Chapter 9
The ship shot off the landing pad as Samus flared the boosters. Markos flipped on the rear cameras and the image appeared on the bulkhead monitor. The outer city was awash in flame, and the tram tunnel was collapsed by a missile. "Look at that," he whispered.
Samus glanced up at the monitor and nodded grimly. "The SA-X."
"I saw it," Markos murmured, massaging the shoulder he had fallen on.
Samus slowly took her hands on the controls. She reached up and popped the seals on her helmet. They hissed as she lifted it off her head and placed it on the console. Her golden hair spilled down over the shoulder of her suit. It was disheveled and puffy from her helmet.
"It fights like a demon," Markos said. "Is that how you fight?"
"Yes," she shook her head, "but I don't kill people like that."
"What does it want?"
Samus gripped the controls with white knuckles. "They want everything."
Markos slumped down in the chair, "Yeah, I kind of figured." He switched off the rear cameras. "Can anyone stop them?" he asked.
She set the ship onto autopilot. "I can."
"How?"
"I was attacked by the X months ago, at SR388. Biologic was able to save me by using metroid DNA to kill the X. I still have that DNA. I'm virtually invulnerable."
Metroid DNA? Does this have something to do with my mission? "But doesn't that SA-X have all your powers? It can still hurt you, I would think."
Samus grunted, "It can still use its suit capabilities to attack and injure me, but it can't infect me like it could a normal human."
Wait... that must be it. We need her so that we can fight these X.
"Were to now?" she asked, brining up the navigational computer.
Markos leaned closer to examine it, "I don't know, we're going to have to go on another random course to throw off your friend down there."
"Maxon will try and use the STC database to track us. Now that the Federation found us with their SWAT, it'll be no problem for him to find us using the database."
"You know that guy?" asked Markos.
She sighed, "He was my apprentice a few years ago. Not a bad hunter, just too cocky for his own good."
"Can he really track us using STC?" asked Markos.
"Undoubtedly. Unless the Federation discovered the hole he used to hack their system, which is unlikely."
"We should have just killed him when we had the chance!" barked Markos.
A pained look flashed over Samus' face, "I'm not one to go around killing everyone."
"Sometimes you have to," Markos stood up, scowling darkly, "sometimes you don't have any choice."
She got up and followed him into the cabin. "What's your problem?"
"The question is, what's yours?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "There was no good reason to keep that bastard alive. No we've got to hope that the SA-X will finish him off. If it doesn't, then getting out of here is going to be tough."
"Is that what they teach you in Varia? That the only thing to do with an enemy is kill it?" she snarled at him.
"What else is there to do with an enemy? Why are you so defensive about this? You know as well as I do the most prudent thing to have done would be to kill this Maxon."
She knew he was right. Maxon would have an easy time hunting them now.
"Why didn't you let me kill him?" demanded Markos.
"I don't know," she murmured, turning away.
"You do know!" Markos said, walking directly behind her. "Why?"
She shook her head, then whispered, "Because I loved him once."
Markos took a step back. Fresh tears splashed down on the metal floor. He reached out a hand, but the ring of the phone stopped him. He hurried past her into the cockpit. As he depressed the answer button, a uniformed Federation officer appeared on the screen.
"If it isn't the great Markos," he said, a smile playing across his face, "Once again you have proven yourself able to elude our most meticulous traps. I must congratulate you."
"Save it, Smithson. And next time send somebody a little more competent than some traffic cops," sneered Markos.
Samus came into the cockpit, red eyed and drawn. Smithson, she thought. Smithson...a rather infamous Federation counterespionage officer. He must've been trying to find us too.
"It's too bad you couldn't enjoy yourselves on Polis," he said. "But I'm afraid that SA-X character has really turned the place upside down.'
"What do you want?" asked Markos. "I don't have time for your bullshit."
"I'm simply calling to give you a warning; you know how I despise an unfair game of chase. Just know this, Markos; we are on to you and Aran. There is nothing you can do to stop us this time."
The screen faded into the Federation crest, then went black. Markos pounded the chair, "Damn Smithson! We'll be pursued from every direction."
He brought up the navigational map, "There are some fighter bases in this system; they're probably patrolling for us. I think we can slip by them and land here," he indicated to a white dot on the screen. "There's a small port. We should be able to ditch this ship and get another one."
Samus nodded meekly. He was all-business, this Markos, she had to give him that.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she muttered, "I just need some sleep." She left the cockpit and threw herself onto her bunk, then quickly drifted of to sleep.
It was a long while before Maxon got it in himself to move. His jaw ached, and whenever he touched it pain went shooting up his cheek. Slowly he got to his feet, standing unsteadily in a daze. He wiped blood from his lips, then spat out something hard. One of his teeth skittered on the concrete, the pearly white surface stained with crimson. "He's going to pay for that," Maxon declared to himself.
Of all the times for my luck to turn bad. I would've had her, he thought, looking down at the smashed syringe. The green poison oozed freely over the concrete, its toxic properties now neutralized by long exposure to open air. She should be dead by now, and I should be sitting on three million credits by now. Damn that bitch!
Then hard steps sounded on the stairs at the end of the tunnel. Immediately he knew who was coming down; the appearance of the SA-X only confirmed his fears. The strength ran out of his legs and he collapsed against a stone pillar, sliding down to the ground. The SA-X walked closer, the gold light reflecting off its armor.
It now stood a few feet from him, staring intently. Maxon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I guess its over now. Man, what a lousy time to go, in the middle of the biggest job of my life. It lifted its arms up and Maxon cringed, shutting his eyes against whatever coup de grace the SA-X had planned for him.
No shot came, nor any face crushing blow from the metal hands, only a pop and hiss. Maxon opened his eyes to see the SA-X, its helmet resting on the ground. Its face was just like Samus, sam features and all, except the eyes had no pupil. They were full white, like the eyes of some blind cave-dwelling reptile.
The SA-X spoke. "We should kill him now, he is no use to Us." Its voice was mechanical, and the pitch rose and fell erratically, as though it was unused to speaking. "Yes. We should take him now. Think of all the knowledge he may possess."
The SA-X twitched, then said, "Perhaps he could be some use to Us." It reached down and pulled him up by his collar, then thrust him against the pillar. "But only if it does what We ask it? Will it do what We ask?"
Maxon gulped, "I must have something in return."
It laughed at him, and the sound was a horrible, wheezing one. It did not sound like laughter at all. The doppelgänger laughed long and hard, and its shoulders shook with mirth. "He is wise, but doesn't realize it is in no position to bargain. Doesn't he realize We could kill him easily as an insect?" hissed the SA-X, and it flitted its tongue out like a snake.
"I want Samus Aran dead," he said.
"Ah! He wants the same thing We want. Very well. We will help you get what you want."
Then the SA-X's face seemed to slide off, revealing a pulsating green mass that spilled out onto the floor. The free roaming X oozed up and covered Maxon's feet, and panic began to well in him. He tried to run, but the X held his feet firmly. They moved up his legs now, covering him all the way up to his waist.
The headless SA-X reached out its arms, and more green goo burst from them, covering his torso. Soon only his head remained untouched by the X. He felt a biting cold making its way up his neck. "Remember," he heard a voice say. "This is all We can do. We cannot help you any more than this. The Great Host is powerful, be wary!"
He tried to scream but the X choked out his yell. Now his mouth was covered, and his vision obscured by a roiling, teeming mass of X.
Then, quite suddenly, the cold sensation ended, and he found himself standing in the tunnel, wearing a power suit. The HUD flickered into view, and a message scrolled up the visor. "We cannot remove from this form now. Therefore it is left up to you to destroy the Great Host. Beware, the Great Host holds the blood of our enemies. We cannot bring ourselves to bear against her. You must do this."
Maxon shook his head, trying to make sense of the message. So the X had molded themselves into the mechanical suit, in the process destroying their parasitic capabilities. What he wore was really a mass of X cells, but they had lost all their powers. All they could do now was shield him and arm him, just like any real power suit would do.
He felt the strength flowing in him. Now he had real power; Samus and her invader friend would be at his mercy. Seizing on impulse, he clenched his fist and sent it towards the stone pillar. There was a great crash of dust as the gauntlet plunged all the way to the elbow into the stone. He could wiggle his fingers in open air on the other side. A grin creased his face. Things are going my way, once again.
Samus awoke in pitch darkness. From the main room she heard the soft breathing of Markos. "Lights on," she said quietly. She saw Markos lying curled up on the floor next to his armor, covered in a thin blanket. He stirred in his sleep and rolled over, mumbling incoherently.
She sat down in the cockpit and flicked on the newscasts, keeping the volume low to not disturb Markos. "Vaccinations from the X have been distributed through the Federation, and the High Command is confident that the X are now powerless to spread further through the Federation."
That was good news, though the Federation was no longer listed as an ally. The innocent people there didn't deserve to die at the hands of the X. Still, the X could still fight, and there must have been other SA-X. They would be causing great ruin, and the Federation would be powerless to stop them.
Markos appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sat down wordlessly and brought up the nav computer on an auxiliary screen. After a moment of study, he said, "We're a few more hours from Thullos, maybe even a day. It's a regular hell hole, but I think the Feddies won't be quick to chase us their. We just have to get past those fighter patrols."
He looked to her, "What kind of armament does this baby have?"
She shrugged, "The usual, missiles, lasers."
"Think it can get through fighters?"
She didn't answer, just raised the volume on the newscast.
Markos sighed and turned his attention to the cast. "In other news, Polis' landing bays and outer city were laid waste by Samus Aran."
"What?" Markos hissed, leaning forward.
The screen cut to a shot of the SA-X, blasting away in the city. Then it advanced towards the camera, and the image became jostled and choppy, then the camera tumbled and smashed onto the concrete. The image exploded into snow, then cut back to the anchor.
"Aran's ship left Polis soon after this. She has officially been declared as an enemy of the state by the High Command. Again, it is stressed that any information leading to Aran will be duly rewarded."
Samus shut off the monitor and leaned heavily back in the chair. "There's going to be a lot of fighters," she murmured, idly twisting a strand of golden hair in her fingers. "We may not be able to get through."
Markos shook his head, "We can do it. If we can get out of that trap at Polis, we can do anything." Silence fell. At length Markos spoke again, "I'm sorry about what I said. I'm afraid I still don't understand your reasons, but I'm sorry to have questioned them like that."
Samus shrugged, "We were brought up different, I guess. Besides, there's some sense in your thinking; he's a bastard anyway."
Markos smiled slightly. "Thanks for understanding. On Varia, we are taught to never let an enemy survive." He touched the scar across his neck, "I earned this when I killed my first Pirate. I've never thought much about it till now, only about the glory I felt when I reached that milestone. When I was asleep, I had a dream. Or a nightmare, I guess. I don't know, I've never dreamed something so frightening.
"When I killed that Pirate, I had spent all my missiles. A lucky chop destroyed my arm cannon, and took one of my fingers." He raised up his right hand, and saw the index finger was of slightly lighter hue than the rest of his hand, and there was a faint scar that ran around the first joint. "All I had was my knife. I pulled it out and leapt at it, driving the blade into its throat. Its blood oozed over me and my body."
He shook his head sadly, "During my dream I relieved that a thousand times, and each time the Pirates death scream echoed in my mind a thousand times louder than before. I guess I realized how bad killing really is, even against something hideous like that."
Markos rubbed his brow. "I don't know, I still think that Maxon should be dead. But that may have taught me something."
Samus saw now that he was crying, though he made no noise. He brushed the moisture from his cheek and stared dumbfounded at his glistening fingers. "I have never cried since I can remember. Varian children stop their crying at birth."
She reached out a hand, gently touching his with her finger tips. Pity softened her expression as she took his hand and gripped it tightly. "What kind of a place do you come from?" she whispered. "What kind of place does love not exist?"
Markos sniffed back his tears, "Varia is a hard place. It takes hard people to just survive there. It takes the most rugged folks to build a culture there."
"Will we go there?" she asked.
He nodded, "I haven't heard from my superiors yet. I have no choice but to take you to Varia."
"What are your people like?"
"I told you; hard and rugged."
"What place do I have among them, then?"
Markos raised his eyebrows, "You are legend among them, Samus. They will accept you, though you may be forced to face the trials all warriors must go through."
Her blue eyes stared longingly into his, dark pools, though it seemed all his malice had gone out of his gaze.
Suddenly she stood up and walked in front of him. Then, seized by some unknown compulsion, she bent down and planted a kiss upon his lips. Markos eyes went wide and he met it stiffly, but Samus held it long. When she finally parted, he stared dumbfounded up at her. At length, he said in astonishment, "What was that?"
"Haven't you ever been kissed before?" she asked.
He gasped, "I have heard of such a thing, though I did not know exactly what it was. It is a tradition lost on Varia.
She took her other and covered his. He squeezed back hard. She couldn't say that she had ever held much of a lasting relationship with anybody; she felt more secure among the Chozo than with humans. But to never have kissed someone? Not even to be kissed by your own parents?
"How could you live in a place like that?" she asked.
He smiled plastically, "It is the only place I have known. I love it," he spoke as though the word fell from his lips with great difficulty.
Samus took his other hand and lightly brought him to his feet. Her eyes gave off a glint, "Come with me, Markos," she pressed her soft cheek against his, feeling the roughness of his weather worn face. "Come with me," she whispered softly in his ear, and her lips brushed against his cheek, "and I'll show you what love really is."
It was near midnight when the freighter ship Gottkind and its escort of mercenaries discovered Samus's ship. The Gottkind was transporting frozen foodstuffs and some alcoholic beverages, spiced rum and malt whiskey from Glen Eyrie, to be exact. Perfectly legitimate, though deep in its holds, the Gottkind held a rather large shipment of Hallucirate, a potent hallucinogen mixed with barbiturate. It was popular with many unsavory characters throughout the Milky Way.
Around 2358 GST the first mate of the Gottkind received a report from the mercenary fighter carrier Cerdova. The mercenaries were onboard for a substantial pay; Hallucirate was coveted by many other traders in the criminal world, and it required ample protection. Already the mercenaries had fought off several attacks, including one by the Space Pirates. No doubt they used revenue from the drug to finance their diabolical experiments.
But that was of little concern to the flotilla. Their port was still several weeks away.
"Boatswain?" came the voice of the mercenary commander.
"What is it?" the first mate asked, ignoring the derogatory title. Boatswain was reserved for the true wet navies that sailed above and below the sea. The first mate had served once in the Federation's space navy, but retired with haste when he realized the business opportunities available to him. Crime paid better than service, though it was a trifle more dangerous.
"One of my fighters is detecting a signature about two hundred kilometers out, and closing fast."
"Does he have a mark on it?"
There was a pause while the commander consulted the pilot. "He's got it," said the commander.
"Patch him in," said the first mate.
The fighter pilot's voice seemed distant; after all, he was nearly five hundred kilometers away. "My computer's pinpointed it," said the pilot. "We've got a Mark III pursuit ship incoming, new Federation design. Supposed to be deadly as hell in close combat."
"Damn it all," whispered the first mate. "What's the current course on the Feddie?"
"Closing fast, he'll intersect our path in maybe thirty seconds."
"What do you think commander?"
The mercenary answered quickly, "Let's get the hell out of here. The Feddies have been pulling lots of surprise inspections of freighters recently."
"I always told the captain not to register this hunk of junk as a freighter. Should've pretended it was a pleasure cruisers, maybe we could get some women on here at least."
"Shut up," sneered the first mate to the complaining sailor. "Get that hack working on the ship, I want to know it's ID code," he said.
"Why?"
"Just do it!" he snarled.
"Fifteen seconds," came the voice of pilot.
"Dive thirty five degrees, full steam!" he heard the mercenary captain yell. The cruiser began to dip sharply and its drives flared as it shot low to avoid the approaching ship.
"Contact now!" screamed the pilot.
The purple ship shot across the prow of the Gottkind. The first mate resisted the impulse to hurl himself to the ground. "Get a ID on that?" he asked.
"Affirmative, checking it."
"The Mark III is not turning, just passed us by, its-evasive action!" the pilot bellowed.
Another ship shot alarmingly close by the freighter, like a silver bullet it zoomed by. "Jesus Christ!" swore the first mate. "What was that?"
"I don't know, its not showing up on the scopes!"
"Got an ID up! That's Aran's ship!"
The first mate caught his breath. There was a handsome award for bringing down Aran. But if they brought in the bounty hunter, the Federation might get a little too interested in their shipping business. They were already starting to get suspicious. "Hold your course, gentlemen," he said. "There's no money in the endeavor."
The Gottkind and the Cerdova continued to stream through te black.
The silver streak that plowed through the formation was none other than Maxon. He sat in the cockpit of his ship, still wearing the suit of X cells. He was loath to remove it, for fear that the power and awareness that seemed to awaken in him would leave. In the distance he could see Samus' purple ship, bracketed by gold indicators on his HUD.
The Federation had fighter sweeps running this way and that through the entire sector. He did not doubt that Samus could fight her way through those rather easily. But he needed to wait until they landed before he made his move; without recovering Samus body, he had no proof except gun tapes that she was dead. That would please the Federation well enough, though he knew that the reward would be far less lucrative unless he brought Samus' head to the High Command.
He settled back in the chair as much as the bulky armor would let him. The stars glowed brightly like heavenly spears piercing out of the void. His ship hurtled noiselessly through space, undetected by Samus only a few kilometers ahead. He was using an old trick Samus herself had taught him; flying in the subatomic wake left by the ship. The particles scrambled his radar signature, making him invisible. Unless she happened to turn on her rear monitors and spy the tiny silver craft, they would never know he was there.
Maxon was mighty pleased with himself. This new suit would propel him to great heights. Once Samus and the invader were finished, his armor would aid greatly in making his fortune for himself. It was happening slowly, he knew. The Federation was collapsing. Then Maxon could make his grab for power. He could take a planet if he wanted! Or perhaps an entire system! Damn the X and the invaders.
Thoughts of the X came to him, and he was gripped by a sudden fear that left a cold in his chest. They could betray him, once his work was done. Once Samus was dead, the X could hunt him down and kill him. Fear for his own life crept up on him, and he found he was afraid. Then he thought of himself, standing as a king over some rich, fat system, and all fear disappeared, as though he had exhaled it and the filters in the suit cleansed it from the atmosphere.
He checked Samus' course; it was foolishly straight. They were making a beeline for Thullos. He grimaced at the thought of the hellishly hot and bitterly cold planet. It would be a rough hunting ground, but he felt confident. If he could draw them outside of the city, he may be able to use the environment to his advantage.
After setting the ship on autopilot, Maxon went back to the small cramped cabin. First he would buy a new ship after this was over; having to double his equipment room as a sleeping area would not do. Perhaps a large cruiser, or maybe a pleasure yacht, that would be fit for a king.
He opened a tall locker and took out three small armor disrupter devices. With the press of a button the arm cannon slid off. He opened up a maintenance panel and began making adjustments, which surprised him. Maxon had never serviced powered armor, yet he found himself doing it with the greatest of ease. He could swear he heard a little voice in his helmet giving him instructions.
Soon his work as completed, he took one of the disrupters and rammed it down the muzzle of the arm cannon. He attached the two others along the barrel, then slid the cannon over his arm. It snapped firmly into place and registered functional on his HUD, though it gave him a warning about improper modification. He ignored it, going back to his seat in the cockpit.
They were nearing Thullos now. Soon, Samus would be in his grasp. Soon Maxon Zell would have victory.