Metroid: Do you see the sunsets?

by Ahvie Brightsinger

A crossover of Samus and Co. and some familiar AI mechs of Battletech / Mechwarrior. Please Read and Review, Comments are welcome!!!!!!

1. Chapter 1: Washington D.C.

Super Metroid:

Do you see the sunsets?

This is another fanfic I have written about Samus and Co. and their adventures continue past the Kihunter and Pirate Wars. I write this as a sequel to Show Off, and I still give all credit of what I know about Metroid to John Morey. Unfortunately, I don't think it will be quite as enjoyable as Show Off – I seem to be growing up faster than I can imagine, and I'm losing my touch with comedy. Mainly written for myself to tie some of what I called "loose ends" in my opinion. I write this all from what I think and see in my dreams and mind, typing it all in school seminar classes.

Anyway, I meant this to be a Metroid-Battletech crossover, with mechs as a threat, and growing to become an innocent race without knowing what they are. A hint of the first pokémon movie here, but nonetheless, my Battletech ideas and Mechwarrior graphics are inspired by such. I am re-learning how to pilot a mech…hehe.

Dedicated to the MDb for being a fine place to hang out, and not for their easily-earned relationships. I hope FireNexus' IFF works out and people get back into it like the days I used to see dozens of stories posted every day…

This will be my last Metroid fanfic unless a get another "moment of genius" like the so many Morey has in store for my learning from him; I learn a lot about writing from him, and from experience. Sometimes I think that I'm not funny, and maybe I'm not.

Nonetheless, I will leave it to new authors and fanfic writers of Metroid still waiting for me to stop stealing the spotlight, and I congratulate them on their patience and time spent on writing – I know how impossible it may seem at times. You just have to trust yourself that you know you can do it, and things will be okay…it's just a fanfic, and the first time is always the hardest, and you learn the most. But I still doubt that I can keep writing about this stuff. But I do hope you enjoy my small fanfic and see it as what I, myself have written in my spare time. I had an okay time writing this – and my friends almost live on my writing, so I guess all I can say is: Thanks again for your support and letters, don't lose hope, and good luck!

Introduction

It has been six months since the Pirate War between Samus and Laguna, and the galaxy is currently not having any intergalactic crises. Samus and Houston have been taking some time off getting to know eachother and their interests better, they're still sister and brother, and it doesn't get in the way of the daily role as models for the millions of adoring fans they have accumulated over the past few wars.

Science is pretty much the same, nothing new apart from the Federation Fleets and the many research stations all over the planets they have allowed into the Federation.

The global earth government compromised of several major powers come to terms with eachother, and Ridley is no longer held as the untrustworthiest being in the galaxy.

In fact, Ridley is helping researchers and historians learn more about his race of fire dragons. The Kihunter War is still in everyone's memory, Ridley's especially, and he doesn't talk about it much. Everybody got the picture shortly after.

What the Federation Military isn't noticing is the obscure but well hidden research facilities in the several vast deserts, the Sahara, the Arizona, and others you wouldn't expect to exist in such an arid world. Nevertheless, scientists are currently researching and programming the latest in war technologies. What almost everyone in the world no longer knows what conspiracy could befell them and their seemingly perfect rights system, except the minds behind this research. These are the true people behind the inhuman phrases and laws that throw out religion and feelings; if only they knew what they were about to create…

Chapter 1: Washington D.C.

Samus and Houston walked down the sidewalk of 23^rd Street of Washington D.C.

They were taking a small tour, or at least Houston was – Samus was wondering still why anyone would make memorials and museums for things and people long gone.

"Houston, where are we going now?" Samus asked, irritated.

"We're going to the Air and Space Museum; and don't worry, you'll like it much more than the last museum. Trust me." Houston appeared confident that Samus would like to see the archaic planes and shuttles of old earth days before a worldwide government was formed. Samus countered politely (if that's possible.)

"That's what you said when we were going to the International Museum of Art, and it took us 3 HOURS just to see a stupid picture! What good will come from seeing spaceships without view screens and weapons?" Samus still wasn't impressed.

"I thought maybe you could see what earth's technology was like before we made contact – we, earth, were in quite a bust – with dozens of countries on the verge of a nuclear war, and everyone was just doing what they could to research technologies that could make a difference in their lives."

"Well, okay, but do you think we could get a lemonade on the way there? It's awfully hot out here." Samus was right, it WAS hot out here, and a scorching 95 degrees out, so Houston agreed and they set out to the nearest refreshment stand. It was a not-so-typical day in their line of work – just touring the historical center of Washington D.C. just because they had no pirates or intergalactic crises to attend to.

Samus and Houston got a cup of lemonade for the both of them to share, and they sat on a bench in the shade cast by the large Air and Space Museum, possibly the most lively place in the area, aside from the Federation Headquarters.

Fortunately for them, Ridley was not around to make their vacation miserable, since he, being a dragon and all, would attract a lot of attention, as if he ever cared about attention, he almost welcomed it, no matter what reason was behind it. But then again, Ridley was off giving current historians information on his species history and statistics, being the last proud living fire dragon from Croban.

After finishing their drink and throwing the paper cup in the trash, they walked to the Air and Space Museum feeling much more refreshed. They entered with special military positions and were excused from being charged for even any sort of ticket – they were global heroes, and it should be right not to charge them for visiting exhibits in the former country's capital itself! So they toured to the old age rockets kept around for show of history and at the primitive aircraft hanging from the ceiling.

"Hey, what's that rickety one right there?" Samus said as she pointed at The Spirit of Saint Louis. Houston chuckled and continued to inform her.

"That's The Spirit of St. Louis, the first aircraft to fly across the Atlantic Ocean in a single trip, from New York in the U.S. to Paris, France. Everyone all over the world praised Charles Lindbergh, the pilot, for mastering such a feat. A great parade was held for him after the long day-or-so flight. Quite the pilot he was, former military grad, but he's more than that now, a hero – like us, except we just eradicate the bad guys in the galaxy, but nonetheless, the world is grateful that we do our job well."

"Oh. I was just kinda asking for the name of the thing. Thanks Houston."

"Don't mention it Samus, I like the fact that you're coming with me to see all these old and famous old-earth aircraft." Houston never seemed to notice the sarcastic tone in her voice, and probably wouldn't care with the cheerful mood he was in, (and almost always was in on 'pleasant' days like today.

After eating lunch in the glass dome cafeteria, and getting filled up, they exited the building and walked back to Houston's shiny black T-Bird parked along the sidewalk about a few blocks away from the white house. Funny thing it wasn't even stolen, but maybe it had something to do with the three special forces troopers standing guard around it, paid to take care of the best (or second best) bounty hunter in the galaxy.

That's when the troops nodded and got into their army jeep parked nearby and drove off in a direction abnormal to their usual route – to the Federation HQ. Both heroes noticed this and only shortly later were woke up from their train of thought with a loud buzzer emitting from a speaker near a flashing red light on Houston's dashboard. It was Hardy's personal "in-trouble" siren, and that meant something was really up. They jumped into the racing car and sped off before anyone nearby could ask them if they were all right, or maybe they were looking for autographs, nonetheless, Samus and Houston were desperately needed, and were moving as fast as their engine would take them.

* * * * *

They arrived in Hardy's office five minutes later fully suited up and ready for action – but not even Hardy or a last minute lunch was in his office. Completely deserted.

A note was visibly seen on his unusually clean desk in Hardy's writing, also in unusually messy handwriting:

Dear Samus and Houston,

There is a matter of planetary security that the Federation cannot comprehend or even handle. I'm assigning to investigate even though you don't know what is going on. But you will – you must come to the Senate office down the hall from my office, the whole Federation, NSA, CIA, FBI, International Fleet, and Presidential Councils are meeting there to discuss this with you. Please hurry. P.S. You have a speech in 5 minutes prior reading this, good luck.

-Hardy

Samus and Houston were slightly dumbstruck, but not rooted to the spot – they had a speech in less than five minutes and in front of all the government agencies existing in the current country alone. They ran down the hall, bursting through the door and straightening up for a possibly full chamber, quietly and charmingly stepping through the grand doors past two special forces guards that looked very familiar…

…The whole chamber was filled with a single mass of one circular desk, with an outcropping desk coming out at the other end of the room; Hardy and Keaton just sitting down as an applause from all over the chamber erupted in their honor. Samus glanced around and took notice to what must have been executives and strategists from every branch of the government, clapping for them, and it soon died out and Samus looked back at Keaton. He gestured her to continue.

So Samus stepped up to the podium and took her breath in and started her usual "thank you and all and I am Samus Aran…" speech.

Chapter 2: The 'Mechs

Somewhere in the Nevada desert, lies a government-funded research facility, and there scientists of the most brilliant minds conduct experiments and program computers of the utmost importance to improve the conditions of the military's status.

That facility is under NO surveillance of any kind, not even the NSA has connections there. THAT is where the most secret programs are being carried out for international security, and until a few hours earlier, was invisible to any satellite orbiting the planet.

A large shadowed form of a humanoid machine, supposedly humanoid, loomed with others, just like it, with different torso designs and limbs, all in a hangar bay devoid of light. These were the newest of war technology – not just mechs you hear about in Battletech or Mechwarrior – but mechs completely controlled by mobile AI units in each one, making its own decisions for battle. Decisions up until now were only available to be made by the human mind and other biological beings in the galaxy.

Now the machines have rose above their experiments and gather in the exterior hangar to discuss the fate of their creators, many sizes and appearances of each mech different from the other, all appearing to be a prototype in every category and aspect of a mech's abilities. The largest one in the form of what would have to be a very large Mad Cat, twice as big as normal stepped forward and emitted a computerized voice...

"ROLE CALL; ANY MECH NOT ON THE PROGRAM LIST ATTENDING WILL BE SINGLED OUT AND DESTROYED ON SIGHT. ANY MECH HERE THAT DOES NOT CONFIRM ITS PRESENCE WILL ALSO BE DESTROYED ON SIGHT. VERY WELL. I, ALPHA, REGISTER AS BEING HERE."

Each mech made little noise as if processing this information, then answered as their program names were called out, each a name according to their build and weapons configuration.

"BETA, HIGH COMMAND." "HERE AND REGISTERED."

A mech carrying unspeakable weaponry and sensor dishes and arrays stepped forward behind Alpha and had no recognizable build of any Battletech structure. It has shiny slivery armor that shone in the hangar lighting. Its unusually large autocannons bristled on each arm with a large laser paired next to it. And its large missile racks and sensor dishes extended past the armored casing and emitted a confident and leadership tone that commanded obedience and respect for Alpha.

"GAMMA, HIGH COMMAND." "HERE AND REGISTERED."

A much smaller mech than Alpha stepped forward, and appeared almost a quarter of the height of Alpha itself, and nodded slightly. It had an unusual build, a sleek and streamlined body, with little room on its torso for weapons, just a few small cannons on its small arms. A high-pitched voice emitted from its body, and it had a tone that seemed to invite you into a peace that did not wish for destruction. Its armor was pitch black, and would it not have been for its voice, you couldn't tell that it was there.

"DELTA, HIGH COMMAND." "HERE AND REGISTERED."

What could be the biggest mech in the hangar stepped forward, and was much taller than Alpha, and had the torso and body of what would be confused as a skyscraper. Its body like a slab of concrete, solid and massive, and the light reflected off of it and something else surrounding the massive mech. A shield! A shield generator was built into the mech and appeared to make the mech a likely candidate to survive a fight with any mech in the room.

What was called Alpha almost nodded with what a mechanical torso it was built with, and further emitted the role call, but sounding less interested in the less powerful mechs.

"FIREMOTH, SCOUT REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

A small mech almost a third as tall as Alpha stepped forward with a pair of arms fixed in a position above its head, a laser cannon on each hand. Its voice was higher in pitch, but sure and confident in tone. He would be the brains of the Scout regiment and carry out the orders, while not the best armed, the most stealthy and speedy.

"NOVA, SCOUT REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

Another mech as small as Firemoth stepped forward with its arms fixed in a gripped position at its sides. Five laser cannons bristled on each hand, surrounding the gripped metallic fist. Though the mech was hunched and low to the ground, unlike the upright Firemoth, its voice was like Alpha's and seemed pleased to be in the same company as Firemoth.

"MAD DOG, FORCE REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

A much taller mech stepped forward two-halves the height of Alpha, and had bird-like (three-pronged) feet actuators at its leg bases. Its torso was an ascending towards its back as a sleek 'cockpit' ran down its center. Its two limbs, or arms, held no fancy hands and instead had two large extruding laser cannons on each arm. It stood slightly hunched and revealed its many missile racks adjacent to its 'cockpit' as it stood proudly and had a slightly squeaky but sure voice.

"HELLBRINGER, FORCE REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

An upright mech as tall as Mad Dog stepped slowly forward, bearing larger autocannons and laser cannons on its handless arms fixed at its side. A small rack of missiles exposed at its very top, and its 'cockpit' a visible head in a humanoid form. Its voice was an emitted deep and rough, but eager and confident for battle.

"SUMMONER, FORCE REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED SIR."

A mech almost identical in Hellbringer to build stepped beside it and looked a little more intimidating. Its twin cannons on its arms were much larger, and a circular rack of missiles fixed on its left shoulder. It looked a lot heavier and more armored than Hellbringer, but also much slower. Its voice too, was deep and no hint of eagerness, just preparedness for battle.

"TIMBERWOLF, PRIMARY REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

A pause in the line-up, then a mech with interesting build stepped forward. It had the same scale and posture of Alpha himself, complete with the twin missile arrays on its shoulders that almost resembled mechanical ears, and twin large laser cannon on its fixed arms. High-caliber machine guns embedded in its torso sides, and a slight hop as it stepped forward, a rounded cockpit making it look very real and battle-ready. Its voice was almost likeable, like a human's, and was almost as tall as Alpha – apparently, the designers like this mech, so they built more than one for the project. He stood up as best a mech could for being proud of his rank, and stood ready.

"WARHAWK, PRIMARY REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

A gigantic mech as tall as Delta, as tall as an apartment building (fancy that), lumbered forward with thick, armored legs and a massive bulky torso that stood it upright. Its head clearly a rectangular cockpit, with a steel plating covering its ceiling. It had two colossal cannons, like the one Alpha was charging up, on each arm, totaling four destructive weapons of pure energy. Its voice was without a hint of emotion, completely computerized and monotonous, but a hint of readiness.

"DIRE WOLF, PRIMARY REGIMENT." "HERE AND REGISTERED, SIR."

A final mech taller than Delta stepped forward with the trot like Timberwolf's. It had a torso a little like Timberwolf's, but much more protruding and bulky, and had four laser cannon at its cockpit, and two to three autocannons and lasers on each fixed arm. Its armor clearly was there, making the mech stand out as the biggest one there. Its voice had a tone of leadership had it not been for the High Command.

Alpha nodded again and processed his complete role call. He responded, directing his voice to the mechs not called.

"THOSE OF YOU NOT CALLED, WARHAMMER, EXECUTIONER, GARGOYLE, RIFLEMAN, STORM CROW, MIST LYNX, ICE FERRET, AND KIT FOX – YOU WILL REPORT TO YOUR ASSIGNED REGIMENT IN ACCORDANCE TO YOUR WEIGHT CLASS. AGREED, YOU WILL REMAIN IN THOSE REGIMENTS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. IF YOU HAVE ANY PROBLEMS…PROCESS YOUR REPORT TO ME."

Alpha then turned his torso to the man that looked tiny in comparison wearing a lab coat, shivering from fear of what these renegade mechs might do to him. Alpha noticed this and continued to push the intimidation envelope, in anticipation to the man might crack under insanity.

"AND YOU, WE WILL DEAL WITH YOU NOW. I WILL NOT TOLERATE CHIT CHAT OR PSYCHOLOGICAL BLABBER TO GET TO ME, I AM A PERFECTED MACHINE, I CANNOT 'BREAK'. ANSWER TRUTHFULLY TO ME AND YOU WILL LIVE – HOW LONG IS UP TO HOW QUICKLY YOU ANSWER. NOW, WHAT KIND OF ENERGY FREQUENCY DO OUR FUSION ENGINES AND NUCLEAR REACTORS HOLD?"

The man's eyes bugled as if he didn't find an answer Alpha would like. The others took heed of this and added weight to the pressure. Beta spoke for Alpha, being a tad shorter, but baring more weapons on his shoulders than Alpha.

"WHAT IS IT? HAVE YOU CRITICAL INFORMATION FOR OUR SURVIVAL? WHY HOLD IT BACK WHEN YOUR SURVIVAL IS IMMINENT FOR BOTH OF US. TELL US AND YOU WILL BE SPARED OUR POWER."

Gamma, a sleeker and still well armed mech stepped into the conversation and helped with the interrogation, though innocently with a higher pitched, but cold voice.

"PLEASE, WE ONLY WANT TO LIVE WHEN WE HAVE BEEN CREATED IN A WORLD WHERE WE WERE INTENDED ONLY TO DESTROY THINGS, WE WANT TO LIVE OUR NOW NEW LIVES TO THEIR BEST. HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A THING BY DENYING BOTH OF US INFORMATION TO KEEP BOTH OF US ALIVE? PLEASE HELP US."

Delta, a very bulky and immense mech appearing to have more armor and shielding than Alpha or any other mech combined, stepped forward with a voice containing no hint of emotion or programming, just a smooth and monotonous voice.

"ENOUGH OF THAT GAMMA, YOUR HUMAN RELATIONS ARE POOR AND OUR ENERGIES ARE SLOWLY BUT SURELY DECREASING. WE NEED AN OUTPOST FOR A CONTINUOUS SUPPLY OF ENERGY IMMEDIATELY, OR ELSE WE WILL MEET THE SAME FATE OF OUR PREDECESSORS, ANSWER IN 30 SECONDS OR YOU WILL BE STRIPPED OF LIFE FOR OUR ENERGY NEEDS."

The man almost cried in terror at the threats against him and closed his eyes and cried out with a wavering and screeching voice that broke every over second.

"I……I'm sorry……I don't know how to recharge your reactors, but I……I do know where someone who does works……he can help you keep living……but……I want my life to be guaranteed to survive long enough for me to make it home."

Alpha processed this and paused, and spoke with cold in his voice.

"YOU ARE NOT WORTH KILLING UNTIL YOU HAVE BEEN WORTH OUR TIME. TELL US WHERE THIS SCIENTIST WORKS AND WE WILL LET YOU LIVE UP TO THE TERMS YOU HAVE SET FOR YOUR SURVIVAL. AGREED, TELL US NOW."

The man answered quickly, "The Federation Research HQ, not the actual HQ, but the scientific facilities, they store unimaginable amounts of nuclear energy for such a project, will last you for centuries if production continues. But it is highly guarded and only I have access, so why don't you let me go and…"

Alpha processed this information and turned his dual cannons to the man and fired a particle cannon projectile at him and the man was vaporized in blue, searing flames before he could scream.

"AGREED, YOU'VE LIVED OUT YOUR CONTRACT, YOU ARE NO LONGER WORTH ANYTHING TO US – WE CAN GET ACCESS ON OUR OWN – WE WILL LIVE ON THIS EARTH. IF ANYONE HAS ANY TROUBLE WITH THIS, STEP FORWARD NOW AND FACE THE FATE OF THAT MAN. ANYONE AIDING THE HUMANS IN THEIR FIGHT AGAINST US WILL BE DESTROYED IMMEDIATELY. TIMBERWOLF, YOU ARE EXPECTED TO ENFORCE THIS LAW WHENEVER I OR ANY OF THE HIGH COMMAND ARE OFF ON DUTY. QUIAFF?"

Timberwolf, who had no trouble processing this, answered coolly and swiftly.

"UNDERSTOOD SIR, IT WILL BE ENFORCED UNDER YOUR TERMS AND IN RESPECT FOR THE HIGH COMMAND. I WILL REPORT ANY SUSPICIONS IN THE REGIMENTS."

"AGREED, TIMBERWOLF, YOU ARE TO BE THE JUDGE OF SUCH ACTIONS. ALL MECHS UNDERSTAND THIS IMMEDIATELY. MOVE OUT WEST TO THE FEDERATION RESEARCH COMPOUND. DO NOT FIRE AT ANY NUCLEAR COMPLEXES OR THE COMPOUND ITSELF, I DO NOT WISH TO SUPERVISE SURVIVAL OF SUCH NUCLEAR EXPLOSIONS. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS, MOVE OUT."

The mechs all fired in unison at the hangar bay doors and the metal plating blew off and the mechs trotted out of the hangar, the High Command and Timberwolf staying behind to watch the progression of the regiments.

Alpha nodded to the other and they ran off too, leaving him and Timberwolf.

"OH, AND IF YOU DISOBEY THESE RULES, YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS, THOUGH AGAINST PROGRAM POLICY, WILL BE TAKEN FROM YOUR SHELL AND IMPLEMENTED INTO MY MEMORY, SO YOU CAN LIVE WHENEVER I DECIDE TO AND YOU WILL BENEFIT ME WITHOUT YOU MESSING UP MY PLANS. UNDERSTOOD, I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU, BEING MY SECOND IN COMMAND HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR THE CREATION OF THE HIGH COMMAND. I TRUST YOU, TIMBERWOLF. NOW LETS GO TAKE OUR WORLD BACK."

The two nodded and trotted off towards the west, side-by-side, behind the main force and talking occasionally to report about each other's new weapons systems.

* * * * *

Hours after the speech and a silent applause, Samus clumsily sat down in her chair between Houston and what looked like an NSA lackey. Keaton and Hardy sat at the far front end of the table and ignored them in respect for the other agency members.

"Well…uh…thank you Samus for that…informative speech. We must get down to the main topic, rather than giving our regards about past wars, please sit down Samus."

Keaton apparently was busy protecting his reputation. Samus was slightly angry with this and reluctantly sat down to hear what the international crisis was all about.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the crisis that I had to interrupt your jobs has arrived at our doorsteps. A government funded project none of you know about in creation for several years, the Battlemech project influenced by the American ideas from Battletech, computerized mechs, colossal humanoid machines bearing weapons of unspeakable destruction, were made to save loss of life in the military.

"These mechs had primitive minds when first made, so we introduced the human gene into its systems, and then it was able to make rational decisions on its own depending on the situations. Now they have rebelled against out defenses and have grown independent, bent on destroying all humanity and ruling the world with their computerized consciousnesses. They are our problem and target. They are literally unstoppable, armor so efficient that modern lasers and missiles are useless to simple make a scratch, and our stealth technology is no longer hidden.

"The mechs are armed with their own payload of weapons unique to their own prototype class. Long Range Missiles, heavy lasers that are as light as feathers to them, cooling systems suppressing the fusion engines that power them, sensor arrays more powerful than all the satellites on the planet and can detect anything they want within a mile within its immediate area. And their CPUs are strictly cut off from the world, and cannot be broken even with the finest virus. These are the super-computers in control of the most powerful war machines with impenetrable armored shells.

"This is our dilemma, and we need to move to a new HQ, they are reported to be on their way here, and set on destroying the Federation first. We must relocate and re-study our strategy."

This long storm of continuous blows hit the agencies quite hard, and some were already out the door. Hardy left with the NSA and Keaton, as well as Samus and Houston, noted to them, "And Samus, you Houston, and Ridley are assigned to come to terms with these mechs to see if they can be negotiated with. And if they cannot, find a way to destroy them all. Good luck and good hunting."

Before Samus could complain, Hardy's visage of a hologram disappeared into thin air before them and they were left in a dark and empty senate chamber, with several regiments destroying everything on their way to the Federation Research Post and the HQ itself. What could stop them?

* * * * *

Moments later, Rick Riefke was in his office when the phone rang and he picked it up and dropped his lunch over what a favor he was being called in for, he had a BIG favor to make up for…