Unaii pulled to the left to clear the explosion, making so close of a pass by a human ship—one of the squadron—that he clipped its shields, cancelling the shields of both ships out. He turned into a circle, intending to survey his work. In space, there are no explosions of fire, as there is no oxygen to sustain it. Explosions from missiles typically result in a series of interlocking violet rings expanding together from a central point; often, debris travels with them like wreckage on waves. It was quite a beautiful phenomenon, which, at this point, Unaii did not find in any way ironic. Indeed, what was not beautiful about this moment?

Yet something told him to postpone the elation. His memory prodded him to review the last few seconds. He closed his eyes, allowing the scene to play out before him. He had locked Hunter Seven to his targeting system. He had pushed down on the firing trigger, hard. He had watched the missiles—bright orange globes—propel ahead of his ship. He had smiled as they gradually narrowed the gap between his ship and their target.

Then…

--

The helm of Hunter Seven was a light show, and blood-red was its dominant color. At two-thousand miles per hour, Samus was already straining the engines of her ship. Nevertheless, at a few more miles per hour, the missiles were closing the gap. They had programmed not only to be bloodthirsty but precise, they adjusted to any slight variance in the gunship's path.

Meanwhile, the Federation squadron—or the Republic squadron—had entered range and opened fire ahead of her, washing the viewscreen with green plasma and obstructing her view entirely.

"Intriguing," she breathed.

"Warning: impact imminent," the computer said.

With the deftness of a piano player, her fingers played the interface, diverting power from the negated shields back to the weapons and opening all ports of fire upon the lead Federation ship.

"Five."

Within the thermoglass viewcreen, Samus saw the suited figure that was her reflection. It glowed green as the Federation ships continued to batter her with energy bolts.

"Four."

"Thank you," she whispered to that reflection. She veered the ship slightly above the trajectory of the Federation squadron.

"Three."

Her suited fingers gripped the controls. Will the differential be enough?

"Two."

She inhaled.

"One."

--

Lieutenant Markman raised an eyebrow. Suddenly and inexplicably, the target had resumed fire upon him. The red bolts, characteristic of the Hunter class, obscured his viewscreen entirely. This was a rather spastic decision; it would accomplish nothing but momentarily weaken his port shields—if she wanted to go out with a bang, she was failing. With every emitter on her ship trained solely on him, though, he conceded that it must look fairly epic.

Lieutenant Markman never came to fully grasp Samus' true intentions. Shortly after the fire has ceased and his viewscreen had cleared, two missiles, unhindered by the lieutenant's weak port shields, plummeted into his ship.

--

She exhaled.

At the last second, she had swooped down from her heightened flying plane, barely missing the Federation ships as they came forward and caught the two missiles.

Timing was everything when your life depended on it.

Yet she had no reason to rejoice. As far as she knew, there were still two Federation ships hunting her, not to mention the Space Pirate craft. And her shields were down, and there would be no reviving them. In correspondence with her bad fortune, the explosion had scarred the plating and fried the propulsion system during her narrow escape. The shockwave had also thrown Hunter Seven into a direction that was neither forward nor backward, but, despite the properties of space, could only be described as down. Now, without any friction to stop it, Hunter Seven was essentially drifting—albeit at hundreds of miles per hours—through empty space.

And, perhaps the worst development of all: the Space Pirate ship had rediscovered her and had set in a pursuit course, and its pilot was very likely seething by this point. As if in articulation of this, a third missile came soaring brightly towards Hunter Seven.

"Warning: impact in twenty seconds."

Samus did not hesitate. She had no fancy tricks this time. Sitting in her ship would be like sitting on a bomb. The only direction of escape now was out. There would be no time for a clean getaway. Fortunately, she had neglected to remove her power suit. With a few commands, her arm cannon rematerialized around her right arm.

"Goodbye, Hunter Seven."

"Goodbye, Samus Aran," responded the computer as indifferently as ever.

Samus blasted the viewscreen with a missile and submitted to the vacuum.

--

Unaii's jaws clenched tightly together. Unsurprisingly, Samus had turned out to be very clever. He enjoyed the challenge. It would not matter anyway; her little stunt had merely postponed her imminent undoing. Now, without her controls, she was in an even worse position than before.

His missile plummeted into Hunter Seven, tearing its guts apart. Debris was carried miles in all directions, silhouetted by a great flash of light with bright, purple rings. After the explosion had disseminated, he brought his ship for a close view. He wanted to admire his work.

All he found were ruins.

His lips contorted into a smile. Beautiful. And he, no Federation lackey, had done it. He, Unaii Gar-Nalgean. And the people would speak his name.

--

Samus floated statically in space. After she had exited, the ship had continued its drift course until the missile had turned it into a field of charred space debris. Now, the Space Pirate was headed the same way she had just come, perhaps to survey his kill.

He was travelling at several hundred miles per hour. Again, timing would be everything. She readied herself, using her suit's internal computer to calculate the precise speed of the ship, the distance at which, in current trajectory and her position in space, it would bypass her, and the amount of time her next motion would take. The rest would be reflexes and instinct. She readied herself.

As it came upon her in a blur, she reached out with her grappling hook. The energy stream shot out of her cannon and adhered itself to the ship's starboard fin, and she went flying with it. For a few moments, she pulsated with a mixture of amusement and triumph. As the ship towed her onwards, the little girl in her laughed at the thought that she was the first person ever to go cosmic skiing.

Then, she began to imagine if—

The Space Pirate ship had reached the debris field and was slowing down.

But she was not slowing down.

Screaming, her greater momentum carried her forward beyond the slowing ship. Her arm snapped; the energy coil had reached its extension, and she was yanked to a stop. But the Space Pirate had not yet come to a complete stop. In fact, it was still travelling at several hundred of miles per hour, and it plowed straight into her.

--

At the helm of his ship, Unaii was sitting comfortably back in his chair, smiling to himself, when a body and several jagged shards of thermoglass smashed into him. His head still spinning, he noticed that several objects were lifting from the floor and whipping past him as the atmosphere of this ship was sucked into space. "Emergency shielding!" he barked as he was lifted away. He promptly collided with the kinetic shield that had formed at the chasm in his viewscreen. Then, he collapsed to the floor—battered, but within the warm (and pressurized) environment of his ship.

Unfortunately, he was also staring down the barrel of Samus Aran's arm cannon.

"Kill me," he hissed in the human language.

She jabbed him with the metallic cannon, blurring his vision. "Why are you trying to kill me?" she said furiously.

"You are a murderer."

"Why are you cooperating with the Federation?"

He did not know the word "cooperation," in the human language, but it was obvious enough what she was asking. "It is the Republic now."

"Are you working for them?"

"No; with them. For myself."

There was an interval of silence. He peered a wall of the deck where his claw attachments had been mounted. They had been intelligently placed there just for a close combat situation like this, when his own command deck was to become a standing ground. He had always thought, however, that intruders would take the elevator instead of bursting through the viewscreen. The equipment had been sucked into space.

He rose from his crumpled position on the floor. The cannon stayed with him precisely, as if it were magnetically attracted to a specific spot on his forehead. He leaned on the interface, feigning exhaustion and pain.

"Why is this 'Republic' after me," she said, "and what happened to the Federation?"

"I don't know. I don't know about human matters."

Unaii discreetly wrapped his foot around the pilot's chair.

"Then tell me about Pirate matters. Your people were about to wage war on the Federation. What changed?"

"We are the Federation."

"What do you mean?"

If he could only reach…

"The Federation and the Space Pirates have become the Republic."

She lowered her arm cannon slightly. "That's impossible."

That was his chance. He leaned back, his left hand struggling to enter the input that would deactivate the kinetic field and send Samus Aran hurling back into space. Suddenly, a burning sensation engulfed his chest.

"Don't try it," the helmeted figure hissed, her arm cannon smoking. "It wouldn't have worked anyway. I don't need your artificial gravity to stay in one place," she said, nodding to her gravity boots.

Breathing heavily, Unaii spat, "why don't you just kill me, hunter?"

"Because I need answers."

"I've no more answers for you."

"Yes, you have."

"What would I hide from you? That the whole galaxy is hunting your head? You've found that out yourself."

Silence.

"No," Unaii continued, regaining his breath and posture, "there is something else that holds you back."

The suited figure observed him listlessly. He looked deeply into that azure, crystalline visor. It reflected his own image back at him, and his appearance awed him. Space Pirates were not vain nor superficial creatures. Mirrors were human trinkets. The only images of himself he had seen over the last few years had been the distorted glints of himself in metals and the faint, warped reflections in thermoglass. Now, he finally saw how much time had taxed him. His eyes had changed from a crisp gold to a pale yellow with tints of deep orange and red. His deep blue skin that used to blend so well with his armor had lost its sheen; now, it was easier to tell where his body ended and the armor began. All Zebesians slouched on account of their narrow midsection combined with the bulky armor they hung upon their torsos, but he seemed to sink to a degree that appeared almost bestial.

An explosion cut his contemplations short. He was tossed to the ground.

"It seems," Samus said, yanking him back up, "that your friends at the Republic aren't really your friends."

He brushed her off angrily and examined the scan terminal. "If you're going to kill me, you'd better do it quickly," he growled. "But be warned, hunter, it is a custom among my people to give a decent fight before dying."

"I know well the customs of your people."

He faced her. "Then destroy me now."

"I would. But I need you to fly us out of here."

"Help you? I prefer death."

She smacked him across the face with her arm cannon. "You will die if you won't get us out of here."

He shrugged off the aggression. "If you die with me, that is a sacrifice I make gladly."

"You will be forgotten amidst the debris of your ship."

"This is not about glory," Unaii said, albeit uncertainly.

She shot him again, once, in the chest. His tough Zebesian armor took the brunt of it, but his skin burned beneath. "Don't pretend," she hissed. "You're a Space Pirate. Everything is about glory. What do you think the story will be, scum? Why do you think they're attacking you now? They're covering you up like the mess you are. In another minute or so, you'll just be another useless casualty in my war against your pathetic race."

Her abrasive words were infuriating. But they were also persuasive.

"Besides, you might find a chance to kill me later."

Her words were very persuasive.