Straggler

It's late. As the rest of the crew sleeps, Samus sits at the captain's station on the bridge. Tonight she's only in her Zero Suit instead of her full uniform. She's far more comfortable like this. She just doesn't like exposing herself so much in front of the crew if she can avoid it. For her, the bodysuit represents her preparedness, a sub-layer of armor just as meaningful as her Power Suit itself. She's so used to lounging in it, it may as well be her own skin. Unfortunately, it's so skintight she questions its appropriateness among her subordinates.

She puts those thoughts out of her mind and focuses, managing the mess of cables routed from the ship's primary system into the head of the Torizo guardian containing Adam's AI. It's her night for bridge duty, so she aims to keep herself busy. The disembodied stone head rests atop her console, staring back at her, expressionless. No matter what she does, she can't seem to get it to release Adam's program to the ship drive. It wouldn't be so concerning to her if she could just get its audio system working so she could hear his voice again.

The ship computer rebuffs her latest attempt to unite the two systems. She groans and tosses her hands up in the air in frustration. It feels like the damn thing is fighting her. She grabs the head and lowers it to the ground, giving up for the moment to focus on other busywork. She opens the shipping manifests from Giran, intending to follow up on a hunch that's been burning away in the back of her mind.

Isolating the first shipment to disappear wasn't hard. A smaller independent shipper with a single vessel that Federation databases have earmarked as being back due on their taxes. They have — or rather, had — a history of refusing random searches and conveniently never had a full ship blueprint to supply to official registries. Obviously, they were illegal smugglers. It's possible they got their hands on some dangerous Chozo technology and paid the price for it. How they could cart a full sized brain supercomputer onto their ship and not think that was a bad idea is beyond her, but it's possible it just looked expensive to them. Where they got it is impossible to zero in on at this point, given how their ship was torn apart and recycled. They likely dodged any attempt to pin down their itinerary.

Yet something else has stood out to her since the end of that mission. Security Chief Miller let slip something that she hadn't quite forgotten. She can still play it back in her mind.

Only one shipment has actually made it to its destination in the last month, and that was only after it disappeared for a week and a half.

There's no way the New Brain would have let that ship escape, and if its crew had somehow slipped out of its grasp, there's no way they would have stayed silent about it. Something is wrong.

Her eyes scan the extranet dossier on the company responsible for that ship. Another small, independent ship, named the Venture. Seems Ardonis favors them for their discretion and low rates. Its first destination... of course. A remote scientific station within a fringe system. It's never anywhere nice, populated, and sunny, she thinks to herself. Just once, she'd like a mission to happen near a beachside resort. Though perhaps it's better that it's not in the middle of a crowded city.

She routes the communication systems controls to her station and keys in what information she has for the location. It takes a moment for the deep link system to connect; the Crosshair is about three systems over on its way to collect the pay for the Giran job.

Eventually, there's a pickup on the other side. A holographic screen pops up in front of her, however its image is frazzled and unclear. "Hello? Outpost Hera, this is Samus Aran. Can you hear me?"

"Yes. This is Outpost Hera. What business are you calling about, Miss Aran?" The voice that comes through the other end is calm, yet there's an eerie quality to it that unnerves her. The person speaking sounds subdued.

"... well, I'm following up on a recent delivery made to your station. A shipping vessel called the Venture should have arrived a few weeks ago from Giran with a shipment of norium. I have reason to believe the people aboard that vessel are in danger. Can you tell me where they went to? Was there anything unusual about their behavior?"

"There was no vessel like that here. Please do not contact us again," the unidentifiable drone responds.

"Wait, I'm not done-" The link cuts off.

She was expecting the standard level of resistance. Oh, we can't divulge that information, or whose authority do you represent, not an outright denial, especially not of facts she already knows to be true. And following up with a very polite fuck-you? Suspicious.

Now she has no other choice. She puts a new destination into the ship's navigation.

000

Morning dawns, though aboard the Crosshair the concept of daybreak is ceremonial, marked by the gradual brightening of onboard lights. Arrande awakens early, his schedule like fine-tuned clockwork, already doing push-ups and calisthenics to start his day. Despite his often lackadaisical nature, the hard-wired diligence of his service still left its mark on him. Afterward, he takes a moment to read a chapter from one of the books in his collection, a private ritual to start his day.

Samus' voice comes in clear over the ship intercom. "All crew report to the bridge. We have a briefing."

He gets ready promptly. No need to draw undue attention to himself by being late. Despite that, he arrives at the threshold of the bridge behind his other crewmates.

Samus looks down from her heightened position, crinkling her nose at his apparent lateness. "Arrande, when I call for you that means now, not five minutes later. Be more punctual."

He knows she's being unfair, but stifles any complaints he may have and takes position next to Chowa. Samus stares in his direction, more miffed at him being last to the bridge than any actual lateness. Not that she cares that much. She recognizes she didn't need to dig in to him like that, but refuses to acknowledge it further.

"I know everyone was eager to pick up our pay for the last job, but something has caught my attention. We're headed for a scientific outpost in the Drovian system, the last known location of the only freighter that escaped Giran's moon. When I called them up, they were less than forthcoming. I suspect the station may be compromised. We're going to follow up and find out what's happened."

"Hang on, aren't we done with this job?" Arrande astutely points out.

Samus gives a plain, straightforward, "No."

Arrande balks. He's earned his cut, he needs that money. What the hell is this? "We went to the client, finished the job, and they forwarded our pay. Are we to chase ghosts while our accounts run dry?"

Samus turns her gaze on her subordinate. "This is part of the job. That AI posed a serious risk, and it was smart enough to put a plan into motion before we found it. When something this dangerous could lash out and hurt someone, and we know about it, we act. We follow up. That's our responsibility. If what we know ends up getting someone killed and we did nothing about it, we may as well be pulling the trigger ourselves."

Adrian has her own misgivings, but is more measured in how she voices them. She steps out of the lineup toward Samus. "Why not notify the GFA? They could check things out first, then maybe we'd know for sure."

Samus is surprised to see Adrian questioning her. "I already have. As far as they're concerned, the all clear the station is giving is all the reason they need not to take action. They won't expend resources on a hunch. Not even from me."

Chowa adds their voice to the conversation. "Captain Aran, I do not wish to sound concerned for only my own benefit, but how often are we expected to embark on life-threatening missions without the promise of compensation?"

Samus holds her ground on the captain's platform. "Being a part of this crew means we practice due diligence. I will not turn away when I see someone who needs help. That means none of you will either. I warned you when you signed on that being under my command would mean following my initiative. If you don't like that, you don't have to stay, but I'm not taking us to collect until we've cleared the job completely."

There's a noticeable, measured pause in the conversation. The crew's concerns are far from eased, but they can't deny that if they do nothing, there's a chance something bad will happen to the people at that station.

Adrian, tired of the anxiety of watching this play out, tries to diffuse the situation. "This means we get a bonus though, doesn't it? That's what our contract says."

Samus shifts her attention to her, taking the opportunity presented to ease the tension. "Yes, you'll get an extension bonus, as agreed."

"Where does that money come from if our client has already paid us?" Chowa asks.

"From my cut. I pay myself out last because I get to make calls like this one." That, and she doesn't need the money. If anything, her pay is just a buffer so she can hand out bonuses if need be. She's had her retirement investments in line for years now.

Heh. Retirement. Right.

Samus refocuses on the mission. "I'm not sure what's happening at the station. We're going in blind here. We're going to need to do two things; one, keep back someone capable as a pilot to pull us out in case something goes bad, and two, keep the ground team together. No one strays off on their own. Adrian, you're our pilot."

Adrian's shoulders drop, but she gives a firm "Yes, Ma'am."

"From what I can tell, the communications they're sending out are suspect. They sound half awake. Whether this has anything to do with the shipment they received from the Venture, I don't know, but it's hard to ignore the connection."

"The 'escaped' freighter?" Arrande asks.

"Yes," Samus clarifies.

"In coincidences, I don't believe; everything has its purpose," he muses aloud.

"What?" she asks.

"This isn't happenstance, is what I'm saying."

Adrian perks an eyebrow. "Isn't that from Tears for Mercury?"

Arrande beams at her. "You're familiar!"

She looks at him, nonplussed. "Uh... yeah. Everyone who went to high school read it."

"It's still a classic," he pouts.

"Alright, you have your assignments," Samus interrupts. "Chowa, Arrande. You're ground team today. Prepare your combat gear. Unless someone checks our weapons at the gate, I want everyone armed."

000

Dr. Jha sits across from Samus, her datapad and pen in her lap. She was not expecting an unscheduled visit from the typically cagey captain of the ship, but welcomes the opportunity. "I've heard some of the crew chatter. Apparently, you are personally funding the next leg of this mission?"

"I think they're unhappy about it. They're getting an extension bonus, but it's still not the same payout as a normal mission." Samus sits with her hands folded between her knees. The subtle way her eyebrows pinch together and her mile-long stare through the doctor suggests dissatisfaction.

"Well, it's possible they looked at employment under you as a series of contract jobs. But that is not everything you do, is it?"

There's the faintest agitation about Samus' answer. "Of course not. There are going to be times we have to take the initiative. We can't wait for every problem to be visible enough that we get hired to deal with it."

Dr. Jha tilts her head. "So, not bounty hunters so much as deputized peace-keepers. Samus, it sounds like you are treating the crew as nothing more than an extension of yourself. You expect them to be vigilant defenders, the same as you, but they are individuals with their own goals. They are going to have their own desires and needs. Do you know why they work for you?"

"Adrian wants opportunity, Chowa is getting older and needs savings, Arrande needs work," Samus answers.

"Yes, but why? Those are the base reasons, true, but what motivates them? Have you taken the time to get to know them, apart from dossiers and professional references? At a certain point, your crew is going to need you beyond the boundaries of a mission. As a leader, you will eventually have to reach past your own comfort zone to help them."

Samus sighs and looks away. "It's not that simple."

Dr. Jha reaches forward and places a gentle, ringed hand on Samus' knee with a reassuring smile. "Try it when you see the opportunity. You are more than just a profit-minded mercenary, you are moved by the desire for a greater good. Connect with them, inspire them, and I am sure they will gladly follow you to those same ends."

000

Outpost Hera sits on what the Federation classifies as a "dead planet" called SO-652. It was once a hospitable planet with thin oxygen content in its atmosphere. Never quite a colony-worthy planet, but tenable for the local flora and fauna.

Now, the battles fought on its surface have pushed its dull brown lands and few sanctuaries of verdant vegetation to the brink. Bombed out craters and shattered military installations spread over the limited livable surface. That hasn't stopped the Brandt Foundation from trying its hardest to save the local wildlife from extinction. Fueled by donations from environmentalist patrons around the galaxy, they set up the research outpost here to do just that.

As the Crosshair pulls into orbit, Chowa looks down on the installation magnified in the ship's view feed. They know the cause of the planet's plight. From up here, seeing what remains of the barren planet in the throes of its last gasp, they feel a strange, pervasive sense of ancestral guilt.

Samus' voice cuts through their doldrums. "Outpost Hera, this is Samus Aran. I'm seeking permission to dock."

The crew waits in silence for a response. None comes. "... so what now?" Adrian asks.

"We land anyway," Samus replies with cold certainty. "Ground crew, suit up."

000

A dust devil pirouettes across the expanse, trailing fine silt like the hem of a ghostly gown. Samus descends the ramp, her boots leaving ephemeral impressions on the planet's powdered surface, marks of humanity on a world all but abandoned by it.

The ground crew exits the gunship behind her, armed and ready. Chowa steps out onto the barren surface in their armored vest, feeling the deprived soil crumble beneath their toes. In the distance, they can see a thick forest, one of the last desperate holdouts of this planet's ecosystem. The facility extends into it.

Down on the surface, it's easier to see the devastation from the war that left its shores more than half a century ago. Chowa regards the pockmarked surface with somber clarity, absorbing the handiwork of their former state.

Arrande is less dignified about the situation. "Thinking of old times?" he wantonly asks, double checking the sights on the rifle slung around his shoulder as he sweeps the barrel over the woods.

"I did not take part in the battles that occurred here, Crewman Arrande. It was before my time," Chowa responds, not quite understanding what he's getting at.

"I know you're not that old, I just meant... ah, nevermind."

"This was the site of one of the early conflicts in the War of Tides. Far enough from the first that it never warranted a memorial, not enough of a turning point to be mentioned as more than a footnote in history. And clearly forgotten by both sides."

"Very astute insight," Arrande notes as he checks his sidearm.

"Cut the chatter and focus," Samus chides, moving past the two, toward the facility.

The compound is a sprawling complex of temporary structures rigged together to make a more permanent establishment. A simple barrier field prevents them from opening the door into the facility. With a quick scan of the barrier, Samus isolates the pressure switches nearby and triggers them one by one with concussive shots of her power beam, dropping the field. The door opens with a hiss.

It's quiet as the team enters the facility. More than that, no one is there to greet them or complain about their forced landing and entry, something that Arrande is quick to comment on. "They didn't send security to intercept us? Feels right in line with them not shooting down the Crosshair. Do they let anyone land planet side, or do they just not care if they live or die?"

"It's a humanitarian organization," Samus mentions as they continue down the entry hall. "They don't have the funds to hire round-the-clock security."

"Fair point." Arrande scratches his chin in thought before walking ahead and turning around to face Samus and Chowa, walking backwards. "You ever think it's odd we don't have a word for 'humanitarian' that's more inclusive of other sapients?"

Samus' tone sharpens. "Pay attention-!"

Arrande collides with someone and jolts, his hand reaching for his sidearm. The shorter bald man whom he ran into stares up at him with an empty expression. "Inclusive synonyms of humanitarian. Philanthropic. Charitable. Eleemosynary." His voice is a droning monotone.

Chowa scoffs. "That last one sounds fabricated."

Arrande relaxes somewhat and shakes his head. "No, it's real. But I meant more like something that included a root word that referenced sentients. You know, instead of just humans."

Samus disregards the unneeded diatribe and pushes past Arrande, looking down at the man. Thin, short hair clings to the sides of his head, and a bushy moustache hides his upper lip. A fine layer of scruff covers his chin and neck, and he has dark circles beneath his eyes. He wears an identifying jumpsuit with the Hera outpost label stretched across the chest in vibrant lettering, separated into two halves by the suit's central zipper.

What concerns her is the dead eyed look he's giving her, and his general lack of hygiene. She puts it aside for the moment. "We apologize for forcing our way in. We didn't get a response when we tried to contact you and thought you might be in trouble."

He stares at her. "There is no trouble. You can go now." He turns and wanders off. His response is in line with what Samus expected. She scans him as he shuffles away.

"Should we go then, Captain Aran?" Chowa's voice is startles her. She didn't notice them walk up beside her.

She stares up at the tall alien, motioning to the man they just encountered. "That seemed normal to you?"

Chowa tilts their head. "His response was very concise."

She shakes her head. "Something is wrong with him. I scanned abnormal beta waves in his brain. It's like he's semi-conscious." She turns to the rest of the crew. "Keep alert, keep together. And if anything happens, resist using lethal force unless absolutely necessary."

Samus leads the crew further into the facility, hand steadying her arm cannon. Chowa's hand brushes over the galvanized knife strapped to their armored vest out of habit, and they keep close behind her. Arrande is quick to move after them, remaining in the rear where he's comfortable.

Suddenly, a sound catches his attention. He whips his head around, rifle scanning the area, searching for the source, but all he sees is the empty hall they entered through. Arrande shakes it off and follows behind the rest of the team.

He could have sworn he heard someone whispering.

000

The facility is bereft of activity. Samus and the ground team pass by a few more people who seem unperturbed by their presence, eyes locked forward as they shuffle about the compound. The smooth, pristine halls are quiet, so white that they almost glow like moonlight. There's an unnatural sterility about the facility and the people in it. Even the air feels lifeless.

The team eventually finds their way to the central lobby. A few people of differing races stand about here, talking in low, droning voices to one another. A Dirrulean, a Federation race of people not dissimilar from humans but with red skin and antennae sprouting from their temples, sits unmoving behind the welcome desk, staring at the screen in front of her. Just beside the desk, a locked door bars further entry.

Samus is wary, but takes the initiative, approaching the woman. She scans her to verify a hunch; just like the man earlier, she detects subdued beta waves. "I need to speak to whoever is in charge."

The woman almost mechanically shifts her gaze to look at Samus. Her vision is unfocused, like she's just mimicking the motions of interaction without actually seeing her. "Project Director Aldor is busy."

Samus flows around the deflection. "We have time. We'll wait."

"The director will always be busy. Please leave, Samus." She turns her gaze back to her screen.

Samus squints at her. She didn't give her name. It's not impossible that she just knows who she is. Even so, it's hard not to see it as suspicious given the context. In any case, she's clearly not going to be forthcoming.

Samus tries a different strategy instead. "What can you tell me about this place?"

Without looking up, the woman answers. "Outpost Hera is a conservationist project dedicated to restoring the ecosystem of SO-652. We are staffed by some of the galaxy's leading experts in-"

"What's your name?"

"My name is Halyrin Gren-"

"How long has this outpost been in operation?"

"The outpost began its mission fifteen years ago-"

"How is the project funded?"

Chowa inserts themself into the conversation. "Captain Aran, you are not letting her finish her answers." She ignores them, focusing on Halyrin's answers while peppering her with more rapid-fire questions.

"We are funded by Federation charters, as well as charitable donations from-"

"How many people are on staff?"

"This outpost hosts thirty-seven staff, with room for-"

"Do you have any security on staff?"

"Captain..." Chowa interrupts again.

"As a humanitarian organization, we have no-"

"Have you received any suspicious shipments in the last three weeks?"

"Captain Aran!" Chowa shouts.

She turns to them, annoyed. "What?!" Then she notices.

The lobby has gone still. Every single person here has turned to face the fireteam, staring with cold, vacant silence. The team stares back, watching for any sign of hostility. Chowa has crouched into a ready stance, gripping their knife in its sheath. Arrande has already shouldered his rifle, inches from leveling the barrel, finger resting on the safety.

"You all need to leave." Samus whips her head back around to see Halyrin has stood up to face her. Her eyes are empty of any emotion or thought, yet that only makes her words more threatening. "You are interrupting our work."

Samus feels icy tension creeping up her back. This feeling of being surrounded by hostility is eerily familiar. Her hand grips her arm cannon. None of the robotic staff makes a move toward them, but it feels like any second things could shift.

"Alright," she relents, "We're leaving." She makes slow, cautious steps around her crew, whispering under her breath as she goes, "Arrande, watch our flank."

The ground team moves toward the main entrance, the eyes of the Hera staff fixed on them as they go.

000

As the doors close behind them and the locks reengage, Arrande curses under his breath. "What the hell was that?"

"It is strange," Chowa comments, "I was led to understand that the Federation races were typically very informal. The staff here behave more like Vorminians. Captain Aran, if that is the case, your numerous questions and interruptions were likely seen as vulgar and rude. I am not surprised they responded aggressively."

Samus references a map she constructed from the aerial view of the compound. "I was trying to agitate her, Chowa. But I didn't get so much as a twitch from her until I asked something she didn't want to answer about the shipment. That links their abnormal behavior to it."

Arrande shrugs. "I mean, causally yes, but it seems like a fair bet."

"We're going to find another way in. If we try to force our way through from the front again, we risk starting a fight and one of them could get hurt."

"Them? What about us?" he adds.

Samus drops what she's doing and turns to face him. "They're not in control of themselves. If we hurt them, we're hurting innocent people."

Something clicks for Arrande. He understands what she's getting at. "If this weird behavior started when the Venture came by, we're probably dealing with another fully formed AI on the same level as Mother Brain," he realizes in horror. "But I thought she couldn't enslave higher intelligences?"

Samus looks grave. "This one can."

00000

Chapter notes

If you have a moment, please consider answering one or both of these questions for me in a comment!

1. Is there a sense of rising tension as the crew approaches and enters the station?

2. Are you intrigued by the events of this chapter?