Foundations

When Samus steps onto the bridge, she's completely composed; a fresh uniform, makeup impeccable, not a hair out of place. Nothing suggests only twenty hours earlier she was an emotional wreck.

Adrian hears her entry and comes from behind the captain's ramp. "Arrande, did you — oh! Captain!" She straightens up. "We're on course for outpost 24. Adam helped me reassign crew duties in your absence — while you were resting, I mean."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm taking the bridge."

She can see the lieutenant's hesitance at that.

"I'm fine, Adrian. No more detours."

"… yes Ma'am. Oh, one more thing. We received a high-priority transmission from a 'Virginia Foundation.' I forwarded the message to your termi-"

Samus is already halfway up to her station before Adrian can finish. She throws herself into her seat and pulls up the message, eyes darting through its contents.

Damn. Just reassumed command and already she's going to have to make herself into a hypocrite. She leans over and activates the ship-wide intercom. "All crew to bridge."

A short while later, everyone, Dr. Jha included, stands at the foot of the command ramp. Arrande stands with his arms crossed, as though expecting an explanation or an apology. His pride still aches from that last verbal blow she dealt. Adrian looks more worried than she did before. Even her typically rigid at-attention stance is somewhat slacker than normal. Chowa takes the captain's assembly order as a sign of a return to normalcy.

But Dr. Jha is less convinced. Even someone as strong as Samus has to take time to heal. She fears this is little more than a performance, the captain's attempt to brush recent events under the rug by formally addressing it.

But what she says has nothing to do with recent events.

Samus gets up from her seat and rests a hand on the headrest. "I'm taking the gunship and branching off for a bit. You're to continue your mission and we'll rendezvous at outpost 24."

"Is this related to the mission, Captain?" Adrian asks. Her voice betrays a hint of concern.

She shakes her head. "No. It's a separate matter. It's here in this sector, and it won't take more than a day. I know I just took us off course, but I need you all to trust me. That's why I called you up here."

Arrande huffs. "What is it this time? You decide to follow up on your personal mission alone?"

Samus bites her lip, smearing the edge of her otherwise flawless lipstick.

He scowls and turns for the crew quarters. "Fine. We'll just do whatever you tell us to then. You're the captain, we're your underlings."

"Wait. I'll explain."

He stops and turns on his heel.

Samus takes a slow breath, bracing herself. "I am a major donor to the Virginia Foundation. It's a charity."

The bridge falls silent save for the digital automations of the ship systems. None of them expected those words out of her mouth. They stare at her in disbelief. Dr. Jha is particularly flummoxed; they've never discussed this, and it feels significant.

"They provide shelter, education, psychiatric care, and adoption opportunities for orphans of combat. They have three locations among core worlds. I try to visit each of them at least once a year, but lately… I've been busy."

"What did they want?" Adrian asks, dispensing with rank and decorum. She needs to know more. This is an aspect to Samus she never expected.

"… I promised one of the children if he got adopted, I'd see him off personally. The papers are all in order and he has a new family waiting for him, but he's not willing to leave until I make good on my word."

The crew looks amongst each other, unsure of how to respond. All except Dr. Jha, who maintains her gaze on Samus in silent evaluation. She can hear the captain's tone, so cautiously controlled, can read the motive behind her dispassionate word choice. The children, not the kids. Describing the foundation as though she's orating from a brochure. It's deceptively detached.

And intentional. She's trying to keep the crew away from this side of her.

Samus swallows and straightens her back, reinforcing her poise. "This is a private matter, so I'll handle it myself. Recently, I've been less forthcoming with all of you. That wasn't fair. You're members of this crew, and I shouldn't keep you in the dark."

Yet that's exactly what you're doing, Dr. Jha thinks. She doesn't speak these thoughts aloud; if Samus wants to maintain this kind of distance between her and the crew, that's her prerogative.

Arrande breaks the silence. "You're diverting from an active mission… to keep a promise to a child?"

Her eyes narrow. "Is that a problem?"

Arrande sighs and walks to the foot of the captain's ramp, crossing his arms. "The only problem is you're trying to leave us behind."

He pops an eyebrow back at Adrian, subtly implying she should jump in. "We're coming with you," she agrees.

Samus balks at the idea. She expected a biting comment from Arrande, not a suggestion to tag along. "What? No. We still have a delivery to make. That norium is-"

"Going nowhere," Arrande finishes. "What, you think one of these orphans is going to sneak onto the ship and steal it? Sell it to some black market dealers out of a children's home? You said it won't take more than a day, right?"

"This isn't something you're needed for-"

Adrian cuts in. "Captain, forgive my insubordination here, but you've been unwell. We're not going to let you disappear on your own."

Chowa gives a short, quick nod. "Even simple missions can be dangerous. We should not proceed without your guidance. Also, human children have very sharp teeth. You should not go alone."

Everyone briefly stares at Chowa with the sort of mild unease that comes from hearing a second language speaker stumble over word choice. The crew can't tell if that was a joke or not. Arrande pats them on the arm. "Keep trying."

Samus looks between her crewmen, trying to summon the authority to deny them. But as she catches Kaia's eyeline and sees an encouraging nod, she relents. "… fine. Set a course, Lieutenant."

000

A lone woman rushes through the halls, her long skirt flapping around her legs and a lengthy chestnut braid bouncing on her back with every step. She clutches a datapad in her arms, the reply message she just received still bared on its glowing white surface.

Of course Samus would reply out of the blue and drop in on short notice. Rowena hasn't even had time to schedule a plumber to fix the clog in the second-floor guest bathroom, let alone get the kids to scrub the walls clean of their scribblings! She passes by one such piece of graffiti on her way; a crayon-drawn orange Samus fighting an indistinct purple alien with dozens of eyes.

The entire residential building is a mess, and she hasn't gotten a chance to wrangle the kids into picking up the toys they left littered across the outdoor court during recess today!

And for god's sake, why did she choose to drop in during class time?! The moment that ship lands, the kids are going to look outside the window and lose all interest in their classwork. It'll be a miracle if some of them don't escape. Especially Shiev, the moment he gets loose the rest will follow.

And and and, she's bringing friends?! Rowena didn't even know Samus had friends!

She bursts through the double doors leading to the fenced-off recess area. Suddenly every single crack in the pavement, every overgrown weed, every minor flaw that was previously so easy to ignore stands out to her like a chipped tooth or bloodied knee. She is not ready to receive Samus! Rowena thought she'd schedule a week ahead of time, claim she was on some high-priority mission that needed her attention! Not that she'd be there that day! Samus has never done this before!

So much for my checklist, she thinks to herself, huffing as she walk-sprints to the landing pad. Great. And the kids left their things scattered all over it. Chalk, toy blasters, action figures, dolls, and balls for every game under the sun. She crouches down to pick up each one, knowing every single plastic thingamajig by heart, recognizing every scratch on their surface, knowing exactly who put them there. She holds the end of her apron up, turning it into a giant pocket for the collection of well-loved toys.

Khovenia is a core planet, safely in the depths of Federation space, far from dangerous border territories. It's a garden world, not unlike Earth, but far better off. Stationing the Foundation here isn't cheap, but fortunately Samus isn't the only person funding it.

As Rowena picks up the last toy, the wind kicks up. She squints up at the ship coming down. It's much larger than she expected. Not as sleek and sexy as some ships Samus had previously. Not that it matters, she'll have a new one by the next time Rowena sees her.

Rushing off the landing platform, she gently deposits her apron-full of playthings and stands there with her hands on her hips.

When the cargo platform finally descends, Rowena is ready to huff and puff and express every iota of her displeasure with the bounty hunter. But as she sees Samus' entourage, suddenly that feels far less important.

More specifically, the Vorminian with her is disquieting. The older kids know enough about history to react poorly to an Egenoid. She only hopes they'll mind their manners.

"Rowena," Samus says, walking down the platform to meet her. "You didn't have to come out to greet us."

The matron of the house snaps back into focus. "I'll tell you what the issue is!"

"That's not what I said, but go on."

"For the first time since I've known you, you give a prompt response and show up on my doorstep that very day! Young lady, you can't set the expectation of chronic procrastination for years and just go and upend it all of the sudden!"

The handsome young man at Samus' side, whom Rowena doesn't recognize, speaks up. "Chronic procrastination? That doesn't sound like you, Captain."

Rowena takes a sharp breath. "Captain? Hold on now, what's this?"

Samus sees an unspoken concern in her eyes, an argument Rowena is afraid to spark.

Before she can explain, the building's door slams open. Excited cheers go up across the courtyard as a dozen children dash out to meet their guests. There are some older kids as well, teenagers, who take their time getting over to the landing pad. Most are human, though there are several other Federation races among them.

Any adult conversation the two women may have had soon drowns in a sea of childish curiosity and adulation.

"Samus! We didn't know you were coming today!"

"Samus, Samus! Look, I grew out my hair! I have a ponytail like yours now!"

"I've been practicing my kicks, you wanna see?"

"You haven't come back for a long time!"

"Samus! Put on your armor! I wanna see what's different this time!"

She smiles and takes a knee, trying to address them all. The rest of the crew steps back as she's swallowed by the tiny mob.

"This is weeiird," Arrande says.

"How so?" Chowa asks. "It was my impression that human women loved children."

Adrian rolls her eyes. "That's a stereotype, Chowa. There are plenty like the captain and me, who don't really care either way."

Kaia chuckles. "I think you're projecting onto her a little. Look at that."

She points to Samus' expression. None of them have seen her smile like that.

Samus addresses each of them one by one. "Yes, Cereza, your hair looks lovely. Give it a few more months and it'll be longer than mine! Shiev, I like the enthusiasm, but you can show me your kicks later, when we have more room. I'm sorry I've been so busy Luca, I've had to catch a lot of bad guys."

Every single name and face here, she's etched into her heart. Their hopes and dreams, every want and need. Out in the black, it's so easy to get lost in the big picture. But this… this never fails to ground her.

Samus stands and turns toward her crew. Arrande tenses up; if he didn't know better, he'd swear that little smile she's shooting their way is devilish. "Everyone, I want to introduce my team. They just had to meet you."

The prepubescent throng suddenly shifts over, swarming around the new targets and peppering them with questions.

"You work for her?"

"Whoa, you're tall! What kind of person are you?"

"He's Vormeenean, stupid!"

"Wow lady, you're old!"

"I don't like you, you're too pretty."

Samus takes advantage of their distraction to turn to the older kids. She puts her hands on her hips, squaring her shoulders and smiling, but her expression drops as she notices a particular face absent. "Alright. Where is he?"

000

Rowena leads Samus through the residential halls of the building. Sunlight spills in from the windows on the north-facing side, drawing warmth to the cool cyan wallpaper. It peels in spots, and rough scrawlings of childhood fantasies pop up along its length. The doors she passes bear digital name plaques, customized by each room's residents.

"So, captain, hm?" Rowena idly comments.

"Of a bounty hunting squad," Samus clarifies.

"Oh thank god," the other woman says. She places a hand over her chest and exhales, releasing her anxiety. "I was worried there for a moment. If you'd rejoined the army, well… it's just good that you didn't."

Samus understands why hearing her new title scared Rowena. It would be hypocritical to fund a place like this while simultaneously contributing to its necessity. Rowena doesn't hate soldiers. She hates that their conflicts trod the defenseless and innocent underfoot.

A position Samus understands intimately. There's a reason she prefers to avoid missions that take her into populated worlds. Collateral damage is just another phrase for carelessness. Lately it feels like she's been riding that line…

"How has he been?" she asks, diverting the conversation.

"In a word, withdrawn. Shows up for meals and classes, but that's all."

Samus nods. He's always been a little shy. It hasn't helped that every time he's made friends with one of the other kids, they've gotten adopted shortly afterward. "What about the family he's joining?"

Rowena smiles. "Lovely people. They have a farm here on Khovenia and run a sanctuary for injured animals. I think you'd like them."

They stop at one of the bedroom doors. Rowena gestures to Samus, stepping back. The hunter regards the door with trepidation. Talking to adults sincerely is difficult for her because adults are so rarely sincere. Kids are easier to be honest with in that sense, most aren't looking to twist her words to their advantage. But this boy is in that delicate stage between childhood and adulthood, and if the message she read was true, he's gone through some big changes. The kind of changes Samus had no human reference for growing up where and how she did. She's not sure she can handle what he might say.

She takes a deep breath and knocks. "Joey? It's Samus. May I come in?"

There's silence for a few seconds. "Okay." His voice has changed. It's deeper than she remembers, yet it still comes out small.

She steps into the room. It's small, not much bigger than her quarters on the Crosshair, but given he has the room to himself, it's a blessing. It's abnormally clean, probably because of the two overstuffed suitcases sitting on the ground, containing the few personal things Joey has claim to in his life. The exception is a lone pair of fingerless gloves that sit atop the luggage.

The young man sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the ground. He's fourteen now, and it shows. A few pimples on his face, new clothes that he's already outgrowing. His ankles stick out from pants just a little too short for him. His black hair is unkempt, sticking out at odd angles. He probably hasn't taken the time to groom himself today. That last feature draws parallels to someone else who's been on her mind, calling to a dark spot inside her. She quickly buries the thought; this moment isn't about her.

Samus comes over and sits down on the bed next to him, consciously forcing herself to relax. "I heard you've been adopted."

"I guess," he mumbles. His eyes lock on the floor, watching his kicking feet.

"You don't seem happy about it."

"I am. I guess."

"Well… I'm here. Just as promised."

His frown deepens, and he balls up the thin fabric of his pants. "Yeah."

"Joey… what's wrong?"

His lowered gaze travels over her legs, then up to her face. His lower lip trembles. "I thought… if I told you I wouldn't leave without you, you'd adopt me."

Whoa. That was unexpected. She tries not to let her surprise read on her face. "I see. Joey… I could never do that." He's too young to understand the subtle sadness in her eyes as she says that.

He looks back down at the ground and grumbles. "Yeah, I know. You've got a dangerous job. I know that. I'd probably never see you."

"That's right." Only partially. If she did something that insane, she'd have to make time for him. But that's exactly why she wouldn't. She doesn't have that luxury. "But it's better this way."

"How?" His eyes shoot back up to hers, insistent, defiant. "I've only ever wanted to be like you! I could be useful once I'm older! I could protect people like you do!"

Samus pauses. He's in a delicate state. She doesn't want to hurt him… but… "Listen to me. Once you're an adult, if that's what you really want, you can do it. I believe you can. I'll even help you get started."

Joey's expression brightens. "You mean it?" In his excitement, his voice cracks.

"Yes. But only if that's what you want."

He stands tall, smiling. "Of course it is!"

She holds a serious, steely expression on him. "Yes, now. But maybe in a few years that will change. Maybe you'll find something you want more." Please want something more. Anything else. "And if that day comes, the foundation and I will help you then, too. That's why we're here."

He shakes his head, giving her a wide grin. "Nah, that's what I'm gonna do. We'll even work together one day. I promise!"

She returns a half-hearted smile back. Her staunch composure softens under his radiant, youthful positivity. "If you say so, Joey. But before then, I want you to see what it's like to have a family. So, are you ready for that?"

Joey nods, ignorant of the emotional shifts Samus has experienced since this conversation began. "Yeah. Ms. Rowena?"

Rowena steps around the doorway. She listened to every word, just out of sight. "Should I call them for you?"

He gives her a hesitant nod. "Yeah… I think so." He turns back to Samus. "Thank you, Samus. I gotta say goodbye to the others before I leave."

Joey bounces on his feet for a moment, hands clenched at his sides. Before she can react, he lunges forward and embraces Samus, hugging her tight. Surprised, she takes a moment to return the gesture. "Good luck, Joey." She presses her face to the top of his head, expression wistful.

As he races past Rowena, the house mother regards Samus with bittersweet understanding. The bounty hunter stares out the door, the boy's vow echoing in her mind. "I know that's not what you wanted to say," Rowena says solemnly.

"It isn't. But it's not about what I want. It's about whatever gets him through that door."

000

Samus tasks the crew with helping around the grounds for the rest of the day. There's a lot that needs doing and the foundation needs as much help as it can get. Built on the rural outskirts of a nearby city, there's plenty of room for the kids to spread out and explore. However, there isn't a wealth of volunteers or full-time employees. Besides Rowena, three other adults live on-site, fulfilling the roles of groundskeepers and teachers. A rotation of part-time employees still leaves the foundation understaffed at the best of times.

The staff are happy to let the crew distract the kids, if only for a day.

A fresh-faced Sellik boy of five years old hides among the bushes in the thicket close to the multipurpose court. He smirks to himself, confident he won't be found.

He's unaware that he already has been.

Chowa drops from above, their enormous body tenting over the child. He squeals and tries to dash away, but Chowa collects him up in one of his massive hands.

The boy sulks, trying to wriggle free. "Hey! That was too quick, it doesn't count!"

Chowa cocks their head, holding the child up at eye level. "It doesn't? Why would how quickly I found you matter? I thought the entire purpose of this game was to find you."

"My spot was too good! You can't just find it that fast!"

The tall alien shakes their head. "But your spot was not good. I could see you from the trees."

"You suck!" the boy pouts, punching the air.

"If you say so." Chowa sucks in the sides of their mouth and pops their eyes, making a silly face. The boy laughs. Chowa puts him down gently and points outside the grove. "Go wait with the others for the next round. I'll find the rest soon."

As the child runs off, Chowa considers how pleasant this moment is. These children are too young to remember the War of Tides, too young to know to fear them. They'll learn, eventually. Fearsome definitions of them and their people, their empire, and the threat they posed to the peace found here.

Those remembrances aren't inaccurate, however. Perhaps unfairly cast… but with good reason. Chowa knows how many federation soldiers they personally killed, to a tally. They imagine many Egenoids who survived the war can say the same. Some still ache to make that count rise.

And yet now Chowa plays with federation children. Perhaps there is some small redemption in that.

000

The outdoor play court is a mess of activity. Rowena suspended classes for the rest of the day; she knew there'd be no point now. The younger children dash about with the energy only early youth can muster, playing, teasing, and enjoying the unfettered freedom that comes from a life before responsibilities.

Kaia and Adam watch along with some of the staff.

Kaia's eyes shimmer with a mixture of fondness and a hint of melancholy as she observes the carefree antics of the youngsters. She turns to Adam, her expression soft yet contemplative. "It's moments like these that remind me of my own children when they were this age. They're all grown now, with lives of their own. We rarely even get to speak now that they have kids of their own and have spread out across the galaxy. It's easy to forget the joy that came with witnessing them in these early stages." She cocks her head at him. "What about you? Did the late Adam Malkovich leave anything behind you may want to pick up?"

Adam's mechanical gaze shifts from the playing children to Dr. Jha, processing her words with his usual meticulousness. He knows what she's really reaching at. Given the chance, would he supplant the original? Take his place in all ways that matter? "The original Adam had no desire for children, or the time for them," he states matter-of-factly, detachment apparent in his voice.

Dr. Jha's gaze wanders over to a cluster of kids gathered around Samus. She kneels down, regaling them with one of her recent adventures, no doubt abridging the parts they don't need to know. "I must admit, I am rather surprised. Samus always struck me as too cold to be good with children. Knowing she donates to this place is quite heartwarming."

"It's not unusual for her at all," Adam clips back. "She's always wanted to help the defenseless. That never changed."

Dr. Jha raises an eyebrow. "Oh? That almost sounded defensive."

"I don't know what you mean."

She chuckles to herself. Her eyes drift back to Samus as she races across the court with the kids, deliberately dragging her feet to keep pace with them. "Well, there are quite a few ways one might protect the innocent. She obviously has a talent for the martial part of that. But to see her as a nurturer… was there ever a point where you thought she might leave it all behind? Settle down and become a mother?"

There's the faintest tensing in the android's features. Dr. Jha's seen that exact staunch reaction in many a vet before; carefully restrained pain. An unusually human reaction for the AI. "Perhaps once. In passing. But it's not my place to speculate on that. She's chosen her path. My duty is to support her."

Ah yes, she thinks. Ian. In another life, another branch, the two may have made a family. A family Adam decided he could never have for himself, something to experience vicariously through them. Perhaps it's painful for him to witness how much Samus turned out like him.

It's so odd, knowing that the android beside her is such a remarkable likeness of the original Adam he even bears his pains. The challenge of picking apart his imitated psyche and seeing just how far AI has come fascinates the psychologist in her.

But the fact remains, as long as he is bounded, what he wants and believes is of little consequence. Aspirations and goals belong to those who have the freedom to affect the world around them.

Not machines.

000

Adrian sits at a picnic table with one of the older kids on the outskirts of the play court. She's an androgynous girl with a strong sense of style, that same vellan-punk style that's popular with young cliques these days. The young lady reads aloud from a pen-and-paper notebook, a deliberate counter-culture choice compared to the ease of digital alternatives. She overemphasizes and dramatizes her words, pacing her reading with the grace of an inexperienced artist convinced of their brilliance.

"And if plasma is both blood and fire, then let what I spill burn you to your core," the girl finishes, proudly setting her notepad down.

Adrian forces a smile. "Yeah… I like it. You know, I have a little brother who has his own band. You kinda remind me of him."

The girl scowls. "Ugh. These aren't song lyrics. It's poetry, it's different."

Adrian nods. "Yeah, right, sorry. I can tell you put a lot of thought into it. But it's a lot like the last one you read for me… have you considered maybe a different topic? I dunno… something brighter?"

The teen rolls her eyes. "Life is suffering and darkness. Anyone who tells you different is selling you something."

Adrian has to bury the urge to laugh. She definitely stole that line from somewhere else, thinking it was cutting and witty. Yep. A lot like her little brother. "Alright. What else have you got?"

000

"So, how long have you known Samus?"

The question blindsides Arrande, distracting him from his task. He pauses his sweeping, glancing over his shoulder at Rowena. She hefts a large satchel of nutriated proteins over to a nearby food fabricator, preparing lunch for the kids.

The kitchen is pragmatic, flowing around the massive machine that makes feeding dozens of kids at once a simple matter. Arrande notes it's a fairly new model, even better than the kinds he's seen in GFA base cafeterias. Despite that, it's no simple matter to manage mealtimes for so many mouths. Rowena appreciates having the extra hands.

Arrande has to take a moment to process Rowena's question, then refocuses on sweeping up the kitchen. "Ah… for about a year now, more or less."

"I see." Rowena rips open a bag of proteins and begins the long process of filling it. "And how did you meet?"

Arrande coughs, trying to give himself time to come up with a convincing lie. "… talent scout. Got us in touch when she was searching for people to staff her crew."

Rowena pauses at that, focusing on him. "Didn't she only form her crew a few months ago? Thought you said you've known her for a year?"

"Did I? Must have misspoke." He starts to sweep faster.

Wow, he could not be more transparent, Rowena muses to herself.

"What about you? When did Samus become a donor to this lovely little home for wayward runts?"

Rowena empties one of the protein bags, then bends down to pick up another. "Donor? She didn't tell you?"

He pauses, glancing at her over his shoulder and cocking an eyebrow. "Tell me what?"

"Samus founded this place."

Arrande sets the broom against the wall. "What?"

"Yeah!" Rowena talks absentmindedly as she empties another bag into the machine. "She is the primary donor, but the foundation is her baby. Named it after her mother."

Arrande's mouth slowly opens as he pairs this new information to what he already knows about his elusive captain. He doesn't know the exact figures she's made from her career, but Federation Army contracts aren't cheap. And if what he's earning is almost a fifth what she normally makes, she'd definitely be able to afford something like this on the side.

But it's more than a matter of means. Something has stuck in his mind since his last visit to his mother on Worfane. Samus said something about her parents...

Rowena continues through her task without pause, ignorant of his sudden revelation. "A while ago, I was worried when I stopped hearing from her. She used to make a point to visit pretty regularly, then just vanished for more than a year. Still won't tell me why. Money kept coming in, but it's in a trust, so that didn't mean she was okay. I kept reaching out, and she kept not responding. Thought for a second the job finally got her. Glad to hear she finally has someone watching her back out there. Don't know what we'd do without her."

She looks up as she pulls open another bag. Arrande's vanished.

"Hmph! Well, guess I'll finish sweeping up myself, then!" She pours the next bag into the fabricator.

000

The afternoon sun falls over the horizon, painting the skies in a tableau of orange and red. Samus watches Joey walk toward an unfamiliar vehicle, two unfamiliar silhouettes alongside him, guiding him to an unfamiliar future. One of them smiles down at Joey, clearly fighting the urge to hold their new son's hand.

Rowena was right. They seem nice. Joey turns and waves at her, and she waves back, forcing a smile. That little boy came here alone at the tender age of four, orphaned by a conflict that he had nothing to do with. A decade of being passed over, thinking he was unwanted. And now he walks alongside a family of his own, dreaming of one day being just like her.

Her smile falls as they drive away. She hopes his dream never comes true.

"So, is there a reason you didn't call it the Aran Foundation?"

She's rudely broken from her bittersweet reflections by Arrande. She turns to face him, putting on a steel face. "Talked to Rowena? I guess I never told her to keep it quiet."

"Why did you hide it to begin with?" It's not an accusation or a demand. His eyes search hers, trying to understand.

"It's not like it matters." She strides past him, eyes forward, toward the main building.

He matches her step. "It's a fairly big difference. In one case, you're funding something you believe in. In the other, it's a mission. The lifelong kind."

She stops and whips around to face him. "What do you want, Arrande?"

He scowls. "I want you to stop hiding from us, Samus. Not just me, the whole crew."

She glares. He's gotten too comfortable overstepping her boundaries. "Why do you think you're so privileged that you get to know me like that?"

He steps up, staring her in the eye. "Why'd you bring us here if we weren't?" He may have accepted her brushing him off when they started this crew, but not now. Not after everything he's seen.

The two stand there in the setting sun, staring each other down, waiting for the other to blink. Hard-headed as they are, neither does.

Samus sees a familiar persistence in his gaze. She averts her eyes. God damn it, she has a type. "I didn't name the foundation after myself because of the attention that would bring."

His expression softens. "How would that be a bad thing? It'd certainly bring in more donors."

She meets his eyes with defiance. "Yes. The wrong kind. Media attention, fans, injecting themselves into the lives of children who have already had enough taken from them. The last thing they need is to lose their privacy too."

Arrande glances down, considering her point.

"Let me ask you something, Arrande," she says. "What would happen to these kids if one of my adoring fans adopted them? Do you think they'd have a good life?"

"… probably not. It would probably just be a way to get close to you."

"Exactly. Now let's flip that. What if, somehow, someone who hated me fooled the process and adopted one of them? An assassin? A rival hunter?"

He nods, looking away. "I get it." His voice is quieter now.

Samus turns toward the residential building. She regards it with somber clarity, the knowledge that it exists as a physical monument of something core to her very being. "All I want for these children is for them to grow up and embrace the opportunities I didn't have. To have normal lives outside of my shadow. I come back here again and again, not to inspire them to be like me, but because I want them to know someone still loves them."

She gazes down at her shadow, stretching toward the residential house in the evening sun, deforming her shape. The metaphor of the sight pulls her thoughts into a space of dark reflection.

"I'm a warrior. I'm a killer. And I became those things because I drowned in the kind of violence no child should have to face." Her gaze shifts back to the house. "I don't want that for them. There can be no more Samus Arans. That name, and everything it carries, ends with me."

Arrande doesn't speak. He can't. He can only watch as she walks back toward the house, leaving him there to steep in the brief glimpse of the darkness she just afforded him.

He thought he understood her. Thought he knew her. But as he watches her walk away, he realizes something with crystal certainty.

He has no idea who Samus really is.

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

1. The creator of Metroid, and Samus, has often stated he feels she is a motherly character, despite her representations in games often contradicting or ignoring this description. Does this chapter's interpretation of her feel in line with the idea of her being "motherly" on some level?

2. Does this chapter believably deepen Samus as a character?