Metroid Fan Fiction ❯ Stumbling Toward Elysia ❯ First Meetings ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter 2: First Meetings

 

 

If a prehistoric observer had somehow been dropped into the middle of New Pacifica's central plaza, he, she or it would probably find modern life to approach the kind of utopia that had once been reserved for works of fantasy. People lived free of most diseases, hungers and fears; starships enabled rapid movement of people and goods; the galactic information networks provided instant exchange of information; and individuals could pursue their own lives largely as they pleased. However, one aspect of life had remained constant across all the millennia and all the realms of civilization, and that was law enforcement. The first-floor annex of the New Pacifica Federal Building, home to the Galactic Federation Police 128th District Headquarters, would have been just as recognizable to a Roman Vigilius Urbani, a New York City beat cop, a Bryyonian Justice Lord or an Acerian inquisitor. The atmosphere of weary officers, protesting criminals and screaming victims packed into aging facilities and beset with mountains of bureaucracy translated across all cultures, times and places.

 

In the sea of sentient lifeforms that seethed in the police station's public waiting area, a tall humanoid figure stood, calmly surveying the crowd. Brilliant yellow and red armor covered his body from head to toe, and a massive beam cannon replaced his right forearm. Accusers and accused alike scurried out of his way as he strode toward the sergeant's desk, holding a struggling Egenoid man by his manacled wrists.

 

"I would like to turn in a fugitive," the armored man said, his voice rendered flat and inflectionless by his helmet's speech synthesizer.

 

"Fappin' robot, let me GO!" the Egenoid yelled, writhing madly in a futile attempt to wrench free of the metal hand that restrained him.

 

"Welcome back," Sergeant Anders Wiren commented, looking up from his terminal at the metallic form he had become so accustomed to seeing. Over the last few years, the bounty hunter on the other side of the desk had leaped up the rankings, dragging in scores of outlaws, most of whom had eluded far more experienced members of the fugitive apprehension trade. "Who'd you bring me this time?"

 

"Erbe Marien, contract number 51995, wanted for racketeering, smuggling and interplanetary traffic in sentient beings," the hunter replied. To the prisoner, he added, "You will only hurt yourself if you continue to struggle."

 

Wiren raised an eyebrow at the fugitive's name; Marien had graced the top of the wanted lists for nearly a year, laughing at the best efforts of all who had tried to apprehend him. "That a fact?"

 

The hunter simply inclined his head. Although he could only see his own face reflected in the other man's blank green visor, Wiren suspected that the hunter was glaring at him, and he cleared his throat to cover his nerves.

 

"Ahem. Sorry, Mr. Aran. Anyway, we'll get this guy down to booking. I just need a handscan for your credit voucher."

 

"Thank you," the hunter replied in the same flat tone as always, placing his left palm against the desk-mounted reader to accept his payment. "See you next mission."

 

As the hunter walked out of the annex and down the building's front ramp, a voice called out, "Nice catch, cowboy."

 

The hunter stopped and turned, in time to see a woman emerge from behind one of the pillars supporting the building's facade. "Can I help you, miss?" he said evenly.

 

"Oh, not really, I'm just a fan of yours is all," the woman said in the same honeyed voice, and her mannerisms fairly screamed her intentions as she shimmied up to the hunter. "I saw you took down Erbe Marien today. That's some trick. How'd you do it?"

 

"Trade secret," the hunter said, remaining utterly motionless throughout the exchange, in a manner eerily reminiscent of an android.

 

The hunter's stilted affect didn't deter the would-be courtesan one bit. "So you're the strong silent type. I like that." Shifting from one foot to the other, and not coincidentally swaying her hips in the process, the strange woman continued, "Is it still legal to show a guy a good time around here?"

 

"Of course," he replied. "However, I do not require entertainment at this time. Have a pleasant day." With that, he was gone, leaving her to stare at the back of his armor as he marched off into the crowds.

 

The worst part was, she hadn't even gotten a chance to find out his name.

 

*****

 

"Griffin draft, burger and fries. That'll be fifteen even."

 

"Start a tab," she replied, handing the bartender a credit chip, which he took with a nod.

 

Cheeseburger in paradise, Samus thought happily as her meal arrived a few minutes later. Even though the sandwich wasn't particularly good by any absolute standard, it tasted heavenly to the hunter, and she devoured the light meal as though she hadn't seen food in days. Which she hadn't - her armor's life-support system used stored energy to meet its wearer's metabolic needs. The system greatly simplified both nutrition and sanitary management, but it also meant that she couldn't consume anything more than small sips of water while suited. After a week or so of that kind of existence, the ability to sit down and eat a meal took on a whole new significance.

 

"Hey, this seat taken?" came a voice from behind. Samus looked up, caught with a mouthful of beer, and barely managed to avoid choking as she took in the newcomer's appearance. The woman - or at least she assumed it was a female, based on its body shape - apparently hailed from a culture that didn't believe in nudity taboos, as she wore only a few carefully wound strips of fabric to protect her modesty, and those left practically nothing to the imagination. Whoever or whatever she was, though, she was stunningly beautiful, her classically cut features and brilliant violet complexion defying both age and species identification.

 

"Help yourself," she replied.

 

"Thanks. Sometimes it's tough to get a seat in here, y'know?"

 

"Actually, I don't," Samus said, half-shrugging. "I'm not from around here."

 

"Ah, then we have to welcome you to New Pacifica properly," the woman replied. Signaling to the bartender, she called out, "I'll have a Supernova, and get my friend here another of whatever she's having."

 

Quirking one eyebrow, Samus commented dryly, "Do you always buy drinks for people you don't know?"

 

The purple-skinned woman replied with a self-deprecating smirk. "Sorry. My manners don't get a lot of play around here. I'm Gandrayda. And you are...?"

 

A number of aliases rose to mind, but in the end she decided on a simple abbreviation. After all, 'Sam' could be short for anything.

 

"Nice to meet you." Gandrayda smiled, revealing perfectly white, even teeth. "So, now that we know each other, how about that drink?"

 

Samus couldn't help but laugh at the other woman's enthusiasm. Lighten up a little, she thought. When was the last time you kicked back and enjoyed life for a change?

 

"So, what do you do for a living?" Gandrayda asked once the bartender had brought their drinks.

 

"I'm self-employed," Samus replied. "Private security and resource management."

 

"That sounds like a very discreet way of calling a hired gun," Gandrayda chuckled. "Not that I'm one to talk, though. I'm in corporate intelligence. Occasionally I do some freelance work, too."

 

The blonde simply stared at her, nonplussed. Even as far as aliens went, and she'd seen hundreds of them, Gandrayda's features made her an impossible face to forget. "Forgive me for a dumb question, but most moles I've met aren't quite so... distinctive."

 

"Oh, you mean this?" And with that, the alien woman disappeared, replaced by a nondescript-looking, dark-skinned human male. "Or this?" and a Cetian towered where the man had been. "Or this?" and an identical clone of Samus perched on the barstool next to the original.

 

"I see," Samus replied, inwardly awed at the other woman's metamorphoses. She'd heard of shapeshifters before, but never seen one in person. "That must come in handy in your line of work."

 

Gandrayda reverted to her true form and began to laugh, slinging one arm around Samus' shoulders. "What?" the hunter queried, a bit unsettled by the gesture, and Gandrayda only laughed harder. "Nothing. You're a breath of fresh air, is all. Most people see my little act and either stare at me like a freak or ask me to turn into their wildest fantasy."

 

A spark flickered behind those cool blue eyes for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone, replaced by her usual calm regard. "I guess I just prefer the real world to dreams."

 

"Here's to the real world, then." Taking a sip of her cocktail, Gandrayda concluded, "Although, if you have some time, I can show you around and stuff. New Pacifica's actually a pretty cool city underneath all the glitz."

 

"That's an interesting offer, but I have a busy day tomorrow." Samus finished off the last of her drink and signaled for her tab. Strangely, though, she pressed her left palm to the signature pad, instead of the right that she'd been using for everything else.

 

"Anyway, I'm going to call it a night," she said, sliding off the stool. "It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the drink and the company."

 

"It was my pleasure," the shapeshifter said with a grin. "Goodnight, Sammy."

 

"Huh?"

 

"You know, like Sammy Stargazer. From Galaxy Squad?" Off the blonde's confused look, she continued, "One of my favorite holovid shows. And since it kinda goes with your name, I thought..."

 

"I see." It wasn't what Samus would have chosen for herself, but as far as nicknames went, she could have come off far worse. She smiled as she headed out the door. "Goodnight."

 

 

 

Author's Note: So that's where the nickname came from. ;-) This chapter and the others in its line are set well before any of the games, as nobody has yet figured out who or what inhabits that amazing Chozo armor...

 

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you!