Three.
Samus struggled to stay floating a sea of oblivion. Many times she was tempted to let go, to sink and know nothing else but rest in the heavy dark waters. But it could not last. Images of Nuvwick and the others would fade in and out in front of eyes she could not close. Each time she clenched fists she did not have and vowed to stay alive long enough to finish the job. Through it all, from somewhere far away, the Chozo shaman of her last vision called out a warning she could not remember. Every now and then she would rise to the surface to hold her head above the thrashing waves and rising swells into consciousness. She regretted doing so each time except the last.
When her guards saw that she had woken up, they would have their fun. Most times this consisted of pouring containers of ice water onto her head and abdomen as she lay helpless. They watched with child-like glee as her body shuddered and shook violently. For other humans this would be discomforting in the extreme. For her, it felt like her skin was being set ablaze. She had metroid DNA bonded to her own long ago, to thank for that. Other times they would shove sharp things under her toenails or spit in her face or struck her with a closed hand.
Each time she was powerless to do anything about it. They had tied her down on the bench of her cell with so many bindings she couldn't count them all in one session of waking. Even without the straps, her body would refuse to move for long. No matter the torture, the black sea would soon reclaim her, and for that she was grateful.
Where they were taking her she could not guess. She could only confirm that her prison was a Federation space cruiser of small size traveling at warp speed. Listening to the muted drone of interstellar drives vibrating through the walls of her cell told her as much.
After enough time had passed, she could not say how long, the black sea of oblivion evaporated away, leaving her to a more natural sleep that left her feeling rested.
Upon waking up from this true sleep, Samus found herself someplace new. Four metal circlets wrapped around her hands and feet, splaying her limbs and holding them in place with anti-gravity drives that would remain in the same spot as surely as manacles imbedded in an iron slab. This way, as she hovered three feet off the ground, her entire body remained exposed.
She found herself wholly naked, but mercifully the air was warm. Across the room from her a large window spanned the wall. Someone had washed the dried blood from her face. All over her pale body stretched a patchwork of many colored bruises, all of them faded. She had been taken care of, no doubt only to allow her to survive worse. Much of her strength, what there was of it, had returned, enough to make a precursory test of her bonds. The circlets held. Samus did her best to relax. There was no use struggling. She needed stamina to remain sharp and observant for a chance to escape. It wouldn't do to tire before her fight.
The room that held her was empty now, and undoubtedly a lab. The rectangular window on the far wall opened on a small room with two rows of chairs, enough seats for plenty of observers. The floor consisted of metal grate tiles set over an intertwining matrix of cables and pipes. The walls were of a foggy blue metal, rough and strong. To her left a dais of computer consoles blinked and glowed with holographic displays and buttons of every color. To her right, facing the computers, was her armor suit, resting much as she had found it in Installation #407, set within a frosted glass holding case. The muted lighting glinted from the visor like the forlorn eye of a cyclops. Samus mouthed it a silent promise.
Soon.
The lab had a single entrance, a round door that opened and closed like a camera's shutter. It opened now, and Nuvwick stepped through. He waddled across the room to a folding chair set out in front of her, flicking his mole idly with his fingers. Samus had three questions to ask him. He was the kind of scum who enjoyed gloating when all chance of danger had passed. Because of this, she hoped to find him talkative and he did not disappoint.
"It has been two Federation standard cycles since we've taken you prisoner," he answered, anticipating her first question. "You needed time to heal after the rough treatment of my men. I am sorry for that. As to our location, we're on Tearus 8, a frozen ball of rock orbiting a white dwarf star at the galaxy's edge. It can't be found on any Federation map, I can assure you that. Yes. For centuries this place has been the dumping ground for things the Federation no longer wants, or," a twist of the lips, "wishes to forget."
Hearing this sent a cold trickle of fear running through her guts. Swallowing hard she moved to her second question. "What am I doing here?" Her voice was very hoarse, but the senator nodded in acknowledgement.
"The suit has remained unresponsive to any stimuli or commands we've given it over the past thirty years. With you, we can finally see how it receives commands from your body, how you and it interact. Then we will have the missing pieces to our puzzle. Also, as you are quite well aware, inside your genes are the last existing fragments of metroid DNA. Thanks to you, those marvelous creatures are extinct. It's only right that you should be the one responsible for bringing them back."
Samus thought of a new question. "And after you've taken your precious samples and recorded the readings. What then?" she asked.
"With findings gleamed here in hand, we tailor your suit for someone more…trustworthy."
"Justin Bailey is that someone," Samus said, her disgust plain.
"He's been training a long time for this. I have every faith his future career will eclipse yours. As for you, well, that depends on how things go today."
Now Samus put forth her final question, the one that she had been most eager to ask. So far Nuvwick had told her much she already knew or had inferred. But mystery lingered still over the rotten affair like fog. "Why?" she hissed. "Why did things have to be done this way? You said I was still of good use to those depending on me."
Senator Nuvwick favored her with another smile, this one sad and parental. "To help your understanding I will tell a story: Imagine a humble family of frontier settlers in the days of old. Their life is threatened by any number of enemies, enemies that pick them off one by one in the dark of the night so that they can never hope to fight back effectively. Quickly, the family is besieged, cut off. This goes on for some time until one day the head of that family comes into possession of a fine weapon, a sword say. One so terrible that it drives the wild things and the scavengers that stalk the night to route. The family sleeps safe in their home, their world at peace because the sword does its job so well."
"A generation later. The nights are not so dark as they were, and there are new additions to the family: children, estranged brothers, bandits that now bring presents and offerings instead of hatred and death. The great sword has been set aside, a heirloom of the old days, rusty with disuse because the family is strong now, and can defend their home with more practical weapons. The old weapon offends the new family members, and frightens the children—it is a strange and alien thing. Everyone is unsettled by it, hanging, as it does, in a place of honor upon the mantle. The elders decide finally to stuff it into a locker, but the heirloom remains a menace to any who would take it from its hiding place. It might cut them if they try to use it again, yes, or harm the children. This sword, this heirloom, is not wanted anymore, but the need for weapons never entirely goes away. What if that family could make something better? Weapons friendly to the new generation, something ready and willing for use. You understand now, don't you?"
Samus understood very well.
Nuvwick ran his sausage-like fingers over his brow as if this explanation tired him. A smile persisted on his smooth features, but his eyes did not join in. "The Federation officer who hired you to destroy the Black Claw, as well as your contact who sold you your information for that mission became quite wealthy after the incident," he continued. "They had little chance to enjoy their newfound capital, however, before each died tragically in airlock malfunctions. Yes. I hear the lieutenant's children are living well off the money they inherited."
Samus's lips quivered with rage, but she said nothing.
"How does it make you feel to learn all these years later that the crew aboard the Black Claw truly was innocent, Samus?" he asked, watching for her response over an upturned nose. "That the information sold to you was false? That you were being hired to strike down delegates and scientists of both races, and not hardened killers?"
The skin of the hunter's face grew drawn and pale. Her eyes locked with his, two pools of liquid darkness staring back into his soul. Her voice remained even. "I feel glad that I killed a frigate full of pirates and traitors," she said.
Nuvwick turned oh so slightly pale himself, his mouth drooping open over his fat chins. Samus relished the response.
After half a minute the senator collected himself and continued: "Over the course of your probation you never called upon a doctor. Not once. How were we to collect tissue samples? If you disappeared, or if you claimed you had been harmed, popular public opinion would have risen against us. So we bided our time, hoping to find the secrets of Chozo weapons technology on our own, to no avail. You shrank from the public eye; we grew desperate and crafted a grand excuse for your sudden death. And here we are."
"Here we are. Desperation makes hasty fools of us all." Samus showed him an off balance smile. It was grim and devoid of any cheer or sanity.
Nuvwick gave her a troubled sidelong glance.
"You and all your pets are going to die here—be buried here," she said.
"Now Ms Aran. This is no time to retreat into idle fantasy—"
"With my own hands."
Nuvwick turned and left her there.
As she waited for things to get underway, Samus cycled through her memories of the recent past. She placed herself back at the appeal and watched them deny her the one thing left in the universe that mattered to her. She pictured the pirate senators making deals with the other senators, taking their revenge with an underhand. She remembered Justin Bailey and how his men beat her. She thought of Drooga. At last came Nuvwick and his revelation of just how she could serve the Federation in her final years. She thought of all this and more, letting the rage build within her, boiling into her skin, mixing with her pure hatred for them all and what they stood for and allowing it to harden there. It was a shell that would protect her from what was to come, and if the opportunity came to slip free, would guide her for what needed doing.
The VIPs walked in first, shuffling down the two rows of seats until they found their reserved spot behind the window. This was a way to demoralize her further, reducing her to entertainment. More than half of the VIPs were space pirates, the rest humans and a few other races. All of them were important. Senators, military brass, scientists, and crime lords, among other things. A collection of jeering faces and probing eyes. Here were the "others" Nuvwick had promised, to who she could be of the most use.
Next came the chief human senator himself, accompanied by two elite guards in their jet power armor. This time his chair was a cushioned item set back by the dais of consoles. The two guards took place at the two opposite corners of the room. Samus recognized them both as Justin's men.
Finally the technicians and scientists themselves came in. There were three of them. One surprised the hunter greatly.
Shuffling to the consoles was a thin man wearing a jumpsuit and white lab coat in place of the formal business wear from before. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes bright white and shocked as he took furtive glances at her exposed form. The eyebrows below his receding hairline were quite bushy. He was the man from the bus; she had met him on her way to the appeal. Earlier he had tried to express a lifetime's gratitude for being rescued as a child. Now he looked at a loss, ready to bolt. But he did not run. He placed himself on the dais and began manipulating the controls, giving her the barest of glances now that he had his computers to tend to. His mouth became a thoughtful frown.
Nuvwick announced they were to begin by taking skin samples. The other two white coats stepped forward, wielding what appeared to be large cheese graters. Each man took their place behind her legs, placing the graters against her calves. The metal was ice cold. With all the tenderness of a lumberjack debarking a log of wood they raked the metal across her legs, stripping away skin in long, bloody strips of white and pink, and carefully placed each sliver of flesh into a sterile iron-glass sample dish. Samus could feel the sweat rolling down her face. She held her screams of pain inside, refusing to so much as bite her lip. By the time they were finished a wide puddle of blood crawled wider on the floor below her, feed by thin, fast flowing scarlet rivers running down her feet.
The VIPs were relaxed and in good spirits, sitting in their climate controlled suite. The hunter could see many white smiles flash and faces bright with interest.
Next they brought on the blood taking. Five syringes were used, each as wide as half of a man's hand. This didn't hurt nearly as much as the skin removal, but Samus feared the weakness and hazy vision that accompanied severe blood loss.
The man with the busy eyebrows kept his eyes glued to the glowing consoles as if they were the only things in the world to see.
For the grand finale the white coats produced a laser scalpel, a device that resembled a flashlight in shape with a multi-angled attachment like an all-in-one kitchen tool. Now she would have to scream, Samus knew, for they were going to cut her apart. The eyes of the VIPs glistened with glee, beady and black across the room.
The shorter technician placed the scalpel on her left side. He took a moment to make adjustment on the device and then turned it on.
The laser hardly hurt at all, and while Samus didn't have to scream for her captors, the eerie sense of loss and heat disturbed her more than everything else that had come before. Two green lasers rayed out from separate protrusions on the scalpel. They aligned into a broad fork, which the white coat used to remove an angled strip of flesh from just below her ribcage. There was little bleeding. The removed skin came off as a rectangle, a lot like jerky the hunter thought. On the underside clung a layer of muscle and a trace of fat tissue.
It must have been anticlimactic for the scum sitting in attendance that she didn't beg or cry out, but Nuvwick seemed pleased, his face greasy in the green glow, his modest grin transformed into a leer.
One technician dunked the strip into a bath of solution to keep it alive while the other brought forth the torso piece of Samus's armor. Wires ran along the floor from the computer consoles to plug into the chest piece. Samus realized these men had worked with her suit before, perhaps for their entire careers. Was the man with the eyebrows also an old hand on this project? Samus thought yes, but he had looked too surprised when entering to have known what was to happen here ahead of time. The mystery man had so wanted to thank her on the bus, and struggled to do so not just from shyness but from guilt as well. Now he was simply doing as he was told, surviving.
As the seconds dragged on for hours, Samus soon found herself remembering the dream she had had the night of her capture. There had been Chozo in that dream, and death. A shaman had looked her in the eyes and warned her of hidden dangers. The hunter gave a rueful frown to no one as she thought about her blithe dismissal of that warning. Study close their hollow shells that you may divine their true natures, he had said. That bothered her still. Nothing about this had been hidden from her—only what she, in her time of need, chose not to see. Perhaps that was what he had meant, or perhaps it was only a random nightmare. Somehow, Samus thought she was wrong on both counts. So what was left to reveal?
"Now, we will see the armor come alive as never before in all these years!" Nuvwick gasped as her removed, still alive flesh was placed into suit. Once set upon the correct location where it had touched when still a part of her body, the man with the eyebrows fluttered his hands over the controls.
For more than five minutes no one spoke or moved. The white coat bent over the monitors, frowning.
"What is it Biner?" Nuvwick asked of the man with the eyebrows.
"No reaction to the presence of tissue," Biner answered. "It looks like the Chozo technology is too smart to be fooled like this."
Nuvwick startled his audience by stamping his fat foot on the floor with a metallic bang that crashed throughout the lab. "Well then, what in the hell do we do? What do I pay you people for! Can we cut off an entire limb and place it inside? Will we get readings then?"
Biner shook his head, still frowning. "From what I'm seeing here, no. The suit works as a whole system, or not at all. Much like an electric circuit, it has to be complete." Upon seeing Nuvwick's face turn red, he quickly added, "The weapons and all modular upgrades can be locked. All she'll be able to do is walk about within the field."
"Do it," Nuvwick spat, making an exasperated waving gesture with his hands.
"Can I have my own back?" Samus asked. She nodded to the dismembered flesh oozing inside the armor. To her surprise, Nuvwick nodded in agreement.
They placed the sample back into her side and released her from the circlets at gunpoint. With each piece of armor they placed on her, Samus vowed anew that they would live to regret it.
The last piece secured and the armor whole once more, the elites and white coats backed away. A field of sputtering energy that resembled white noise on a communications line appeared in a circle around the bounty hunter, who sat on the floor, unable to move until her suit was switched on. A mane of wires emerged from the back of her neck, ready to transmit the secrets of Chozo design. The force shield did not cut the cords, they were specially designed for that. The shield lowered visibility, but not so much that the VIPs couldn't see her. She most certainly still saw them.
"Switch her on. And be ready. Weapons or no, she's dangerous," Nuvwick stated, and picked at his mole once.
Samus could see no way out. As badly as she wanted to escape, they left her no openings. If they shut her down once, how she still didn't know, they would do it again while she remained caged.
The combat visor blinked to life, the HUD lights turning on all at once. True to the white coat's words, all weapons and upgrades remained inactive.
"Are we getting readings?" Nuvwick asked.
"Yes," Biner said. "We're getting everything." The audience buzzed with hushed conversation. Their money had not gone to waste after all.
Samus was on her feet and testing the shield with her hand. Solid as a wall of stone. It was then that a text message scrolled over her visor.
-I can't bluff for much longer. Hit the force shield with a charged wave beam. When you escape, go to the command center just outside the entrance. Move quickly, they will try to block off your escape. Please forgive me.-
That was all. The message didn't have to be signed for her to know who the writer was. With a smile so cutting and cold it would have terrified her captors if they could see it, Samus watched as each beam and upgrade came online. Better still, a small supply of missiles, super missiles, and super bombs transmitted into her stores. Gathering the wires trailing from her neck into one fist, Samus put the bundle to the barrel of her arm cannon and with a charged blast of the power beam severed them all in a plume of sparks.
The reaction from the VIPs was immediate. A senator and his mistress were thrown to the floor as the rest rushed the viewing suite's exit, screaming and baying like a pack of dogs fleeing a forest fire. The two guards in the lab raised their rifles and fired, useless against the shielding still around Samus. The hunter ignored them, punching the barrier with charged wave beam shots. Each hit lessened the amount dancing white specks until only a few spots danced in frenzy around her.
"What is this? Why aren't you hitting the kill switch?" Nuvwick screamed at Biner.
"I'm doing all I can," he replied at the top of his lungs.
"Here! What are you doing?" The senator produced a pistol from the depths of his silken robes. "This won't do at all. No, no. No."
Samus's savior spun around on the dais to face the senator and, seeing the gun, threw his arms over his face in panic. "Please—"
The pistol made two coughing noises, a wave of heat smoked from the barrel. The man with the busy eyebrows fell to the floor. With a furious cry Samus fired twice more at the shield and heard the zzzaccc sound of its collapse.
Standing closer to the bounty hunter than the exit, Nuvwick gestured for the soldiers to stand back. From somewhere in the recesses of her mind, instinct cried out to her, warning her. Samus took two steps forward and stopped, gun arm taking careful aim.
"I don't need an army to stop you," the senator hissed. A hand lifted to his right cheek in a nervous twitch. And now Samus saw the smoldering pitch eyes of the dream shaman, boring through her in waking life with all the sorrow of a vanished race.
Study close their hollow shells, he said, and was gone. It had taken her a while, but Samus saw his point at last.
The hunter's left arm lifted, the electric rope of the grappling beam snaking out towards the senator. The electrical tool homed in and latched onto the mole on Nuvwick's right cheek, or rather the metal below it. Samus snapped her arm back, retrieving the grappling beam.
The senator let out a long wail of pain. He sank to his knees, hands clutching the wound in his face, gouts of blood pouring out between the fingers.
In her left gauntlet Samus held a small dome of surgical grade metal. A switch sat at the apex of its curved surface. She took a second to scan it. "A subatomic transmitter, capable of broadcasting an undetectable, unblockable signal. The algorithms it transmitted shut down my suit, and have now been copied into my database, and locked out." She crushed the transmitter in her fist and let the dead wad of metal drop to the ground. "A brilliant trick, senator. But one that will not serve you twice."
Samus stepped forward but was halted by a stream of blaster fire. One of the soldiers stood in her way, raking her armor with fire as his comrade carried the sobbing senator through the exit. All the VIPs were long gone.
"I'm more than enough fer you ta handle," he said. Samus's power tanks were only a quarter full, forcing her to dive for cover behind the console platform. The veteran elite sprayed the computers with fire, snuffing out their lights with lethal efficiency. "Come out and maybe I can make your death quick!"
The hunter rolled out from behind the dais and did the last thing he expected—she rushed him head on. She was hit by only a spattering of fire by the time that she reached him. Taking the elite's gun in her hands, Samus lifted one boot off the ground and drove it hard into the man's knee, reversing the joint's direction with a wet snap. He fell on his back, gasping in shock and pain, releasing his rifle. Samus strolled around to his side. "I-I never. Hurt…" Without looking at his sweat soaked face and wide, white eyes, Samus lifted her foot once again and buried her metal boot deep into the soldier's throat, holding it there until he died.
With that done, the hunter found Biner lying face down and gently rolled him onto his back. There were two charred holes just below his heart. A quick scan with her visor told her he was almost dead. The man's eyes were glossy and dim, a bubble of blood popped from his mouth as his jaws worked silently.
Samus removed her helmet and cradled him in her lap. The hunter wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that he owed her nothing, that he was a fool for sacrificing himself. "Thank you," was all she could think to say. The man nodded, eyes trained on her lips. Then a final rattling breath seeped from his chest and his pulse skipped a beat and stopped.
A single tear trailed down Samus's cheek like a scar of crystal. She left him there, replaced her helmet, and sprinted for the exit.
The hunter soon found herself in a long hallway that forked straight ahead and to the right. A few spatters of blood told her which way Nuvwick and the others had left, but the other way was more important now. Samus picked the path to the right. It ended with one exit, but two security auto turrets. Close together, it was a simple matter of catching both guns at once with the same missiles.
Just as Biner had promised, through the door she found the command center. Why it had been left so lightly guarded she did not know.
Much like the lab in shape and build, the chamber whirred and hummed with computer life. A single technician manned control panels that spanned most of the room. When he saw the metal clad bounty hunter bound up to his station he reached for a large red button, making his last mistake. The beam shot caught him in the right temple, reducing his brainpan to an ashtray. The hunter was in no mood for delays.
Scanning the research station's system her Chozo computer hacked its way to the root drives, searching for and sorting all the data she required into neat packets. Samus now knew the reason for their hasty retreat, and why they had left such an important facility open for the taking. There was but one spaceship on the entire planet, the one they had all come in on. As long as they escaped, she would be marooned on this frozen world. Only one person, it would be a trivial matter to send a small Federation army to secure the facility and reclaim their prize. But in their haste and cowardice, they had forgotten how easily her suit's internal computer could bludgeon its way through lesser systems.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Samus initiated the self-destruct protocol. Main power rerouted to the power core, building up for the fusion reaction that would reduce everything, all their data, and her tissue samples to so much radiated debris. Soft emergency lighting filled in for the regular thing, the Tearus Research facility became a world of shadows and half-light. Over the security monitors the bounty hunter watched blast doors close all over the facility. She could see the VIPs cut off from their escape route, locked into what looked like a mess hall, separated from their rear guard of Bailey and his men, who were trapped in an adjoining corridor. Even though every soldier wore his helmet, Samus could spot Justin by his posture, the way he remained in charge, signaling in short, sharp gestures his commands. She saw no sign of Nuvwick. But did it really matter? Unless he had been very quick, quick enough to reach the other end of the building by now, he was as stranded as everyone else. Ahh, but he might have help, and that was a sore worry. Only one way to be sure
The only starship on the entire planet, at her remote command, ignited its engines and flew out the spaceport, cruising out of orbit on autopilot. Refilling the suit's energy tanks from a nearby charging station, Samus suppressed a shudder. It didn't bear thinking about what would happen if the senator had reached that ship in time.