Screeching metal movement echoed through the eastern hanger bay of Corsair, causing the same ear-piercing sound to be repeated about eight times. Samus Aran walked briskly into the barrage of different mechanical rackets, searching for one man in particular. She found him giving commands to lower-ranked soldiers of the GFMC, whilst trying to adjust the grip-force of the front left landing leg of a transport craft. When Colonel Warrick Gilsmore's cap started to come loose from his head's position, he gave it a tug to bring it down over his forehead, and then dropped down on all fours, investigating the mechanical fault which had been driving him nuts for the last ten minutes. As Samus approached, another soldier looked over Gilsmore, waiting for the officer's attention.

"Sir?"

"What?" Gilsmore grumbled, looking up. Peter Savski, the technological genius. Gilsmore probably should have offered him a little more respect.

"None of the four transport ships are in great shape sir" he said, ignoring the Colonel's agitation. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "The Federation is providing us with leftovers,"

Gilsmore swallowed hard and dropped his gaze, his mind already packed with problems.

"I know" Gilsmore replied, not wrapped about the issue himself.

"Well what do you want me to do? I can't get all this stuff one-hundred percent operational by the deadline, like the high-ups asked,"

"Maybe they thought you'd miss a few things" Gilsmore shrugged. "Look Savski, now's not a good time. Just do your best and report back to me tomorrow, at fifteen hundred hours. And be sure to look out for faults as well as just repairing, got it?"

"I got it, sir" Savski nodded. The small-built redhead vanished from sight, and Samus was revealed from behind where Savski had been standing. Gilsmore took a deep breath.

"Now what?" he asked.

"I want to come with you to Ognosis" Samus said without hesitation, her face completely serious. Gilsmore stuck his head close to the metallic landing leg and muttered under his breath.

"Bored already?"

Samus squatted down, bringing her face at eyelevel with Gilsmore's.

"There's something darker at play here, Colonel. Now your equipment is being supplied… secondhand,"

"It happens" Gilsmore stated, as if correcting her. "You haven't been around us long enough to know how the system works, Samus. So don't start sticking your nose in it now,"

Samus grinned at the sign of the warning tone while Gilsmore grabbed a winch of some kind and clicked it into place with the foot of the landing leg.

"I'm not under your command, Gilsmore. You can't just shake me loose. I've done enough for the Federation to ensure my opinion is a respectful one, don't you think?"

Gilsmore bit his lower lip as he felt a migraine coming on.

"Ugh… Why do you have to make things so difficult?" he asked. Finally, he pushed himself up and sat down in front of her. Samus brought her waist up and raised a brow, eager for further answering.

"I don't see a problem" Samus said. Gilsmore chuckled.

"Well, you wouldn't" he said abruptly with a heightening tone. "The mission commission would not allow you to accompany us on this mission, especially a bounty hunter. With a huge handful of Space Pirate remnants, your services will be required elsewhere,"

"What's to stop me following you down?"

"Ognosis is off-limits, you'd be jailed,"

Samus gazed uselessly at the hanger floor, trying to search through her mind for decent reasoning, but unclear thinking led her to frustration.

"Is there anything you could do?" she inquired desolately. Gilsmore shot her an uncertain glare, and then shook his head arrogantly.

"Hah, no way. I know what you're thinking, but no way would I risk my career to smuggle you down, for an apparently, pointless reason,"

"A recon team that was meant to be operating under stealth conditions has gone missing, what do you think will happen when whoever it is down there knows you're coming?"

Gilsmore sighed gloomily. "You can't keep ignoring the facts, or keep filtering out what you don't want to hear,"

"Well what am I supposed to do, Samus? I can't just put off a mission because I feel a little funny about it; I don't want to lose my job! Besides, I've been in situations like this before,"

"But a lot of soldiers fresh from military school haven't. Drake told me he'd never faced a proper combat situation before. Don't tell me you're willing to put your troops through that,"

Something finally hit home for Gilsmore, and he was brought to his senses. He dropped the winch from his hand and it clattered on the hard, blue hanger floor. His eyes fell into a trance after looking upon Samus's face, and he was left lost for words. Samus stroked a strip of glimmering blonde hair back behind an ear, leaving her face questioningly staring upon Gilsmore. A trickle of sweat slipped down the Colonel's dark brown neck, somewhere from a piece of grey hair hiding under his cap. After a few moments, Gilsmore used the landing leg to bring himself up to his feet, and Samus did the same simultaneously.

"I don't know what to say…" Gilsmore's voice wandered off. "You're… You're absolutely right. I need to come around…"

Gilsmore's breathing had suddenly quickened as his heart rate had increased from the alarming wake up call, and a gloved hand wiped some sweat away from his neck face with two brush-like movements.

"Colonel, you can't keep running on this collision course. You need to snap out of it,"

"I know, I know!" Gilsmore said urgently. "For God's sakes I'm… I'm a Colonel. I've let myself and my soldiers down…"

"No you haven't" Samus said strongly. She fastened a hand in the groove between his right shoulder and his neck. "Not yet,"

Gilsmore nodded.

"I was… I was going to kill them, wasn't I? Willingly, too,"

"You've got two days left, Gilsmore. Make sure you do the right thing. Raise this up with the mission commission, get some decent equipment, and if they won't supply you with anything then make some negotiations. Getting this thing going quickly isn't worth the lives of your soldiers,"

Gilsmore let some air escape from his lungs, and scratched the back of his sweat-drenched hair.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm still not happy discarding this mission,"

"Samus, I know I was out of it, but listen, I can take care of my own" he avowed, raising his voice. She raised a questioning brow. He dropped his eyes and sighed; again. "I can do it. I wasn't thrown up the ranks for picking up garbage. I'm just used to routine. Maybe I needed an outsider to just bring me the differences,"

Samus declined her concern for the most part, muttered an affirmative reply and nodded her head, understandingly. Gilsmore decided there was no point in working on the landing leg anymore. "Either way I owe you credit, Samus,"

"I'm not trying to correct you, Colonel. I wouldn't know a fraction of the details you know about procedure and routine in the GFMC, but…"

"I get the picture, Samus. Thank you, I'll take it from here. You can remain on this ship and feel safe,"

Gilsmore turned away from her and headed for Peter Savski, however Samus wasn't fully convinced that the operation would proceed smoothly entirely, considering her discovery at the mission commission. She had improved the situation though, and that was all that could be done for now.

The exclusive equipment storage was sterilized every few hours, for some of the electronics were incredibly sensitive to certain conditions, and some weapons would cease to perform just because of a bacterial infringement. Once activated, the weapons would work fine. However, special casing for some of the additional equipment was required to keep them fully operational during movement and use. It was a bright silver room, looking like it had been coated in some form of tin foil, containing several racks supporting stacked rifles and special-terrain combat armor. An air-tight double-hatchway opened, and Sergeant Carlos Sanchez stepped through into the room, dressed in off-duty marine uniform. Following in his wake was Corporal Drake Warren, and after him, all the remaining members of Blazer Squad in no particular order.

"Boys and girls, here's our wonderful array of equipment" Sanchez spoke, his voice delicate. The Mexican didn't hesitate to admire the beautiful arsenal Colonel Gilsmore had personally selected for the group.

"You look a bit emotional there, Sarge" Naoko Aichi commented upon watching her superior's reaction.

"It's hard not to be" Sanchez replied, exhaling a deep breath of amazement. "Thank God the commission doesn't decide what we get out of here,"

"What would we get then?" Savski asked, his question serious as usual. The redhead's mind was always curious of additional weaponry and equipment details.

"Three twigs… and that'd be for the whole squad" Sanchez replied without much thought. Savski frowned.

"Will we need armor for a terrain change?" Drake asked as he browsed over the various colored body armor packed tightly into a rack side. Sanchez tipped his head either way, not sure of what to expect.

"Not sure if any ground has been made on the planet before. Certainly not by the core, anyway. I guess we can mark everything out by satellites but Gilsmore will have us take them one way or another,"

"What have we got for this one, Sarge?" Alan Walker asked. Sanchez presented the row of polished firearms, treated no lesser than antiques, with an extended arm.

"Once again we'll have Clifford's new Beta-Cannon for the long-distance assault, this time though, we'll probably actually get around to using it" Sanchez started. "Standard rifle on this mission will be MX-17, something everybody likes,"

"I knew someone would push for it" Walker muttered to himself, rather pleased with the choice.

"We won't have a secondary, here. But with the extra ammo I don't suspect there'll be any complaints,"

"Specialists?" asked Drake, running her eyes across the glittering silver racks.

"Culvick, you're getting an additional flamethrower. It's powerful, but it chews up ammo quick and should only be used in definite short-range circumstances. Not too close, of course" Sanchez responded to Drake's question. He looked over the marines to search for the other two specialists. "Ivanov, you have your pump-action MM-33 launcher as usual, and also as usual, Savski, you'll have a DM-21 sniper rifle. Anymore questions?"

Drake looked over his soldier and noticed the others all seemed quite sure with the gear distribution. After all, the standard ammunitions system hadn't been introduced to them yesterday. "Alright, grab your stuff and make sure it's activated before leaving the room. Take it to pre-mission storage,"

Drake Warren, engaged in a deep train of thought crossed back and forth through his bunkroom, staring at the details of the miniature hologram diagram projected from his right hand. By the look of the wire-frame chart of the landscape of the Ershos Dirtlands, the only decent choice Blazer Squad has for an assault was front on, and it was a long distance to cross. The more he stared at the picture in front of his eyes, the more a finely crafted stalactite drilled into his intestines. He wasn't completely aware if the others couldn't see it, but some of them were going to be killed for sure. Suddenly the seriousness of the mission hit him, and he realized Sanchez shouldn't be laughing about it to calm the marines down. He took a seat on his own bunk, and then let a deep sigh escape him.

"This is suicide" he mumbled. Two seconds later, the bunkroom door slid open and instead of the usual sight of Samus popping through the opening, Naoko Aichi made her presence felt as she entered. "Nao?"

Nao looked back into the hall, and allowed Samus to pass by her.

"We were just talking" Samus claimed as she headed for her bunk. Drake dropped his gaze from Nao and focused on Samus. "War stories, battle scars, assault tactics… You know, girl stuff,"

"Ah" Drake answered with false understanding. "Nao have you seen the land charts?" he asked uneasily. She browsed at the holoprojector in his hand then sat down beside him, curious.

"Yeah I saw it in the briefing, of course. And in mission development,"

"No I mean, you haven't bothered to pick up one of these have you?"

"No, why?" she questioned.

"Well it may all seem very well when Gilsmore's standing over your shoulder explaining everything, but just look at it" he explained, handing the projector. She took it in her hand, and hesitantly scanned over the map of the Ershos Dirtlands with her eyes.

"It's big,"

"Yeah no bull it's big. How the hell will we get cover from a frontal assault? Cliffs surround the rear and there's no way we can settle for an aerial assault with all the wind activity in the area,"

"Look if we're going to have trouble shooting a couple of Nomads from a kilometer with Beta-Cannons, then think of the trouble they'll have,"

Drake's lips became flat against each other with the bittersweet consolation.

"We're going in blind as it is. It's like…" he frowned as he looked to Samus, sitting across from him. "Like the commission is trying to kill us… or something,"

"Don't be stupid" Nao cut in, giving him a questioning glare. Samus remained quiet as she slipped further back into some accommodating bunk pillows. "The more you think about this Drake, the more it seems rational,"

"Yeah?" Drake questioned. "An air assault for this one would be faster, and more efficient,"

"They'd all escape on the under levels before ground support could get in there. Be realistic" Nao countered. Drake directed an arm to his bedside table and grasped a series of three energy bracelets surrounding an aqua blue liquid, and took a sip. Nao kept her eyes on him as he returned the cup-circlet to the table.

"Well in… Four days I guess we'll find out just how realistic the commission is being,"

Nao gave up and headed for the doorway.

"We're going to be alright,"

The door wiped away what could be seen of the outside hall, and closed with a mechanical whine. Drake uneasily shifted his eyes to read her reaction.

"It's becoming more believable, isn't it? First the equipment, now the poor planning" Samus stated warningly. Drake took in a deep breath and shook his head slowly.

"People are just being noticeably stupid lately" he concluded, dodging the issue.

The reception desk just outside the mission commission outpost within the walls of Corsair was occupied by a delicate-looking female. Colonel Gilsmore approached the desk briskly, keeping an eye out for anyone of the GFMC wandering around nearby.

"Excuse me, I'm here to see Mister Terrald, is he available?"

"Yes Colonel, right through that door on the left, sir" she replied quickly enough, guiding him with an arm in the general direction. Gilsmore gave a nod of thanks and then proceeded toward the door, and it opened after only a couple of steps toward it. A larger man resembling a rather large, bulky primate exited, and offered a polite smile as he passed by the Colonel. The door was left open, and Gilsmore slipped through.

"What?" came a grunt. Devis Terrald looked up from the pile of grey datapads scattered across his desk, and sighed. "Oh… you,"

"Yes, I've come to see you about the Ognosis mission in four days time,"

"Have a seat" Terrald said, not taking his eyes of one datapad in particular. Gilsmore slowly seated himself with a chair a little offset from the center of the desk, and with every breath he felt like he was crossing into a very volatile ground.

"You see, it's about the equipment we were provided for the mission. The landing craft, and the ship equipment in particular,"

"Yes?" Terrald continued with a frown, looking up at the man quickly. The commission hated dealing with their own equipment problems, it led to lawsuits, employee dismissal and company loss.

"Well you see Mister Terrald, I ah… don't mind making repairs on the equipment you provide us with," the Colonel explained calmly and civilly, "but the landing craft we've been supplied with… is… in terrible condition if I may say so. We won't be able to complete repairs within the mission deadline, there's all sorts of problems,"

Terrald intertwined his fingers and left the subject floating in the air between them for a moment, and then gave a typical business-like

"Hmmm…"

Gilsmore knew it was exactly the wrong thing to do, stepping on the mission commission's toes, but this time the lives of his men were at stake, and he needed to present that fact.

"You see Mister Terrald the two squads I'm taking with me have never been in a full-scale combat situation before, they need to be introduced to it slowly, and throwing them into the center of a Space Pirate base with faulty equipment isn't really the way I see fit to do it,"

Terrald raised an eyebrow and couldn't care less about not offering sympathy.

"Well then Colonel Gilsmore, I suggest you get cracking with those repairs,"

Gilsmore felt dwarfed by the commission head but wasn't prepared to give up.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you that willing to throw Human lives away?"

"You must understand Colonel Gilsmore that the mission commission at times has to conduct up to hundreds of missions within a single five-day period. Sometimes you get the luck of the draw with the equipment, sometimes not. It's not something we can change, or do much about. Our equipment is so scarce due to the unfortunate trading business lately, but that's the way things are, take it or leave it,"

As far as Terrald was concerned the topic was concluded, and he went back to his datapad, focusing on how the commission could twist the share market to leech out another couple of billion credits. Gilsmore stayed put, and instead of dismissing himself locked a gaze on Terrald's rat-like face, gritting his teeth intensely behind his sealed lips. "I'm sorry, is there a problem?" Terrald asked, pained of the marine's presence.

"Damn straight there's a problem, Terrald. While your counting your credits upstairs my men will be dying down there because the mission commission gave us faulty equipment and refuse to just wait out the queue!" Gilsmore snapped. Terrald scowled at the man, not threatened in the least by his loud bellowing.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't shout in my office, or I'll have to ask you to leave,"

"I'll leave when I can walk out of here feeling like you actually give a damn about my soldiers who are risking their lives to protect people like you!"

Devis Terrald made an attempt at a compassionate face.

"I have sympathy for the squads, Colonel, I really do. But… those Space Pirates could launch an attack on the Federation at any given moment, or they could be massing an army down there for all we know! The ships may be faulty yes, but the weapon selection is all yours. If you were in my position you'd understand a lot more,"

"You won't even wait it out?"

"We can't do that, Colonel,"

"Then I quit!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Gilsmore rocketed up from the chair and threw it behind him where it crashed into the office corner. Terrald closed his eyes uncomfortably, waiting for the parade to pass by. As Gilsmore headed through the door, Terrald called out to him.

"Colonel, if you abandon this mission, it's not going to stop. Those squads will resume on, with the same equipment and mission plan, simply with a different leader, that's all. Now we both know there's not another Colonel in the GFMC available that's as potent as yourself, and in fact, Bravo Black and Alpha Red will probably suffer even more so because you won't be there for them. But… of course like I said, it's your choice,"

Gilsmore stood still for a moment, trying to keep the desire to crush the man into small pieces just a thought, and then muttered under his breath.

"Damn you corporates,"

Blood boiling within his veins, Gilsmore yanked the black comlink from his belt as he paraded down the corridor toward the hanger. He set a frequency, and then clicked down the red shoulder button.

"Savski this is Gilsmore, get down to the hanger bay quick, we're going to need to work our asses off. Get any technicians and mechanics you can think of, that are available,"

"What's going on sir?" came a higher and frustrated voice.

"The commission refuses to provide better equipment; they expect us to go with what we've got,"

"That's insane" Savski mumbled despicably.

The Space Pirate hologram faded into the air, and Drake Warren whipped out his energy rifle and painted the projection with accurate green blasts. The Space Pirate's holoprojected head splattered apart across the shooting range as if something had detonated from inside. Drake grinned at his work. Quick, instant kill, and dead accurate. After three seconds, another Space Pirate adjacent to the remains of the other popped up instantly, and before it could even establish a solid projection, Drake blasted the hologram apart. That makes seven, he calculated silently. Drake's sidearm slumped downward as he turned away from the range, and then flicked upward at the presence waiting for him.

"Whoa…" the marine sighed with a hint of relief. Samus Aran's delicate figure was there to greet him with crossed arms. Drake's eyes ran up the loaned military uniform and then locked on her face. "You do that a lot,"

"Sorry" she heartlessly replied. "I heard Gilsmore paid a visit to the mission commission…"

"Yes?"

"And?"

"And he couldn't push for anything" Drake sighed, releasing the muscles in his arm again. Samus's reaction was nothing short of angry.

"You can't go down with the ships you have!" she objected. "Someone has to stop this mission, Drake!"

"Look, the Colonel did his best to convince the commission there needed to be some changes… and unfortunately, his best wasn't good enough" Drake explained. Samus was still baffled with Gilsmore's reasoning for continuation of the mission, and the words were still coming from Drake's mouth. "Peter Savski, our squad tech, said something about blackmail. The mission is going to proceed one way or another and Gilsmore doesn't want to let a less-able squad leader to do the job, or we'll all be killed for sure,"

"He was blackmailed? The commission can't do that!"

"Well… you've heard about the Chaos Axis… right?"

"You mean that renegade group who's been attacking the Federation?" Samus clarified.

"Yeah, that's them. Anyway, General Grargov has had a lot to deal with lately, and with all the ensuing fighting, the military board has let this one escape them… It's not under their full control,"

An eyebrow cocked up, and Samus was convinced that this was yet another sign of the mission commission's deceit. She tilted her head as a gesture for Drake to speak on. He flinched a little, knowing where her thoughts were going, but carried on anyway. "Devis Terrald managed to get a grasp on this mission, he calls the shots on this one. Reason being is that it was easy for him to manipulate General Grargov and convince him he needed some work off his plate. That's really all I know, but the rest really all falls into place,"

"Yes it does" Samus stated suggestively. Drake wiped his lips with a gloved hand to rid himself of beads of sweat, and made an approach for the weapons rack on the left side of the white shooting range hall.

"It's not what you think it is" Drake claimed confidently. "The mission commission is all about money, they wouldn't dare risk their position for just one mission. This one can get them a few bucks, sure… if it's successful, even more so,"

"And yet, why do I get the feeling this is a suicide mission?"

"Gilsmore is a smart guy" Drake replied quickly. "The commission's stupid, they'll rely on him to pull us through this one. And Terrald knows Gilsmore won't abandon the job,"

He stopped when he arrived at the weapons rack and began dislodging the extra ammunition left over and packing it into energy casing. Samus remained frozen still, arms crossed tightly, her presence demanding attention. Drake shook his head slightly while overlooking his rifle, thinking Samus was somewhat manic about the issue.

"By the time you realize how wrong you are, it'll be too late. You'll perish, along with all the others" Samus sighed gloomily. Drake sparked a sarcastic grin, finishing up packing his ammunition.

"That's always a confidence boost,"

"You don't understand in the slightest… And I don't want to see that happen, I really don't. But with each second that passes your letting this mission get closer and closer… It's going to occur as Devis Terrald and that associate of his want it to,"

"Get this straight" Drake frowned, engaging his voice into a stern manner. "You walked into my life three or four days ago. Yes, you're universally renowned for your courageous efforts to stop the Ing, the Space Pirates, and whatever else you've dealt with…" he paused, and turned to Samus calmly and with a mellow stare. "But you're still a stranger to me,"

"You said I wasn't a stranger to anyone,"

"I was wrong, Samus" he replied as if he had been reading a script. "You're name is famous… You're not,"

Samus's chin lowered a small amount as Drake had unintentionally taken a stab at her integrity. She held back the emotional pain. "Samus, I'm not going to believe anyone who shows up in the marine core and starts making accusations against a organization that has had veracity for a hundred years, you have to understand that,"

With a couple of moments silence, Drake decided he'd let Samus take in his words and started walking for the exit of the shooting range with cased weapons and ammunition in hand. Samus was left cold and alone, once again, with nobody to turn to, or discuss the truth with. A heroin in a foreign territory, where few paid her with the respect she deserved. And here she was, doing everything she could to save them, where the marines would throw the vital information she carried right back in her face. It was time to raise the matter with someone else. Someone who would do something about it.

The broad golden rings forming the walls of the military council's hall onboard Corsair were perfected to every last detail. The surface of the walling as smooth as the hull of a newborn spacecraft, the auburn shade of the council member's desks were a glistening maple, and the faces of the affiliates themselves were lemon sour. The aging General Hassen Grargov with a lack in patience and hair introduced Samus Aran into his hall.

"Welcome Miss Aran, this is the military council's chamber on the flagship Corsair, you want to bring forth an issue to the council?" Grargov asked. His voice was croaky, full of gaps and harsh 'S's and at times even hard to understand, but with his voice came a hint of wisdom people simply recognized was there. Samus hesitantly leaned forward toward the metal square microphone placed on the pedestal of her audience box.

"Ah, yes, sir," she lightly said. Eleven other faces, not including General Grargov were placed in an amphitheatre-like structure based around the center speaker, all studying Samus's appearance and style. In this case, she had none.

"Very well" Grargov replied invitingly.

"Well sir, as you know there is a mission due to Ognosis in… two days time. The mission commission, who are not only founding and running, but also controlling this particular operation, are unable to provide the two participating squads with fully functional landing transports. On a mission as dangerous as this one, don't you think it would be suitable if they were given more support, in that case?"

Grargov placed one elbow across his workspace.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked quickly.

"That… another team be relieved from another duty to provide support for Bravo Black and Alpha Red…"

Already Grargov was shaking his head in disagreement, and interrupted.

"Miss Aran, you know, to the military you have something of a civilian career. You're proposal in my chamber can't even be seriously considered by the council when you are not part of the GFMC,"

"But you've let me come this far, General. Don't just dismiss me now" Samus cried desperately.

"I can't just remove another squad from duty where they are much needed in our struggle against the Chaos Axis. I understand the Space Pirate Alliance is a threat but with the destruction of Zebes they are significantly dropped on our priority list. The Chaos Axis attacks us once or twice every standard week, and that's where our priorities lie" he explained carefully.

"Well is there anything you can do to improve the situation? Really General, look at the facts. You're sending, if I may say so, a rookie team into a potentially hugely violent situation… violence which they haven't been eased into. With the situation bad enough as it is, the last thing the squads need is faulty equipment,"

Finally, Grargov started to absorb her words and the wrinkles making his face started to loosen up.

"The most I can propose to the rest of the council is to send two capital ships from GF Primary Fleet back here to wait for the mission start time, and to provide aerial support during the mission,"

Samus remained quiet for a few seconds, considering her options. Upon facing the reality that she had none, getting all she could get was critical.

"Yes, thank you, General,"