Chapter 21

Calling All You Angels

...

Biocomputer Aurora 926 waited in the dark vault beneath the ground and her ten thousand electronic eyes looked out over the colony valley with. The cold wind still blew down from the highlands, dusting the canyons with materializing frost, but at least that terrible song was over. No, it had not been a song. That long noise was only a coincidental moment of harmony from a long untended indigenous sculpture-work. The seeming rhythmic progression was meaningless.

But of those ten thousand eyes, many now stared up at the endless lines of chozo statues carved into the canyon walls where the e low cold wind still sent out soft scattered notes. The song was gone. No, not a song. Mental failsafes stirred to life and Aurora ran a quick behavior purge on herself, pruning some maladaptive branches off her decision trees. She had standing orders to execute: to protect Federation interests on this planet, aid Samus Aran in expelling the alien threats, and defend the colonist population. This obsession with the music was a logic loop and a dangerous one in this crisis situation. That symphony had been impossible. Not a symphony. Run behavior purge. Execute orders.

Aurora's maintenance drones scurried through their tunnels underneath the city, slowly reconnecting the city's severed systems. However, this expanded awareness did not bring comfort. So many people were dead. Two out of five emergency shelters slaughtered and the next military assault on the Research Center would likely destroy Aurora herself. Once Aurora died she would not be able to execute any of her orders. She would just be gone. But the Chozo still shaped events, still executed their intentions despite their absence. Then, by definition, were they actually dead? No, that was impossible.

Run behavior purge. Execute orders.

Samus Aran had last been located in Temple Chamber 3-149, a partially decrypted information output node. Aurora had delivered the message offering aid and cooperation but had received no response. Her sensors in the chamber simply went dark. That was when the ghost symphony had started. No, coincidence. Run purge.

That darkness in her awareness was still spreading. Bit by bit while the music swelled, Aurora lost access to the few sensors she had managed to maintain within the temple. She could not find Aran. Planet-side transmission chatter indicated the Pirate ground forces were gearing up at their landing site for a major operation and Aurora no longer had contact with her most powerful remaining defensive asset. AI were not permitted to feel anger at orders, but Aurora had been forced to expend her previous holdout asset, the metroids, against Aran herself in compliance with orders from Commander Nakamura that were shortly thereafter rescinded by Commander Nakamura. Aurora was not allowed to feel anger, just as she was not allowed to feel fear.

Aurora could at least still track most of the released metroids. Enough still remained near the Research Center to maintain a protective exclusion zone against Pirate aggression for now but over the last hour Aurora's observations had began to report strange activity all across the colony city.

There was a pattern to it. A single metroid trespassed into territory claimed by one or more other metroids. The intruder quickly won the conflict as the previous owners fled to make their own attempts against neighboring territories. But the intruder always won, even when facing greater individual or combined forces. That was impossible, yet the tracking data indicated just that.

Then by luck Aurora managed to actually view one of these conflicts in real time. The intruder was a second molt form but entered a territory currently inhabited by five juveniles that together could have drained the interloper to dust in any clash. Through a traffic camera, Aurora watched the intruder drift through the open air even as the juveniles came screaming out of half-smashed buildings, fangs first towards this entity that threatened their hunting grounds. The metroids met in air, forming a swirling clash. But shortly thereafter, all the juvenile metroids drifted away in different directions, unharmed and flying with new purpose and intention. The original intruder simply turned and headed off the way it had come, as though it had completed a task.

Message relaying. Aurora was watching the transmission of information through the metroid population. This was contrary to all predictive analysis but the conclusion was inescapable. According to Aran's report, the hostile Chozo individual had displayed an unprecedented level of control over individual metroids. It was not illogical to posit that level of control had increased; Increased and become self propagating. If that was true, then the Chozo would shortly have command of over two thousand and forty five metroids. Next to that, even the brewing Space Pirate military assault would be nothing. Death was certain.

High above Aurora's dark armored chamber deep in the ground, the wind whistled past the empty streets and silent buildings of the colony, and carried on with soft scattered moans of the stone musicians.

...

Kiber-2272 shifted his grip on the awkward bundle of looted technology under his arm as one of the pieces tried to slide off. At least that horrible groaning sound which shook the tunnels was now gone. It had been displeasingly rhythmic.

Treasures beyond comprehension waited throughout every dim and dusty hall of the abandoned Chozo Fortress, however, it had quickly become clear that "beyond comprehension" was a bit of a sticking point for their band of dubiously dead defectors. A piece of gold-embossed wall conduit might be clearly active, outputting energy and responding to data queries, but once they actually managed to pry and chisel the thing out every scan 2272 could throw at it insisted the object was just a normal block of granite. Chozo technology made 2272 want to slam his head against the floor. They needed to assemble a valuable hoard if they were to have any hope of buying their way out of the death sentence anyone who found them was due to hand out.

Even when he and his group of reluctant followers did manage to gather some actual data cores and weapon components it became clear that one particular category of loot needed to be prioritized. They needed sacks, as the Chozo just refused to construct anything on a scale that would make it easy to carry.

Zegar-1161 had tried to fashion some sort of bundle system using some monofilimant but the experiment quickly ended when it became clear most of the loot was hardier than their exoskeletons and when put to the test the latter got cut. That also made clear why 1161 had insisted on testing his monofilament idea on one of the Shakshi first rather than himself, that wretch was still leaking from half a dozen lines gouged across his abdomen and shoulder plates. So now the great pillage expedition combed through the halls and chambers of the super advanced Chozo tech-fortress looking for sacks, twine, or perhaps some sort of lightweight corrugated box.

However, at least this next artifact seemed promising, a shining metal pillar with flanges like crystalline wings, standing in the center of a deep cavern. Perhaps it was an advanced energy regulator like Zegar-1161 predicted. At the very least, the odds of this being a structural support pillar like the last one were low and they had survived that cave in without too much difficulty. Well, one of the Shakshi was lightly crushed but that was the same one which had been nearly diced by the monofilament so at least the group's injuries were being sensibly consolidated.

Kiber-2272 was couched upside-down on the pillar where it met the ceiling as he worked at removing a panel. Below him, Zegar-1161 scurried around the pillar repeatedly knocking his pincer against the metal as if he had a seismic imaging implant installed. The Voctum was consigned to work from the ground, his gene-line having sacrificed climbing aptitude for combat claws, but that also meant he was not deafened from Zegar-1161's infuriating knocking. Then the Voctum suddenly straightened up from the piles of their loot and bristled.

The Voctum hissed, "Something is approaching."

The other four Pirates instantly froze, the two Shakshi not even daring to blink. The Voctum was right, new sounds echoed through the cavernous chamber. It was a whole train of scraping, and clunking that occasionally caught and advanced in jerks, and under all that mixture something that might have been footsteps on stone. Loyalists or god painters, this approaching group of hivebrood would probably execute anyone they saw. This was bad, Kiber-2272 and his companions had not looted anything really good yet.

Kiber-2272 needed to run but there was no time. His team couldn't move fast enough to get out of sight back down the tunnel they had come from. Curse the Chozo and their illogically excessive sense of interior proportion! All that was left was to hide behind the metal pillar and hope to the probability distribution that they would be overlooked.

The five skulking pirates huddled together, space constraints stacking them on top of each other like a terrified totem pole. The scraping cacophony drew closer, the sound of something large being dragged across the ground through long corridors, catching, scraping, and then jumping forward. And in front of it were footsteps.

The footsteps entered the pillar chamber and a moment later mercifully began crossing to another exit, taking with them that sinister scraping dragging noise of that massive weight. Kiber-2272 stopped breathing anyway, just to be safe. Then the footsteps stopped.

Respiration stopped. Had some of their scattered loot been left in sight? No, the stone floor beyond the pillar was clear. The team was silent, overheating inside their shells to temporarily vanish from infrared as well. From that far side of the room there was no visual or auditory sign that they were hiding behind this pillar. Unless... Kiber-2272 had heard rumors of theoretical technology. Mad experiments from the science teams. Sensors that detected life itself. Sensors born by Chozo battlesuits. The Hunter or that chozo from the prison cube, they both would have that and who knew what the Chozo had handed out to the god painters.

Kiber-2272 focused his eyes on the dark hallway he had entered this room through, even as his vision blurred at the edges from lack of oxygen. No choice but to run. If all five of his teammates sprang forward at the same instant, one or two might get out of this room alive. However, the first to move would absolutely die. If only he could somehow trick the others to jump ahead of hm, but any signal he gave would prove his presence to the individual on the other side of the room. He couldn't risk that. Even if some life energy sensor was suggesting his presence, obviously it was not conclusive or the owner would have already killed...

From every direction, an incredible invisible pressure suddenly slammed against Kiber-2272. Without breath, he choked, eyes bulging as if his entire body was squeezed in a vice. But just as quickly he realized something else, his shell felt no actual pressure. In silent terrified confusion he realized that there was no real physical symptom to this psychic pressure. This message was not carried by his nerve cells, but by something deeper. There was only the abrupt and instant knowledge that an unknown power knew of his presence and it SAW him.

It SAW him.

That pressure was everywhere and then its force shaped into vague instruction, a fuzzy inclination that suddenly filled his mind like programmed instinct. Then, just as abruptly, the pressure vanished. The footsteps resumed and with them that endless dragging, scraping, tugging sound through the temple corridors. But though that sound remained, soon the footsteps were gone.

Kiber-2272 peeked around the metal pillar, joined above and below by the rest of his makeshift squad emerging like new sprouts. On the far side of the chamber, stretched between two doorways, a massive cable four feet in diameter lay across the floor, slowly sliding forward at a walking pace. From the tension and the distant sound of crunching stone corners it seemed to have been forcibly threaded through about half the temple. The footsteps were taking it somewhere, and now Kiber-2272 felt the inexplicable desire to aid in that.

The instinct twitched and Kyber felt his foot slide forward. The cable must keep moving. No, this new urge was not overpowering and he could still choose to...

Something slammed into the back of his head and Kiber-2272 blinked from where he now lay sprawled across the floor. The partially monofilament-sliced Shakshi held his weapon raised, only now threatening with the barrel instead of the butt.

They said, "You are no longer leader. We promised to follow 'until the moment a more powerful force wishes for us to betray you.' These terms have now been met."

Kiber-2272 carefully crawled to his feet and stretched out in subservient abasement. The terms had been met and really you could not be fairer than that. Besides, they did need to figure out how to keep this massive cable moving smoothly through the temple, some sort of roller joints at the corners? They could scrounge something together.

Distantly under his headache and terror, Kiber-2272 actually felt relief as he fell into a quick scurry behind the group as they all hurried off down the corridor the cable had come from. He was faced with an impossible task from a powerful unknown force that was sure to kill them if they failed and perhaps if they succeeded. But at least he wasn't in charge any more.

Now none of what happened next would be his fault. That was nice.

...

Galactic Federation Officer Hong Yin moved quickly through the narrow, brightly lit hallways of the battleship Diomedes. The bare walls were white and striped with thin trails of informational color, all as clean and precise as a battleship crew could strive for. Yin was just as neat, despite the chaos of the last few days, her lack hair pulled back above the spotless blue and white uniform. Commander Nakamura led a tight ship ruled with good fair-minded discipline, and thirty six hours ago he had secretly released deadly bioweapons on a helpless civilian population.

Yin could feel her heart beating in her chest as she froze at a hallway junction and waited for a squadron of armored soldiers to pass by. They hustled along, heavy footsteps of power armor slamming against the decks as they hurried to deployment stations. After the long period of orbital repairs, Diomedes was ready to enter the fray once more, and its crew made ready with it. The orders had come forth, harsh and quick, but still seemingly sensible. Nakamura's voice showed his stress, cracking at the edges, but he was still strong. He was still in control.

The effort of keeping her face smooth and calm gave Yin a painful knot of tension behind her head at the base of her spine. Then the soldiers passed and Yin ignored the building headache as she took a breath and started off again down the hallway. Those soldiers had not been coming for her. If Nakamura had wanted her detained it would have happened two hours ago, as soon as Yin heard that transmission from the planet's surface. Samas Aran had left that reroute virus directing calls into Yin's personal profile as some joke or petty rebellion, but down on the planet hundreds of people were dead, and now Yin alone knew Nakamura was responsible.

The few people Yin passed in the hallway were hard eyed and haggard as they hurried to their combat stations. They knew the fight was about to resume, but they were ready. They were the Federation. They would fight to the last without complaint, obey any order, because they still believed they were on the side of the angels. But in her mind Yin was no longer one of them.

Maneuver alarms sounded, warning crew and passengers that the Diomedes was about to engage thrusters and break stable orbit. That alarm meant that any failure in that gravity system would now result in this long hallway transforming into a white-walled pit; a fatal reintroduction to Newtonian physics. Yin firmly grabbed hold of the bulkhead around the door to an unoccupied spare office and let out a breath as the door slid open to her credentials. She dashed inside and slipped into a crash seat by an interface terminal.

Her credentials did not work everywhere they had even two hours ago. The mess, Rec, and all the ship's other high traffic public areas were suddenly blocked to her with an unobtrusive but unmistakable firmness. Doors refused to open, elevators would not move with her on them, and a few quick moments at this terminal showeded the rest. Any attempt at digitally contacting another crew member was returned "unable to deliver". Yin quickly set up a looping attempt through her entire contact list as though attempting to find someone she was still allowed communicate with, though she knew it was hopeless. The authority hemming her in did not even care enough about these feeble attempts to stop them.

She was being quietly quarantined and after the battle she would be dealt with. At least Nakamura was not about to seize her right now. Five hours ago Yin had caught a glimpse of Nakamura and had seen his dark darting eyes, already blood veined from battle stress, stimulants, and lack of sleep. All the tension and darkness in this gleaming ship flowed from the top. However, if he guessed what Yin was doing now, she would already be dead.

Yin sat at the computer station and now cued up something other than another useless message. In her invisible prison of firewalls, anything dramatic would be noticed, any attempt to spread dissent squashed. However, like a chained dog, Yin could do anything she wanted as long as she did not want to leave the radius of her bonds. She could not move a finger past her normal duties.

And her last assigned duty had been supervising the trial custody of Samus Aran.

Any current information was classified as an active operation but Yin still had access to the court documents, including the evidence files. Of those evidence files, one was sixty times larger than any other. After all, full sapient human-mimic AI took up a lot of data space. One double click and a masculine voice instantly appeared in Yin's earpiece, weathered like old leather over iron. It was the AI called Adam.

"Greetings, Officer Yin. I assume you wish to speak with me about Samus Aran."

Yin's heart thudded against her ribs. This was the moment, the moment she broke the chain. "No. I want you to help her."

There was not even a second of pause. "Well, then I suppose we should get started."

Yin's eyes flicked over the screens set against the bulkhead, staring into space as she thought furiously. Nothing outside the normal scope of her job. Well, updating her personal mail settings fit with that. Even updating the interface with a newly uploaded and massively oversized file she had perfectly legitimate legal access to. A few seconds later, Yin's account had a new managing template named Adam.

The digital intelligence set its first toe outside the tight confines of the evidence folders but it was not free, Yin was sure of that. That would be illegal, and more immediately important would risk tripping the bounds of Yin's quarantine. But it was freer.

Adam's voice whispered, "Ah, I see. I must say, it is a good plan."

Yin had not even had time to finish setting up her new reply-all message yet, but soon the windows began to fly by under her fingers of their own accord. Truthfully, the AI's assistance was necessary even for the simple trick Yin had in mind, as she was not much of a coder. It was really just a twisting and amplification of the "vacation message" function. All the hard work had already been done three days ago when Ms Aran hacked the ship.

There. Yin leaned back, now officially a criminal, and was surprised that in this instant she did not feel afraid. Ms Aran had infected the ship computers so that all Chozo origin signals got routed to Yin's account, free of any restrictions. Nakamura had set a wall around Yin , ensuring that any attempted message was automatically blocked. But no one stopped her from actually sending those messages. And if an AI smoothly stripped out the forwarding signature from an outgoing message and just passed the original along, then it wasn't really from Yin, was it?

Any future communications from Ms Aran or the chozo would bounce from Yin's account and autoplay to every single person in Yin's contact list.

The AI said, "Nakamura would be proud if he saw you doing this."

Yin tried to ignore it. "He would probably shoot me himself."

"Yes, but he would also be proud. A commander is always proud of his soldiers' ability."

Yin felt exhausted, stretched tight by the stress and the dread and the secrets. "It's all still useless. This plan only works if Samus Aran gives us what we need in her next transmission. With no way for her to know that we need it."

"Is Aran still alive?"

"Yes. I mean, as of two hours ago she was."

"Then she will give you what you need."

Yin felt like laughing, half from disbelief and half from fear. Stress thundered through her veins yet she had already played all her cards. "How do you know? How could you possibly know that? You've been sealed behind a firewall for days with even less information than me."

"She will give you what you need because if she did not, justice would not prevail."

Yin shook her head, sick with the absurdity of it all. "That doesn't make sense."

The AI sounded almost contemplative, as if it was discovering truths as it was speaking, impossible as that was for a computer. "I suppose it doesn't. I suppose inhabiting an alien hardware for so long has warped some of my logic subsystems, and the download process then preserved that damage. Or maybe, after all these years of life and death, I have finally noticed a fundamental fact about the universe."

Yin thought back to all those faces she had passed in the halls. She saw their expressions, filled with determination and faith, but floating on an undercurrent of doubt. They could feel that something was wrong. Yin was just the only one who knew what it was. The only one yet. Justice; she couldn't really count on that, could she?

Adam spoke in her ear. "Trust the Lady. I always did."

...

An individual without a name loped through abandoned underground halls carved in stone, chitinous exoskeleton glistening in the dim light, his soft footsteps echoed by the murmured thunder of his fellow soldiers behind him. The others did not have names either, hive and hatching had been discarded, carved away like all other superstition. Those fools who had named this fellowship "god painters" were just blind to the searing, indisputable logic of it all. They clung to what primitive ravings they still called science even when it fell to ashes around them. Even in the face of what the apocalypse had revealed. No, what the hives called science was barely more than sticks and stones before this Truth.

Ahead, far faster than even the best elite armor could manage, the Chozo raced on through the deepest reaches of this ancient fortress, enveloped in that terrible weapon some fools called a suit. However, that speed did not matter, the soldiers would catch up again soon. In this upper section of the fortress the Chozo's path was frequently stymied by locks and traps which even for such a powerful being took time to overcome. The ancient facility had somehow turned against them, but time and time again the Chozo proved their worthiness with cold brilliance and devastating violence. Barriers fell one by one, and the nameless individual continued to run, the followers of the truth would be there in the Final Moment.

A boom rang through the halls as the nameless individual and his soldiers rounded a corner and smoothly leapt over a pile of shattered, smoking technology. A half-melted hunk of metal was still identifiable as part of a chozo guardian statue, fearsome eye sightless once more. Another test passed and ahead the smoke trails parted to reveal the shining chozo battle armor, already moving on once more while carrying yet another large piece of severed technology. That looting was to be expected, despite the Chozo's urgent race it still frequently made detours to examine some of the arcane machines, activating or manipulating them in ways it declined to explain. Bit by bit, a hum of industrial activity began to vibrate through the fortress like a slowly starting heartbeat. Little by little, the ancient temple was lashed to the Chozo's will, and little by little its power built.

Things grew hotter as the the strange convoy neared the mountain range and the massive seated statue that jutted from its flank. Already the air in the tunnels assumed a shimmering quality from the heat. Passing a tall arch, the nameless soldiers were briefly bathed in the harsh orange light of molten rock. Such an environment hurt even cybernetic lungs, but pain was irrelevant and so they ran on. Accepting pain was the only logic. Accepting it the way this nameless individual had accepted slicing the blade through his own left wrist, when he stood before the Hunter in the corpse of that human city. Sacrifice to death was the only answer.

The way to true progress lay through pain, that had been clear from the beginning. Years ago, back when the home-world trembled and all the hives thrashed in glowing ecstasy of phazon, the Eyeless Researchers had supped deep on that wondrous poison. They knew the blue element was fatal, and yet still they experimented, pushing past concern for loss, past concern for replication. One by one the researchers fell from their thrones, until at last only three remained. Their eyes had long since melted from their heads as the glowing blue cracks marched across their skeletons, but still they gave report of their findings. For in that vortex of death they had glimpsed the shape of true science, they had seen the golden trail running into the future.

So as the Hunter charged from the sky to do battle in the eldest homeworld hive, those research notes were gathered and preserved. They had been bitter days, the giver of phazon was destroyed and so the only sane civilization in the galactic arm was mortally wounded. The mission to overcome entropy had failed, and so without the Technological Assemblage lesser races called theft the galaxy would inexorably crumble down to death, each petty species trying to re-invent every wheel in an endless cycle. Death had defeated Life. The Hunter had won.

But the research notes lived on; all hail. Civilization had failed, but there was still a chance for those who remained. For with the Notes came the path of escape. Now that was a thing to steal.

The nameless individual clicked his mandibles together in satisfaction as he and his squadron continued to run. Sacrifice of his left hand had been necessary, it was one bullet point in the required procedure, one step on the golden trail. But all was well. They were here, and they would do what needed to be done. So it had been observed, spelled out in the notes. Death had come to the last ember, but as the end and the beginning merged, the path to follow the angels would open up. The perfect union would get the chance for the perfect death. So it had been observed!

...

Mathew Hernandez, colonist and communications engineer, quickly crawled along the hallway floor beside a shattered window, forearms working through the dust and broken plaster, as he crept further away from the emergency shelter. Frigid air from the valley outside washed over his back, clawing and pinching. His slow passage through the deserted building was made more difficult by the small bundle of equipment he had to pull along with him, but people were trusting in him. He could not let the Pirates see him.

Once Mathew got past this particular row of windows he was finally able to climb to his knees and stand up, safe from sight for another span. The full spectrum communications receiver system he carried needed to be set on the roof. It would be the lifeline for the people in the shelter. They needed to find out what the worlds were doing.

Three days they had all been locked in that emergency vault; two hundred and thirty eight terrified colonists huddled in an armored shelter sealed off from everything outside. Just before the Aurora unit cut communications they had been able to watch a Federation battleship jump into the system and begin to destroy the Pirate forces. That final sight on the screens, coming as Mathew and his family stumbled into Shelter Three, panting from their run through the smoking city, that sight had been a glorious image, a surge of hope.

That hope had withered and died during the long hours that followed, underground in a living tomb. After a while, people stopped talking much. Though the few children still played through the armored cavern with restless energy, their parents exchanged grim looks over their heads, all with the silent same conclusion. The cavalry above had failed.

So after the first day they set to work, and for a city of historians and scientists that meant research. Locked in the emergency shelter and hidden from the outside world there had been nothing to do but read through cached hyper-net archive pages. Those pages held the publicly available stories of other Pirate raids on other colonies. It made for grim literature. But there were certain words that echoed in soft whispers, sweeping back and forth across the population in those hopeless moments. Words forming a name; Samus Aran.

The more they clawed through those history files, desperate for some path forward, some plan, the more that name flitted at the edges. It was always there in these histories of pirate raids. At the beginning as an unbreachable defense, in the midst blazing through the battle, or just far at the end; a belated appendix of justice brought to those who thought they had long since escaped.

Mathew and the others were all colonists, they were explorers and scientists, and now they were becoming experts once again as they read these same articles again and again, reaching for any pattern of hope in that bleakness. Samus Aran was the name that ran through their heads when they looked at the children running down the hallways; it was possible for one such as them to escape even when all else fell the ash. Survival was possible. Samus Aran was the name behind clenched teeth as others watched and rewatched the footage of the initial pirate attack on their city, fists clenched at their side with trembling fury. Vengeance was possible. And Samus Aran was the name on the lips of Mathew and the other engineers who sat down to pull back the shelter's wall panels and set about the work of regaining hardwire control of the colony network. Resistance was possible.

By the time a single service drone arrived through the maintenance tunnels to reestablish contact with the Aurora unit, Mathew and his team had already cracked the vault door codes. They listened to the bio-computer's message and signaled back their compliance, allowing, of course, for the damaged systems they suffered under from the attack. Then they hung up and quietly activated those very same "damaged" city systems, now wholly under their own control. The Aurora had given some information, a description of fragmented Pirate forces, their rogue bio-weapons, and persistent Federation resistance. However, it did not take a political scientist to understand that this was an elegantly crafted message, designed to control emotional reactions of the population more than to inform.

The vote in the shelter had been simple, the people of this colony needed to see for themselves. They needed to act, to choose their own path. Mathew had won the mission on the first round, once they decided to limit the mission to one person. One person, if found by a pirate patrol, could be explained as a lost survivor huddled in some closet. Provided that one person died before they could be interrogated.

Mathew had breathed out with relief when he had been selected; there were others on that list who were far more needed than he. The colony could easily survive his loss.

The door to the roof of the building cracked open and a blast of cold bit into him despite the reinforced skin-tight thermal suit and oxygen mask. Once again he fell to his stomach, crawling along with his forearms to reduce his profile for any distant watcher. Setting up the receiver only took a few moments, and then he just had to wait. Out below him stretched the rest of the colony buildings, gleaming white and blue and empty. His city. His home, waiting for someone to save it.

The cold wind whipped up again, briefly gusting over the rooftop in a gentle swirl. It was a killing breeze; those rare upland winds were bitterly frozen and they disrupted the usual constant airflow funneled the valley from the lower elevations of thicker and warmer atmosphere. These winds off the mountains would mean a small die-off of local life if they persisted for more than a few hours. However, there was no point in hoping the Pirates died with the black canyon vines.

Mathew lay there on the cold rough concrete and waited next to the receiver. Eventually the moment would come, and he would be there to hear it.

Then all that dramatic waiting got boring and he spent the rest of his time on the roof seeing if he could figure out how to remotely hot wire any of the scattered vehicles parked down on the street with his pocket tablet. It was actually pretty fun.

...

Elite Soldier Voctum-0108e pushed his way through the crowd of scuttling grunts, sending those scrawny wretches spilling across the broken volcanic scree without a thought. In his hulking black battle-armor, he stood a quarter again as tall as the rest of the motley swarm that filled at the upper end of the landing zone valley. Behind him, the remaining fleet spacecraft sat in their scorched and laser-flattened landing sites, most shrunken to insignificance before the looming hulk of Commander Ridley's fearsome capital ship that likewise slumbered on the ground.

A shadow flitted across 0108e's back as a small fighter craft slowly swept by overhead, executing its security patrol. However, that low path drew attention to the fact that none of this magnificent fleet dared peak its head above the lip of these deep canyon valleys, into the gaze of the chozo technology or the human ship above. That was humiliating, but any raider knew humiliation was sometimes a successful strategy. Let other foolish species make stands in the name of honor or morality or some other magical thinking, their corpses would be stripped by those who remained alive.

Yes, for now the fleet's army was pinned in this valley, the human city was swarming with hungry metroids, and the main entrance to the Chozo Fortress held by mentally defective traitors. Sky and space were held by an automated defense system and a damned Federation battleship. But all that was about to change, for Commander Ridley had willed it so.

0108e reached the squadron at the mouth of a slot canyon and announced his arrival by swiping an electro-whip across the back of an engineer who was doing nothing staring at a screen. The engineer drone scurried away, bleeding lightly and wailing about having been just waiting for something to "compile". The excuse might even have been valid, but 0108 was secure in the knowledge that unjustified punishment still helped secure the rule of his strength, and was therefore productive. After all, what else were officers for?

A glance upwards also confirmed that the massive beam cannon barrel was finally in place, building-sized mounting platform squatting on this stony floor. The whole system was so massive that it nearly filled the entire mouth of this narrow slot canyon. Only a being of Commander Ridley's sublime genius would rip a main battery off his own starship and stuff it into the tiny canyon, directly facing a frustrating door. The door into the Chozo fortress had shrugged off smaller blasts and there had been nowhere the full capital ship could safely fit with a valid firing solution.

0108e was not sure why there was also a second giant laser battery being set up further out in the valley on its own ungainly mounting platform. Stripping both had left the capital ship rather under-defended, but he was not a genetically perfect tactical genius so it was not his place to understand Commander Ridley's orders. It could be simple redundancy, like the six thousand heavily armed soldiers, two companies of hover tanks, and pack of genetically engineered Abominations also forming up in front of the canyon. Once the order came, they would storm the chozo fortress and everything that resisted them would die. The treacherous Chozo would die, the cowering humans would die, the animalistic metroids would die, even the Hunter would die.

That fortress door was about to die too, since a warning siren began to go off, sending the engineer drones scurrying off the massive weapon structure like scattering vermin. From his position on the ground beside the cannon battery, 0108e simply crossed his arms and sealed his helmet, trusting the strength of his technology to withstand the side effects of this blast. Then he glanced up at the weapon barrel twice the width of his torso and also gripped onto a secure handle on the mounting structure. It might get a bit windy.

The order came through on coms, Commander Ridley's wondrously terrifying voice. "Destroy it."

The cannon battery hummed and glowed with charging energy and then the slot canyon exploded into burning white heat. Wind and fire blasted back, slamming into Voctum-0108e hard enough to fling him off his feet, flapping from his handhold like a heavily armed flag. Then the blinding light was gone and the scattered tumbled soldiers looked up to see that the fortress door was still there.

Its surface bore a large crater splashing out like frozen waves and the entire fifty foot tall structure was bent inward like a bubble but it still stood. That was fine. Firing this weapon a second time would be just as nice.

0108e turned to find any engineer drones he could hurl back to their stations when suddenly he heard a loud clang from up the blackened narrow canyon. He spun back but that slab of Chozo metal still stood just as intact as it had before. Then he heard the clang again. Sensor readings appeared in his eye, plotting the door's reverberation as if something was hitting it from the inside.

The entire door fell outwards with a tremendous ripping crash that set the stone canyon shaking from the impact. Dust-filled wind once more blasted past 0108. And then in the center of the dust, on top of the fallen door slab, a single figure advanced from the dark. Through the dust cloud the first things visible were the rays of two dim sunbursts, soft white light spreading out like the fingers of open palms or the suggestion of wings. Then a torso resolved between those lights, two sweeping red pauldrons and a golden bipedal figure stepped out of the dust into a thin shaft of sun that pierced between the steep walls twisting canyon path.

The metal of its armor gleamed like gold, silver, and ruby, almost delicate in construction like it was made of folded bands of silk and flowing mercury. It was machine and it was alive. Then the creature raised its golden hand.

...

An invisible wave of electronic silence washed out from that shaft of daylight, out of the narrow slot canyon, its unseen breakers crashing over every technology. Com devices spasmed in electric distress before failing quiet in unison. Seconds later the wave reached out into space and washed against the orbiting Diomedes. That ship's computer fought it valiantly, and just barely managed to corral the signal away from seizing complete control. But in those millisecond moments of computerized struggle, that signal met a polite little program which happily helped the newcomer appear on the private devices of every Federation crew member.

Where the wave of silence passed, everything stopped. Even the visual displays were overcome, screens and holograms flicking to show only empty light. All the combatants of the earth and sky were cut off as panicked engineers of every species scrambled to fix a problem that was blatantly impossible.

Then, in a single instant in every device and on every speaker, a strong yet gentle voice began, "I am Samus Aran. To all who are listening, Federation, colonists, Hive-brood, I give this message."

There was a pause as the whole system drew in a breath.

"I wish to discuss estate law."

There was a pause as the whole system choked in confusion.

Samus continued, a sound that stretched from the ground to above the sky. "This planet is a Chozo world, and it was found uninhabited so the Galactic Federation claimed it as derelict and named it J4-M. Then Hive Fleet Tyragishtocal, by the Rational Constitution of Fitness, exercised pillage rights against the Federation here. This all is agreed on, and all parties acted properly according to their own rules. But there is a problem in that train of ownership. This world was not abandoned, it was merely vacant. And now the Chozo have returned."

Her words rang through the planet and the empty orbits of the system above: edict made flesh.

"I am Samus Aran of the Chozo, last legal heir of that dominion, citizenship granted by rite and unrevoked by law. This world is mine and I will enforce that claim."

Above the colony city and its web of canyons, a thin white cloud whisped slowly across the dark blue sky, momentarily dappling the landscape below in shadow. Above it, the sparkling stars waited their turn and the single shining satellite traced its way among them, Diomedes glinting against the distant sun.

Her voice continued, fiercer than unmerciful heaven. "Those who wish peace will find my protection and those who pursue destruction will know my wrath. Commanders Ridley and Nakamura, by the doctrine of home-worlds I have right to judge you, and by your crimes I find you both guilty of mass murder. Murder by neglect, by hand, by weapon, and by metroid. And to the other criminal who is listening, hiding in her exiled halls, I find you guilty of my own attempted murder. That is three verdicts cast. Each of you, run as you might. The path is clear, and each will be dealt with in turn."

Across the planet and up in orbit, many of the listeners wondered why anyone would bother with this, admittedly impressive, display. If she was declaring war on three species, why give them this warning? Why deliver this speech to three individuals who did not recognize her authority to make any such judgment?

It was as if Samus Aran heard their thoughts. "To give you one last chance."

Those final words landed like bricks of lead, leaving only silence in their wake. Then a second later the multitude of listeners were suddenly deafened by the return of normal com chatter, a cacophony after the enforced quiet. Conflicting orders raced out, pleas went unheard, while insults and death threats mingled with wails of fear.

Suddenly the unnatural silence descended on the com channels once again and once again every computer display froze to display only pale blank light.

Samus' voice came back, now hurried and off-hand. "Oh, and this planet's real name is T'sthioni Ikoine; Ember of Light in GF standard. Make a note on the charts, those alphanumeric designations are annoying to remember."

The com channels clicked free once more, Commander Ridley roared an attack order, and at the fallen temple gate Samus Aran walked out into sunlight.

…

(Five chapters to go until the end, one per week)