Metroid Fan Fiction ❯ Stumbling Toward Elysia ❯ No Good Deed ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3: No Good Deed

 

 

For a sector-wide drug ring, you'd sure think these guys could afford a nicer hideout, Gandrayda thought snidely as she took the deck of cards from the goon seated next to her. The hideout, an abandoned warehouse, was dimly lit by low-power arc lights, and the stench of chemicals, rotten food and various forms of smoke hung thickly in the air.

 

The enterprise into which Gandrayda had insinuated herself was controlled by a human colonist who went only by the name of Lafas, and it had rapidly grown from a street-level pusher network into one of the bigger drug operations in Federation space. Disguised as a foot soldier in Lafas' inner circle, she had spent the last three weeks gathering information for her client, a legal pharmaceutical company that nonetheless didn't mind using less-than-legal tactics to boost its market share. Of course, since Lafas also boasted a seventy-five thousand credit bounty, and her "consulting agreement" didn't forbid her from taking outside jobs, that same information would also net her a substantial sum of cash when she flipped it - and with any luck, Lafas with it - to the police.

 

"Word on the street is some cowboy's out gunnin' for the boss," one of the foot soldiers said, absently rubbing his fingers together as though rolling a pill between them. Within a half hour or so, he'd need another fix or his nervous system would begin to shut down.

 

"There's always someone gunning for the boss," Gandrayda replied, dealing out the next hand. "If we had a tenner for every cowboy and pharmo that's tried and died, we could all retire rich. Five to play, aces are wild."

 

"Besides, everyone's got a hook," commented a second goon, studying his cards. "Money, drugs, tail. En't nobody in the galaxy that's untouchable - and if he is, we wax him. Problem solved."

 

"Yeah, but they say this guy's really good," a third muttered, throwing a handful of coins into the center of the table. "I heard he's not even alive."

 

Crook number four, a thick-set Satorian, scoffed as he returned his cards to the deck. "Fold. And what kinda shit you been shootin', huh Motie? Dead guys don't hunt heads. They're dead."

 

"Be pretty cool if you could get dead guys to do whiff, uh?" the pill-rolling goon giggled.

 

"Maybe a robot, though," Gandrayda said as she threw in her own ante. "An AI isn't alive, but it'll kick your ass all day long."

 

A string of curses echoed from across the room, as one of Lafas' lieutenants smacked the computer terminal irritably. "Something's wrong with the computer. I was cruising the nets and all of a sudden it locked up."

 

"So restart it," another thug commented.

 

"Won't work. It just says 'illegal operation,' and all the little lights are going like nuts."

 

Probably he was on a nudie net and didn't bother to put up the hack barrier, Gandrayda thought. Serves him right.

 

A series of mechanical clicks from the door drew everyone's attention, and Lafas' men began nervously to reach for their weapons. "Don't think it's the high-hats, do you?" one goon muttered.

 

"Hell, no," the Satorian replied. "With what we pay 'em? Cops are dumb, but they en't that dumb."

 

A second later, the door burst open, and a massive humanoid figure stormed through the entryway. Jaws dropped all around the room as they realized that the intruder's entire body was metal, gleaming dull gold in the dim orangeish light.

 

"Drop your weapons and freeze," the intruder said, his synthetic voice echoing harshly off the warehouse's walls. "Where is Lafas?"

 

"Ah, he no here," one of the goons said, as another, no doubt with delusions of glory, edged toward the armored man with a laser pistol in his hand. No sooner had he begun to raise his weapon, though, than the stranger fired a single round from the cannon attached to his right arm, vaporizing both the pistol and the hand that held it. As the goon screamed in agony, waving the stump of his arm, the armored intruder said in the same inflectionless voice, "The next attempt at resistance will be met with lethal force. Where is Lafas?"

 

"Fap you!" the pill-roller shrieked, firing wildly at the armored man, as two other goons also opened fire. The shots simply bounced harmlessly off his armor, though, as he calmly swiveled around and fired three single rounds from his own weapon. All three of the would-be heroes fell dead, each with a neat ten-centimeter hole burned through the center of his chest.

 

Gandrayda ducked behind a table as the rest of the gang began shouting and running in all directions. The interloper had to be either a bounty hunter or an assassin, and if the first, then all her work would come to nothing.

 

"I will not ask again. Where is Lafas?"

 

The door to the back room slowly swung open. "M-M-me, I'm hi-hi-m. I'm L-Lafas," a squat little human stuttered, crawling out into the open. "D-D-Don't sh-shoot me."

 

The armored man raised a hand to the left side of his helmet, and something whirred within its workings. "I am detaining you and your remaining associates under the terms of fugitive contract number 04238. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say may be used against you at trial."

 

Bounty hunter, then, Gandrayda thought. And I was so close, too.

 

As unobtrusively as she could, she tried to retrieve the tiny recording device she'd planted under the table, but the armored hunter whipped around with preternatural speed, the colossal bore of his arm cannon trained directly on her head.

 

"Hold your fire," Gandrayda said far more calmly than she felt, reverting to her true form as she held her hands up in surrender. "I'm a fugitive recovery agent, Class B. ID number 9541307. I've been working undercover in pursuit of Mr. Lafas here."

 

"N-N-No way!" Lafas yelled. "A robot A-A-AND a sh-shapesh-shifter? Why me? Why me?!?"

 

The armored hunter looked at her for a long second, and Gandrayda shuddered just a bit as she realized that the man might not believe her story. Finally, just when she had begun to consider the odds of running for it, he lowered his arm. "Very well. I would appreciate your assistance."

 

Working together, the hunters rapidly handcuffed the drug dealer and his cronies. "Where to, GFP?" Gandrayda asked.

 

"Yes. I have a ground vehicle waiting outside. You may ride along if you like."

 

Owing to the late hour, the police station was deserted as they marched their captives inside. "Hi there," said the night-shift desk sergeant, a thin, balding human whose nametag read "P. Costello." "Can I help you with anything?"

 

"Lafas and known accomplices, contract number 04238, possession and distribution of restricted pharmaceuticals," the armored man said. "This individual also assisted in their capture."

 

"I was undercover trying to take them down before he showed up," Gandrayda added.

 

Sergeant Costello fiddled with his computer terminal for a moment before logging the contract completed. "Good deal. If you'll sign the log, I'll send them back to lockup."

 

Gandrayda reached for the scanner, but Costello shook his head. "Not you. Him."

 

"What?" the shapeshifter asked, confused and annoyed by the brusque dismissal.

 

"I hate to tell you this, miss, but the big guy gets the head credit," the sergeant said apologetically.

 

"Like hell it's his! I was there first!"

 

"Can you not allow me to transfer the credit to her?" the armored hunter added. "She deserves it more than I."

 

"Sorry, that works only if you're all the same class. You're a Class A, though, and she's only a B, so the credit's yours solo." With a shrug, the sergeant finished, "Now I know you helped, miss, and he can pay you separately if he wants, but it's not going to show up on your catch percentage."

 

Gandrayda flushed a brilliant shade of indigo. "Of all the rotten, unfair, double-dealing--"

 

"Don't look at me," Costello protested. "I don't make the laws, I just enforce 'em."

 

"I am sorry for your trouble," the armored hunter said tonelessly, palming the scanner left-handed as he spoke. "Please understand that I did not intend to steal your credit. As for the money, I will ensure that you are adequately compensated."

 

The two hunters stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Gandrayda's eyes met only the shimmering green of the armored man's visor, though, and not for the first time, she wondered what exactly lay behind it.

 

"I hope you choke on it," Gandrayda grumbled as he walked away.

 

*****

 

Hours after leaving the police station, Gandrayda wandered the streets of New Pacifica aimlessly, still furious over the incident with Lafas and his gang. "Fappin' metallic bastard. I bet he really is a robot," she muttered to herself, causing a few passersby to quickly duck to the other side of the street. "They shouldn't even let that kind in the business. Taking perfectly good bounties away from the rest of us..."

 

It wasn't the money that Gandrayda objected to losing. Her information on Lafas' drug distribution contacts would still be valuable to her corporate contractors, and a quick check of her credit holdings had shown that the armored hunter had indeed transferred a generous percentage of the bounty fee to her public account. Instead, it was the loss of the capture credit that rankled her. Within each class of license, the bounty hunters were ranked by capture percentage, with higher-ranked hunters able to bid on more lucrative contracts. Gandrayda had repeatedly tried to break into the A-class, but every time, other hunters' actions or sheer bad luck had forced her back to the lower ranks. With this setback, she'd be doomed to remain in Class B yet again.

 

Glancing at the street signs, she realized that although she'd made it back to her own neighborhood, she had no desire to go home and stew over her injustice. "To hell with it," she muttered, turning down one of the side streets and into Donovan's Pub and Grill. Only a few barflies remained at this hour, and the staff were cleaning up in preparation for the end of the night. "Vodka neat," she said sullenly to the barkeeper, slumping onto one of the stools. "Actually, you better make it a double."

 

Half an hour and three double vodkas later, the door chimed open as another patron walked in. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" a voice said behind her, and she smiled lopsidedly as she turned around to see a familiar figure in a battered leather flight jacket, T-shirt and jeans. "Sammy, welcome back!"

 

"Ma'am, last call is in ten minutes," the bartender warned her.

 

"That's okay, I only wanted a cup of coffee. Thank you, though."

 

"Put it 'n my bill, she's a friend," Gandrayda slurred. "Hell, better give me one too."

 

"Evidently you're either celebrating or commiserating," Samus commented, indicating the emptied glasses on the bar as she accepted a steaming cup from the bartender. "Do you want company, or shall I leave you to it?"

 

"No, sit down, it's cool," Gandrayda sighed. "Just had a crap day, is all. Work gone horribly wrong."

 

Samus tried and failed not to grimace as Gandrayda poured out her tale of a bounty hunter who had shown up on one of her assignments and stolen both her credit and most of her pay. "Oh, the bastard gave me half, but it was like it was nothing to him," she fumed. "Like it was gods-be-damned charity. 'I will ensure that you are adequately compensated,'" she said, imitating a synthetic voice while transforming into the usurping villain. "He can take his compensation and shove it up his self-righteous metal..."

 

I wonder if I could have tried to make a more spectacular mess of this, Samus thought sickly as she stared at a perfect replica of her armor, seated rigidly on the adjacent bar stool. Talk about no good deed going unpunished. Heavens help me, what if she finds out that it's really me whose guts she's hating right now?

 

"I think he was just trying to do the right thing," she said, and the sympathy in her voice and expression was not feigned at all. "From what you said, he would have had no way of knowing you were already working there, and he can't change the law."

 

"I know," Gandrayda said, resuming her own shape with a resigned sigh. "Just frosts my buns, that's all." With a shrug, she continued, "But enough of my whining. What brings you here?"

 

"Late night business," Samus replied. "I had to escort a high-dollar client and some of his colleagues from their offices to their new residence. Apparently they wanted high-level security - the place was locked up like a fortress, and they kept saying how half the galaxy was gunning for them and so forth."

 

"At this hour? Sammy, did you get yourself mixed up with mobsters or something?" Gandrayda queried.

 

Samus only shrugged. "Don't ask, don't tell. Anyway, I'm not staying for long. I just took a gig in the Spiral Sector, and my jump window's in three hours. I thought I'd grab a cup of java before heading to the spaceport, and here I am."

 

The shapeshifter looked at her for a long moment, and then began to chuckle. "You really are Sammy Stargazer, aren't you?"

 

"What?"

 

"You are, I know it. You're like a superhero or something. You always show up right when you're needed, save the day, and then you fly off into the stars again. Just like the Galaxy Squad. Fighting for honor, justice and a true peace in space."

 

Samus regarded Gandrayda skeptically, but despite the other woman's degree of intoxication, there was no insincerity in her declaration. Touched, she said, "That might just be the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me."

 

"Aw, you're a nice person, people should say nice things about you. So, is it true?"

 

"I'm not even a regular hero," she replied, looking down at her boots. "I defend people for money, that's all. Hero, hell - most days I'm not even sure about the nice person part."

 

"Oh." Gandrayda looked strangely dismayed at the statement. "Well, you're my hero anyway, so that's gotta count for somethin', huh?"

 

Samus took a sip of her coffee, more to cover her discomfiture than out of thirst. "Thank you," she finally said. "That means a lot to me."

 

Gandrayda just smiled, leaning against the hunter in a one-sided hug. "You're welcome. Just be careful out there, 'kay?"

 

Samus' only reply was a frozen nod, as her voice had deserted her. Physical contact that wasn't initiated in anger was a completely foreign concept to her.

 

"Closing time," the bartender interrupted.

 

"I'll get everything. Thanks for taking care of her." Samus handed over her credit chip and palm-printed the scanner before Gandrayda could interject. "Do you want me to take you home, or can you get there on your own?"

 

"No, I'm good," the shapeshifter said. "I don't live far. And you didn't have to do that."

 

With a sad smile, Samus replied, "Hey, what are friends for?"

 

 

 

Author's Note: Ouch. Poor Gandrayda, doomed to the short end of the stick - and by accident, no less. Meanwhile, Samus finds herself in the classic superhero's dilemma, despite all protests to the contrary.

 

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!