"Sir, we've run into a problem."

"And what might that be?"

"The suit… somehow it's hardwired to her - only her. I mean it's literally tied to her genetic structure. We can't replicate it efficiently, no one would be able to use it! I-"

"Then isn't it obvious what the next step is?"

"Sir?"

"If it only works for her, then make more of her. If we can't use it for our troops then we'll make new troops."

"Sir you don't mean… Are you asking us to clone Samus Aran?"

"Was the order not clear?"

Several years had passed since that brief correspondence aboard the Olympus. He had been lucky that his true purpose hadn't been discovered during his short work there.

He was no more comfortable with the project now than he was back then. Reverse engineering was something he could manage. It was something ethical, at least from his standpoint. But cloning a human? And one so renowned? Surely they would be caught, someone would find out. She could find out.

But the higher-ups had assured him that everything here was under the radar. That they were safe. But when the results of their work were released into the field… what then? When the main branch of the Federation got wind of what the BSL was doing…

The scientist shook his head. This was no place for paranoia. If he quit now, he'd be executed, silenced before any word of their work was allowed to leave.

And if he continued? He wasn't sure of the outcome, but even that uncertainty was preferable to the alternative.

They would start with one. If it, -she proved successful, then more would be made.

What troubled him most was her mind. He had never cloned a human, or any sentient race for that matter. She would ask questions; where she came from, what her purpose was. So, to play it safe, to avoid confusing and enraging his creation, he had used Aran's file to fill in her entire life.

Fabricated memories; of a childhood, of her days in the army. But a carbon copy would be inefficient, and so he had cherry-picked what was available, sculpting her life to one that would best suit the ideal soldier and servant the higher-ups had in mind.

Her days with the Chozo had been wiped. They had made her questioning and headstrong. They had alienated her from her own race, creating an independent warrior with a strong sense of justice. The true Aran would never work within orders to which she objected.

But they needed soldiers, they needed submissive weapons. They couldn't afford to mass-produce something capable of disobeying orders. Especially since their particular unit's goals and methods no doubt conflicted with the main wing of the Federation.

Her single-handed destruction of Phaaze, the salvation of Aether, the destruction of the Leviathans of Tallon, Elysia, Bryyo and Norion; all were gone. Such great feats would only fuel the clone's hubris, and lead her to question authority.

Gone too were her memories of the other Hunters. Those she had met in the Alimbic cluster, and those she had fought alongside with during the phazon crisis.

What he had left her with was little but a bare foundation. The death of her parents, her childhood, her service in the Federation army, and remnants of her battles on Zebes.

But even what little remained, he had altered. He made her defiant, childish and impulsive. And for that she had been ignored or reprimanded. Her defiance had been torn down once already, as far as she would know. This way, she would not be tempted to do it again.

Perfect, unquestioning and submissive. And yet she would retain all the strength and power of the original. All of it would be under their control.

The clone was nearing completion, as was the suit, which was being built around the slowly-growing human girl. It was intricately tied to her mind and body, but would be removable with a simple gesture of willpower, just like the original, or so they hoped.

Finally the day came when she was ready for launch. A new bioweapon, perhaps more potent than any other being grown aboard the station. He was fearful; how would this 'Samus' act? He could only theorize as to what effect his tampering would have, but he would soon find out.

Her first mission would be to eradicate the failure of their sister station; the Bottleship. She would easily intercept the distress signal, for he had been sure to seed the very route in her mind. They needed Bergman alive, and the mistake of the Metroids and Pirates grown there to be destroyed. Surely this new Samus would be up to the task.

Pushing aside his insecurities and putting on a happy facade, the scientist punched in a command to remove her gasmask.

She awoke to a monitor with what she would see as a familiar face smiling down at her.

"Ok Samus," he began, swallowing his fear. "Everything's normal."