?" had grown. Why had she become a war criminal in the first place?
There was ample time to think about these things during her trip, and what she had come to conclude fell short of the truth.