Author's Notes: No, I have NOT forgotten about this fic. Unfortunately, college has bitten me hard, and so has the car accident I got into over a month ago. Nobody was seriously injured (thank God), and it will be off my record after a Driver Improvement course.

Long story short, real life sucks!

It looks like my plan to update regularly has failed, you guys. But please know that this fic is my current baby and I plan on finishing it--if not for me, then for my co-writer who has now moved to Manchester. I apologize for any delays that may come along as a result. But without further ado, enjoy the newest chapter!

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Phaaze 07: Fetcher (Part 3)

This is really, really stupid. Like, beyond crazy kind of stupid. I'll have to check if I have a fever or something when I get back.

There must be ten, fifteen of them, strong. They're all wielding state-of-the-art weaponry; standard issue for the GF military. The Captain shakes his head at us and I'm braced for whatever comes next; I don't know how ready Samus is, but I can only hope for the best.

"Then, you leave me no choice." Raising his hand, the Captain gives the signal to open fire, and all guns charge up for a blast. They're probably set on stun, but still, those things hitting us in a huge barrage from this circle? That's going to smart.

I shove my enemy-turned-comrade in a backwards direction. "Go, go, go!" It's not like she needs the encouragement; it's just the first thing that comes to mind, and both of us are running as fast as our feet can take us as the circle of soldiers rains stun shots on us from all sides. When they zone in on our position, her body leaps up and contracts, with a barely-audible whoosh of mass and air, into a perfect sphere just a few sizes smaller than a kickball. I don't have the time to stop and marvel at this feat, as much as I would love to—either way, it launches her clear over the soldier's heads, distracting them long enough that I just smash my way through the barricade like an All-Star quarterback.

Warnings flash at me on my visor screen indicating some minor damage to secondary components, and my left leg and the right side of my torso are a little numb in some spots, but it's otherwise ignored and we just keep running. Or rather, I'm running; Samus rolls over the ground a ways before there's another whoosh and the crackle of parts coming back into place, and suddenly she's full again, running with me. We duck behind a maze of junk piles and twist through a few corners before stopping to glare at each other.

"Did you know about this?" I ask her.

"If I did, you think I would have taken the job?" she snaps back. "What about you?"

I throw my arms up, flustered. "I don't even know what's in there! How was I supposed to know the GF was going to ambush our hides?!"

Samus takes a hurried glance over her shoulder, hearing the shouts of the Federation Troopers as they clomp closer and closer to our position. She switches her attention back to me. "Fine," she growls quickly, "Then for right now our goals are the same. We need to get out of here."

"Agreed," is all I have to say on the matter.

The troopers behind us are catching up quick—I can hear the Captain shouting orders and soldiers crunching their feet over the rubble. Observation is needed, so observation is done: the entire area around us is practically a hazard. Piles of junk several meters high are scattered all over the place in haphazard patterns between the smelting pits, some of them a handful of distance apart, others so close together toppling one would mean toppling the other like a set of Dominos.

Dominos…

…That gives me an idea.

Sweeping out from behind the tower of crap at our backs, I come face-to-face with the charging group of soldiers running straight for us. They're shouting the usual lines of "There she is!" and "Don't let them escape!" while I peer up at the junk pile and prod it with my hands, checking its sturdiness. A huge metal pipe is thrust out from the ugly, lopsided construction, and I wrap my arms around it and pull. Old computer parts and other such things shudder atop their high perches on the mountain and start to rain down on the hodgepodge ground below.

Samus stands in brief bewilderment. "What the hell are you doing?"

Puffing between grunts; "Making…a distraction!"

"Distraction…?"

The soldiers are closing in fast and they have their guns ready to shoot. Ignoring that helps me to pull harder on the pipe; the screech of scrap on scrap ringing in my suit's audios until the hulking thing finally lodges itself loose from the shift of pressure up above. The entire mountain goes tumbling down and I back away, dropping the pipe as the haphazard structure breaks down into a storm of components. The Federation troops stop dead in their tracks at the ominous sound of one junk hill slamming into another. Those who don't get completely trapped under the wave of debris are left with either a trapped limb or the chore of helping their comrades. Fed soldiers are human, after all; why continue to chase two women when ten men could die?

I tag Samus on the shoulder to bolt before the trash has finished falling so we can get a running start before the second wave arrives. We exchange no words, no looks. She seems to understand the importance of getting away from the Federation right now.

"We need a way out," she says. "My ship—"

"—is too far to run for, and besides that, has abysmally small cockpit space," I interrupt. Another team of crunching feet, far behind us, but still trying to catch up; a shot grazes my left thigh on the outside and I pick up the pace. We pass a long row of trash piles. I activate my outward-pointing sword and slice a clean streak through the whole pile as we run. London Bridge, anyone?

"My ship is compact and fast, and I've fit one other person inside it before. He didn't complain nearly as much."

The thought of Samus keeping any sort of human company in that tiny space made me uncomfortable just picturing it. "I'm sure you're very warm and very pretty, Samus, but I only snuggle up when I'm not going to wake with a kink in my spine come the next morning."

The thundering, successive crackles of raining junk sound out behind us, almost drowning out Samus' exclamation. "We're escaping with our lives and you're whining about wiggle room?"

"Well, not so much wiggle room as the fact that I stabbed you in the back before teaming up with you," I said honestly. "And now we're both angry about something. Very bad mixture, that is."

"I can't tell if you're serious or if you're just bullshitting me," Samus grumbled as I kicked an old television set and a pile of microwaves out of one scrap pile before swerving a corner, sending the thing teetering over.

"That's okay," I told her. "Nigul can't tell half the time, either."

Speaking of Nigul, I should arrange for our ride to pick us up, I'll bet. Yeah, that seems like a novel idea right now. I activate my transmitter. "Nigul? You'd better have an ear open for me right now. We're in some serious trouble."

"I know," echoes the reply.

Wait…what? I stop in my tracks. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Riina!" Samus snaps. I hold up a ceasing hand, waiting for Nigul's answer. It finally arrives: "Look above you."

I look up. Samus does, too. And, with dread, I realize what Nigul was talking about: the Victor streaks past us in the skies, tailed hotly by Federation ships, firing on Nigul as though he were a common Space Pirate.

Well, crap, that's no good.

"So, as you can see, I am a bit tied up at the moment," Nigul explained. I could hear the tightness in his voice, the frustration as he tried to shake off his pursuers. "But if you can wait, oh…say five minutes, I can come back, no problem."

"We don't have five minutes!" I cry. "Nigul, just—distract them for us! Okay?"

"I don't think that will be an issue." Nigul hisses suddenly, cursing in Luminoth. "Heavens above, I just fixed that! You'd better find a way out of there, Riina. I can't turn this ship on a dime!"

I wince beneath my helmet because I can hear the minor explosion that preceded the comment. It isn't until I cut the transmission that I look up and find Samus aiming her cannon behind us. Whirling around just as she fires, I follow the shot with my eyes until it clips some poor trooper squarely in the face. He won't be seriously hurt, but he does go flying back. And then I realize how close they are, and figure I've wasted enough time standing still. A sweep over the area reveals no immediate trash heaps that would stop the troopers in their tracks; looks like we'll be doing this the hard way this time.

Samus takes down another with a well-charged shot, and the troopers let loose on us without any sort of hesitation. Leaping in mid-activation of my pack, I use its levitating properties to launch myself at the throng of Feds, cloaking myself right after punching a front-liner in the gut. I take his gun and throw it at the head of another one and it shoots a wild shot into the sky. Confusion wobbles through the group like a rickety virus. Samus uses it to shoot some more of them unconscious—I use it to kick and punch until the crowd drops into a chorus of moans on the ground. I even have a little bit of fun and whack one with the briefcase.

Though I can't see her face, I can feel Samus glaring at me when it's taken care of. I hurry back over to her in plain sight. "Okay, I take that back," I digress, "maybe we should take your ship."

No response, not even an angered sigh, though she's so tense I can sense the annoyance. But we don't have time to bitch at each other about how stupid we've been, so when Samus runs, I run, too. "Although, you don't honestly expect us to run all the way there, do you?"

"Since you asked so nicely, we could call my ship over and be leaving in thirty seconds, if you can find me a clear landing space," she sneers.

It takes me a moment to think about that. "There's a small storage building a bit to the west of us. Would the roof of that work?"

"Fine."

Peachy, sunshine response confirmed, we steer towards the storage building. It's close enough that I can point it out in the distance within several paces: a rotted-looking, off-white facility covered in drips of muck and caked-on slag. Clearly hasn't been repaired in many, many years, if it's ever been touched at all. The roof isn't very high; I could probably jump it…except I wasted the last of that chance fighting the troops.

Samus doesn't seem to have the same idea. She just barges into the facility, busting a hole in the garage door after running ahead of me. Christ, she's like a damn juggernaut! Who let this bull loose in the china shop?

She slows to a stop in the middle of the space, which is plenty clear, and opens a door on her suit's arm to reveal a command pad where she begins punching in coordinates. I slow to a halt before even thinking of going to the roof. "Uh, Samus? We need to be up there?" I point to the ceiling.

"Why? Clear enough in here. Besides, I already called the ship."

I feel like I shouldn't find myself surprised, and yet somehow I am. "How do you figure that? You going to blast a giant hole in the roof just because?"

"Yes," she says bluntly.

Jesus, I was just kidding! "What the hell for?!"

About ten seconds of silence pass, and then after ten more Samus starts to step back towards the edge of the compound. "I'd move, if I were you."

The roar of an engine is nearly right above me as she says it, leaving me with little time other than to dart to the nearest wall of boxes just as the roof comes crashing down in a pile of rubble. Samus' rickety old ship lowers itself smoothly through the ripped-open entryway, lowering a lift for us to board. I hesitate before moving for it, Samus beating me there.

"The Federation is full of scum and lowlifes," Samus explains. "Worse than Shield or any of the other underground slobs I've worked with. If they're going to make my life miserable, I'm going to make theirs a living hell."

Guess I can see the logic in that—I've wanted to do that sometimes, too.

Silence as I shuffle carefully onto the lift with her. The space is pretty tight. "Damn," I mumble. "Bitter much?"

The lift takes us up and Samus tugs me in by the arm before the closing opening can clip my flight pack. "Just a little," she agrees. Hard to tell how much sarcasm is there.