Chapter the Fourth: In which Samus comes clean and confesses her deviance and desperation

"You have a Metroid."

"Yes, it's my dependent," Samus said to Armstrong Huston II, who stood distastefully in the drab gunship, watching the Metroid as it seemed to watch him, pincers clicking. So this was what he'd missed out on when Samus kicked his ass on Ceres. Perhaps work for the FFF really was preferable.

"Hatch is my dependent," she repeated with a tender smile, stroking the gelatinous mass with her forefinger. "He needs me."

"Samus, you realize that according to tax law 5.34.67.132.8 that you need special dispensation from the FFF if you wish to claim a nonhuman as your dependent."

"Oh... I–I wasn't familiar with that," she said, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Samus... why a Metroid?" he asked, and the Bobs nodded in agreement. "You were hired to wipe them out three years ago."

"Two and a half."

"Close enough."

"I don't know..." she said with a very tender smile, eyes appearing starry. "We... we bonded. It needed me. I needed it. I needed to care about something," she said, tears filling her eyes.

"Question..." Armstrong began slowly. "In your report from the Zebes mission you said the Metroid Hatchling was huge when it saved you, yet this one is... well, not small, but normal? I don't know. It's not huge, though."

"Oh... that. It repowered me and my suit; as it discharged all that power from the Motherbrain it seemed to... well, deflate. Like reversing the process sucked the life, and size out of it."

"I see... but why? Why take it from the planet?"

"They're so misunderstood."

"Maybe, but you realize you've committed tax fraud by saying this is your dependent. Tax law 5.34.132.8a states that contraband life forms will not be considered for dependent status."

"Armstrong... with your... strong arms..." she added coyly, "I feel like this creature's mother. Every female has a motherly instinct."

"Um, Samus, an instinct doesn't make you its mother, you know."

"Oh. It doesn't?" she asked, eyes wide and uncomprehending, face pale.

"No, that's tax law 5.34.132.80b, I believe. Psychological and emotional attachment shall not constitute dependent status. If that were the case, people would be claiming all sorts of things," he added with a laugh. "Hell, you could have claimed me!" he said.

Samus continued mechanically stroking the Metroid. "Are you quite finished, Mr. Huston?" she asked finally.

He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "Yes, yes, I am. So now, we'll have to file the paperwork."

"...Paperwork."

"Yes, it'll only take me a few moments to draft up the documents."

"But what documents?"

"The Tax Code Violation, or TCV, forms. Documentation of the auditors' findings, and your signature stating that you committed tax fraud. We send the TCVs to the FFF, your case is reviewed, your fines assessed, and then everything will be A-OK." He smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth.

"Huston," Samus began desperately. She hated being reduced to desperation, but if she couldn't afford her taxes, she had a Sheegoth's chance in Lower Norfair of being able to afford a fine on top of her taxes. "Bobs. Please, I... yes, I made a mistake. It was a moment of desperation, or insanity, take your pick. I didn't know what else to do, and everyone else was doing it... bounty hunting isn't what it used to be. Huston, you were a Bounty Hunter, you should know that better than anyone."

Huston felt a momentary surge of pity for Samus. "I'm sorry, I really am, but rules are rules and the tax code is the tax code. Now, if you'd only violated 5.34.67.132.8 then I could just give you a slap on the wrist. But violating the sub-codes? And having a damned Metroid? After this the FFF will be the least of your worries. The FFDDALF will have a field day with you."

"The FFDDALF?"

"Federation Foundation for Destruction of Dangerous Alien Life Forms. You see why the abbreviation's a bit more preferable. Especially if you have to say it a lot."

"No!" Samus exclaimed. "You can't destroy Hatch."

"I won't, the FFDDALF will. As per the ZC of 2X05. Zebes Consortium. You know, the conference from the first time you were supposed to wipe these things out."

Samus's head swam with abbreviations and code numbers. "And... and if I refuse?" she finally asked dully.

"Then the GFHJC gets your case and you face far worse than fines. Oh, sorry," he added. "Silly me, abbreviations again. Galactic Federation High Judiciary Committee. Basically the fist of justice for the galaxy."

"Look, I brought peace to your damned galaxy and your stupid Federation!"

"Insulting the Federation is a code T... mild of course. Code Treason. Of course... because you violated their direct orders you may be up for a higher version of code T... Wow... this is so much worse than simple tax fraud. I could be published for this," he said almost dreamily, a starry look in his eyes that matched the starry sparkle of his teeth.

"I made a simple mistake! I'm Samus Aran!" she finally shrieked. "Everyone makes mistakes, even me!"

"And you learn from your mistakes by paying the consequences. Come on, Samus. It won't be that bad. Heck, you could even pull that argument before the GFHJC if you needed to... I'm sure members of the GFSS–Galactic Federation Supreme Senate–will be there and could testify—"

"Enough." Samus's voice had taken on a deathly calm, cold tone that made even the Bobs, who had sat quietly with their hands folded in their laps, matching smiles on their faces, look up, startled. "Just... file your TCV forms—"

"TVC forms."

"Whatever. File them and I'll deal with everything when the time comes," she said quietly.

Half an hour later Samus had signed all her forms. She methodically scrawled her signature on the lines of the forms Huston had magically prepared from the comfort of her ship. She didn't even wonder or marvel at how he had known exactly what buttons to push or anything of that sort to prepare and print the forms directly from her ship's onboard computer system. Certainly, as a Bounty Hunter, even a "wannabe" Bounty Hunter, he'd had a gunship very similar to this one, and had utilized the onboard computer system on it. And while gunships had changed in the past two to three years, Samus's... well, Samus's hadn't.

But this was not what she was currently thinking about. She was watching Hatch out of the corner of her eye, half waiting to signal him, half wondering why she was suddenly referring to him as, well, a him, and as Hatch. It had a gender and a name; it had an identity. Contraband or not, it was her dependent. And no tax code or abbreviation was going to change that. Nor was it going to change the fact that she would have no way of paying off her debt to the FFF and society as a whole if Huston, the Bobs, and their stack of papers ever made it back to the GF home planet.

With a final flourish of the pen she finished signing the last of the forms and slid the sheaf of papers over to Armstrong Huston and the Bobs. "That's the last one. I'm sorry for all the trouble you've been through."

"No trouble at all, Samus. Just doing our jobs, right boys?" Armstrong asked, and the Bobs nodded in perfect unison. "You should hear from the FFF in five to seven business days. The GFHJC... well... I can't say, but you should hear from them. If you want to avoid further charges, I'd suggest staying close to the central cluster of the GF." Armstrong rose from the rickety metal bench and extended his hand to Samus.

And now was the time to enact her final plan, the one that she knew would brand her an outcast forever and ever, amen. She was going to Magmoor Caverns for this, she knew, but she had her own hide to save.

She grabbed Armstrong's hand and pulled him in close, leaning into him as if to kiss him passionately.

Several things happened in very quick succession.

The Bobs gasped and rose half out of their seats.

Armstrong looked first surprised, then pleased, and proceeded to wrap his other arm around Samus's waist.

Hatch shrieked and squeed madly and descended upon Armstrong with a fury unmatched by any Samus had ever seen.

The whole emotional attachment thing had worked to her benefit after all; Hatch thought Armstrong was an enemy, and his advance and subsequent embrace were threatening attacks aimed at his mother figure. He latched onto Armstrong's head, pincers digging into the temples and tearing off the hairpiece of the Bounty Hunter turned Tax Agent, shocking everyone in the room. Armstrong's hands madly scrabbled at his head, either trying to dislodge the Metroid or keep his hairpiece in place, no one could tell. But it was only moments before he sank to his knees and keeled over, exposing his premature baldness in his death.

Hatch disengaged slowly and turned his gelatinous form toward the Bobs, who now rose fully out of their seats and began to slowly back toward the exit of the ship.

Everyone knows they didn't stand a chance, and describing their demise here would just be redundant.

When it was all over, Samus stared at the three disintegrating bodies on the floor of the main compartment. While she was grateful to Hatch for taking care of one of her messes, now she had another one to worry about.

"Oh well," she sighed, as she settled in the cockpit and began engine initiation. There was plenty of space dust floating around in plenty of regions of the galaxy. So much, so, that the Federation had stopped taking samples and researching it. At least for now she could sweep this mess out the door. Where she'd go next, she wasn't sure, but she was sure that for now it was best to keep a low profile. A very low profile.