Thirteen years after the attack
Samus sat at a table in the mess hall of the Federation cruiser Liberty and stared out at the endless starfield that filled the viewport. It was early morning when the ship left the shipyards of Chiron in the Alpha Centauri system, heading out to rendezvous with the rest of a task force and continue the arduous task of rooting out pirates.
"You're thinking again, what is it now?" came a voice behind her.
Samus turned to see major Byran Ticks holding two mugs of caf.
"Oh nothing, I was just calculating the size of the universe is that for me?"
"You're welcome," he said, placing the mugs down on the table and taking a seat opposite of Samus, "What's your conclusion?"
"About the same dimensions as your ego."
"Wonderful, you know you're dealing with a rookie when they dish out criticism within the first week." He sighed with false weariness. Byran was a rugged man with dark hair from the foundry world of Cuupros. He grew up working among the blast furnaces of a manufacturing plant, the experience making him tougher than the durasteel they produced. His height and build certainly enforced that fact. With muscles rippling through thick arms, the man could snap a Vysalian's necks with one hand. But his grey eyes also portrayed an intelligence nobody would ever associate with an iron worker, he was like a gentle teddy bear – well, a giant teddy bear.
Samus smiled, "I'm sorry, it's just that everyone here has this strange… manner that I've never seen in my old Marine company before," she said.
"You still have a lot to learn. It's called professionalism." Byran said, taking a sip from his mug. "The special forces are made up of a different breed of people from the rest of the Federation military, even back in the founding. You've been through qualification and training. You know that the SF don't look for the best soldier, they look for the best soldier who can also think, though certain personality quirks do get issued as well. Everywhere else, mindless fighter jocks turn big rocks into little rocks and the armoured cav crush those little rocks into even littler rocks, all with the help of expensive toys. While the brass parade the rock conquerors around like heroes, we do the jobs that nobody else can do, with minimal equipment to boot. And we do it in the shadows, if no one takes note of our accomplishments, then all the better."
"Its not that I don't appreciate it, I just feel overwhelmed. Sure, I've done the most impossible tasks back at MacKall, but that was all under controlled conditions with a cadre to watch over in case we screw up. Now that I'm asked to do it all for real outside of a training camp, it's quite daunting" Samus took a sip of her caf, and then made a face. "What did you brew this with? Engine coolant?"
"Don't worry, you'll learn to appreciate well made caf soon enough."
"Do I want to know the caffeine concentration?" Samus asked, staring dubiously at the mug's substance.
"Probably not, now finish your medicine little girl," Byran taunted, "we're due at the firing range in ten minutes."
As Samus tried to drink the intense liquid without it burning a hole through her throat, the stars in the viewport flared into white streaks of light as the Liberty jumped into hyperspace.
The two walked down the corridor of the Liberty towards the range, their booted heels clunking over the duraplast deck. She was a Neptune-class cruiser, classified as a carrier vessel. Shaped like a tapering flat barge, Liberty measured seven hundred meters in length from her prow to the command deck at the stern. Not heavily armed like battleships of the same size, her belly housed dozens of hangars and launching bays carrying two full fighter wings of one hundred forty starfighters along with a number of support ships consisting of supply transports, surveillance craft, assault shuttles, landing barges and more. The ship is a mobile garrison, able to operate independently for up to three months without re-supply, and carrying enough firepower to subdue a small continent. Accompanying the Liberty were two Mars-class medium cruisers; the Karren and Delindo, and three Ganymede-class frigates; the Rubicon, Orinoco and Volga. These escorts and the Liberty herself made for an impressive battle group. But more significantly, this battle group is home to the most elite military units in the Federation. The top Starfighter fighter squadrons, Marine companies, and needless to say, the Special Forces unit Samus was assigned to.
Plainly named "Sigma", the team of twelve members is one of only twenty-four in the entire Federation, each named for a letter in an ancient Earth alphabet. The members can be drawn from any branch of the Federation government, but mainly the military divisions, as it is rare for a team to find a situation that would require the use of an experienced accountant. There is no discrimination in selection, so long as the individual meets the physical and intellectual requirements.
"So how did you end up with us anyway?" Byran asked as they entered the range, two other Sigma members were already there, prepping their equipment. Samus shrugged, "I had gotten into a slight argument with my previous commanding officer as a Marine, and he tried to wash me out by signing me up for SF."
One of the men looked up "Slight argument? Ha! Samus here basically made a complete fool out of Major Watters, pointed out some holes in his attack plan you could fly a Jupiter through."
"I just said it needed some work and gave him a suggestion."
"Not in front of the entire squad, and certainly not just as you are about to deploy from the dropship."
"I only finished thinking it through then, and how do you know all about that?"
The man smiled, and extended his hand. "Lieutenant Dack Lanner, computer specialist."
Samus took it, "You've read my personnel files," she said.
"That's correct."
"Those are supposed to be private."
"Well I'm just practicing, besides, don't you feel less awkward not having to introduce yourself?"
The other team member stepped over and shot Dack a shut-up-before-she-slaps-you look and said to Samus "Do excuse him, apparently we also recruit out of a local children's crèche. Lieutenant Zepp Ebon, engineering, that means I can also build things in addition to blowing them up" and offered his hand as well.
"Alright people, it looks like we're the only ones going to do some practicing right now, so lock down the door. Since Samus here is also our new weapons specialist we'll do a level five pistol run, whoever can out shoot her, she buys a drink." Byran said.
"What? I never agreed to that." Samus said.
"It's the unwritten rule. Makes you have to keep up your skills or suffer the drunken antics of someone like Dack here."
"Hey, I resent that!" Dack called.
Samus just smiled at the exchange and picked up a P-51 blaster pistol, the standard sidearm issued to the SF. Byran fiddled with the range's control console, and the long room lit up. All four team members lined themselves up and placed their weapon in a holster. A moment later, holographic images of a space pirate shimmered into Samus' view for an instant fifteen meters away, then, disappeared just as quickly. But in that instant, she brought her pistol up from her side, her left hand joining her right to assume a proper grip and pulled the trigger twice in a smooth motion.
All four holograms reappeared in front of their respective shooters. Both Dack and Byran's target showed a hole in the thorax and skull while Zepp's had two holes in the skull. Everyone then looked at Samus' pirate, which showed one single, slightly irregular, hole between the yellow eyes, even though she had fired two shots.
Just like they taught me, Samus thought, then said to the others "So does anyone buy me a drink?"