Chapter Seven
"Mr. Zell!" the Federation officer stood up to greet him enthusiastically. Maxon extended his hand and the soldier delivered such a solid shake Maxon felt as though he needed to ice his hand. "Welcome to Polis. I trust your trip here wasn't too difficult?"
"No, it was fine, thank you, Major," he glanced down at his name tag, "Smithson. Your people have been very accommodating."
"Glad to hear," Smithson said, taking his seat. "I'm sorry we had to call you here after your, ah, adventures," he said, knowing the word choice was rather tasteless; Maxon would have described it as nightmare, "but there is a pressing matter that needs to be attended to."
He reached into his file cabinet, producing a slim folder that was stamped "TOP SECRET" in thick red letters.
"As you know we used the X to deter the invaders from making any further sorties into our territory. It has worked miraculously well, and they have made no further steps for weeks."
Smithson reached to open the folder. Maxon stopped him, "I don't have clearance," he said quickly. One violation he didn't want to get busted for was for seeing something his eyes should never have seen. He'd heard stories about what happened to people without clearance. Some of them, like the story about the hunter who got caught and had his body sliced apart, inches at a time, starting at the toes and working their way upwards. The hunter who told the story said the kept him alive long enough to cut his pelvic region of with a hacksaw. Nobody knew if it was true, Maxon on half-believed it, but it could be true, and he didn't want to risk that or a similarly gruesome torture.
The major smirked and said, "You do now."
That relaxed Maxon a bit, but he still seemed to be sitting on the edge of his seat. It was finally time for a real bounty, something he could really sink his teeth into.
The first item in the folder was some medical jargon. The only words Maxon found interesting were "Metroid DNA Vaccine".
"It's well known now that metroid DNA is the only hundred- percent way to kill off an X infestation, as shown by the success in its use on Samus Aran. It also has wonderful immunizing properties against the X, making metroids the only creature that stood a chance against them.
"The invaders acquired large amounts of data from SR99A's computer banks, mostly on Dr. Cohn's X research. Among that information were notes from Samus' treatment, including the particulars on the use of the metroid DNA."
"So they're trying to find metroid DNA, huh?" interjected Maxon.
"Right," said major Smithson. "All metroid DNA samples were destroyed with BSL. There was only one place the invaders could go to get the DNA."
Realization dawned on Maxon and hit him like an eight pound sledge, "Samus!"
"Right again, Mr. Zell."
"But I heard she was MIA after BSL, and nobody could find her," he exclaimed.
"We found her, but so did the invaders."
"You mean-..."
"They caught her, one of their agents managed to get her off Palade and we lost track of them somewhere in that sector."
Maxon stood up, "Say no more, major Smithson, I understand. I find them and bring Samus back." He turned to leave.
Smithson shook his head, "Oh no, Mr. Zell, we don't want her back. Your orders are to terminate on sight."
Maxon wouldn't have been surprised if his jaw had hit the floor. He spun around and walked to the edge of the desk. "What?" he said, hoping he'd heard wrong.
"Find Aran and terminate her, only then will your compensation be made." He nodded towards the door, not-so-subtlely hinting to Maxon that the meeting was over. "Good day, Mr. Zell."
Maxon didn't take his hint. He smashed his hands on the desk, leaning over and piercing the major with a hateful stare, "Look, buddy," he said, the major stiffening, "you just told me to go and kill the most dangerous person in the whole galaxy. First, I don't feel too good about it, but I'll do it, but only if you give me the whole scoop, cut the BS and tell me what this is about."
The major barely batted an eye during this tirade. His cool bravado made Maxon seethe with anger, and he wished he could reach over that desk and strangle him. Sometimes he hated the military officers; just because he was a bounty hunter and they got nice uniforms they felt like they could treat him like boot scum.
"After the X broke out on Ceres, High Command has been preparing metroid serum in secret," began Smithson.
"Serum? I thought you said all samples were lost on BSL?" said Maxon.
"Correct, Mr. Zell, I did say that. All samples were destroyed, but the computer DNA map was made and stored away. They have been able to successfully synthesize metroid DNA from the map."
"So Samus is no longer important to defending against the X."
"Terminating her reduces the chances of her being captured again, guaranteeing the invaders don't acquire the vaccine."
"You sure it's not for another reason?" asked Maxon. The major raised his eyebrows, "Take out a political enemy? Everybody knows relationships haven't exactly been sanguine between the Federation and Samus."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Mr. Zell."
"You left off the part that says, 'Bad things happen to people who talk about things they don't understand.' I got news for you though, remember what I said."
He stood back up, "I'll be back when Samus is dead. And when I'm back, I want to negotiate a raise in the compensation. I don't do assassination on the cheap."
Major Smithson clicked distastefully, "Mr. Zell, assassination is such a contemptible word. I've always preferred, 'termination'."
"Whatever it is, it's going to cost you," he whispered. "Dearly."
It took some negotiating, but Maxon managed to get a sizable paycheck. He demanded a non-refundable deposit of five hundred grand before he'd even start looking, and the remaining three million on completion of the job. Of course, that three million would only come if he was the one. Every bounty hunter in the galaxy was clamoring for a contract. But hell, he got 500-K just for trying, not a bad deal.
He sat in his office, clicking a pen in his hand and staring up at the ceiling. So I'm supposed to kill Samus. The irony of this whole chain of events never ceases to amuse me. Samus had been a kind of teacher to him, or rather, an unwilling mentor. She had taught him all the important stuff, like how to hide from a Space Pirate patrol ship and what independent corporation paid the best, and what kind of bounties not to take.
Maxon chuckled to himself as he remembered that particular lesson. They had just collected their dues for capturing a Space Pirate science team member, unfortunately the Federation exercised its authority and took away half the bounty because the Pirate killed himself as soon as he got his hands on an officer's rank pin.
"He killed himself with a pin?" Samus had said, giggling to herself. Maxon sat in the corner of the ship, already in a foul mood because he'd been needing to pay to rent out his apartment.
They were watching the newscasts, pulled off the archive from the sleepless week they'd spent hunting down the Pirate research vessel. The prime story at the moment was Bickson Hyde's death at the hands of fellow bounty hunter Nadia Hilson. Hyde was a successful bounty hunter, and like most successful bounty hunters he was an expert at cheating and deception, not to mention betrayal.
He was assigned to capture a particular Pirate commander, nobody knew exactly who or why. Either way, the Pirate commander, equally wise in the vices of mankind, offered Hyde a substantial sum of money to leave him be. Hyde took the money from the Pirate, high-tailing it out of the Federation, both with the bribe money and the Federation's upfront deposit.
The Federation, not being one to tolerate wayward hunters, issued a bounty, with the pay being fifty percent of all Hyde's assets, plus all the money Hyde would've been paid for completing his bounty.
Maxon shook his head, "I don't see why we didn't take that job, Samus. I mean, come on! We would've gotten ten times the credits for this last job plus more."
She muted the newscast, sighing with exasperation, "I told you before. There are some bounties no hunter with any self-respect should ever take. And hunting down other hunters is one of them."
"What, is there some written bounty hunters' code that goes against it?"
She shook her head, "No, there isn't. But it's an understanding and an unspoken trust we've gained between another. It's a matter of professional ethics. Big game hunter's don't kill other hunters and mount their heads on a wall, do they?"
Maxon scoffed. He gestured to the screen, were some text was running across the bottom, "Yeah, but big game hunters aren't making eighteen mil for bringing down a buck. Look at that, Samus; eighteen million credits! With that kind of money, both of us could retire, as well as any dependents."
He let out a whistle, "Eighteen million creds! Kind of blows professional 'ethics' right out of the water."
"No, Maxon, it doesn't. Money never supercedes ethics."
"I beg to differ," said Maxon. "Would you like me to name all the times enormous sums of money have totally annihilated ethics. I can go either chronologically or alphabetically."
"Fine. But we're hunters, Maxon. We're better than that. Remember that. Hunters don't hunt their own."
Maxon had to admit, Nadia Hilson did not get to enjoy her wealth much. The Hunter's Guild promptly ejected her and stripped her of all sanction, leaving her without a job. Normally that wouldn't have mattered, since she was sitting on a cool eighteen million.
Death threats began coming against her with startling frequency. She moved about so much and had to hire so much personal security that the ended up doing, hell nobody knew what she ended up doing, waitressing or something. Without being licensed by the Hunter's Guild, the Federation could not legally pay her. Whoever was sending the death threats stopped. They must have decided that the humiliation of serving drinks and allowing yourself to be groped for the sake of good tip was enough.
Hilson's story was the only real one, until Samus returned from Zebes a few months later. He'd jumped ship earlier, deciding he'd learned everything useful. Besides, he'd finished his apprenticeship anyway. With his full licensing from the Guild, he was ready to make a living for himself.
Samus' speech about never hunting fellow hunters had never really hit home. First off, the Federation paid exceedingly well for that kind of job. Second, when Hilson had been kicked out of the Guild, she was very low in the earning charts, consequently, the Guild's dues from her pay was rather minuscule. The Hyde job was a one-hit wonder for a small time hunter, and the Guild must've felt like they were simply cutting off some deadwood.
With Samus gone, Maxon was now the top earner for the Guild, and the Guild happily took their cut from his pay. The Guild would never revoke his license, if they did, it would be the financial equivalent of shooting themselves in the foot. The Guild's second highest earner came nowhere near his numbers. Unless they were going to start cutting office expenses by reusing staples and writing with blood, they would keep him on board.
So he was safe there, no problems would come from the Guild. The main problem was the hunt itself. Samus was the best bounty hunter in the Federation, was being operative. She'd been missing for months, and likely was out of practice. He didn't think she would pose too much of a problem, but he still had to be prepared. Some heavy weaponry was in order, and he knew were to find it cheap.
Then there was the difficulty of finding her. They'd been missing for days now, and Samus' ship moved fast. There was an infinite number of directions they could have gone, and in that time, the area they could be in covered nearly five sectors of space, five billion square miles.
He'd need to find out from the Federation what their last known course was before they disappeared. No doubt she was using a false vessel ID tag to fool space control. If he could find their first course, then look through the tapes of STC scopes, he may be able to identify the craft. After that, it would be a simple matter of tracking it, and waiting until she was exposed and unaware.
But the Federation was keeping that data secret.
"No problem," he reassured himself aloud. He'd run into a dilemma like this one before. He leafed through his numbers and then dialed up one he found in the very back.
The phone rang a few times, then a voice answered back, "Yeah?"
"Milo!" said Maxon with mock enthusiasm. "How've you been?"
"Oh, hi, Maxon," Milo returned, sounding even more subdued than before. "What do you want?"
"As always, the man gets right to the point," Maxon chuckled. "Your legs feeling any better? You know I'm really sorry about that, but it's really something I had to do. I mean, come on, five hundred thousand for a simple job like that?"
"I'm fine," Milo shot back. "What do you want?"
"Listen, I need a favor," said Maxon, maintaining his friendly tone despite Milo's hostility, "and I don't want to have to do a number on your kneecaps again."
The receiver picked up Milo's gulp.
"Now let's talk business."
Samus awoke with a start. Her berth was dark, but for a column of light slanting in from the entrance. She looked about, sitting up and resting against the headboard. What had awakened her? Thankfully she hadn't been having a nightmare. No, it had been a loud sound, metal banging against metal. Was something wrong with the ship?
She heard the loud clang again, followed by a mumbled curse from the cabin. She leapt from her bed and hurried to the cabin. On the floor was Markos' red and black powersuit, the limbs spread-eagled out.
Nearby was Markos, kneeling down and holding his left hand to his mouth and trying to curse through it. There was a monkey wrench on the floor, a small smear of blood on the handle.
"You okay?" she asked.
He looked up at her. He wiped his bleeding hand on the side of his pants. "Yeah, I'm fine." She was wearing her running shorts and blue sports bra. Her tanned body was muscular and lithe, and gave off almost a glow in the artificial light.
Markos managed to tear his eyes off her and return to his task. Samus shook her head as a few drops of blood fell onto the suit. "You need bandage."
"It's fine!" he protested, but she was already rummaging through the cabinet. She gathered the articles and knelt beside him, laying out the supplies.
"Let me see it," she said.
Markos snorted, "It's just a little cut, I'll be fine."
She grabbed him forcefully by the wrist and wrenched his hand close. He rolled his eyes skyward but didn't do anything to resist. "That's deep," she said, examining the cut. It was about an inch and quarter long and she could see the veins pulsing beneath it. "It might scar."
He raised his head up, "Good."
"Good?" she said. "How is that good?"
He raised his free hand to point to the pinkish scar on his neck, "I got that during training. We were practicing with knives; that was my first scar. All warriors wear their scars with pride."
Samus raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She took some antibiotic ointment and rubbed it over the wound. Markos' fingers twitched, but she showed no discomfort in his face.
She took a butterfly bandage out of the first aid kit. She peeled off the plastic backing, then stuck it across the wound. The bandage pulled the two sides of the slice together. "You'll be okay in a day or two," she said.
"Thanks," he replied, returning to his work.
"Need help?" she asked.
He shook his head, "Nope, my outer armor just took some damage from that hit I took down there. Cut my hand on the jagged edge." He stuck his hand out, using the other to hold the patch in place, "Hand me that epoxy gun, will you?"
She followed his hand and picked up the small pistol looking device. "Here," she said, setting it in his hand.
He blindly fumbled for it, and for a brief moment their hands met. "Thanks," he said, seemingly unaware that anything had happened, though she could see the blush deepening on his neck. She chuckled quietly to herself.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing."
He slapped the armor patch down over the damaged area. "Right, good as new." The patch looked almost comical, a little slate gray island in a jet black sea. "What do you think?" he said, standing up to admire his handiwork.
Samus smiled, "You fight pretty good, but your tailoring is shit."
"Thanks a million," he shot back, racking the suit in a spare equipment locker. He cocked his head to the side and massaged his stomach as it grumbled hungrily. "Damn, I haven't eaten since Palade's moon! Got any food around here?"
"In the kitchen, just aft of the berthing space."
He started off, stopping in the doorway, "You want anything?" he asked.
"No, I'm fine, just don't eat too much."
"Don't eat too much!" he mumbled as he headed for the kitchen, "She think I'm fat or something?"
What a weird guy she thought as she went forward to the cockpit. He'd reprogrammed the course again, but the route still was meaningless, a spider web of digital lines across the screen. Seemed like he knew what he was doing though. That path would fool any ship trying to track them, and he'd been smart enough to activate the false ID tag. Now they could pass through any Federation sector and simply be marked as a pleasure yacht.
She sat down across the seat so her feet dangled off the armrest. Her new companion was rather strange. At one moment he was jovial and jocular, at the next he was spouting off some militaristic speech or preaching to her about the various short-comings of the Federation. At that moment the Federation had only one major short-coming, that they were trying to kill her.
She had to admit, Markos was friendly enough, and he had saved her life, which usually did wonders in creating trust, but something about him seemed a little off. His origins and his people, these Varians, were complete mystery to her. They might not even exist and he could just be a hunter sent to bring her back. But how would that explain the powersuit?
Anyway she looked at it, it seemed obvious Markos was telling the truth.
He was already starting to rate as a decent guy, since so far he hadn't made any lewd comments, though she had caught him ogling her back in the cabin. But that was to be expected, he was a guy, after all. After a few days, he'd get used to it. If he didn't, well, some missing teeth might help him along.
She grabbed the remote and flipped on the screen above the canopy. She switched it over to the newscasts. They were in the middle of changing segments. The newscasts were usually all she watched on the screen, everything else was usually garbage. Then again, the news was garbage, but there was sometimes relevant information around all the propaganda, you just had to be picky about it.
"This just in from Federation High Command; as if the invasion wasn't enough, High Command has just released a statement that the X have broken out on several worlds near space colony Ceres."
Samus sat up right in her chair, staring intently at the screen. "Yes that's right folks, the X, the same parasite that Samus Aran nearly destroyed at BSL has infested several worlds. Riots have broken out in neighboring areas, and Federation Police Forces have dispatched troops to control the outbreaks of violence."
The X had survived? Impossible! She'd blown SR388 to bits! No way any of them could have survived the explosion, and even if they did, how could they survive in space, without any air or light? Now they had broken out and were infesting the Federation.
So she had been right, the X were a threat. She was right in trying to destroy them. Sad that the Federation would see her wisdom far too late. The X were more powerful than anything, more powerful than even these Varians, she was sure. They nearly killed her, they could easily wipe out anything that stood in their path.
But what had survived? Were they X that had already acquired genetic material, or were they simply X that had not previously infested anything. A sudden pang of fear shot up her spine, making her insides flip-flop. The SA-X! Had one of them survived. If it had, they would start multiplying; there could be hundreds of SA-X's by now! They had divided into nearly a dozen in the few hours she was at BSL! Given a few days, there could be as many of a thousand! With a limitless army like that, how could anyone stop them?
The anchor was saying something now. She leaned forward to listen, "On a similar note, Samus Aran has been kidnaped. Federation police and independent bounty hunters are searching frantically for the missing heroine, last seen at the pleasure world of Palade. They are requesting that anyone with information contact the Federation; pending Aran's retrieval, large reward sums will go to those who contribute to the operation with information."
She jabbed the control and the screen went black. So the Federation had hunters after her. They would be promising an extravagant price for bringing her in. And were there was money, there was Maxon. He was probably one of the first to take a contract to hunt her down.
Well, she'd give him a run for his money, and with Markos' help, he'd probably never come close. Maxon was pretty good, but she was better, always had been. She guessed he would check out STC first, then start checking all the areas himself they could have gone, which would take time.
In that time, hopefully they'd reach a destination, were they could either stand and fight or escape for good. And if he did manage to catch up, she and Markos could squash him like a bug. Markos alone could blow him to bits, and his suit didn't have the capabilities of her's though it had some components and gear she'd never seen before. She'd have to ask him about it later, maybe some of his equipment would be good additions to her suit.
A contented groan heralded Markos' entrance to the cockpit. He flopped lazily down into the chair next to her, smacking his lips, "Great grub you got on this ship, Samus. You sure you didn't want anything?"
"Not if your cooking tastes like your metalwork looks," she stabbed, chuckling.
Markos laughed with her, "Ah, I'll get you back someday, Aran."
Their laughter died away and the only sound was the faint hum of the computers. At length Samus spoke up, "The X are out," she said.
"The who?" Markos answered obtusely, picking at some scraps of food in his teeth.
"The X," she said firmly, expecting him to jump up in his seat.
"Who?" he repeated, sounding increasingly annoyed. "X is what, a variable, right? X could be anybody."
"They are anybody," she said.
"What the hell do you mean by that?"
"The X are a parasite, they take the genetic material of anything they infect and can copy it."
He nodded, still trapped in his apathy.
"I tried to destroy them, but it didn't work."
"Obviously not, how else would they be loose."
She threw up her hands and her face went red with rage, "Chirst, listen to me, will you? The X infested me and have a copy of me, in my suit, at full power. They could have been dividing like crazy!"
"Full power?" echoed Markos, terror beginning to edge in on his voice. "Dividing? How fast does it divide?"
"Who knows? I didn't take the time to study it! The thing is a menace!"
"So there could be thousands, thousands of X's mimicking you?" he murmured, more to himself than to her. He took a deep breath and said, his bold candor returning to his voice, "My superiors will be most interested in this development."
Samus opened her mouth to speak, but the ship cut her off. She spun to face the console and spied the offending alarm. "We're running low on reaction mass for the generator," she said. She brought up the map and studied it a moment. "There's a planet near here with reactor parts, right here," she tapped to gold glowing sphere on the screen. "We can take on supplies."
Markos gazed pensively at the screen, "Right. But you'll have to stay on the ship, the Federation is looking for you. You're quite famous, somebody might recognize you."
Samus didn't like the idea of staying on the ship. They'd been traveling for a week now, and she was looking forward to getting outside and smelling something other than recycled air and drinking real water as opposed to reclaimed sweat and urine. But he was right, she saw on the news herself that the Federation was already seeking her out. Reluctantly she agreed, "All right, but there's a few things I want you to get while you're down there."
"Chirst, if you expect me to buy tampons, you're out of your mind," bellowed Markos. His expression softened and he grinned at her, "Good, huh?"
She winced as if his words made her head hurt, "Markos, that was horrible."
He slumped further into his seat, "Damn, woman, you'll be the death of me yet."