ZETA PLATFORM
GALACTIC FEDERATION PEACEKEEPER HEADQUARTERS
ELEVEN DAYS LATER
Inside a stark white room, a Federation employee in a dark gray uniform sat at a table looking at the giant bound to a wall. A wide, deep chasm separate the man from the prisoner, held in shackles naked, shackled against the wall with arms outstretched as if crucified. His suit had long been stripped of him to be studied, though apparently things weren't going very well with that. The scientists, mechanics, and engineers were thus far baffled. Too bad that local half-breed phenom was dead, and with him his private notes and any hope of unlocking the secrets of yet unidentified xenotechnology. Luckily for the Federation man, figuring out technology wasn't his particular problem. Less fortunately, the giant in front of him, taciturn to point of mute, was.
The room appeared empty but a number of tubes were coming out of the wall, sticking into the colossal bird, regulating various systems and fluids within his body as other systems canned every aspect of him. The room's fluorescent lights hummed and the man became, he knew irrationally, annoyed. The North Quadrant was archaic in many ways but the lights were one of the most irritating. Humph. He ignored them and began the interrogation.
"Hello. I've been told your name is Clychun. Did I pronounce that right?"
No response. The big yellow eye didn't even roll down to acknowledge him.
"OK. Well, I'm an interrogator for the Federation. We are the local somebodies around these parts, and the people I represent do not happen to be especially pleased with you following the fun you had on this space platform, much of it at the expense of our soldiers. Our warriors." The man cocked his head to the side and blinked — his eyes tiny, plain, and brown as they studied the yellow orbs that were intent on ignoring him. He smiled; the cruel beak did nothing but continue to exhale heavily.
"I've heard you consider yourself strong," the man continued. "That's probably true. You…" he looked down at his papers, "bird peopleare something different, aren't you? No, even if we could manage to carve through that thick hide you've got I imagine we couldn't even get a whimper out of you. From what I've seen of our scientist's findings, it wouldn't be a anatomical characteristic so much as a force of will and from what I hear, you didn't even wince when that woman stuck the knife into your eye." He chuckled. "She did quite a job on you, didn't she, Clychun, old boy? Boy, that must have been embarrassing, huh? A woman. Didn't even have a powered suit."
No response.
"So, anyway, basically what we have here is two options. Option one: we do nothing to you. You heard me — nothing. We can't really hurt you or torture you or persuade you meaningfully, so we're just going to keep pumping you full of enough sedatives to keep you conscious but immobile. We'll see how strong you are in five, ten, how about twenty-five years? It will be a sight to see won't it, Clychun? Your muscles will have deteriorated, certainly, but how much? Will you be able to walk around if we let you go? I bet not. Maybe not even able to crawl. What about your mind? Will you still be able to remember your name? After you've wasted away enough, they may let you free of your constraints. In that case, I hope you have enough sense to evacuate your bowels and bladder in the corner. After all, a decade is a long time and after ten years in our care, I'm sure a malnutritioned prisoner will be pretty far down the priority list. You may not get checked on for weeks at a time. Hopefully your sense of smell will have deteriorated along with everything else.
"No, we won't be able to break you but watching you decay will be just as satisfying. No warrior's death for you, strong one. No glory and no finality, either. How long can your species last, anyhow? Maybe you can outlast this century. And the next. By the time you die, you may not even be you any more, philosophically speaking. You'll just be a big black hen drooling all over yourself, squawking while a couple of guards laugh to relieve the boredom. Maybe you'll get extra rations if you do tricks for them. It's quite funny to imagine you clapping and hopping up and down for some bird food, actually.
"So that's option one. On the other hand, we have option two: if you just answer a few of our questions now, we promise to euthanize you when we're finished learning everything useful from you." He stood up from the desk and moved to the front, leaning over the railing. "I know you've understood every word I said, and I know you can understand me now. You have five minutes," he held up his hand, fingers extended, "to think it over before we choose for you. Depending on which option you go with, you could be regretting it for a very long time."
The man turned around and walked to the door, stepping through before it closed again behind him. Then he waited. Another Federation employee, this one a Mehrite, came up and stood next to him.
"Hey Alex," the Mehrite said.
"Oh hey, Prion," the man said. "Wow, it's been a while. I don't think I've seen you since you got stationed in the North Quadrant. What's it been, eight years?"
"Closer to ten and I didn't just get transferred, I requested it. How'd you get here so fast, anyway? I thought you were still living the easy life in the Central Planets."
"I was. Unfortunately I was sent out to one of the moons on Wyndor XI to interrogate some Dåi-ori dissidents about a month ago. I wasn't real close but I was the closest guy around they thought was capable to get this thing to talk. I received a packet of info on the way that kept me busy most of the trip."
"So," the Mehrite inquired, "doooo you think he'll talk?"
"I'm not sure. I'd like to think I hit him in all the right places, but we've got nothing solid on the rationale of their species. So who knows?"
"You sounded good enough to me."
"Maybe we should chain you up in there then." Alex felt a thought come to him. "By the way, any updates on that mysterious woman or Policeman?"
"Depends. What was the last you heard?"
"The woman was taken to one of our infirmaries. She had a broken arm, a concussion, a knife wound, and something was the matter with her spine, if I remember correctly. Broken I think?" Prion nodded, and Alex continued. "Not immediately identified. The Policeman was identified as Roger Lee and was in the morgue's cold storage, waiting to be transferred to a Galactic Police ship, as is Police policy."
"Good memory. You've missed a lot, but good memory. First off, the woman's gone missing."
"Missing? They lost her? A computer glitch or—"
"Not exactly," Prion said. "After we administered the nanos, we expected them to repair and replace most of the damaged nerve tissue rather easily but she recovered more quickly than expected. She broke out and knocked out a few doctors and the power in half the wing she was in along the way. How she did it, I don't know. Most patients can barely stand for a few weeks and it takes a month or two to walk again not to mention that shattered arm of hers. Nanos can't do anything to help that but keep the inflammation down. Nasty, nasty open fracture." He shuddered and made a face of disgust. "No permanent damage was done to the hospital or staff but we have no clue where she is now. She may be off the platform for all I know."
"Did we ever find out who she was?"
"Unfortunately not that either. She wasn't in any of our systems so she's probably a backwater colonist. Weird though. Her blood has something strange in it. Not human."
"Let me guess. You don't know what it is in her blood either, do you?"
"Preliminary results say it's the same as the big fellow in there. We're thinking there was some kind of error or he bled all over her and infected her with something."
"Glor-i-ous," Alex said, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. "Well, at least our Policeman didn't get up and walk out on us."
There was hesitation and he looked up at the expression on the Mehrite's face.
"What? Don't tell me he's gone, too. Oh, damn it all to hell."
"Most of us think the woman had something to do with it."
"But you don't know, right?"
"Right. Too bad though. She had the crap beat out of her but whoo," he whistled, "did she look fine or what?"
Alex covered his ears.
"I don't want to hear about that, Pri. I really, really don't."
"You need to catch up to the times. In the past year, I think I've been with more humans than my own kind. At least with humans I know I won't have to worry about having to shell out a paternity check. They still do that barbarous stuff out here."
"At what point did the look on my face combined with the words 'I don't want to hear about that' mean that you should continue talking?"
"You're just jealous you can't get some from any species."
"I'm married."
"Ah, the monotony of monogamy."
"Fullness of love. Anyway, the five minutes are almost up. Put security on full alert. He's had time to think, and if he's decided this is his best chance to break out, well, anyone who's been to Dostan knows he's dangerous."
"Küntamüntö." See you later.
"Hope so."
The man went back into the room with the giant that towered over him but he sat down calmly and let the giant speak.
"I have considered your offer," Clychun rumbled, slurring slightly, "and though I understand what you are doing and despise you for it, I accept your proposal."
"Good. That just makes you smart. There's no weakness in cutting your losses in a situation you can't win. No shame either. Now, tell me who and what you are."
"My name is Clychun the Strong, son of Gamedo the Dread, a Chiro proud and mightyu. I serve the Great Destroyer as a destroyer of worlds."
"And what were you doing in the North Quadrant all by yourself then? Strong you may be, but you over reached yourself if you thought you could take down an orbital platform in the middle of Galactic Federation space single-handedly."
"I came on a personal matter. My goals were limited and I had no interest in anyone else save for Samus Aran."
"The bounty hunter?"
"That is correct."
"And did you find him?"
The giant started laughing.
"Ah. I know now how that mongrel felt. Private jokes are always funniest in the most abysmal situations. Yes, in a fashion. It is of no importance. Aran is living on borrowed time from here forward."
"How so?"
"My people are coming here soon. A tenth of our number could overcome you in days, but the Chiro hordes burn toward you in full even as I speak. Whether you prepare yourselves, it matters not. You will all die, each one after the other. Aran was impressive by your standards but no match even for one such as my brother and certainly no match for me unaided. He is the best you can offer and I could trample the legendary bounty hunter beneath my talons without need to re-sharpen them after."
"That's pretty high talk," Alex observed, arching an eyebrow, "for one who was bested by a dying Policeman and one unarmed woman."
"She was not unarmed!" the Chiro roared as he lunged forward, tearing at his shackles. The man at the table showed no fear and made no effort to escape as he waited for the sedatives to kick in. He knew if the giant got free, he was as good as dead anyway. The Chiro's yellow pupils dilated suddenly and he sunk back down, as if relaxing. Clychun was barely moving and the man knew the Chiro was no longer fully conscious.
"I see I've stumbled upon something touchy," Alex announced more or less to himself as he made a note. "Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow when the sedatives have worn off and we can start up again."
The man walked outside of the room and saw Prion the Mehrite again.
"New orders," Prion informed him. "The Federation wants the Chiro shipped off to Ammon-höta for an undetermined period of further questioning."
"When will they be here?"
"Another three days. How's that going to affect our boy Clychun's interrogation?"
"It won't if I don't tell him about it. It looks like someone chose option one for him anyway."
"Küntamüntö, Alex."
"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Prion. See you tomorrow."
THAT DAY
BOUNTY HUNTER SAMUS ARAN'S PERSONAL STARSHIP: ARANES ÂKÈ (DEVIL'S EYE)
EN ROUTE TO PLANETOID CLUSTER FORMERLY KNOWN AS ZEBES
Samus sat in her ship staring out into the vastness of space that was the universe. She hadn't put her ship into the proper drive for it to begin dimensional folding but she knew in the end any lost time could be made up easily. Time didn't really matter anymore anyway.
As she looked out into space, she found it was cold, dark, and empty. Inadvertently she found herself relating to it. The emptiness… The painkillers she had for her arm, back, and hand numbed everything but that. Again she'd been at the mercy of another stronger than her and again she'd been saved. The hatchling Metroid was dead, Ridley was dead, and now Roger was dead as well.
Samus turned and looked at the limp, ruined body of the Policeman as it floated in her re-gen tank. Pointless. It couldn't bring people back to life. All it was doing was stalling the decomposition of a corpse. The expression on his face was one of relaxation and freedom and she envied him for it. She'd stolen his body and Daken's gift, taken them with her for a reason she still wasn't quite sure of. She'd retrieved her partially functional suit from the ruins of Daken's shop as well, but at least she knew her motivation for that. It was obviously necessary, but Roger was pointless.
She looked at her broken suit, strapped down next to Roger's, and admired it. Samus could still remember the piece of junk the Chozo had given her all those years ago. A huge, bulky helmet. Armor that left huge sections of her body completely unprotected save the cloth jumpsuit she wore underneath. A blaster with wires and tubes stickling out of it awkwardly. Nowhere near half the functions her suit currently had. Or rather, had had. It was amazing she'd survived at all. But her precious, perfect suit was no more. Ruined, ruined. Everything was ruined. Her body and Roger's. Her suit and his. Daken and his shop. Life and the closest version she'd ever come to normalcy. All ruined. Her cover was probably blown too. The Federation wasn't completely made up of idiots and there were enough clues lying behind for them to figure out who Samus Aran really was. Eventually it was all going to come out, anyway she supposed. Ruined.
She turned back around and twirled the disk in her hand that had been in one of the bags Roger had left in his room. It was titled "History of the Planet Zebes" but she didn't know that she wanted to hear what it had to say, necessarily. Then again, she had plenty of time to kill before she got to the destination with her re-gen tank occupied as it was. Speaking of which, she needed to hook herself up to the muscle stimulator again.
She grunted, pushed herself out of her chair, and floated over to a device on the wall. Samus had set the gravity level lower than usual within her ship. Her back just couldn't take the pressure. She bumped her arm and a wave of agony swept through her, then faded, cloaked by the painkillers she'd come close to overdosing on. She's suffered an open fracture in her arm and she'd be lucky if it healed in three months, let alone the forty-five days it would take to get to Ze— to what had once been Zebes. The distinction made her grin. When she got there, she'd be in no state to take on anyone, and have no weapons to do it. But the Space Pirates were there, and many space dragons. Suddenly it didn't matter so much what the Federation had managed to figure out.
She hooked herself up to the muscle stimulator and then made her way back to her chair. The open fracture would take months but her back might never be fully healed. At least her hand would be mended quickly. Most of the nerve damage had already been repaired. Lucky. Humph.
She put her ship into the proper gear, inserted the disk, and listened to the last words of Arthur Lee.