Chapter 5
"Mr. Zell, the Federation and its people are indebted to you for this great service you have performed. You will be properly compensated for this endeavor," general Goering, taking the X canister from Maxon. He looked at the content's appraisingly, as a connousieur does when examining wine.
"With this, we will be able to end the horror of this invasion. Again, Mr. Zell, thank you. You are a hero to the Federation and to all its people."
Maxon nodded, "About compensation," he said.
The general nodded curtly, "Of course. I believe the sum of two million credits is proper for the service performed."
Maxon raised his eyebrows at that, "Two million? I want two-point-five, nothing less."
"Two-point-two, plus tax exemption for five years."
"Done."
The two men shook hands, general Goering holding the X under the crook of his left arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Zell. I must get these immediately to the lab. If this plan is to be successful, it must be implemented as soon as possible."
Maxon was impressed with the precision of the Federation's military forces. In only six hours, the X had been divided and placed in stasis in individual tanks. Each tank was in turn placed on an interplanetary ballistic missile, aimed towards the worlds expected to be in the next phase of the invasion.
He stood a few miles away and watched the IPBMs on their liftoff, tongues of yellow flame shooting from their engines, rocketing them skyward. Each one would land on a target world, releasing its X cargo. Since the X had no other natural predators besides Metroid, they would quickly multiply, making the world impossible to traverse, creating an impermeable barrier between the invaders' conquered territory and Federation space.
The whole process took only twelve hours. When the final IPBM reached its target, the High Command issued a statement to the press, detailing their plan. They claimed in a desperate plan, they had used the X being used for medical research as a bio-weapon, hoping to halt the invasion. So Cohn had been wrong; Maxon still had his trump card, though it may be less of a sum. Also, Cohn was weak, easily manipulated. General Goering and the High Command would be impossible to extort in the same situation.
But the Federation had already issued a statement of the need for additional personnel on the front lines, in the event the X plan failed to work. The pay was good. Maxon figured he could squeeze some extra credits out of the job with some fast talking and maybe a little ass-kissing. He didn't enjoy sucking up, but if it paid the bills, he was willing to do it.
Despite the precision of the military's labs and systems, it is difficult to keep track of every single microscopic object. It is impossible that anyone noticed the singular X cells that slide off the main body, scurrying with their pseudopod under the shelter of the specimen tables.
A green spot the size of a quarter had grown as the cells divided. It grew and grew, until it became a mass of gelatinous green goo, as long and as wide as the specimen table. Slowly, ever so slowly, as if by Brownian Motion the slime oozed about, taking shape, here an arm, a leg, the head, another leg, the stubbed right arm.
The SA-X stood up, shoving the table off itself. It looked about with its pupil-less eyes. It raised its arm cannon, the missile blast shields opening up. It fired a missile into the wall, punching a hole into it. It marched deliberately out, cannon at the ready.
"Containment breach! Containment breach! All security personnel report to lab! Report to lab immediately!"
"Now what?" said Maxon aloud. He ran towards the lab. Suddenly the structure shook, nearly knocking Maxon to the ground. "What the hell?"
He took the lift to the lab. In the hall outside he found a soldier dead, fileted by the shrapnel from an explosion. He grabbed the soldier's gun and started off down the corridor.
The path was marked by explosions and charred places on the wall, as well as by dead and mangled soldiers. As he rounded a corner, he saw the fleeting shadow of his quarry. He picked up his pace, chasing after whatever it was at a dead sprint.
He caught up with the thing, holding his rifle at the ready, poised to make the killing blow. But his nerve left him as he caught sight of the orange and yellow powersuit, with great round shoulders and the emerald visor. It whipped up its arm cannon. The ice beam crackled as the quick-frozen air sped towards him. He avoided it in the nick of time, jumping behind the doorway.
He counted to five, then jumped out, gun blazing. He emptied the clip into the hangar bay, till the gun made its tell-tale click, click. But the SA-X was no were to be found.
"Free! How wonderful this is, We are free at last! Free to plan out Our conquest, free to spread through the Universe. Knowledge, power, strength, soon they will all belong to Us. The Host's Children are ready, ready to multiply, ready to strike. So many worlds, there's an endless number of worlds.
"Just thinking about them makes us hungry. Think of all creatures, all the ripe, uninfested hosts just waiting to be picked. Of all the knowledge held by the creatures that inhabit them; technology, science, space craft! We will take to the stars and spread to the corners of existence! Our strength is unlimited, We will reign supreme from now until the ending of life itself, no, until the ending of the Universe!
"Preparations must be made, the Host's Children will lead the first push from here, then from above, were We were 'used' as weapons, we will- wait, what is this?
"The Great Host! She is set free? How? Our last notice placed her isolated on a primitive world! How is she free! Only she holds the key to our destruction, she is the only one who can stop Us.
"Come, come, Child, seek out the Host, when We have destroyed her, we will have nothing to fear. Track her down, make use of any means, but find her! We must find her! We must eliminate her! Take to the stars, Child! We will kill the Great Host, she will trouble us no longer."
"Say again? Say again? Recon team, please repeat!" said Admiral Zim. The reconnosiance team had reported some trouble on landing on Trerry. Now they were losing contact, and Zim needed information before they could progress.
The reply that came back was static filled and broken, and Zim struggled to piece the words together. "We have encountered the same life form that attacked recon team on Federation research station. We are unable to defeat it. Repeat, organism is too strong to defeat. We have sustained fifty percent casualties. If we stay any longer, sir, we'll all be dead."
Zim leaned over the console, "Are you sure there's now way to destroy them?" he asked.
The answer came back quick. The recon team commander sounded increasingly frightened, "Positive, sir! Our weapons are having no affect on them. We need to pull out."
"Very well, get off the planet."
"Roger that, sir, recon team, out."
So this organism that had attacked the assault team at the Federation research station was on this planet, as well. In fact, every planet within range of the fleet was totally infested with the vile creatures, making planetfall impossible. After making such startling progress, the operation was suddenly halted in its tracks.
Word was coming down the chain of command. Many of the elders were disgruntled with the sudden halt of the operation. They looked to Zim to find some way to put the invasion back on schedule. But any attacks against the creatures proved useless. Their weapons had no affect against them, and the creatures attacked relentlessly, having already killed a dozen soldiers in Zim's flotilla alone. That was four times as many soldiers as th Federation Police Force had killed over two months.
He clicked on his communicator, "Have you analyzed the information found on the Federation research staton?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," his aide said through the communicator.
"Call the staff into the conference room. I wish to speak with them."
"Right away, sir."
Soon after Admiral Zim sat at the head of the long oaken table. His entire officer staff was their, including the skippers from other ships and the marine commanders. Some attendants brought in blackberry brandy, pouring each one a glass of the violet liquor. Zim took his glass by the stem and stood up. The others rose in unison, "Comrades in arms, let us drink to the fleet, to the cause, and to the great men who have made our dream a reality!"
There was a chorus of concurrence from each one, and they downed their drinks. Zim sat, followed by his subordinates. The aides came by again, filling each glass again. "Fellow officers, I'm afraid we've reached an impasse."
"The unidentified organism, previously encountered on the Federation research station known as SR99A, has proven invincible to all our present weapons systems, both land and naval based. These worlds they infest are crucial; if we are to continue our conquest of the Federation, then we must secure these worlds for use as a base in the next phase of the operation.
"We have so far exhausted all possibilities, but none have proved useful against the organism." He spread his arms wide, "I'm open to any suggestions, ladies and gentlemen. No notion is too far-fetched, too, gaudy to not warrant consideration. Remember, it is the fulfillment of our peoples' dream that hangs in the balance. If we fail, then our people have failed. We will have disgraced our ancestors and our caretakers beyond forgiving. Now, any ideas?"
At first no one spoke. Then, a flurry of ideas came from each one. The first was that they could simply annihilate the organism by the use of nuclear weapons. That was dismissed; they needed the worlds to be largely whole in order to act as bases. They couldn't just bypass them either. The infested worlds were central to the continuity of the invasion. If they were not controlled, they failed.
Everyone thought frantically, but each idea was dismissed as implausible. Zim drummed his fingers angrily on the table-top. He was getting impatient. "You are the greatest of your generation, surely you have more for me than this?" he demanded.
"I have an idea, sir."
He nodded towards Major Molineux. "Let's hear it, Major. I must say, I'm surprised that you didn't propose an idea earlier in the discussion, being the science officer."
"I chose to take the time to think about the situation, which it seems many of my colleagues have difficulty doing," the other officers shot each other stony glances. Some of them turned beet red and quivered with rage.
"Having analyzed SR99As databanks, we find that this organism, known in the Federation as the X, is a parasitic organism recently discovered on the world of SR388. The X are capable of replicating the DNA of their hosts, making identical copies and even absorbing the knowledge of those they infect.
"The X only recently came to light after the extinction of their natural predator, a parasitic energy draining creature known as a metroid. The metroids were the only creature who were the natural enemy of the X, and were therefore able to keep them in check. After the extinction of the metroid, the X multiplied.
"In the data, I also found an interesting note. Samus Aran, the bounty hunter, was attacked by X on SR388. The X infested her powersuit and central nervous system. It was expected she would die from the infection.
"Then, a Federation scientist discovered the curing properties of metroid DNA against the X. The injected Aran with metroid DNA, killing the X and making her immune to them.
"If we can use metroid DNA to innoculate our forces against the X, we can move through these worlds with impunity. The only trouble is," he paused, "all metroid cell cultures and live samples were killed when the BSL station over SR388 was destroyed by Aran."
"If that is so, how can we ever use the metroid DNA?" asked Zim.
"Well, sir," said Molineux. "There is only one place the DNA still exists."
Markos wrapped his trench coat tight over his shoulders. The cold of the city was biting, and the temperatures would continue to drop until the sun rose again in a few hours. At sunrise, the temperatures would soar, capping off at the triple digits. That was one thing he hated most about this planet; the weather had such extreme shifts that one could easily become hypothermic, then, within a few minutes, warm-up so fast the body would go into shock and die.
He'd heard several stories of people dying from temperature shock during his stay. Thullos now topped his list as the shittiest planet in the Universe, mostly propelled to that coveted position by the fact that more people died from the weather than from all other causes combined.
Nobody was on the street. Everyone else knew to stay outside during the predawn hours. But his duty called, and it called for him to go walking down the street as temperatures rapidly approached sub-zero. Under his many layers of fleece and jackets he wore shorts and a t-shirt. In a few hours it would be blistering hot, and wearing all that stuff was risking heat stroke.
He came to a dark intersection. The stores were all blacked out, except for a neon sign that was supposed to say "Liquor," but said "or" instead. On one corner of the intersection was a public communicator. He stepped into the booth, shutting the door behind him. Immediately the booth's heaters came on. He could hang here for awhile before venturing out into the cold again. It was very comfortable. Besides, he was expecting a call.
The call came at 0530, right on schedule. He pressed the answer button, then entered his PIN to receive the call. "Markos? It's Zim."
"How can I help, Mr. Zim?" he asked.
"I cannot say much, this communication may be monitored. We're sending a hologram for you. Pick it up noon tomorrow. Understood?"
"Perfectly, Mr. Zim."
Zim hung up. The screen chimed, cheerily informing him that he owed four credits for the call. With a curse he pressed the "Bill account" button and left the booth, walking briskly down the way he had come. He passed that First Bank of Thallos. It had a hologram that displayed that date and temperature. He noted it read twelve degrees Farenheit. Man, what a hell hole, he thought. I hope my new orders take me off this goddamn ice-ball.
He reached the apartment just as the dawn was beginning to crack. The air conditioner was already at work, driving out the hot air pumped in by the heater during the night. At least the AC and heat was tax-free, as it was considered a necessity of life, same as food. Otherwise the power companies would rule the planet.
After a quick shower and a long slumber, Markos walked, wearing shorts, flip flops, and a sleeveless t-shirt. Again he passed the Bank. The temperatures now registered one hundred three degrees. He had barely gone two blocks when sweat started pouring off him in buckets.
The postal office was nearly a mile away. In the intense heat, he felt totally exhausted by the time he got their. Thankfully, the office was briskly cool. And, even more thankfully, there was no line. He sidled up to the desk, "I'm here to pick up a hologram, name, Karl Streicher."
The clerk checked the computer, then nodded, "We just got one in a few minutes ago. If you'd just fill this out," the clerk handed him a clipboard.
Markos took it and filled it out quickly, using the information he'd committed to memory weeks ago. After this, Karl Streicher would be dead. The identity had no more purpose for Markos.
He handed the clipboard back to the clerk, who disappeared into the back of the office. She reappeared again, holding a small, back disk. He paid the hardware fee and left, taking the disk with him.
Markos walked into an alley near the office. He looked left, then right, then, satisfied there were no prying eyes or ears, he started the message.
"Greetings, Markos, from your brothers at the front!" said a voice. He didn't know the voice, but it wasn't Zim's. Probably one of many agents stationed along, used to relay messages and intelligence without risking the upper-echelon becoming directly involved. Per security standards, no image of the speaker was included.
"We have a great mission for you, Markos, one that will determine the fate of the galaxy. If you succeed, you will be a great hero to us. If you fail, grave consequences will follow, both for you and for the cause.
"Markos, this job is simple; snatch and grab. Here is your target." A face flickered into view on the hologram. It was the face of a woman, long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. The face rotated about on top of the disk. Markos recognized the face. He had seen it many times on the newscasts when her first came to the Federation. "You must capture the bounty hunter Samus Aran, alive."