Torn Apart by Jude

"...I dunno how't happened."

It was half past one in the morning, and Hicks was rapidly sliding towards the pissed side of tipsy. Ruin watched him. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, but her expression suggested languid amusement.

The four of them were alone, the last of the punters having left just after eleven. Hudson, who knew Ruin better than the others, (not that that was saying much) also knew that she was less than happy about this arrangement, although she was hiding it well. Conspicuousness wasn't her style; she was happiest when she could lurk in the shadows.

"I jus'..." Hicks waved his glass expressively, sloshing his drink everywhere, "I jus'-oops-I jus', jus' fell 'sleep and, and whenIwokupshewasgone."

Hudson deftly fielded the glass as it swooped past him for the third time.

"Hey man, don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

Hicks, who seemed vaguely puzzled by his suddenly empty hand, attempted to draw himself up.

"Pri'ate Husson, y're 'dressing a, a, a seniorrankincorpral!"

"You're fucking plastered, Dwayne," Hudson said, not unsympathetically. "Get upstairs and sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Yeah, once the hangover wears off," Dietrich muttered, not quite under her breath.

Hicks favoured her with a slightly bleary glare.

"For y'r i'f'mashun, 'm no' as think as you pissed I am."

"Yeah man, okay, whatever you say." Hudson hoisted the older man to his feet, half supporting, half carrying him over to the stairs.

Ruin watched them go, a strange expression on her face. Dietrich had caught her looking like it before, when she'd found a tube of foundation that the medtech had dropped.

That had been in the early days. Dietrich didn't bother with makeup now; she was attractive enough not to need it and besides, she'd rapidly found out that in hot temperatures and climates such as Tirand's, makeup equalled insect magnet. But she'd never quite forgotten Ruin's expression; it was like fascination mixed with caution. Like seeing a strange animal for the first time and not sure whether it was hostile or not.

Seemingly aware of the medtech's attention, Ruin got to her feet, moving with liquid grace, and crossed over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out a box of eggs that were at least three weeks past their sell-by date.

"Mind if I have these?"

"Rotten eggs?" Dietrich shrugged. She'd long given up trying to fathom the way Ruin's mind worked, and secretly suspected that it didn't really work at all, or at least not like anyone else's. "You want rotten eggs, you take 'em. Just don't break 'em in here."

"Thanks." Ruin took the egg box, being careful not to damage the contents, and slipped out.

Dietrich shook her head. That was the thing about Ruin; she never walked normally but always skirted around the furniture, as though there was a pit in the middle of the room. One day she'd get to the bottom of that girl's mentality.

From the top of the stairs, she could dimly hear Hicks' strident voice protesting that he wasn't drunk, he never got drunk, he was impervious to drunkenness (and it took him three attempts to pronounce the word 'impervious' coherently) and if Hudson would go and get him another drink, he'd be more than happy to prove it.

The closing door cut him off mid-protest and Hudson came back downstairs.

"Man, it's hit him hard."

"Not surprised," Dietrich answered tartly. "That stuff's almost pure alcohol."

Hudson looked at her slightly askance.

"I was talking about Newt's disappearance, Cyn."

Dietrich snorted.

"Oh c'mon Will; so she's gone off in a hissy fit or something! She'll turn up sooner or later."

"'Hissy fit'?" Hudson echoed. "She's been with Dwayne ever since we got back and he was on that ship of his when she vanished. I'll agree that the kid's something special, but I doubt even she could pilot an escape capsule, and if she was hiding on the ship, Dwayne would've found her easily!"

"Whatever." Dietrich yawned. "Think I'll hit the sack; I'm exhausted."

Hudson looked at her incredulously.

"What, are you seriously telling me that you can do a twenty mile hike complete with pack and weapons on top of an assault course and log race, but sitting around filing your nails and making smart remarks is too much for you?"

Dietrich grimaced. Well, when you put it like that...

"Cyn?" Hudson said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I know we agreed never to talk about it..." the comtech began.

"Talk about what?" Dietrich said, in sub-arctic tones.

Hudson shook his head.

"I've gotta know. How the fuck did you and the sarge get back to Operations?" He shook his head again. "I saw your signs in the APC. You were almost dead, you weren't moving, then eight hours later you miraculously turn up."

"You're right, Hudson," Dietrich answered coldly. The comtech was beginning to see a definite pattern emerging here; being called Will was good, being called Hudson was not. "We did agree never to talk about it. Good night."

Hudson watched as she stalked up the stairs to her room and slammed the door so hard that the glasses still left out on the tables vibrated. He smirked slightly; he'd known that one would irk the medtech.

The smirk vanished as he surveyed the array of dirty plates and glasses yet to be cleaned and he sighed.

Note to self, Will; next time you decide to piss Cyn off, remember to wait until after she's done her share of the washing up.

With another sigh he crossed to the nearest table. Hanging around wouldn't clean the place up any faster, and he should be able to get this done in time for a good few hours' sleep.

"You're not going out, are you?" Newt said, slightly apprehensively.

Vasquez turned to fix her with a cold stare. Charmaine had refused to answer any questions right there and, instead, had told the smartgun operator that if she came to the older woman's own apartment at seven that evening, she'd hear all she wanted to know. Vasquez had debated with herself all day whether it was worth it, then - on the third time of Newt asking her what was for dinner - had decided that it couldn't be worse than there.

"I was planning to, yeah. If that's alright with you, of course," she added, heavy sarcasm dripping on every word.

Newt dropped her gaze and didn't answer.

"I mean, if it's not," Vasquez continued implacably, "please, feel free to say so. If you have a problem with me leaving my apartment, go right ahead and share it."

Newt bit her lip.

"'S jus'..."

"Yes?" Vasquez said, a little too politely.

"Well, didn't that man say you were under house arrest?"

"So what?" Vasquez was already opening the door.

"So...doesn't that mean you're not allowed to leave here? 'Cause if it does'n'you get caught, what's gonna happen to me?"

"Hmm." Vasquez pretended to consider. "Don't know, don't care, how's that sound?"

"You'd care if it was you they were gonna throw back into some care home!" Newt blurted, and then abruptly shut her mouth.

The smartgun operator - who had frozen rigid at Newt's words - hesitated, wondering how best to proceed. The kid had a point; Vasquez had met people who had risked life on the streets rather than in one of those places. She ran various options through her mind and decided, against her own nature, that patience might work.

Closing the door again, Vasquez crossed over to stand in front of Newt, who looked up at her with a growing feeling of trepidation.

The smartgun operator waited until she was sure she had the girl's full attention before cupping her dog tags in one hand.

"Do you know what this means?"

A nod.

"Uh huh. You're a soldier."

"Do you know what that means?"

Newt shook her head.

"It means until the USCM summon me to an official court martial and kick me out, I'm still only under the command of the Corps, and the Corps does not take its orders from civilians, particularly not the ones in the likes of Weyland-fucking-Yutani."

Newt risked looking up at her.

"But...if they said you're dead, why would they help you?"

Vasquez shrugged.

"They wouldn't. But that doesn't matter. I'm still a Marine until the USCM - and only the USCM - decide otherwise."

Newt now met her gaze squarely.

"Uh huh. And if someone blows your head off, who's gonna tell the USCM? 'Cause if you're already dead, these guys can kill you when they like, right?"

"Say what you like, kid, I'm going."

"Are you gonna come back?"

Vasquez gritted her teeth.

"No. No, I thought I'd just pop out and have dinner in a five star restaurant, then marry a multimillionaire and live happily ever after. Of course I'm fucking coming back! You don't think I've got a choice, do you?"

"You don't have to be like that about it," Newt said, with an attempt at dignity.

"You're right. I don't. But you know what? It really, really feels good." Vasquez turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

Newt gazed after her for a few minutes, then shrugged and went back to watching TV. Although she didn't mind admitting that life as Vasquez' verbal punching bag got a little depressing at times, living with the smartgun operator was a lot better than the alternative.

Ruin cracked open gummy eyes, forcing them to focus. It was light enough to see; someone had thoughtfully incinerated a few eggs and that fire was still burning.

Her mind had already told her where she was before waking up. Now all she had to look forward to was impregnation, or death by facehugger, as it was usually referred to.

Well, it had taken the aliens some time to catch her. She supposed that might be considered an achievement.

It had all been Talon's fault. She'd been hungry and ignored the warning signs, heading straight into an ambush. Ruin had managed to get her and Sky towards a hiding place, but something had cracked her on the side of the head and she'd passed out, not coming round until now.

Nesting chamber. The heart of any hive, and one the aliens would do absolutely nothing to endanger. If you had a good weapon and took care to keep out of range of the queen, you could sleep among the eggs and not get attacked. Then again, no one in their right mind would want to sleep in a room full of facehuggers; Ruin supposed that was the main failsafe.

The queen sat (squatted? presided?) over her eggs like a...well, like a queen, really. There was no other word for it. Ruin watched the eggs as well, making a private bet with herself as to which one out of two would crack first. Although eggs could lie dormant for literally centuries, it was pretty easy to tell they were ready to hatch, just by studying the four flaps at the top.

A wet creak from off to her left informed her that not only had she lost the bet, she'd overlooked a candidate as well.

So it finally comes down to this, does it? After all your moves, all the times you've escaped, you're going to die with an exploded chest.

There was a light scratching sound and Ruin fought down the urge to scream. That never solved anything. She wondered if the actual impregnation hurt, if-

Incandescent heat blazed past her suddenly, scorching her face and incinerating the facehugger.

"Move one finger, bitch, and I'll torch your fucking tail!" an all-too-familiar voice said boldly.

Ruin shut her eyes with an inward groan, rolling them behind closed lids. How had an idiot like Talon ever survived this long?

A rescue attempt by that gun-fever victim. Great. I think I preferred the facehugger.

Talon emitted something that was probably supposed to represent a blood-chilling war cry and ended up instead sounding like a car alarm with hiccups. This time Ruin groaned aloud, opening her eyes again just in time to see the queen turn towards her, opening the mouth to reveal the deadly tongue behind.

"So this is where you hang out," it said.

Ruin blinked.

"Uh...what?"

"I mean, I guess it's none of my business," the queen went on casually, "but you don't look very comfortable there."

"It's a hive," Ruin answered, as though she spoke to bugs on a regular basis. "It's not meant to be comfortable."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" the queen said, now sounding perplexed.

"I..." Confused, Ruin opened her eyes, saw Hudson's face above her, let out a yelp and promptly fell off the wall.

"Hey! Hey," Hudson held up his hands, palm out. "It's okay! It's me!"

Already on her feet, Ruin glanced down, seeing the egg box on the ground and remembering. She'd lain down on the wall, hadn't she, for a brief rest and then...she supposed she must have dropped off.

Right. A dream. That's all. You got tired and fell asleep.

She bent down to pick up the box again, and paused. She seemed to tire far more easily these days.

Getting old, a voice inside her whispered. Ruin snorted, dismissing it. She didn't know her exact age, but she wasn't old.

At least...she didn't think she was. Not as old as either Hicks or Hudson, that was for sure.

"Y'know, we do have rooms inside," Hudson said pointedly. Ruin smiled slightly but didn't turn to face him.

"I'm happy for you," she said quietly. She rarely raised her voice. Something about it was unsettling, and Hudson had damn near burst his brains trying to work out what ever since he'd first heard it. The best description he'd been able to come up with so far was dusty, and he wondered suddenly how often she'd used it before arriving. "And those rooms are currently occupied by your friend and campers who couldn't face another night with insects crawling into their sleeping bags, right?"

Hudson shifted.

"Yeah, but...we could..."

"Throw them out? For what? Someone who can't usually afford to pay for anything more than a glass of water?" Ruin shook her head. "Don't be a fool."

Hudson raised his eyebrows.

"And I suppose you can tell me how much we took today?"

"Eighty seven creds. It's not exactly peak season." Ruin quirked an eyebrow. "Still, that should be enough to get that new terminal you want so badly."

Hudson shook his head.

"Okay. Joking aside, how the fuck do you do that?" he said flatly. It wasn't the first time Ruin had surprised him or Dietrich with just how much she knew about them.

"You ought to be a bit more careful what you say," Ruin told him calmly.

Hudson, who had been fooled like this before, stared at her fixedly.

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is. It's just not the one you want." Ruin stretched leisurely, cat-fashion, then drew one leg up and rested one arm on the bent knee.

"What did you make of him?" Hudson asked suddenly.

"Your friend?" Ruin shrugged. "He misplaced his kid. It happens."

"Can you help him?" Hudson said pointedly. Ruin shrugged again.

"Like I told your buddy, finding one six year old kid is like looking for a grain of blue sand in the Sahara. All I know is that he thinks she was grabbed by the company, and I'm sure you can appreciate that doesn't exactly narrow it down. How many companies are out there, anyway?"

Hudson, who had been occupied in the back room for this little revelation of Hicks', stared.

"Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Positive. Like I said, there's too many companies out there to make this possible. What do you expect me to do, walk into every one in existence and search it? The kid'll be dead of old age before I'm half done and you know it."

Hudson glanced at Ruin without really seeing her.

"It's company as in Company, not company."

There was a reflective pause, then Ruin said seriously, "No, sorry, you've lost me there."

Hudson stared.

"The Company. Weyland-Yutani." Seeing the girl's perplexed look, he went on. "As in, the money and power behind almost all of the colony worlds bar this one and a few others! The ruling body over everything! You don't sneeze on one of their worlds without them knowing about it."

Ruin heard him out politely and then said, "And these people stay in charge because...?"

"Because...well, because..." Hudson floundered for a few minutes. What he wanted to say was, because they have a tendency to buy out anyone who shows signs of starting a rival company and besides, there's nothing we can put in their place that isn't just as corrupt and maligned. Something in him, however, said that this concept would be so alien to Ruin that she would be totally incapable of understanding him, not because she was slow or stupid, but because she was completely and utterly different. Trying to explain things to her would be like him trying to read a book in Chinese or Arabic; so foreign that you were pretty much screwed before you even started, and so instead he said, "Because they're too powerful to move against." It was pretty much true, after all.

"Isn't that what you want me to do, though?" Ruin persisted. "Move against them?"

"We want confirmation," Hudson answered.

"So in other words, you want me to waltz into this omnipotent Company, see if I can find this kid, then turn around and waltz right back out without her and tell you where she is?"

Hudson met her gaze unashamedly.

"Pretty much."

Ruin shook her head.

"I don't do so well in crowds. Why can't your friend go, if he's so eager?"

"Because they know him too well, that's why."

"Oh, so it's alright for me to trot from one end of the galaxy to the other-"

An idea struck Hudson.

"Okay, fine. What about this? The most advanced Company facilities for security and the like are found on Gateway. If they've got her anywhere, it'll probably be there. You go in, you search and you come back here again. If she's there, we'll think about what to do next. If she's not, well, we'll still have to think of something, but at least the most you'll be doing is searching one space station."

"What's a space station?"

Hudson shot her a sharp look, but Ruin's expression was genuine.

"It's...well, it's kinda..." He frowned. "Have you ever been off Tirand?"

"Of course. I wasn't born here, and I didn't grow up here either. I've just never heard of a space station." If she was honest, Ruin had never heard of any kind of station, but given Hudson's reaction, she decided to keep that particular gem to herself. "So-since I can't really fly a ship and since I'm betting you're not going with me to do so either-do you have any idea where I can find a pilot?"

Hudson raised his eyebrows.

"Then you'll do it?"

"I'll search this Gateway place, that's all. If you can find someone who can get me there."

The comtech hesitated.

"Well..."

"Preferably someone I don't have to pay. Blackmailing's alright to a certain extent, but I'm never one hundred percent happy about putting my life in the hands of someone who has a very good reason to want me dead."

"There's one guy who might be able to help you. I dunno where he lives though; I only have his contact number."

"Can he fly a shuttle?"

"Oh yeah."

"He'll do fine, then. What's his number?"

As Hudson wrote it and the name down on a piece of paper, he glanced up at Ruin.

"Fair warning; he swore he'd never pilot another ship for the rest of his life. He probably won't agree to help you, but right now, he's the best I can offer."

Ruin smiled slightly, taking the details off the comtech.

"Leave that to me."

A few hours later, Ruin entered her home. The sleeping chamber looked invitingly comfortable, but she brushed it off; she had more important things to do.

Sitting down in front of one of the surfaces, she slipped the headset lying there over her head, tuned into the frequency and spoke to the person on the other end.

"I want everything you can turn up on Daniel Spunkmeyer, late of the USCM. Family details, living address, everything right down to his educational grades."

There was no answer, but Ruin knew her instructions had gone through.

Swore never to pilot another ship, did he? Well, we'll just see about that.

There had to be something she could use; the ones under her command had never failed her before on that respect.

Ruin sat back, well satisfied.

Vasquez hadn't gone more than ten or twelve yards before being challenged. Although she'd half expected it, she was still caught slightly off-guard when someone from behind her said, "Now, you know you're not supposed to be outside your apartment, don't you?"

It was more the words and tone, rather than the fact they were uttered at all, which gave the smartgun operator pause.

"Excuse me?" Vasquez said, turning. Her eyes met those of a man who looked to be about ten years older than her, and one who was clearly used to taking what he wanted and using his rank to intimidate people.

"You heard me, honey. You're supposed to stay inside, aren't you?" The guard stepped in, leering down at her. "Of course...if you were to return now, I'm sure it would be, shall we say, overlooked?"

Vasquez raised her eyebrows.

"What are you saying? That if I don't crawl back to my room like a good little girl you'll tell tales on me?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary." The guard pulled out a stun unit, a more lethal version of the ones that McDermott's goons had carried. "One zap from this, sweetheart, and you'll be in spasm on the ground, probably pissing yourself most like. It takes a lot of people that way."

Vasquez shifted her weight ever so slightly.

"And...since I'm a Marine and you're just some hired muscle, what makes you think you could beat me in a fight?"

The guard smirked.

"Ah, well, our commander already thought of that, see? Great idea. Probably why he's the boss and all." He pulled his sleeve up, revealing what looked like a microchip embedded in his skin, allowing the smartgun operator a good look before covering it up again. "See, that's a remote grenade that's keyed directly into my biorhythm. If the signal stops, there're two fragmentation grenades on my person that'll go off."

Vasquez considered.

"So what you're saying is that you can kill me, but I can't kill you?"

The smirk widened.

"Right."

Vasquez nodded slightly.

"Right."

She stepped forward, snapping one foot up in a kick into the man's groin, causing him to double over, knock-kneed, then as his torso went past her, kicked out again and had the immense satisfaction of hearing ribs crack under the pressure. The stun unit fell from the man's suddenly unresponsive fingers, and the smartgun operator kicked it away, grabbing the man's arm and exploding the elbow over her knee like a stick, spraying a red mist of blood into the air with a harsh snap before slamming him bodily to the ground with as much force as she could muster.

"Your commander really didn't think that one through very well," Vasquez remarked, then stepped over the prostrate and still howling guard and continued down the corridor to Charmaine's apartment.

The older woman opened the door almost before Vasquez had pressed the buzzer.

"I'm so glad you made it, what with the added security here." She nodded to a sly-faced man a few years younger than Vasquez with lank blond hair. "This is Thomas; he agreed to come as well. Come on in and we'll - holy shit on a cracker! What happened to you?"

Vasquez blinked.

"Excuse me?"

Charmaine raised a hand to the side of her face. Puzzled, Vasquez mirrored the action and brought away fingers wet with blood.

"Oh, that. I had a little run in with one of McDermott's pet gorillas on my way here."

"Funny." Thomas gave her a long, searching look. "You don't look like you're injured."

Vasquez met his gaze icily.

"I'm not."

There was an awkward silence.

"Are you a soldier?" Thomas said suddenly.

Vasquez looked at him, then shifted her gaze to her own combat fatigues, her boots, her dog tags and finally back to Thomas before saying, "No."

"You'll have to excuse him," Charmaine said flatly. "He don't like the military. Particularly not the Marine Corps."

"Buncha fuckin' time-wasters," Thomas muttered. "So full of the big I-Am, they don't have a clue what's going on out here. Retarded fucks."

"Didn't get in, huh?" Vasquez said slyly.

"Got in, yeah," Charmaine said. "He just didn't stay in."

"How long were you enlisted?" Vasquez asked Thomas, who spat onto the floor.

"Three days."

Vasquez did a double take.

"How long??"

"You heard me! I had a disagreement with my drill sergeant and they kicked me out! You wanna make something of it?"

Vasquez raised dark eyebrows.

"Why should I bother? You seem to be doing pretty well by yourself."

Ignoring Thomas' muttering, she looked around, interested and wondering what was going on. The apartment's only other occupant, a young girl of about twelve or thirteen, gave her a smile and a little wave. Vasquez frowned slightly. She'd seen that girl around in the corridor a lot, but never actually spoken to her.

Then again, Vasquez admitted grudgingly, she hadn't spoken to any of the others bar Charmaine before tonight.

"The girl over there," she said in an undertone to Charmaine, "who is she?"

A nervous undercurrent ran quickly through the other two.

"She's called Sarah Reddick," Charmaine said quietly. "She's here on a charge of arson and first-degree murder. The Company only put her here because no local institution would take her. They're waiting for acknowledgement from one of the colonial ones and then she'll be gone. We hope."

Vasquez raised an eyebrow.

"Arson and first-degree murder?"

"She poured gasoline over her parents while they slept and set them alight."

The smartgun operator stared.

"Jesus."

"Yeah," Thomas muttered, also keeping his voice low. "Apparently Daddy made the mistake of teaching baby Sarah what a will was, and that she'd be getting all her parents' money when they died. The kid put two and two together and then...well, that was that."

"How old is she?"

"Twelve. She was eight when she did it and she's been here four years. The social sector said that her parents must've been doing something pretty bad to make her kill them like that. Me, I don't believe a word of it."

Vasquez snorted. Few people ever credited young children with the capacity for acting on their own initiative. Bigger fools them; kids were just as capable of it as adults. Usually more so, because they usually couldn't foresee the consequences of their actions and hadn't learned enough about the world to understand there was a time and a place for everything.

"She's polite enough," Charmaine added.

The smartgun operator snorted again. She'd met people like Sarah; 'polite enough' right up until you upset them and they ripped your spine out through your belly.

"They're also the best and most reliable representatives in this place."

Vasquez' jaw dropped.

"A twelve-year-old psychopath and a jerk with a bad attitude are the best you have? If they're the cream, I don't want to meet the crap!"

"Most of the others wouldn't come."

The smartgun operator curled her lip scornfully.

"Afraid of the guards?"

"Yeah." Charmaine blew out a plume of smoke. "Ain't life a bitch?"

"On drugs," Vasquez muttered.

"You what?"

The younger woman glanced at her, then away again.

"That's what a friend of mine always used to say. Life's a selfish bitch on hard drugs."

"What happened to him?"

"He's dead," Vasquez said curtly. She didn't feel like going much into details about Drake just then.

"Sorry to hear that. What happened to him?"

"Never mind that," Vasquez answered. It wasn't any of Charmaine's business and besides, the woman would most probably not believe her.

"Then-" Charmaine began, before her front door was kicked open and she dropped her cigarette with an audible gasp. Next to her and across the room, Sarah and Thomas also froze, motionless.

Vasquez, who wanted to look over her shoulder so badly that her neck muscles were aching, resisted temptation. The newcomer was most likely no threat to her, and she'd find out about them soon enough.

There was the sound of heavy footsteps, footsteps which stopped just behind her chair.

"Juana Vasquez?"

"Who's asking?"

"I have orders to escort you back to your apartment."

"Orders?" Vasquez echoed, her tone bored. "From who? And on what charge?"

"You were placed under house arrest, effective from eighteen hundred hours last night. Mr McDermott informed you of this himself."

"He didn't say which house," Vasquez said dismissively, not bothering to turn round.

"You were also informed that you were not to leave the apartment except in the case of a dire emergency!"

"It was a dire emergency. I was bored."

A hand slammed down on her shoulder.

"You are to come with us immediately."

Without looking, Vasquez slammed a knuckle onto the man's hand and he jerked back, swearing viciously, no longer professional.

"Fucking bitch!" The guard looked over to his friends. "Hold her! I'm gonna teach her a lesson she won't forget in a hurry."

A harsh chatter of gunfire came from behind Vasquez and the three guards were thrown back by the force of the shots, two of them dead before they hit the ground and the third not far behind.

There was a long silence, one that was much louder than the sound of the gun had been. All eyes were on Sarah, who was holding a sleek black pulse rifle somewhat inexpertly. Just looking at the firearm made Vasquez' throat constrict with longing.

"They were very rude, weren't they?" Sarah said sadly.

"Where did you get that?" Even Vasquez spoke respectfully; you only risked upsetting the likes of Sarah Reddick if you had a very, very good reason, and preferably at least a butcher knife or claw hammer for a weapon as well.

"I borrowed it from a different guard. He was very rude when he found out it had gone." Sarah looked down forlornly, then up again, a bright smile on her face. "But he never knew it was me! Aren't I clever?"

"Very...clever." Vasquez forced the words out with a supreme effort; her throat seemed to have been paralysed. Sarah preened.

"Didn't they suspect anything?" Charmaine asked. Sarah waved a hand dismissively.

"Of course they didn't! They only really like to watch me if there are any matches or lighters around." She paused. "I can't think why," she added, without a trace of sarcasm.

She probably couldn't at that, Vasquez thought flatly. When they'd arrested her, Sarah had most likely stood in front of her parents' burning bodies with the gas can still in her hand and said, "What did I do?"

"Though the man who lived next door to me said he didn't think little girls should play with big guns," Sarah added sadly. "He was very rude as well. I taught him a lesson, though." That same brittle smile appeared on her face again. "He won't say anything naughty for the rest of his life!"

There was a long, long silence.

"I think," Vasquez said very carefully in a voice that felt like it was coming from a long way away, "that I'd better look after this for the minute." She nodded towards the pulse rifle.

"Yes." Even Thomas seemed relieved; despite his seeming hatred of the USCM, the pulse rifle would be far safer in Vasquez' hands than Sarah's. "Yes, I think that would be a very good thing."

Sarah looked shocked.

"But you can't! It's mine!"

Vasquez looked away for a few moments, and then back up at Sarah, pasting a smile on her face. It didn't exactly work. The smartgun operator hadn't had much practice in smiling.

"May I have it? Please?"

"I said it's mine!" Sarah's eyes were now bright and hard, glittering with a diamond fever. "Why should I give it to you? The guard lent it to me! It's mine!"

Vasquez took a deep breath and hoped like hell that this would work.

"Because I'm a Marine."

"So? So?" Now Sarah was pouting, a five-year-old expression that looked horribly out of place on her twelve-year-old face.

"So I've been trained how to use this particular kind of gun. Since you haven't, you could end up accidentally shooting someone with it." Vasquez swallowed in a dry throat. "And...that would be very rude, wouldn't it?"

There was a long, drawn-out silence.

"True," Sarah agreed complacently. "Okay then."

She held out the gun. Vasquez started to reach for it, then stopped. Taking hold of a pulse rifle while a raving lunatic had the trigger end wasn't usually the key to a healthy life.

"Just...leave it on the table," she said instead. "I'll take it with me when I go."

"You're leaving? After those men told you not to?" Sarah looked scandalised.

Vasquez gritted her teeth and counted to ten. It didn't seem to help.

"They told me I was to go back to my own house, didn't they? I'm just doing what they said."

"Are you? Oh, well, that's okay." Sarah looked at Thomas. "Do you want to see a drawing I did today?"

There was the barest hesitation before Thomas said, "Sure," and crossed over to examine it.

Vasquez felt a chill run down her spine. Between being locked in a room with Sarah or an alien, she'd almost rather take her chances with the bug. She made a mental note to barricade her front door and to tip Newt off as well. The kid was a nuisance, true, but Vasquez didn't want her dead, and certainly not like that.

"You've probably worked it out by now," Charmaine said, wheezing slightly. "This place is comprised of misfits, outcasts, all those who thought they could put one over on the Company. Thomas used to be a recruit in the Colonial Marines before he was kicked out for attempting to stab his drill sergeant with a hunk of broken glass. Sarah...well, Sarah goes without saying. Me and my boys were thrown in here just after I was caught looking at that file. There are plenty of others in this corridor as well; most of what society terms dangerous or undesirable."

Vasquez raised her eyebrows.

"So why did you want me to come here?"

Charmaine chuckled.

"What, you don't think it's a social call?"

"Involving the likes of Sarah and Thomas? I doubt it very much; particularly in Sarah's case with the amount of lighters or matches you must have kicking around. What do you want?"

"Still as gracious and charming as ever, ain't you?" Charmaine wheezed, then looked at Vasquez with slightly more interest. "Speaking of which, I didn't know they taught you to soothe psychos in the USCM."

"They don't," Vasquez answered absently, picking up the pulse rifle and checking it over. "We usually just blow their heads off; it's more fun and it doesn't take as long." She looked around to make sure that Thomas and Sarah were still occupied before grabbing Charmaine by the front and yanking her to one side. "Alright. You brought me here, you said it was all sorted, all fine and here I am with two people who would kill me as soon as look at me, and it doesn't help to think that good manners might save me from one of them because I don't have that many. You have--" she looked at an imaginary watch "--three seconds to improve my mood and convince me not to walk out that door right now."

"The Company is doing something, something weird."

Vasquez snorted.

"Hey lady, I've seen things you literally couldn't imagine, things that only come out of your worst nightmares and beyond, so don't fucking tell me what's weird, vale? Besides, they're a multistellar, multinational, multicolonial, mercenary-" Vasquez tried to think of another English word that began with M, failed, and settled for saying, "-mandarÍnes. Weird is what they do. You'll need to give me a much better reason to stick around besides the Company is doing something weird."

Charmaine glanced around.

"I can't. You don't think they'd let us stay here without precautions, do you? This place is most likely bugged and whatever you may think of us, we're not quite so dumb as to hold a tactical meeting in a room which transmits every sound back to our enemy!"

Vasquez' eyebrows shot up.

"Tactical meeting? Enemy? Don't make me laugh." She snorted. "Too late, you did." The smartgun operator leaned in and lowered her voice. "You're caught up in the sheer romance of the situation, aren't you? The torch-bearing peasants approaching the castle of Frankenstein, or Dracula? This isn't some story, Ashton; this is real life! You fuck up here, you don't get another life, you don't get any continues and you don't get an undo option either! There's no room for error in anything like this."

Charmaine met her gaze defiantly.

"We can handle it."

"Handle what?"

The older woman glanced around in a way Vasquez couldn't help feeling was needlessly melodramatic, then leaned in even closer.

"There have been...disappearances. People come to the other residents' doors, say they're allowed to leave. They go and we never see them again."

"I don't blame them," Vasquez said candidly. "If I had a chance of getting out of this hellhole, you wouldn't see me again either. How do you know they aren't really leaving?"

Charmaine snorted.

"Empty-handed? The Company've supplied furniture and clothes and the like, but I'd say even you have one or two things you'd like to take with you." She narrowed her eyes. "You listen to me, miss, I have two sons, good sons, and I happen not to want to see either of 'em vanished, thankyou oh so very fucking much!"

"I shouldn't worry," Vasquez drawled, "they'll probably take you at the same time." She shook her head. "You still haven't answered my question. Why should I stick around?"

Charmaine seemed slightly embarrassed.

"Well...I kinda figured...since you're a Marine and you gave those two in the corridor a fight they're not likely to forget in a hurry...you must know stuff we don't..." Her voice trailed off and she settled for looking at the younger woman hopefully.

Vasquez stared hard for a few minutes.

"You want me to give you self-defence lessons?" she said incredulously.

"Ideally," Charmaine answered, meeting the black eyes without flinching.

"Riiight." Vasquez sat down on a chair, hard. "Mierda, how do I get myself into these situations?" Charmaine heard her mutter.

"Will you do it?" she asked.

"No," Vasquez said, biting off the word at the end and getting abruptly to her feet, striding towards the door. "You're fucking crazy."

"That's what they kept saying to me," Sarah said, sounding faintly surprised.

"What about your daughter?" Charmaine said clearly.

Vasquez stopped, and then turned.

"I don't know how to make this any clearer without a DNA test; Newt is not my fucking daughter!"

"Right here and now she's as good as," Charmaine answered bitingly, refusing to be intimidated. "Who else has she got in this hellhole?"

"She lives with a friend of mine."

"Fine. When this friend of yours shows up, you can hand her over and forget all about her if the fancy takes you. But what happens until then? You gonna just turn her out? Because if you are, tell me and I'll look after her."

"You won't," Vasquez said flatly. "Not all the time you have the likes of Sarah Reddick dropping in for tea."

Charmaine quirked an eyebrow.

"Ah, so you do care about her."

"No!" Vasquez said sharply. "But I don't want her dead."

Charmaine brought the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.

"Well, you just keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better," she said nonchalantly, blowing smoke out as she spoke.

"Listen to me." Seemingly in the blink of an eye, Vasquez was across the room and in Charmaine's face. "You have no idea what either of us went through, but I'll tell you this much; over half my platoon died to get that kid back safely and I'll stop her getting killed because given all the shit that went down, I don't see her being murdered by some psychopath when there are other people lying dead on a hellworld who gave their lives to get her out of it! I don't care about her and I guess if I had to say anything, I'd blame the deaths of my friends on her since it was her family that threw the shit into the fan in the first place, but I'll be damned if I let her die now after everything that we did to keep her alive! Do you understand me?"

"I get the general idea, yeah," Charmaine answered. If she was offended by the smartgun operator's tone, she hid it well. "So if you're so keen to stop her from dying, for whatever reason, why won't you agree to help us?"

"You tell me one thing." Vasquez tilted her head slightly to one side as she regarded the woman stonily. "If I do this, if you learn self-defence, what then? Are you going to try and take over this sector?"

"We just want to get out," Thomas said unexpectedly.

"To get out," Vasquez repeated tonelessly. "I see. And if you stand in the corridor with your little knives, waving your little placards and singing your little songs, what do you think McDermott's going to do?"

There was a somewhat perplexed silence.

"I'll tell you what he's going to do," Vasquez said at last, when it became apparent that they were all waiting for her to break it. "He's not going to waste time listening to you. He's not going to cave in just because a few outcasts ask him to-"

"Tell him, not ask him," Sarah put in flatly.

"Oh, well then, that makes all the difference," Vasquez retorted scathingly, then shook her head. "Like I say, he's not going to bother listening or giving in. All he's going to do is requisition a platoon of soldiers - probably not even Marines - to come in and shoot you all where you stand." She shrugged. "Why should he care about a few misfits? There are plenty more out there. All he has to do is pick 'em up and dump 'em here." The smartgun operator shook her head again. "What you're thinking of doing isn't going to get you anywhere except the mortuary in about two hours flat, if they even wait that long. Say what you like; you're on your own."

"We can handle these assholes," Thomas said, his tone deadly. Vasquez snorted.

"Yeah. You did real well against the three that wanted to mess me up, didn't you?"

"That's different! We weren't ready!"

"That's alright then." Vasquez was already halfway through the door. "You get your little gang together, and when these guys come down to sort you out, you just tell them that you're not ready. What do you think they're gonna say in return? Oh, sorry, our mistake; we'll wait just down the corridor and you give us a shout when you are?" She shook her head. "Forget it. If you come up with something worthwhile, I might be persuaded to listen. Until then, like I said; you're on your own."

She stalked out, slamming the door behind her, not stopping until she was almost outside her own apartment and only then because a voice said from behind her, "Drop the weapon and turn around slowly."

Vasquez sighed. The first thought that went through her mind was, I'm getting very tired of this, and it was partly this and the fact that she wanted to conserve the rifle's ammunition that saved the guard from an early grave. Besides, this guy was a grade-A asshole, but he didn't deserve to die for it. She spun the gun around and cracked the guard across the head with it, not hard enough to kill him, but hard enough to make sure he'd be asleep for some time.

Twenty guards here, and at least seven have already been taken out, a little voice inside her whispered. You better be more careful, unless you want to give them a genuine reason to keep you locked up here.

Vasquez grimaced and told the little voice to go fuck itself, then pushed open her door and stepped in. There was no sign of Newt in the living room. The occasional small splash from the bathroom gave some clue as to her location, however; baths were a real luxury on a colony world and Newt liked to indulge in them here as often and as long as possible.

Vasquez gave a kind of mental shrug. The more the kid kept out of her hair, the better. She swung the pulse rifle up, sighting down the barrel experimentally, and wished she'd thought to ask Sarah about extra magazines. It was full now, and the grenade launcher was primed (and next to useless in such a confined space) but Vasquez didn't like to think how quickly the ammo would run out if she came up against...

Against what? Aliens? If they had bugs here on Gateway, they'd have had to get them from Acheron, wouldn't they? And since their team had been the only one...unless a few colonists had somehow managed to get off...

"Wow!" Newt stood in the doorway, staring at the gun and interrupting Vasquez' train of thought (much to the smartgun operator's private relief; she hadn't liked the direction it had been travelling in). "Where'd you get that?"

"Nice, huh?" Despite the problems at Charmaine's, Vasquez' temper had been so much improved by having a weapon at her disposal again that she actually looked at Newt to answer. "A girl called Sarah Reddick lent it to me."

"Sarah?" Newt's jaw dropped. "Boy, you must've been nice to her!"

Vasquez blinked.

"You know her?"

"Uh huh. Ben told me about her. Is it true she burned her parents to death because they were bug eyed tentacles who had a lot of money which they wouldn't let her have?"

Vasquez blinked again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Well, apart from the bug eyed tentacle part, yeah."

Newt shivered.

"Freaky."

Freaky was a very good way of putting it, in Vasquez' opinion.

So...what? I have to try and build some kind of rebellion? Some kind of anti-Company movement involving one person who's hardly in the best physical shape, one person who'd shoot me as soon as look at me and one twelve year old pyro-fucking-maniac? And if they're really the best and most reliable representatives, like Charmaine said, I don't think I want to meet the others.

The smartgun operator sat on the couch, leaning back and staring at the TV without really seeing it, and wondered for the first time in her life just what the hell she was supposed to do now.

Hicks forced his eyes open and groaned aloud, then wished he hadn't. Even groaning made his head hurt.

"Finally awake, are you?" Hudson said with a grin.

"Whassatime?"

"One twenty. You've slept the entire morning."

"What happened?"

"Same thing that usually happens to you in a bar. You got pissed and had to sleep it off."

"My head..."

Hudson's grin became positively wicked.

"I tried to warn you; that stuff packs one hell of a punch. You said something like...what was it now?" Hudson paused, then did a surprisingly accurate impression of Hicks' voice. "Hey Will; I'm not drunk! I don't get drunk! I never get drunk and I'll prove it as soon as you refill that glass!"

Hicks cringed, not just from the hangover.

"I said that? Oh man..."

"Yeah, along with several other things you probably don't want to remember," Hudson said, still grinning broadly.

"Oh man..."

"I didn't know you had the hots for your female drill sergeant during Basic."

"Oh man...!" Hicks sat up carefully then, when the top of his head didn't fall off, risked swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Did anything good come of last night?"

"Dunno about good," Hudson said, his voice annoyingly cheerful, "but it was fucking entertaining!" He became a little more serious. "If you're talking about Ruin...you got a little too sloshed to really get anywhere."

"Shit," Hicks grated. He glanced up at his friend. "Maybe if you told me where she lived or...what?" This was said in response to Hudson's head, which was now shaking slowly.

"Dwayne, believe me when I say I've no fucking idea. Ru's...well, she vanishes every evening."

"And you've never followed her?"

Hudson snorted.

"What, are you kidding? I don't follow any of the other punters, why should I follow her? Besides, Ruin's..." He hesitated, wondering how best to phrase the next part. "Well...she's not someone you want to upset needlessly."

"I'll take that chance."

"Uh. Let me rephrase that. She's not someone I want to upset needlessly." Hudson paused. "Besides, I spoke to her last night. She's agreed to search Gateway, and if Newt isn't there, she'll come back here and we'll have to think again."

"I want to talk to her."

Hudson scrutinised the older man silently for a few minutes, then nodded slightly.

"Okay. Yeah, I was going to see her today anyway; I got her a booking on the shuttle to New Charlottetown." He flung the curtains open, causing Hicks to yelp and cover his eyes as the sun pierced through them like so many needles.

"C'mon," the comtech said heartlessly. "Fresh air'll do you good."

Hicks glowered at him through grainy eyes and didn't move. Hudson had to know how bad he was feeling.

"Have it your way." There was a positively evil glint in the comtech's eye as he grabbed the edge of the mattress and flipped it up, spilling the older man onto the floor. "You don't know how much I've wanted to do that to an NCO," Hudson added, smirking.

Hicks picked himself up, glaring at Hudson, and ran a hand through his hair gingerly.

"How are we going to find her?" he said. "You already said you don't know where she lives."

"I know how to find out, though," Hudson answered, a slightly smug expression on his face.

"How?"

"Follow the stink," the comtech said simply. "Dunno why she wants her home to smell of rotten eggs, but that's her business, and at least she smells alright when the punters show up."

Despite the fact that both men were physically fit, it still took some four hours before they managed to find Ruin's home, and even then they walked right past it without seeing it a couple of times. It was a strange building; leaves and grasses had been cemented together with sap to form a kind of cocoon.

Hudson froze as the stench hit him fully for the first time, triggering something deep inside.

"You know what this reminds me of?" he said suddenly, his casual tone trying to cover up the shakiness underneath.

Hicks nodded slightly, pale.

"Yeah. Acheron."

Hudson edged back.

"Think we should've brought weapons?"

Hicks shook his head.

"Your place isn't that far off. If there were bugs, you'd be the first to know about it."

There was a thoughtful pause.

"Thanks a fucking bunch, man!" Hudson said slightly shrilly at the end of it. "That's just what I wanted to hear!"

There was another, longer pause.

"So, do you want to go in?" Hicks said eventually.

"Uh...sure, man. After you."

Another silence.

"Y'know, I couldn't help but notice that you're not moving!" Hudson said.

Hicks hesitated, then put a cautious hand through the opening on the basis that if it didn't get ripped off, it was probably safe to follow it in.

He'd seen an ancient 2D movie when he was a kid; Watership Down. There had been a scene in there, hadn't there; one where the camera had panned through the rabbit warren, almost like seeing it through a rabbit's eyes. It was this image that came back to haunt him now; they stepped through one passageway and found themselves in an intersection with three others.

"You know man, I really don't like this," Hudson said nervously.

Hicks couldn't blame him. The structure...the heat...the goddamned stench...it all served to add to the illusion that they were back on Acheron, although the now familiar figure bending over a surface in the room did a lot to dispel that illusion.

"You're late," Ruin said briskly.

Hudson shook his head.

"Okay. You did that how?"

Ruin smiled slightly.

"There's very little I don't know, Will. Besides, you didn't think I'd be crazy enough not to put some form of security in here, did you?"

There was a silence.

"So..." Hicks said eventually. "Uh. Very strange place you have here."

Ruin raised her eyebrows.

"I like it. It reminds me of home."

Hudson's mind flicked back to last night, when he'd heard Ruin muttering in her sleep, saying something about a hive, and for the first time he found himself seriously wondering about where she'd come from.

"Actually, I'm glad you showed up," Ruin said laconically. "I want a favour."

"Oh really?" Hicks said, while Hudson occupied himself with studying the walls, almost as if he expected a facehugger to launch itself at him.

"I'm waiting for some people. If they come into your bar asking for me, tell them I've gone tracking and tell them how to find this place, if they don't already know. They can have my free drink as well if they want it. Also, if I do this job, and this Company of yours somehow finds out, they may well come here to find out what you know about it. You might want to bear that in mind."

"Let 'em come," Hicks said flatly.

"Yeah," Hudson said fervently, "and even if they try it, man, we're not gonna squeal!"

Hicks winced, touching his sore head gingerly.

"Let's not shout, anyway," he implored, then caught sight of something familiar on one of the surfaces and started towards it, frowning slightly. Before he reached it, Ruin had swept it off into a bag, favouring him with a bright smile.

"Don't mind my rubbish, Hicks. Did you come for something specific?"

"Yeah." Hudson held out the ticket. "Here. That'll get you to New Charlottetown, and that guy I told you about."

There was a slight silence while Ruin studied the ticket as though it meant something to her, then folded it over and slid it into a pocket with a nod.

"I'm still not sure he'll agree," Hudson warned. "You know he's no longer a Marine."

That in itself had been surprising enough; every single trooper who had come back from Acheron alive had resigned from the Corps. They'd also got pensions, although Hudson wasn't entirely sure how that had happened; even though he, Apone and Hicks definitely qualified for them, the others had had a good few years to go yet. He suspected the Company had just wanted to get them out of the way quickly and pulled strings.

Ruin smiled, an expression that was somehow unsettling.

"Let me worry about that part of it. You just get me on that shuttle."

"I want to go with you," Hicks said quickly. Ruin raised an eyebrow.

"And do what?"

Hicks, who wasn't used to people who sacrificed emotion for logic as a matter of course, floundered slightly.

"She's...the girl...she's important to me."

"That's not answering my question."

Hicks stared at her.

"Are you completely insensitive to other people's feelings?"

"People die, Hicks. People go missing. That's the way it is wherever you are. I've said I'll help you, but I still fail to see why you should come unless you have something relevant to offer."

"She needs me."

"By your own arguments, she's survived a fair few weeks without you. She can survive a little longer. Your own feelings for the girl make it near impossible for you to be considered. Suppose you lash out at the wrong person? Suppose you get drunk on this Gateway and blurt out our real purpose there?"

"I don't get drunk," Hicks said flatly.

"That's what you said last night," Ruin shot back, not missing a beat. "You said things then that you probably wish you could unsay...and one more thing; if this Company does have your kid, don't you think they'll watch you like a hawk the instant they know you're nearby? Maybe even move her out of your way to a colony, and then the heart alone knows that you'll never see her again. Also, if she knows where this place is, it's possible she might be able to get to it on her own and you should wait here for her."

"And how are you going to get inside Gateway?" Hicks demanded, fighting to keep a rein on his temper. "Nobody's allowed in or out without a valid passport."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Ruin stepped towards the exit but Hicks moved rapidly into her path, putting his arm out to bar the way, a warning in his eyes.

"You need me."

"Actually, Hicks, you're wrong," Ruin said coolly, clearly not intimidated. "You need me, and have done ever since I first saw you."

"You're not the only one capable of something like this."

"No. But I'm the only one dumb enough to agree, and if you could do it, you already would have. Move."

Hicks shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. Ruin shrugged.

"Have it your way."

The Marine was never sure what happened next. All he was really aware of was soaring through the air for a very short time before hitting the opposite wall.

Ruin studied him for a few seconds in silence, then turned and walked out. It was the last they were to see of her for several weeks.

The sound of the door opening tugged Vasquez out of a rare good sleep, and she lay still in bed, eyes lightly closed. There was a blessed silence which lasted about thirty seconds before...

"Vasquez?" Someone was shaking her, not roughly, but insistently. "Vasquez, please get up. I wanna ask you something."

Vasquez growled something indiscernible.

"The secret to achieving a long, healthy and happy life is eating healthy food, drinking plenty of fresh water, taking lots of exercise, owning a pulse rifle and/or smartgun and above all, not waking me up!" she said acerbically without opening her eyes. "Now piss off!"

"'S not that. I jus' wanted to ask if you knew where it was."

"Where what was?" Vasquez demanded, still determined to go back to sleep.

"It. You know," Newt persisted, then ducked as the smartgun operator's hand came flying through the air in a backhand slap that would have knocked the girl off her feet had it connected.

It should perhaps be noted that Vasquez genuinely had no intention of hurting Newt; her action had been reflexive rather than deliberate. But it was still unnerving enough to ensure that when Newt spoke again, she did so from somewhere around ground level.

"I was just asking. On'y if you know, maybe you could take your gun and get rid of it before it's too late."

"What the fuck," Vasquez said through clenched teeth, "are you talking about?"

"That thing they took out of you," Newt said, straightening up and prudently stepping back out of arm's range.

Vasquez stared, suddenly wide awake, a feeling of cold dread seeping through her.

"You've been dreaming, kid," she said finally. "Go back to bed."

"But-"

"I said go back to bed!" Vasquez rolled over and closed her eyes. A few seconds later, she snapped them open again in shock. "Your bed, not mine*!"

Her irritation wasn't just due to the kid. It had been two days since she'd attacked the guards at Charmaine's and later in the corridor, yet nobody had come to challenge her about it and that probably meant they weren't going to, and that gave Vasquez the unnerving feeling that they'd become expendable. Being made to disappear from the world was bad. Being made to disappear from the world and being expendable...that was far worse.

Great. I'm officially dead and so's the brat.

"Are you gonna sleep the whole day?" Newt asked.

"Not at this rate," Vasquez muttered irritably.

"Only Charmaine's on the vid-phone. Has been for about ten minutes."

"What!?" Vasquez sat bolt upright, no longer tired. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Newt rolled her eyes in her childish exasperation of all things adult.

"I did! Least, I tried. Don't you remember?"

"No." Vasquez rubbed her forehead tiredly. "What'd I say?"

"I dunno but I wrote it down so's I could look it up in a Spanish dictionary," Newt said simply. "What's hoe dair mean?"

"Jod...never mind." Vasquez got to her feet. "Where'd you say she was?"

"Living room."

In the two days following that fateful meeting in her apartment, Charmaine had become an extremely frequent visitor. Hers and Vasquez' was possibly one of the strangest friendships ever to have come about, but something had obviously happened somewhere along the line to spark it off. Attraction of complete opposites, perhaps.

Wondering if it would be possible to dump Newt on Charmaine for a couple of nights a week, and knowing she could never bring herself to do it, Vasquez sat down at the table. After the fracas with the guard, she'd borrowed a mini vid-phone from another one of the residents. It was useless for anything more than about a mile away, but it worked fine for things like this.

"Hi."

"Hi." Charmaine sounded breezy, cheerful, making Vasquez clench a fist in irritation. "Didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, that's alright," Vasquez said bitingly, "I had to get up to answer the phone."

"Oh right. I was wondering...have you thought about what we discussed?"

"What?" Vasquez massaged her forehead tiredly. "What did we discuss?"

"About the self-defence thi-"

"No."

"No you haven't thought about it, or no you're not going to do it?"

"Both. I haven't thought about it because there's no way in hell I'm going to do it!"

"Why not?"

Candidly, Vasquez had no ready response. "I don't think it'll make any difference," she said flatly.

"That's alright for you to say; you can knock the shit out of anyone who threatens you! What'm I s'posed to do? What's my defence?"

"Passive smoking?" Vasquez offered pleasantly.

"Oh, you're in a real sunny mood this morning," Charmaine said sourly.

"Look, not to be rude or anything, but did you call for a reason other than chit-chat? Because I've got a lot going on."

There was a slight silence.

"Someone went missing last night," Charmaine said finally.

Vasquez smothered a yawn.

"Yeah? And?"

There was a silence as Charmaine tried to find a way to phrase what was on her mind.

"I'm the...I've been here for the longest time. Ever since the files-"

"Yeah, what did you see on those files, anyway?" Vasquez said curiously.

The older woman snorted. "Something that belonged in a fucking movie. It was some kinda animal with a head shaped like a banana. Isn't that weird? It said something about acid blood as well; like that's possible!"

Vasquez stared, feeling the bottom start to drop out of her world.

"What?" she said, somewhat hoarsely.

"Yeah, weird huh? Said something else about an old ship but I didn't pay much attention since that was when the security guards came in and-"

"Look, just shut up for a minute and let me think," Vasquez interrupted curtly. "No, scratch that. First tell me when you saw those files. Then shut up and let me think!"

Charmaine shrugged.

"Lessee...about eight months ago, I think. Yeah, it was, 'cause the boys' birthday is in April and we had to cancel the party 'cause the goddamn Company wanted us moved here."

Vasquez stared at her openly. "That's not possible," she said finally.

"Why not?"

"Because Ripley was the only person who knew about these things, and she only gave her report to Gateway five months ago."

"Never heard of any Ripley," Charmaine said bluntly.

"Wish to Christ I fucking hadn't," Vasquez muttered under her breath. Aloud she said, "Did you notice the date on these files?"

"'Bout a year ago. What's going on?"

Vasquez was wondering the same thing. She'd studied the reports Ripley had provided before going down to Acheron, more for her own entertainment than because she believed there was any truth in them, and they'd all been dated a month or so after the other woman's arrival in Gateway.

"A year ago," Vasquez echoed, more for something to say than anything.

They knew. Weyland-Yutani knew all along what was on that planet, though Christ only knows who they found it out from. They knew, and then they sat there smirking as Ripley told her tale before branding her insane.

The smartgun operator shook her head. If all that was true-and Charmaine wasn't imaginative enough to make anything like that up-then that begged the question...actually, Vasquez didn't want to think about what questions it begged. Let alone the answers.

Did McDermott know? Possibly; he had the definite bearing of one who made it his business to find out anything and everything, not to mention his seemingly being in charge of this area.

And where do Newt and I fit into all of this? Vasquez wondered, glancing over at the door leading into her housemate's room. Silencing...no. No, because if that's what they wanted, we'd be dead already. And why didn't they bring Hicks, or Hudson, or any of the others? What was so special about us?

"Penny for 'em," Charmaine said, taking a deep drag on her cigarette.

"What?" Jerked out of her reverie, the smartgun operator glanced over at the older woman.

"D'you know something about the files?" Charmaine said suddenly.

Vasquez grimaced, remembering too late that slow body didn't always mean slow mind.

"To be honest, it sounds like you stumbled across some kind of bioengineering project," she said as dismissively as she could.

"Riiight." Charmaine studied her through suspicious eyes. "So why d'you look like you just saw a ghost?"

Vasquez' mind flicked ahead rapidly, trying to find a good substitute for the truth and decided to alternate between telling it and lying through her back teeth. It was a tried and tested technique, one that had worked very well for her over the years.

"I was sent to a colony on a mission to check out a genetic project. The creatures had gotten loose and most of us were killed."

There was an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Charmaine said finally.

No you're not, Vasquez thought. There was no irritation in it; it was pure matter-of-fact. You couldn't understand it until you'd been there, and you couldn't feel sorry about anything like that until you understood it.

There was another, longer silence.

"God, I hate this place!" Charmaine burst out suddenly. "There's no privacy!"

"Tell me about it," Vasquez muttered, the double meaning fortunately lost on Charmaine.

"There's no security either. If anyone took a fancy to anything here...if some kind of raving lunatic got out and came here or something..."

"Ye-es..." Vasquez said doubtfully, while privately thinking that if you really wanted a raving lunatic, then Sarah Reddick would probably fit the bill pretty well. "There are the defences, though," she added, more to see where this was going than any real desire to console Charmaine.

The other woman favoured her with a sour glance.

"If a six year old kid could get past the security defences, how tough could they be?" She shook her head. "Look, I probably shouldn't be saying this to you, but me'n'my boys're getting out. Soon. This Friday, if possible; that way we'll have the weekend before they're missed from school. Like I said, I've been here the longest and I think I may be next to disappear. You might want to come along. You and that kid of yours, before it's too late," Charmaine added, and cut the transmission before Vasquez could reply.

The smartgun operator sat deep in thought for a few minutes, then glanced up.

"Newt?"

Newt, who had already learned that Vasquez never spoke directly to her unless it was of paramount importance, blinked.

"Yes?"

"How did you get past the guards into this corridor?"

"Through the airducts, of course," Newt said, as if the smartgun operator had just asked a ridiculously stupid question.

"Do you know how far they go?"

"You're going to take a look around outside, aren't you?" Newt said.

"What? No!" Vasquez lied, glancing around quickly to see if anyone else had heard the child's accusation. "What makes you think that?"

Newt shrugged.

"Well, Char was talking about it earlier and I didn't think you'd let some pendo like that guy who came round tell you where you could and couldn't go."

Vasquez shook her head.

"Alright, firstly it's pendejo; if you're going to insult someone behind their back, at least get it right. Secondly, I really don't know what you're talking about. If McDermott asks, I'll tell him the truth; that Charmaine was saying how worried she was that some psycho or burglar could get in through the airducts, so I volunteered to check it out for her because I'm a nice, caring person who just lives to make other people happy."

Newt was silent for a few minutes, then said, "Boy, if he believes that, he must be dumb."

Vasquez shot her a look and Newt, who had already learned to recognise the danger signs, automatically slid off the sofa and started for her room.

"Hold it!" Vasquez said sharply. "I'm not done yet."

Newt froze, then glanced around.

"Um. Is this about me taking the last chicken leg for breakfast?" she asked apprehensively.

Vasquez glared at her.

"No, but thankyou for owning up. When you were back on Acheron, did anything come in, any reports, anything concerning that ship?"

Newt shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? What kind of fucked-up answer is maybe?!" Vasquez demanded sharply.

Newt looked at her with exaggerated patience.

"I'm only six. They didn't show reports and stuff to me. I hadn't even finished the first set of reader books when...when it happened."

"Shit." Vasquez whirled, smashing a fist into the wall in frustration.

There was a delicate silence.

"Vasquez?" Newt said eventually. "Is something, uh, wrong?"

"What do you think?" Vasquez grated, without parting her teeth.

Newt was silent for a couple of minutes, then said, "I think I'm gonna go to my room until you're in a good mood again."

"The way things are going now, kid, you'll be waiting a long fucking time," Vasquez muttered, more to herself than to the girl.

"It's not my fault any of this happened," Newt dared to protest, half stepping back from the look Vasquez turned on her.

"No? Wasn't it your family who brought the first bug into Hadley's Hope?" The smartgun operator shook her head. "Nothing personal, kid, but you and I both know it would've been better if your mother had shot your father rather than bring him back to the colony, because then there's a good chance that all those other people would still be alive!"

There was a stricken silence. Newt's face was white as chalk, a direct contrast to Vasquez who-if the slow red creeping over her own visage was anything to go by-knew that even she'd overstepped the line.

"You know what?" Newt said suddenly, shaking all over. "I hope they do have one of those things! And I hope they catch you sneaking around where you're not s'posed to and I hope they feed you to it!"

Vasquez, who-if the truth be known-was feeling more than a little uncomfortable at what she'd said, raised a black eyebrow, no trace of her emotions showing on her face.

"And if they do, what's to stop them from taking you next?" she answered implacably, trying to ignore the sudden fear the girl's words had ignited. She was no coward by anyone's standards, but as Hicks had once said, nobody had ever expected to face anything like the aliens.

"I survived on Acheron! I can survive here!" Newt glared at Vasquez. "I would've been just fine without you and your friends barging in!"

"Actually, you wouldn't," Vasquez said coolly, "reason being, that precious colony of yours most probably went up in smoke just after we left. A quicker death than facehuggers, I'll grant you, but still death. As for surviving here, if you could make it on your own, you'd never have come to me for help."

Newt's glare intensified.

"I wish I never had now!"

"Well, that fucking makes two of us," Vasquez shot back, not missing a beat, and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her hard enough to make it rattle in its frame.

You're probably reading too much into this, something inside her whispered. Charmaine just saw something...something similar to the aliens, that's all. No reason for you to worry about it.

Right, another little voice said. Banana shaped head...acid for blood...yup, must be a million things like that around.

Vasquez thought about this, then wished she hadn't. Whatever was going on, she was determined to at least find out even if she couldn't do anything.

Why? Let 'em die here, if that's what they want. If the Company plan to develop their own little alien army, that's their affair, not yours.

Vasquez shook her head. That was all very well, but if they really took a dislike to her, she was prepared to bet everything she owned (such as it was) that hers would be the next body lined up for the facehuggers. And Newt...the kid was a pain, but she didn't deserve to die like that.

Vasquez kept moving silently. Skills learned on stealth exercises came in useful now as she moved noiselessly into a doorway, waiting as a pair of scientists walked by, failing to see her in the poor light. Airducts...airducts...where were the airducts?

It took three circuits before she managed to find them and another two before the guards standing in front of them had left. Glancing around, Vasquez unfastened the grilles covering the left and middle ducts, then crawled into the middle one. It took some effort on her part to be able to latch the grille behind her, but she managed in the end and started crawling again. She'd been going for about ten minutes (seemingly the longest of her life) when someone spoke up from underneath.

"Hey, I got movement!"

The smartgun operator pricked up her ears slightly. Marines. For a minute she seriously considered backing out, talking to them, then reluctantly dismissed the idea. Whichever way you looked at it, she wasn't supposed to be there, and somehow Vasquez didn't think the Company would baulk at a little thing like murder...and McDermott would probably issue medals all around if it was her.

"Where?"

"Down there, down the left airduct!"

In spite of the physical discomfort, Vasquez grinned tightly. Suckers.

A smell, one that was irritatingly familiar but which she couldn't quite identify, filtered through the vents. If she hadn't known better, Vasquez would almost have been prepared to swear something had died in there.

Absorbed in her own thoughts, the smartgun operator didn't notice the shaft until it was too late.

It was only about eight feet long and the grille at the end flew open as Vasquez hit it, falling an additional six feet before hitting the ground and tucking into a roll, then straightening up and looking around. Hot pain flashed up her left ankle as she put her weight on it and she winced, then kept moving. Time to rest it later...once she'd figured out what that stink was...

Memory kicked in just as she spun around suddenly, instinctively, providing her with not just the answer but a tag line from a movie she'd watched years ago into the bargain.

Fear is not knowing. Terror is finding out.

The queen opened her mouth and hissed into Vasquez' face.

New Charlottetown was clean and green, as the commercials liked to put it. Rather than turn into the typical rat warren which seemed to be the fate of all other cities that the Company got their claws into, the ruling body had decided to surround every building with ten metres of grassland. Larger and more important buildings, such as malls or cinemas, got thirty.

H Block was luxurious with a capital L. The apartments were large even for New Charlottetown, furnished in the most comfortable and advanced style money could buy.

And in the case of ex-Marine Daniel Spunkmeyer, that was a hell of a lot. Every single room was crammed full of the latest technology. The living room in particular boasted a nine foot by six viewing screen, with DVD players and a full size virtual reality simulator hooked up, so you could observe the movie world from inside. On the opposite wall was a stereo system the size of a small car and shelves containing over five hundred CDs and DVDs...and those were just the favourites. Mundane trivialities such as furniture had been stuffed in as a kind of afterthought.

Of course, where you get well-financed people and luxurious apartments, you get salespeople, Spunkmeyer thought irritably as he cracked open the door for the fourth time that day.

"Look, for the last time, I do not want to buy anyyy-hello." Spunkmeyer pulled the door open wider, sliding smoothly from irritation to flirtation without a hint of mental gear crunching.

"Daniel Spunkmeyer?"

A slight hint of suspicion crept into the young man's voice as he said, "Who's asking?" Not that he minded salespeople looking like this one, but reporters were another matter...and he'd had plenty of those since returning from Acheron.

"I need a pilot. Will Hudson told me to look you up."

Spunkmeyer's eyes clouded over slightly, and he shook his head.

"No. Sorry, but no. I'm not interested." He started to shut the door, only to find the caller had placed her arm on it and was holding it open against him seemingly with no effort at all.

For a few moments they stared at each other. Then Spunkmeyer said softly, "Take your hand off my door."

"I can't do that. I'm sorry."

"Last warning."

"Do you think Hudson would have sent me if it wasn't important?"

"I think that firstly if you don't get your hand off my door this minute I'm gonna push you off and secondly that Will Hudson just got knocked off my Christmas card list for the next ten years!"

"That's not answering my question."

Spunkmeyer shook his head.

"I said no. I'm retired."

"Funny; I don't remember asking your opinion on the matter." She raised a black eyebrow. "Give me five minutes and I'll change your mind; that won't hurt you and if at the end you still want me out after you've heard what I have to offer you, I'll go and you'll never see me again. All I ask is five minutes."

"There's nothing you can offer me that I could possibly want," Spunkmeyer said flatly.

His visitor set her jaw ever so slightly.

"Nothing? Are you sure?"

There was a silence.

"Five minutes," Spunkmeyer said abruptly, and stepped aside enough to let her in.

Ruin smiled very slightly. Her contacts had really turned up gold on this one, and she didn't think Spunkmeyer would turn her away, not when he'd heard what she could give him in return.

Leading her into the living room, Spunkmeyer went through into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, pointedly not offering her one.

Ruin didn't care. She didn't do drugs in any way, shape or form, and caffeine was pretty high on that list as far as she was concerned. Glancing around, she raised her eyebrows.

"Nice place you have here."

"Yeah, it's great, and the clock's ticking. So-since I'm not interested in money and we might as well get that clear right here and now-what can you offer me?"

Ruin told him.

Spunkmeyer listened in silence for a long time, then when she had finished, he stared at her, pale.

"Goddamn." His voice was hoarse. "You...seriously? You can do that?"

"Of course," Ruin answered, as though it was the most trivial of considerations.

"Yeah." Spunkmeyer continued staring at her as though he'd never seen another person before, then gave a slightly shaky laugh. "Fuck me, yeah." He downed the remains of his drink in a single gulp and slammed his mug down on the table. "You got yourself a deal. Yeah. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

Ruin shrugged.

"No time like the present. But let's get one thing clear right now; you wait until after I've found Newt before you get the goods."

"Goods?" Spunkmeyer looked genuinely wounded. "That's hardly a fitting term this day and age."

"Wrong, Dan. This day and age, it's the most fitting term there is."

There was a silence.

"If you're fucking with me on this..." Spunkmeyer began. Ruin waved a hand dismissively.

"Please. I don't make empty offers. I'll play straight with you all the time you play straight with me."

"...Yeah," Spunkmeyer said. It seemed to be all he could say.

"Good. I'll wait for you at the shuttle depot." Ruin raised her eyebrows. "And close your mouth, Dan; you'll suck in a chestburster."

She turned and walked out noiselessly, leaving Spunkmeyer still staring after her and wondering exactly who he'd agreed to team up with.