(I know I left you people hanging, so as you can see I'm working on updating. heh heh heh. You all just wait and see...poor Samus. I do terrible things with/to characters' minds, don't I? )

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VII: The Dragon's Tongue

Reptilian, lidless eyes watched the strange procession on the view screen as it filed through the passageways toward the cell room. The pirate escort looked distinctly nervous at first, but as the journey proceeded and the Hunter showed no signs of attacking—indeed, no signs that she was aware of their presence—they relaxed enough to hiss and squawk, gossip-like, in their own language.

YeldiR frowned, a tinge of something almost akin to regret dampening his success. Seeing his old enemy...broken...like this was something he had never expected, never thought about. The grudging respect Samus had always held for him was mutual; yeldiR had a strange urge to turn his face from the scene, though it symbolized his victory.

Gah, he thought. I must be getting old—old and soft. He was far too busy to sit around making a fuss over some poor piece of bait.

"001!" he called back into the room, "Get over here. I have something to show you."

The man walked over to stand by his master at the view screen, his boots tapping softly on the synthetic-tile floor. "Yes, sir?"

YeldiR pointed out the orange-clad figure in the middle of the group of pirates, his claw clicking slightly as it touched the screen. "This being," he said, putting deliberate emphasis on the words, "Is an enemy. It seeks to destroy all we've worked for. Any time you should see it or detect it here in any way, you must send out best troops to stop it. It is very powerful." Not that it would be around much longer.

The man blinked, his lips half-repeating the words. His brow furrowed as if in concentration; when he finally spoke, the words came out as a croak. "It?" he said, "'It' seems feminine..." He gritted his teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "I...think... I've seen it...her...before—"

One of yeldiR's clawed hands shot to the man's shoulder, twisting him away from the view screen. The other twitched a dial on a small, plastic rectangular object sitting in front of him on the control panel.

There was a beep, and a glitter of flashing lights on the box. Then the man's face smoothed out, his words stopping in mid-sentence, and he closed his eyes, one hand automatically reaching up to brush the perspiration from his forehead. When he opened them again, they held no trace of the faint spark of comprehension that had been in them.

YeldiR turned back to the view screen, ordering the man back into the recesses of the command room. That had been far too close.

It would not happen again.

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Samus felt oddly displaced from the world around her, numb, as if she were viewing the whole thing from the eyes of another being. One that was insensitive to pain, deadened to emotion, preferably.

The space pirates walked on, clacking their claws derisively, as though they had something to boast about. In their center, the armored figure's legs worked mechanically, propelling her forward for a lack of anything better to do.

Her brain was finally chewing its way through the information it had been fed, processing it—rejecting it. The logic in her mind told her it was sensible, applicable, true. But, further down, blatant rebellion ran rampant.

Adam wouldn't do that. She repeated it to herself like a mantra, even as the information sifted through her mind's filters. There had been something strange about the data log entries, something about the way she found the room, the attack of the pirates. Like a scene from a bad mystery—unreal, choreographed. But if there was some clue, it kept slipping away.

An abrupt halt to the rhythmic tapping of space pirate feet ahead of her sent Samus plowing into the creature ahead of her. It squawked, whirled around, and attacked, thinking to defend itself from what it was sure was an attempt on its life. And, for once in her career, she wasn't ready. The beams from its claw-lasers struck her full on, sending a bolt of pain lancing through her body. A cry reverberated through her helmet—her own. Suddenly, Samus saw her situation clearly, as if for the first time. Here she was—Samus Aran, surrounded by space pirates and being led to who-knows- where, succumbing as docilely as a pet! What was she doing?!

Her survival instincts took over, forgetting for the time being all that had just occurred. Samus leapt into the air as the pirate fired again, curling her body into a spin-jump position, and sailed back down, expecting to hear the pirates' screams as her screw attack fried them.

Nothing happened.

She landed back on the floor, head pounding, and tried her beam cannon, missles. Unresponsive. Desperate, Samus rolled into morph ball and streaked down the hallway, not even trying to use her bombs. The tramp of space pirate feet was clearly audible behind her, along with the hisses of...something...they were firing at her. She didn't want to find out, personally.

Then she felt a tiny pinprick in her back, like an insect's bite. The world spun out of control, bellyflopped like a dead fish, and collapsed into darkness.

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Something was tickling the back of her neck. Samus blinked blearily, and felt her eyelashes brush against the floor.

Instantly awake, she tried to leap up from her splayed position, only to discover that the world tipped dizzily with every motion. Her limbs felt jellylike, but, with the walls pitching around her, she managed to lever her body into a half-crouch, half-kneel, hands pressed flat to the floor for balance.

Gradually the swaying of the walls stopped. Samus kept her eyes on her hands—both hands, she saw groggily, without really realizing what that meant. Her hair was brushing her cheek, but if she took her hand off the ground to push the fallen ponytail back over her shoulder, the world might topple over.

Slowly, like a mist lifting from around her head, Samus's mind cleared. She must have been drugged to be knocked out—that explained the confusion. Her power suit... Samus sat up slowly, relieved that the vertigo had lessened and she could move with her head swimming only a minimal amount. Her wrists were slightly sore from sitting in that position so long, but that was the least of her worries.

She surveyed her mostly-suited body, reaching up with her left hand, the one she was most used to using, and running it over her exposed head and right hand. Other than the obvious—her helmet and arm cannon gone, and attacks disabled—she found that most of her suit and abilities were still functioning. She didn't need to test, now that she could concentrate; she just knew. The power suit was such an integral part of her body, reacting to her desires the same way her arms and legs did, that she could tell what was wrong with it just as well as if it were simply a second skin. Only her shock and the exhilaration of battle had kept her from noticing.

Wait. Something else was wrong. An alien presence in her orderly system of power suit and body.

The fingers on her right hand were almost still feeling the trigger they would normally be touching as she ran it down her arm once more. There. Right around her wrist, a metal clasp embedded firmly in her armor. That would contain a computer chip, some type of device that inhibited her direct attacks.

Samus tried to pry it off with her fingers, though she knew that would have no effect. Finally, cradling her head in one hand, she took a long look at her surroundings. It was interesting. Three walls—to her back and sides—seemed to make a tiny cell, or alcove, in a larger wall. The front side seemed to be open. But that made no sense. If they'd gone to all this trouble to capture her, they wouldn't just let her walk right out, would they? There had to be some trick.

Still her curiosity was aroused, and Samus rose, finally steady, to her feet, ready to investigate. But she was interrupted.

Samus jumped as a huge creature slammed down into the room her alcove was looking out on. A dark, reptilian creature, with a long fanged snout, clawed hands, gigantic scaly wings, glittering red eyes. He landed with an earsplitting roar, then bowed courteously to his prisoner.

"Surprised you, didn't I?"

Samus glared at him.

"Ah, Samus Aran. I don't think we've met. Shall I introduce myself? Lord of Kelta-Z, Yeldir—"

"Cut the crap, Ridley," Samus growled, anger bubbling up I her chest unexpectedly. "You can't be stupid enough to think I'd fall for that old trick. I know who you are. I thought I'd gotten rid of you on Tallon IV."

"So you thought," Ridley smiled, "so you thought. Thinking is not everything, Aran. Some researchers from HQ gave me a hand; something about using my genetics for the common good. I believe they made a few clones while I was still recovering...however, we are avoiding the subject."

Samus knew what he was talking about, and she knew that Ridley knew she did. She had been forcing herself not to think about it since she came to. But now that she was here—imprisoned, basically defenseless—there was no use hiding anything anymore.

"Adam," Samus said. "What have you done to him?!"

Ridley sneered. "Ah, so your devotion to dear Malkovich brought you here. Alas, your...passion...is in vain. Face it, Aran—or should I call you Samus? After all, we've known each other for so long, we may as well use first names—face it, he's not coming back for you. Yes, your pathetic little human hearts are so easily fooled—"

"Liar," Samus said, knowing she was being goaded but unable to control the venom seething in her chest. Station's log or no, when he said it, it was impossible to even dream of it being true. "You lie, Ridley. Of all the despicable, repulsive, dirty..."

"Do I, though? You'd like to think so, wouldn't you? You'd like to think that your dear Malkovich—noble, brave-hearted Malkovich—would risk his own skin just to help you. Well, let me tell you something, Samus. Humans are scum. They're greedy, thieving power hogs. Noble deeds, will power—all things of the past. Think about it. You—an unusual, if misguided, human—you risk life and limb for them every day, and what do they do? They give you grief. They bug you with political matters and laws. They send you off on another mission without a word of thanks, then talk about you as soon as you're gone. They'll never understand you, Samus...and neither will I. Why? Why do you waste your time helping them?"

He seemed in earnest for once, Samus reflected oddly, and it was more frightening than any other encounter she'd had with him. They were closer to...to understanding, to agreement...than they'd ever been. Than she ever wanted to be. She chose her words with care.

"Sometimes...sometimes I wonder," Years of resentment welled up in her voice, making it tremble. "why I should even bother." Ridley began to smile, and opened his mouth to speak, but she took a deep breath and continued, "But then I realize I have to go on. Because I know that if the federation fails, something worse will take over. Creatures like you, Ridley. At least some people have feelings. At least there are..." Samus stumbled, choking on her words, "at least...there are some people who care." Adam...?

"People care? People care?! They care enough to leave all their 'friends' for money and power. Samus, do you really think a top HQ official would let you—a bounty hunter, someone who kills for a living—interfere with his own personal ways of attaining power and wealth? Why should he even want to associate himself with you? Why—"

An inhuman roar burst from Samus's throat and she threw herself across the gap between herself and the dragon. Power suit or no, she would rend that fiend limb from limb. This was going too far. How dare he suggest—

Then a jolt of pain arced through her body and she was flung backwards from the opening to the cell, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. She was up on her feet in an instant, wrenching her eyes open, but it was impossible for Ridley not to have seen her mistake.

The dragon laughed, flexing his powerful wings with a mirthless grin on his scaly face. "Three-foot-thick wall of electric current. Totally undetectable. Walking all the way through will kill you. Now, Hunter," he said, the mocking tone clearly evident in his voice, "you just think about our little chat. Okay?" Then he was gone, exiting the same way he had entered.

Samus waited until the last echoes of his leaving had dissipated, then sank to her knees and collapsed.

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Behind a door in the recesses of the command room, experiment 001 tossed and turned on the cot his master had set up for him. He half-whispered unintelligible things in his sleep, eyes flicking back and forth under closed lids.

The velocity of his actions increased in sharp climax, and he suddenly sat up, eyes darting open wildly with a look of rapid comprehension. As if in harmony with his actions, a panel of lights glittered into life on a white- metal half-collar mounted around the nape of his neck.

The expression drained from his face, to be replaced by a frustrated scowl. "I knew it just a minute ago," he mumbled, "If I just could...remember...it was a name...and I knew...a dream, just a dream..."

His face went blank then, and he sank back down and closed his eyes once more.

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Just a few meters away, Ridley sat in the control room, fiddling with HQ's PC. Finally finding the voice message function, he turned it on and began to record.

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"Good news, sir. I've captured Aran and am holding her in the pirate base. I'd like to conclude my mission soon—there is little more information I can gather here. And to...let us say, 'shut the mouths' of any who might suspect me, I recommend that you bring as large a force as possible to annihilate the pirate body here. Valuable data I was unable to attain could then be downloaded from the station's log before backup pirate ships arrive. You could also transport our problematic bounty hunter back to the federation to administer justice. I strongly advise this course of action, although the final decision is of course up to you."

Matthew Arastrough looked at the face on the transmission screen and smiled. Who's in control now, Aran—who's in control now?

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(well, for once I have next to nothing to say. Rougue, thanks for not revealing anything about '001' in your review—that would really suck for future readers. I'd like everyone to please use the same consideration. Not that I worry, you guys have all been great... Well, until next chapter—happy guessing! )