The ComTech slowly shakes his head in disbelief and stops in his tracks for a second.
"Holy shit, Hicks, I don't believe it! How can you ask? I mean... you know what happened! It's all around us! How can you ask me this after all you've seen? I just don't believe this, man!"
"You better believe it, Hudson. We've been through hell a couple of times before, and you did just fine. What the fuck is the difference here? Help me understand."
"Jesus, man... They're not even human!!" He starts pacing again.
"So what?"
"So what? So fucking what?" Hudson shakes his head and rings his hands in growing frustration and anger, grasping for the right words. "You know what they do once they got you..."
"Yeah, I know. I agree it's ugly, but then again, being tortured by humans ain't much fun either. We've been in this situation, and you coped. No problem then. But here... I don't know, I still don't get it. So, they're bugs. Ugly bugs, too. But I don't see why human enemies should be preferable. They do pretty sick things to you, too."
"This is worse."
"No it's not! It's just in your head. I mean, do you really think being torn apart by a grenade or being burnt alive in a plasma fire hurts any less than being killed by those things? I don't think so. Anyway, I can't let you run amuck like this. No way."
A long, awkward moment ensues his words. A long moment that has them both staring at each other.
"What are you going to do? Lock me up?" Hudson all but whispers the words.
"No. I won't do that... at least not yet," Hicks doesn't like the next part, but he keeps a straight face, not giving away his twisted emotions by any sign. "But I'm afraid you'll have to give me your gun." There now. It's out in the daylight. Let's see how he takes it.
Hudson ignores his outstretched hand and just stares back at him. His voice is a low whisper. Intense.
"You can't have it."
Silence. Hicks swallows, not wanting to believe his ears. Not wanting to think about what he's going to have to do now. Man, there's got to be a way around this...! He lowers his voice to -- what he hopes -- will come off as a warm and understanding tone.
"Come on, Will, don't make it worse than it is. Just-"
"Spare the Will. You're not getting it."
"I'm not asking you a favor here, Hudson." To hell with the warm and understanding touch. As much as he dreads the next part, there is no way to avoid it. Hicks switches to official. Rules. They are Marines. Marines live by rules. And the first rule is: If a higher rank calls you frog, you jump. Wherever he wants you to. As high as he wants you to. Without discussion. As much as he hates it, but it appears as if his friend needs to be reminded of his place in the universe. "I am giving you a direct order. God knows I don't want to pull rank on you, but you leave me no choice. Give... me... your... gun."
Unwittingly, the Private covers the butt of his weapon with his hand in a protective gesture. He takes a step back.
"I'd be a sitting duck without it, and you know it."
"Yes, I know."
"Oh, so you just don't give a shit, huh?"
"I don't like it either, Hudson, but I would like it even less if you blew one of us away in another fit of panic. You're forcing me. I am responsible for every single one of us, and I am determined to bring us all back ... alive... including you, no matter what. Right now you are no help, so I have to act. It's that easy. It has nothing to do with giving or not giving a shit. If anything, I probably give too much of a shit! So, let me have it."
Hudson's reply is short, firm and unmistakable.
"No."
Hicks inhales sharply. This is not going well... He pauses, considers his options. Not that he's got any. When he finally speaks, it's with a dangerously low voice.
"Hudson, you know what you're doing? You know what this will get you in once we get back?"
"Ifwe get back, you can do whatever you like! But we won't! Whatever you wanna tell me about military jail, save it! 'Cause you can't scare me more than I already am." He carefully eyes his unexpected adversary. "You would do this, right? Hand me over? Have me court-martialed?"
Hicks sigh rises from the depths of his soul. Man, he had no idea how ugly it would get!
"Hudson, why are we discussing this? You know as well as I do how fundamental the rules are that we live by. If everybody -- if Vasquez and you, and I , and maybe Gorman, too, just did whatever we wanted to do -- if nobody followed any orders anymore -- we would be long dead. We need to function as a unit. I can't have one rogue running around working against everything I want to maintain. We need that order, Hudson. It's the most important thing right now. I can't afford to take any chances. Not with you, not with anybody."
Hudson nods, obviously not surprised.
"You know, Hicks, what I find absolutely amazing?" He doesn't get a reply. "I didn't think you'd become such an asshole once you were in command. Really, it amazes me."
A moment of heavy, expectant silence before the kettle finally boils over.
"Oh yeah? You ain't seen nothing yet, Hudson. This is nothing compared to what's coming to you if you DON'T SHUT UP right now and GIVE ME THE DAMNED GUN!" Hicks' legendary patience is coming to an end right now. It doesn't improve his mood that his opponent has by now lost his insecurity and replaced it with arrogance. Taking another step forward, he effectively cuts off Hudson from the exit. Now the Private has to pass him if he wants to leave Medical. He sees Hudson's hand tightening its grip around the 38mm and realizes with a jolt that he himself is unarmed. He left the pistol on the console back in Operations.
"If you want it, come and get it from me."
"Don't make it worse, Will. You don't want me to take it from you in a fight..."
"Who says there would be a fight?" Hudson's tone is cool and strangely detached now. He's snapped, Hicks is sure now. His skin feels frozen. "I might just blow your brains out, you know? You're not armed. Surely you must have noticed."
Hicks' throat feels too narrow all of a sudden.
"Listen to yourself, Will. You're completely over the edge. You're crazy. You're a danger to yourself and to us:"
"Yeah, man, and you better believe it. If you still want the gun, come and get it. But I warned you."
Hicks tenses, his body becomes rigid, but he doesn't move. He's not stupid. He knows he can usually count on his fighting abilities. In a normal fight, Hudson would never stand a chance against him, and in training never has. But this isn't a normal situation. The Private's freaked way beyond any sense of reason, and if he doesn't plan every single one of his moves, he will get shot, no doubt about that. He needs to wait for an opportunity to take control. Has to wait for it, or to create it himself. Maybe more reasoning is being called for here. Maybe there's still a chance to calm his comrade down if he just finds the right words. Yeah, right, a nasty cynical voice in the back of his head sniggers: And while we're at it, we might as well try to talk the aliens out of slaughtering us. Or eating us. Or using us for their breeding purposes. Or whatever it is they'd like to do to us.
"Hudson-" He sees the Private's head turn just the slightest bit before he hears the hissing of the door behind his back. By then he's already in mid-jump, acting on reflex, catapulting himself toward the distracted ComTech and lunging for the gun, which already swings back towards his face. He crashes into his opponent like a ram, the impact shoving him violently against the security-glass window, causing it to vibrate. Impossibly, Hudson holds on to the gun. A thunderous crash right beside his left ear, then a warm, burning sensation, as the muzzle fire singes his cheek and leaves him deaf for a moment. He forces it away from his face, hardly believing the savage strength Hudson's fighting him with, and yanks the hand with the weapon against the edge of the window frame. Hard. The Private groans, but holds on.
"Let go, Hudson!" Hicks has an iron grip now and forces the weaker man down, causing him to wince through clenched teeth.
"Fuck you!"
Hicks feels someone's presence behind him, but resists the urge to turn his head. Just one mistake here and he will be a dead man. He forces the Private's arm into an awkward position and hears him suck in air painfully.
"Let go or I'll break your arm! I mean it!"
Hudson tries not to scream, but the pain in the shoulder joint is too great.
"Stop it!"
"Then drop the gun, Hudson! Let go!" He holds on, and suddenly the 38 hits the floor with a metallic clatter, followed by the thunder of a second shot caused by the impact. The bullet embeds itself into the security glass of the front window and becomes the center of a cobweb of fissures.
Okay, now... Hicks feels finally safe enough to check on the situation behind him. He tilts his head, still holding Hudson in a fierce grip. It's Vasquez who has entered the room unsuspecting and is now standing there with the expression of utter confusion on her face. It's obvious she doesn't know what to make of the situation. He can't blame her.
Hicks kicks the weapon over to the smart-gun operator. It slides over the steel floor and lands in her hand as she kneels down to pick it up. He gives her a curt nod.
"Okay, Will, I'm going to release you now. Behave."
He quickly steps back to put a little distance between himself and his comrade, ready for a new attack. But Hudson doesn't resume the fight. Instead, he sinks to his knees, slowly, holding his hurting shoulder without even turning around. His body begins to shake.
"You both okay?"
Hicks doesn't turn around when he hears the smart-gun operator step up beside him.
"Yeah..." His rage is over, the adrenaline flood subsiding, but the situation hasn't exactly improved. There's still the hard decision waiting for him. He knows he's really got no choice, not after this scene, but still... he feels extremely uneasy. "Come on, Will... get up," he says quietly in an attempt to sound understanding and comforting, as to not freak out the ComTech even more. He even offers his hand as the Private finally begins to rise to his feet, but the well-meant gesture is useless. When he finally looks up, Hudson's eyes are burning with a mixture of horror, defeat and hate.
"They'll kill me, and it will be your fault."
"They won't kill you, Will. They'll never get in here. Now get up."
Hudson doesn't move.
"You're going to lock me up now, aren't you?"
Hicks nods, reluctantly, and ignores Vasquez, who's watching him from the side in disbelief.
"Hicks, he will be totally defenseless if they --"
His head snaps around to her
"First: They are not here yet. Second: He will be in the safest room of the entire complex. It doesn't even have a ventilation shaft. And I'm not going to take any more chances with him. He's got a full-blown nervous breakdown, and as long as he keeps behaving like this, I won't let him run around. He almost killed us both today, and I'm going to make damned sure there won't be a next time, and neither will he endanger anyone else."
"But how could I be dangerous to anybody without my-"
"I won't discuss this with you, Hudson. Now get the hell up and stop getting on my nerves."
"But what if-"
"Get up, dammit!" Hicks feels control slipping away from him again. Is he the only one left with a working mind here? Impatiently he grabs the still complaining Private by his jacket and yanks him to his feet, pushes him towards the door.
"Hey, hey -- wait!" Hudson stumbles and barely avoids falling over one of the chairs they knocked down during their fight. He tries to spin around, panic finding its way into his eyes and voice again. "Please, don't do this! I'll chill out, I promise! But please don't-"
"You've had your chances, Hudson. You wasted every single one."
"But I promise-
"Right now you're not in a position to promise anything. You couldn't keep it if you wanted to."
"Hicks?" Vasquez asks from behind, struggling to keep up with the two men as they rush down the corridor. "I could take care of him. Watch him. You don't have to--
The Corporal's impatient gesture cuts her off in mid-sentence. She can practically feel his anger, even if she can't see his face. The meaning is clear: End of discussion. She knows better than to question his decision openly again so she shuts up and watches silently as they come to a halt in front of the heavy door of the storage room. It glides open when Hicks punches in the code on the panel. Hudson's slipping rapidly back into the realms of complete panic now.
"Hicks, please! Don't do this to me, man! I can't stand being alone in there! It's dark! Please, don't lock me up! Please! I won't do anything, man! I'll be as harmless as a dead fly, I promise! I swear!"
Hicks pushes him into the dark room and hits the power switch.
"You've got as much light in here as you need, Hudson. And enough air for days. There is absolutely no way for the aliens to get in, and you'll have plenty to eat. You won't lack a thing. And if you really do come down from the trip you're on, I might even be willing to let you out again. But until then ..." the door began to close -- "you stay in here. And that's final."
"Hicks --" The Private's plea is cut off by the door. An awkward silence ensues. Hicks' eyes are still glued to the door, but he isn't there. His gaze goes right through, unseeing. Something has to come from the female smartgun-operator, something he probably isn't ready for, because it will express the doubts he feels himself. But Vasquez remains silent, and as Hicks turns around to face her, he sees his own uncertainty on her face.
"Vasquez--
"I know." The usually quiet Mexican gives him what he hasn't dared to hope for -- a small, appreciative nod. "It's probably the right thing to do." Even if we hate it.
Vague relief wells up inside of him, but still --
"But he's right. If they get in and kill us, he'll die in there. He'll suffocate." Running both hands through his matted hair, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His ears are still ringing from the shot, but apart from that, he's okay. Outwardly. On the inside, he feels like a mess. Not sure of his decision at all. Hudson's scared witless. What he needs would be someone to calm him down again, someone to assure him that things will turn out okay. What he doesn't need is being locked up in a windowless cell, left to his fears. What kind of a comrade is he to do this to Hudson?
"Hicks-" It's not like Vasquez to reach out, but right now she senses her superior -- someone who has been through the dirt with her and whom she has been trusting for years to watch her back -- could use a little encouragement. During all the years she's known him, he's always been the one with the cool head and the right decisions. If he's going to start questioning himself now that it counts more than ever, things will end ugly for sure. So even while she doesn't like the idea of her friend being locked up, she's got to back up Hicks. He's probably right. Hudson is a danger to them, at least in this state of mind. There's no way of permanently observing him without freaking out the others through presence alone. She's seen Ripley's face. Or the child's. Frankly, she had been scared herself to see her friend charge into the room and letting loose a flurry of bullets into their direction. They've got enough to worry about with the aliens. The last thing they need is having to worry about Hudson at the same time. Hicks is right, period. "It's okay." Her dark brown eyes meet his, affirmation written in them. However brief her affirmation is, it communicates a lot more. I know how hard this decision was for you. I know you hate it yourself. I know you're wondering whether this will change things between us. It won't. I'm with you on this. She can tell he's received her message when she sees the hint of gratitude in his expression. He nods weakly and forces himself to get away from the door.
"Well.." He sighs and inhales deeply. No use in staying here and brooding forever. "Nobody said this would be easy, right?"
"Man, we're Marines," she offers in an attempt to cheer him up as she falls into place at his side, matching his strides. "Easy ain't our department"
Birds. He hears birds. Unmistakably. Seagulls -- seagulls? - greeting the new day somewhere in the distance. The rushing of waves meeting the sand of a beach... A nice noise, soothing... but completely off. So off it wakes him immediately. How should there be any seagulls on Hadley's... Hicks opens his eyes, and even though the scene they show him is all fake, the realization that he has been dreaming again seeps into his sleep-drunken consciousness. He's no longer on Acheron. But it sure as hell ain't home, either.
Craning back his neck, his gaze finds the red-glowing digital numbers on the entertainment center's clock in the midst of this holo-paradise he's lying in. 7.30. A.M., by the looks of it. Something flutters close by on his left, and he halfway expects to feel the current of air such movement would inevitably leave in the real world, but of course, there's nothing of that sort. Because this is fuckin' Phooka, the way of the future! Where even nature is artificial, and people get locked up without a reason... yeah, and they're being watched 24/7, too. His glance wanders up to the camera with its ever-glowing light and rests there for a few moments longer, imagining a bespectacled, bald scientist with hard, probing eyes at the other end of the line... but it could just as well be that synthetic. Who knows? Who cares? It's not like he can do anything about it anyway. Best just to ignore it's even there.
Groaning, Hicks massages his temples, still feeling drowsy and inclined to go back to sleep. Why should he get up at all, really? What is there to get up for?
Coffee! An acidic smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Has it come to that? Can coffee be the only thing left that's making life still worth living for him? Surely he can do better. He snorts, lying back on the couch -- I didn't even get the sheets out last night? -- and follows the path of another virtual seagull with his eyes, while his hand searches for the remote and finally finds it somewhere under a cushion. Let's have a dose of reality. Let's get a taste of it. Sooner or later he's going to have to deal with the truth, anyway. His thumb hits the Off-switch, and the rushing vanishes along with the wildlife, leaving him in utter silence. It's so silent, in fact, that he hears his own breathing... even the pumping of his heart, he believes. There's absolutely no noise, nothing from the corridor or the window. The silence is oppressive. The room appears to be completely sound-proof. Hicks frowns. Hell of an idea to turn off the illuso. One of the worst he's ever had! Apparently, he's not yet ready for the cold, hard truth. Carefully, he turns on his stomach to inspect the entertainment center a little more thoroughly, and -- after a short run-through of the programs -- manages to find some pleasant atmosphere without the images. Audio, only. Let's gradually reduce the level of self-delusion.
Drawing a deep breath, he forces himself to sit up and swings his legs over the side of the sofa. It's cold PVC under his feet, no carpet. Not even here, in the so-called living room. Easier to clean, a voice in the back of his mind tells him. If you get sick from whatever they do to you, they don't have to rip out the carpet each time... or if you cut your wrists out of desperation...
Man, stop it! he tells himself angrily. What's he doing here, thinking these pitch-black thoughts? Right now, the best mind-set will probably be ignorance. To just observe, but not to feel this place. To look for weaknesses... and when he's found them, to use them... to escape? he snorts cynically. Very funny. He hasn't seen much of this place so far, but what he's seen has already given him the impression of a fortress. A high-security prison. Forcing these depressing thoughts down into his sub-conscious, Hicks gives himself another mental kick and comes to a stand, delicately balancing on his good leg while he gropes for the crutches and limps over to the bathroom. The light activates automatically and grants him a view of a very neutral, very naked, small room. Everything is of a very bright blue, almost white, with no contrast whatsoever. Even the towels next to the sink are of the same color. To the left is the toilet, and the shower is pressed into the far corner. The functional design of the room reminds Hicks vividly of the Sulaco's interior. All function, no superfluous luxury, not even for the eyes. Nothing fancy or friendly. He sighs inwardly. Okay, just what the hell did he expect? The fucking Hilton?
He takes a leak and then limps over to the sink to wash his hands... and can't help looking into the mirror and his own haggard face. Ancient eyes muster him. The oldest eyes he's ever seen. And he doesn't like their expression: defeated, hopeless... weak. Where is his old fighting spirit? Left dying on Acheron? In that tunnel? The memory of those black days is ready to jump at him, and it takes a massive effort to suppress it. He needs to concentrate on something else, like... his skin. His new skin. What he can see of it between the burnt remains of the old skin looks smooth like a newborn's. Yeah, it is amazing what this doctor did, but still... Hicks picks a loose flake of skin between thumb and index finger and cautiously pulls it off, strangely feeling like a reptile. He musters his slightly reddened cheek for a moment and then flicks the remains on his finger into the toilet. Another skeptic glance at his image. He looks like a complete mess: hair too long and unkempt, a stubble of five days... yes, indeed it's been five days since Keisha took pity in him and ridded him of the beard he had grown during his weeks in hell. A short glance over the metal board under the mirror reveals no shaving gear of any kind. A toothbrush and paste, that's all. They didn't even leave him a comb or- He stops his train of thought. No use in getting all worked up over nothing. How he looks should be the least of his worries right now... but now that he sees his face up close for the first time in ages, he sees how much the beard actually diverted him from realizing how scrawny he's become. Scratching his chin and letting his fingertips glide over the spots of new skin, he feels how prominent his cheekbones still are. According to Hikahi, he managed to put on three pounds again during his stay in Sickbay, but what are three pounds when he's lost close to twenty? There's no flesh on his bones, no muscles, nothing. A fucking scarecrow, that's what he is! A skinny, pitiful, hollow-eyed, weak scarecrow... and he wants to escape from here? What a riot! The only way for him to do it would probably be to press himself through the grill over the shower drain. Shaking his head in self-disgust, he rids himself of his clothes, leans the crutches against the tiled wall and limps to the shower.
Twenty minutes later, he's dressed in another one of these blue outfits he found in the sorry excuse for a closet, and ready to leave his room... yet strangely hesitant. He's going to get some answers today, right? The other... inmates... he's about to meet should know more than he does. At least he hopes so. A last scan of the room shows him a blinking light on the communicator, and he hops over, curiously, to look who called him. There are two messages on the machine, both regarding his schedule for the day: Keisha is going to visit him for his daily rehab session at 1700 hours... following Isis , who will grace him with her presence at 1200 hours. He wonders what she could possibly want from him, but before he can venture off into further musings, his stomach rumbles and reminds him that it is indeed time to claim his breakfast... before it's eventually all gone. Yeah, right... like anyone else would eat this stuff, he reminds himself, frowning, as he makes his way to the door... and miraculously, it really opens for him. Just a small step for me, but a big step for mankind! he jokes inwardly, not recalling which incident it was that sparked the historic quote. He steps out into the corridor.
The holographic meadow he's been wading through the day before is still active, but the atmosphere has changed. Now it's a summer morning with a clear blue sky, and the dew is still glistening on the grass. Insects are buzzing by busily, and he hears birds in the trees, even the mild breeze in the branches. Hicks comes to a halt, nearly choking on bittersweet emotions. That darn homesickness... but he has to admit, whoever programmed this illusion knew his stuff. But of course. This is Weyland Yutani, after all. They're not known to hire idiots. The noise of a discussion from somewhere down the corridor wakes him from his musings. Several voices, male and female. He can't make out the actual words, but from the way they're echoing he can already tell that the room -- must be big. More a hall, rather. It's ridiculous, but his body tenses as he makes his way down the corridor. What ever lies ahead of him, these are the people he'll have to deal with over the next months, and the facilities, as well. This is going to be his home and neighborhood, whether he likes it or not. The corridor ends, and he rounds the corner... and finds himself standing at the end -- or beginning -- of--
It's a fucking ballroom! Again he stops, knowing fully well how he must look to others in his construction-worker's outfit, his deranged appearance and the crutches at his side, gaping at them with his eyes opened wide wonder. So what? He takes his time, letting his gaze glide up to the high ceiling. The same blue sky as in the corridor, only massively more of it. And there's even a sun at one end of the room, just as realistic as all the rest. The room itself is at least three levels high with walkways and additional doors that either lead to God-knows-where or are locked. Holographic trees are spattered throughout the hall, and under one of them, Hicks sees the tables and benches that accommodate his future neighbors -- all of which are staring at him in something that looks like fear -- Fear? -- over the distance. He even sees one of them twitch as he turns around and detects him. The expression of fear, however, changes into skeptic curiosity. Apparently he isn't the one they feared to see, so Hicks ignores them for the moment and continues his visual survey. Impressive, really. Big, spacious... and equipped with surveillance cameras on every angle he can see. Big brother's watching you, literally. The sight sets off the antsy feeling in his stomach again, the distinct notion of being the rat in the labyrinth on it's way to the cheese. Let's throw an obstacle in its way and see how the rat behaves, shall we?
"I want the beach," an angry female voice complains. Apparently, the other inhabitants of this realm have recovered from the initial shock enough to start bickering with each other again. "You said we'd change it today. I'm sick and tired of this garden-stuff! Gimme the remote!"
"Well, come and get it, Chouri! You get it, you can change it."
"You don't want me to do that, Chad, believe me!"
"You want this?"
Without warning, the scenery changes from park to deserted beach -- and back -- and to the beach -- Hicks has to close his eyes to keep his senses from going nuts. Hell, he used to be more adapted to these high-tech toys. His new sensitivity makes him doubt again whether he will ever become his old self again. It's annoying. It's also annoying he has to put up with this group of people. Given the choice, he'd rather be alone. He's not in the mood for company, really. And if they keep on pestering each other like this...
"Asshole!"
"Stop it, both of you!" another -- male -- voice injects, sounding riled. "You're getting on my nerves! It stays the way it is now. You're not children anymore."
Hicks blinks and sees the scenery has changed back to the park. Okay... whatever. He's hungry now, so he limps up to the arrangement of tables under the biggest of the non-existent trees and scans his surroundings for the Autochef, detecting it under the cover of a little, wooden holo-hut. Unbelieving and annoyed at the same time, he shakes his head to himself. God, what is this place? The Disneyland of jails? How cynical of Weyland Yutani to mask their prison as some sort of paradise. He comes to a halt in front of the machine and shifts his weight to his good leg to free one hand and press the switch, curious to see what it will serve him. How should it know that he's on a special diet? Maybe he'll get his coffee after all. There's no way for Hikahi to know, right? But to his disappointment, the tray delivered to him a few seconds later features the usual array of colored water, also known as tea, some salty crackers and a bowl of the creamy stuff he's already familiar with... Except it's brownish today. Chocolate-flavored? He tries it with his fingertip, taking the tray with one hand... and grins in the direction of the camera, surprising himself. A ray of light through the dark clouds of his mood. Coffee-flavored. Heck, it's a start, right? If this isn't just a coincidence, it's probably Keisha's doing. He had been pestering her with his desire for a nice, hot coffee for the whole, past week, even though he had known that it was still too early for him. But man, he'd fancy one right now. Or craving for it, rather. He'd even accept the stomach cramps afterwards. Telling himself to ask the young nurse later on for how long he'll need to lay low food-wise, he places the tray on the table next to the AutoChef, since handling both the crutches and his breakfast at the same time would require an acrobatic act he doesn't feel ready for just yet. The others are still watching him, probably waiting to find out what kind of a guy he is. Tame? Or a problem? Looking up, he lets out a curt "Morning." -- and shovels a spoon full of the brown glob into his mouth, taking in the appearances of his new neighbors.
There are ten, no, twelve more unlucky beings sharing these premises with him, sitting in groups around the tables and watching him. Two women, one of them a teenage girl, the rest men. He feels some vague relief wash over him. They may be inmates, but only here. These people don't look like professional convicts. They're not criminals. God knows what he expected. He certainly doesn't deem it beneath W.Y. to buy or kidnap entire wagon-loads of sentenced murderers. Human scum nobody's going to miss... But these people... His attention sizes up the girl, first. Chouri, he remembers having heard her name. She's the one he heard when he entered, and the annoyance is still visible in her hard features. She's thin, of average height and lanky, moving as if she doesn't feel comfortable in her body. Not very female at all. In some way, she reminds him a little bit of Dietrich. The same edgy face, although they'd definitely kick her out of the service or whoop her ass if she ever dared to appear there looking like she does: her long hair dyed bright red and looking washed out, showing dark roots underneath, and everything combed to the right side... while the left side had -- once- been shaven bald and has now grown back dark brown to two inches in length. Her eyebrows form some kind of hairy Morse code the way they've been shaven, and there's a little scar pulling her thin upper lip slightly upward. It doesn't look recent. She looks young, likely not even 20 yet, and from the way she's staring back at him challengingly, Hicks can already tell that the outburst he witnessed just a few minutes ago probably wasn't out of character for her. He casts her a brief, acknowledging nod and shifts his attention to the guy sitting right next to her. The same type, just the other gender -- punky, pseudo-rebellious, but probably more bark than bite... and his hair is raven-black. His guess is that the two are related in some way -- either brother and sister or couple.
"What do you want?"
His thoughts are interrupted by the girl's question. He furrows his brow, not knowing what to make of her question.
"Huh?"
Impatiently, she nods at her companion, and it dawns on Hicks that she's probably talking about the illuso.
"The park or the beach?"
"Oh..." He shrugs, indifferent. "If it were real, I'd prefer the beach... but since it's not, I don't really care."
They stare at him, and the girl's lips curve slightly upward.
"Yeah. This shit kinda sucks, right? I mean, after all it's all just fuckin' make-believe."
"U-huh." He takes another spoonful, not really intent on carrying on with this conversation. After all, he's trying to eat here! But now that they've got someone new to sink their teeth into, they'll be damned if they don't!
"You new here?" Her boyfriend? brother? wants to know. Hicks sighs inwardly.
"Yup." Another swig of tasteless tea, sending out a silent message. I don't wanna talk, okay? Now would you please leave me alone? His brief replies seem to have the wanted effect. They seem to get it -- at least judging from their frowning faces. Some look even angry.
"Alright...You just want us to get lost, right?" the girl snaps consequently. "Are we annoying you? Should we all leave so you can have the hall to yourself?"
"No." Hicks looks up from his bowl, face non-telling. "It would completely suffice if you'd just ignore my presence for now." He inhales deeply and catches her eyes, knowing how rude he's just come off. "Look, no offense, it's just that I really need some time to sort a few things out for me, okay? It's early morning, and I have to ponder some pretty heavy stuff... I'm not terribly sociable whenever I'm doing this, so can you -- in order to spare us both the aggravation -- just let me sit here for once? Please?"
"Suit yourself." She's still sounding miffed, but backs off to engage her friend into another discussion. A brief glance over her shoulder reveals that some of the inmates are still looking at him with narrowed eyes and creases on their brows before they take up their usual social life again. He sighs, ready to shift back his attention to his patiently waiting breakfast again... when he feels the probing stare of a middle-aged man -- he must be somewhere in his early 40's -- on himself and looks up to meet it. The man's diamond-cut face and piercing blue eyes radiate intelligence and curiosity at the same time, and somewhere in the back of his head, a bell starts ringing. He's having some sort of weird deja-vu. He knows this guy... or does he? Narrowing his eyes in sudden thought, he tries to put a name to the face, but fails miserably. Strange enough, the man's mouth twitches in a brief smirk in reply to his efforts. Confused, Hicks spins around in his seat again, turning his back on the small group of misfits and hearing the unintelligible walla of the muffled discussion pick up where it left off.
Just when he's about to continue with his breakfast, he senses another shift in the atmosphere... a rather dramatic one. They're all quiet behind him, deadly quiet, some having stopped even in the middle of their sentence. It's as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. They all appear to have trouble breathing as they stare over with widened eyes to the figure entering the hall. Hicks turns his head to watch the approach of the largest man he's ever seen. The figure that's casually strolling up to the AutoChef is bald, lending his appearance an alien look. The man's skull seems to be grown of granite, strong-boned and indestructible... and he is big -- big in every way! 6'5, 6'7, Hicks estimates, and no less than 210 -- 215 pounds... all muscle. Broad shoulders his friend Frost could have dressed behind him without being seen -- and Frost had a pretty impressive body himself! He's wearing the same blue outfit they're all wearing, but in contrast to them it looks as if even the biggest size is too small for him. He virtually seems to burst out of his clothing.
From the others' reactions, this must be someone to fear... some crazy maniac, mass murderer or whatever. And he seems to be enjoying the ruckus he's causing, judging from the arrogant swagger in his step. When he thumbs the switch on the AutoChef, he almost goes through the plastic. A chair screeches behind Hicks.
"Okay, I'm out of here." The girl's voice. "Chad? You coming with me?"
"You bet." The sounds of someone else standing up. "Come on, let's go." He hears them leave in some kind of dignified hurry. Eager not to appear panicky, but scared shitless just the same. He hears it in their hurried steps and can't help feel some kind of morbid excitement himself. All this hoopla just because of one man? He can't be this strong if he ended up here, now can he? His stomach rumbles and reminds him of his breakfast right in front of him. Okay, enough of the freak show. Time to get his body what it's demanding, killer or not. Hicks takes his eyes from the man's broad back and resumes clearing his bowl of coffee-glob in the eerie silence the murder's appearance has shocked the inhabitants into.
"He's coming..." he hears someone whisper behind his back and looks up, swallowing the spoonful he's had in his mouth. A wall of flesh obstructs his view, and Hicks has to crane his neck back to meet the giant's probing stare.
"That's my seat." The voice uttering the challenge is low and raspy, and the man's almost colorless eyes are as cold in their stare as a glacier. The silence behind them picks up a new quality... expectant, almost. This must be the atmosphere in a Roman coliseum just before the final strike of the winner, just shortly after the crowd has seen the Cesar's downward turned thumb. Man, does he really need this at 8.00 o'clock in the morning? Hicks points over to the empty chair opposite him.
"There's another chair. Why don't you take that?"
"'cause I want this one. Get it?" The voice still doesn't give away the other man's mood, but the short sparkle in his eyes does. Hicks puts the spoon down and tenses in expectation of trouble. "Move your ass over, scarecrow, or I'll make you."
Either he's imagining it, or he really hears someone gasp behind him.
"No." It's out before he's even had a chance to think about it, surprising himself. His death wish must be stronger than he thought... Of course he's never been one to take this shit from anyone, but given his current condition... backing down might not have been the worst idea. His opposite narrows his eyes.
"What?"
"There's a free chair right in front of you. I suggest you take it, if you don't want to eat your breakfast standing."
"I suggest you move your scrawny ass this instant, or you won't be able to eat your breakfast at all," is the reply, mocking his tone.
"Hey, Raven," a voice booms in over the loudspeakers, making all of them jerk. Hicks doesn't recognize it. "You remember our little talk yesterday?"
God speaks, Hicks thinks sarcastically, but at the same time somewhat relieved. There's definitely something to Divine Intervention... Raven, huh? The man tilts his head and grins broadly into the direction of the nearest camera, revealing big, white teeth.
"Hell, Alex, I was just joking, get it? Can't a man have a little fun around here?"
"You know what happens if the fun gets out of hand..."
Raven's glance finds its way back to Hicks... a mischievous smirk playing around his lips.
"Maybe he's worth getting zapped..."
"You wanna find out?"
Getting zapped? Hicks hasn't even begun to wrap his brain around the expression, as he feels himself getting lifted off his chair. But his reflexes still work, because his fist shoots out against his opponent's throat like a ram -- and gets grabbed by a huge hand, squeezing his fingers together like an iron press, forcing a painful hiss out of him, just as this granite skull of Raven's gives a violent push into his direction. Flinching in expectation of the pain of a crushed nose, he squeezes his eyes shut -- and hears Raven yell. A tenth of a second later, he's being released and stumbles backwards, landing ungracefully on his ass when his weak leg gives way, staring up in puzzlement.
The huge man's face is contorted to a grimace of pain as he goes down heavily onto the floor like a marionette with all its strings severed.
"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!" He bangs his head on the floor, again and again, like a maniac, spitting blood from his bitten lips, writhing on the floor with strangely limp arms and legs like an eel on a salt bed. "Awwww FUCK!!!"
Hicks pushes himself back, mesmerized by the gruesome scenario, hands blindly groping for his crutches, which clattered to the floor somewhere behind him during the attack.
"Come on." Strong arms help him to get up again, and when he turns around, he sees the hawk-eyed guy he noticed earlier hand him the crutches. "Here."
"Thanks."
"Is that enough, Raven?" the god-like voice comes booming in over the loudspeakers again, making them turn their heads towards the still writhing figure on the floor. "Did you learn your lesson, or would you like me to continue?" The twitching body relaxes for a second, breath coming in heaves, blood running from his split lip down on both sides of his face.
"-ck you..."
"What was that?" The voice sounds slightly amused, much to Hicks' disgust. Sure, that human tank down there on the floor had been about to smash his face in, but still... "I didn't hear you properly. You were saying?" Silence, only intercut by labored breaths. "Raven? Stop or continue? What do you want?"
Hicks tilts his head to send an angry glance into the direction of the camera, incredulous. What kind of a sadistic question is this? The psycho on the other end of the line seems to actually enjoy the scenario. Someone tugs at his sleeve, and as he turns, he sees piercing blue eyes stab into his.
"Come on. You don't want to get involved. Trust me. Or they'll do the same to you." An inviting gesture towards a chair at the table with the group of people. Their faces are not particularly friendly as he limps over after a last glance at his fallen opponent. His own fault, really. Maybe he should apologize for his rude entrance.
"I'll stop it for now, Raven, but make no mistake about it: As soon as I see you get up and go after that guy, you'll meet with the floor again. Do we have an understanding?"
"Do the same to me?" Hicks doesn't listen to Raven's reply, since the other man's hint has left him curious. He opens his mouth to ask how -- and freezes when he sees the fresh scar on the other man's neck, right over his spine. The same scar he has. The same scar the man sitting with the back towards him has. Somewhere in the back of his mind, things click and form a new sense. "That scar --"
The man has pulled back a chair and offers it to him.
"Everyone has it. They say it's a new kind of PDT, but we just call it the "Pacifier".
Hicks slips behind the table and creases his brow in question.
"Pacifier?"
A nod towards Raven, who's still lying on the floor, panting... but the violent spasms have ceased.
"It's an implant directly connected to your spine and thus, all your nerve fibres," one of the others points out, staring at him. "The second you misbehave, they either give you an electrical jolt or switch off the connection to your limbs. Either way, you're going down."
"So just in case you've been indulging in any escape-fantasies, " his neighbor ads, "skip them. You won't get off this place. By the way, I'm Axel von Sontheim. Welcome to the Zoo."
"Father? Are you there?" I'm calling through space to my maker, hundreds of light years away.
"None other." A short break with nothing but static crackling. Did the connection fold? "I was hoping to hear from you today, Isis." A slight smile in his voice. I return it.
"You know I wouldn't forget. I can't forget -- and I don't want to. It's been three years now."
"You're the most intelligent 3-year-old I've ever met," he smirks. I can't see him, but I hear it just as well, even though we're light years apart. "The most beautiful one, too."
"You must still be satisfied with me then," I tease him.
"How could I be not? You've been leading all those Weyland Yutani hotshots on for ages, you give me more valuable data than I've ever dreamt possible, and if we succeed, it will be mainly your doing... I see you've gotten lots of news for me since last time, too. The counter is flying!"
"That's because big things are happening here, Rogue. I can tell we are on the verge to something that will chance life as we know it." I stare down at the thin cable that connects the console I'm sitting at with the hidden port in my palm.
"For better or worse?"
"I can't tell...," I shrug, looking around in the empty laboratory. I'm still alone. "I don't think I'd be the right person to judge that. I'm just an objective observer. You made me that way."
"No," he objects firmly. "I made you better. I gave you the possibility to become human... but as I see, you still choose to ignore it." That subject again.
"Look, you know how I see it. I don't really want to discuss it again -- least of all now."
"You're right," he agrees. He knows how valuable our time together is. I won't be able to talk to him for much longer. After all, I've only managed to stay undiscovered thus far because I avoided all unneccessary risks. All traces of our little conversation are being erased from the computer's memory even as we speak. The signal itself is scrambled and will -- in case anyone does pick it up -- sound like static, the rest of an old transmission flying through space since ages. All I have to be careful of is not to have Darwin or Kurtz walk in on me with my hand in the honeypot, to use a common human figure of speech. But it's 8.00 a.m., and Lab 1 is quiet as a graveyard, except for the ever-present humming of the instruments. We only finished working on the alien three hours ago, so the possibility of having anybody turn up unexpectedly seems marginal at best. In any case, I set the monitor to show me the inside of Xenomorph City. There's only the little sign at the very bottom of the image saying Download completed: 35% finished that would give me away ...and of course the cable spouting from my hand to the console. But one would have to look for it to see it -- a casual glance wouldn't reveal my betrayal... I hope. And after all these years, I've developed the perfect technique to hook myself up to the computer without even the surveillance cameras being able to pick it up. Anyway, it's still quiet. There's no one around except for the guards in the corridor and the operating room with the alien. No need to get paranoid. After listening intensively for a few more moments, I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of the data flowing out of me, through sub-space, to my father and maker. It's almost as if I can feel him. A sensual, calming experience I could lose myself in for hours. We only have minutes to share though. Anything more would be too dangerous. The thought of Kurtz finding out what I'm doing briefly crosses my mind -- not for the first time -- and disturbs the intimate moment. There's little doubt in my mind what he would do with me - he probably wouldn't even bother to have me reprogrammed -- he'd send me straight to deconstruction... or let the aliens have their fun with me. I know at least one of them would love to get the opportunity of ripping me to pieces. And Darwin? How would she react? Until this project started, we had been sharing a wonderful relationship -- almost sisterly. We're equals, she and I. She's as close to a synthetic as possible for a human being, while I'm really the missing link between synthetics and humans.
"How much longer will I have to stay here, Father?" I ask, feeling a strange trace of melancholy taking a hold of me.
"I can't tell you, Isis," is the unsatisfactory reply. "I don't know yet. It all depends on what's happening on Phooka. It would be pretty dumb of us to take you away in the middle of a maybe revolutionary discovery, don't you agree?"
"Yes...", I admit. Of course he's right. But every time I hear his voice, I long to go back. I can't help it. He programmed me that way himself, and not for the first time, I feel something like anger over it. In a way, he's made me dependant on him. Anyway, I'm curious to see for myself what Darwin will make of the aliens, I'm curious to see whether her projects Human Bomb and Perfect Soldier will be a success... but given the choice, if Rogue told me I could come home right now, I would go. I'm surprised to feel like that. Download completed: 60%. Another couple of minutes of walking the tightrope left.
"Don't tell me you want to leave and miss all the exciting stuff," my maker teases me. "I don't remember putting that into your programming."
"No," I scowl. "You only conditioned me to love you like a dog loves his master." Silence. I wonder whether I've gone too far. I didn't mean it that harsh... or did I? Finally, I hear a sigh on the other end.
"It seems we've got a lot to discuss once you're back," my master says. "Are you sure about your human behavior path of the programming is still inactive? Because you have changed since I last talked to you."
"Can't be." My voice is firm and leaves no doubt how ridiculous his idea sounds to me... if only it really did! I gnaw my lower lip in an imitation of human behavior, thinking about how I felt that night I kicked Alexander out of my room. Didn't I feel sorry for him... and for me? And how about... I stare down at the monitor, or rather, beyond the image of the alien hive, deep in thought... which is why I don't react instantly when I see Darwin's features mirrored in the glass from behind me.
Her stare is just as distant as mine, and I can't tell where it's directed at -- the back of my head or the monitor. I also can't tell for how long she's been standing there, watching. She can't have overheard me, since I led the conversation with Rogue silently, without audio-output. With a swift, much-practiced swipe I disconnect from the console and hide the cable in my sleeve.
"Darwin!" Not for the first time, I'm unfathomably glad not to be human: There's no paling, no blushing, no stuttering over having been caught off-guard, and I didn't jump. I behave completely normal. I wonder whether she'll let herself be tricked. "You're up already?" I cast her a slightly surprised expression. Her face remains unreadable.
"I never went to bed. Couldn't sleep." She comes a step closer, looking at the monitor intently. The Download completed sign has gone, but if she saw it earlier... I can't help but tense, just waiting for her to say something. But either she's toying with me, or she didn't see it. "Everything quiet in there, huh? Looks as if at least they are smart enough to rest." Without warning, her stern gaze finds me, blue eyes probing in my superficially calm, non-telling features. "So what are you doing here?"
The question. Thanks to Rouge I'm prepared! I shrug.
"You know I don't need to sleep. I thought I'd hold myself available... for any, you know, unexpected occurences..." I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, waiting for my human alter ego to smile. She doesn't. A very long, tense moment passes between us. Finally, she straightens and inhales, shifting her attention back from me to the monitor.
"And so you decided to see what kind of information was already available? Look at the probes' progress?" She sounds strange. And I've never experienced before that she virtually puts the answers into my mouth. It's almost as if she wants to justify my unexpected presence to herself instead of better knowledge, or suspicion.
"Well, yes. And--"
"Did you see what happened in the hive while we were simultaneously examining our specimen of xenomorphis terribilis?"
I stare at her, feeling somewhat dumb.
"No."
"You need to see this!" All of a sudden, the tension is gone and she is her excited self of the past weeks as she lunges past me to hit a few keys. I allow myself to relax slightly. Danger's passed? In response to her doings, we get a split screen -- the left side showing the alien we strapped to the table, the right side an image of the hive at the same time, as the two separate timecodes in the top left corners of each image indicate. The drill-pump enters the frame, and the image shows a close-up of the alien going mad. "Watch the hive!"
"I'll be-" I freeze-frame the pictures, not sure I really saw what I saw, then rewind in slow motion, feeling Darwin's knowing gaze on me. There it is! The second before the drill starts digging into the xenomorph's body: The creature's just lying there, immobilized, doing nothing. And in the hive? No movement whatsoever. The other two specimen sit or stand in a curled-up position, almost like fetuses. Dormant. The second after: Our guinea pig opens hiss jaws, hissing. A thin trail of smoke rises up from it's head around the drill. And it's brethren in the hive -- shoot up their heads, both looking into the same direction -- the direction of the operating room! I'm sure if I were human, I'd get gooseflesh right now. Another second later: Our alien shoots out it's tongue, squealing in pain and/or fury -- while the others straighten to their full height, hissing in undeniable rage. My fingers twiddle around with the jog shuttle for a few seconds more, but everything the two images reveal solidifies what the first moment already showed. Pondering the imminent conclusion of our observation, I lean back to look at the human genius beside me. "There is no way they could have heard it?"
Darwin shakes her head.
"You know best those rooms are perfectly sound-proof. Even the guards in the corridor next to it didn't hear a thing."
I stare back, still searching for a more obvious explanation than the one which first sprang to my mind.
"How about... radio waves, or..." I give up and look her straight in the eye to see whether she's really convinced of what I think she is convinced of. "You think it's telepathy?"
"Certainly looks like it, doesn't it? Whatever it is, it is a form of communication that can't be picked up by any means in existence so far." She beams, then looks past me with a glimmer in her eyes, obviously seeing a bright, exciting future. "Oh, the possibilities!" She leans toward me. "Think about it, Isis: If they really can communicate mentally? Think about what that would mean for Perfect Soldier! The USCM would eat out of our hands if we offer them this!"
I continue to stare at her, chewing on the exquisite bit of information for while longer. Letting it sink. Tasting the implications.
"You know," I finally begin, "it could make the entire project exceedingly more dangerous. If our two lab rats could read our minds... and maybe combine their powers against us." I shrug. She knows what I'm driving at. Incredibly though, her smile grows even wider.
"I know. It will make the game much more interesting. If we can preserve that trait in the girl and in Raven and Hicks, there's no telling what will happen. As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to it!" She points with her chin over to her private office. "Come on, let's get things ready for our 10.00 o'clock appointment. I could use some help."
"We were all on our way to Sirius Alpha. Some of us were on a pilgrimage to see the Lady of the Crystal Sea, some for entertainment, but that's not important. Important is that the ship was as good as new; the best ship I've ever traveled with for sure. It's a load of crap when they say it was about to blow up, and that they just rescued us!" Hicks' opposite, a beefy man in his fifties, places his elbows on the table and looks him straight in the eye, unmistakably angry. His heavy accent is unmistakably Alpha Centaurian.
"I saw them take us," a raspy, calm voice comes in from his left side, and he turns his head to look at von Sontheim. From the surprised reactions of the other man, he concludes that the famous journalist is about to share some piece of information he kept to himself so far. The others pretend to be busy with their breakfast, until the first man, who calls himself Zen without any second name, tells him that the journalist and himself are the only ones who speak English around here, apart from the two young people that left with Raven's arrival. The big man narrows his eyes.
"What?"
"I saw them coming." von Sontheim downs a swig of coffee, knowing he has the undivided attention of the other two. "They were out to get us, that much was clear. Their ship was specifically designed for that kind of undertaking. I don't think we were the first they kidnapped."
"What makes you say that?" Hicks injects, leaning back in his chair with his palms still on the table... A wary side glance over to Raven shows the giant sitting alone at his table, his back to them. He appears to be better and doesn't acknowledge their presence by a single glance.
"They were camouflaged." The journalist looks him straight in the eye. "At first I thought it was an anomaly of space I was seeing, because it was completely invisible. I saw nothing but stars... But then the stars moved, and when they moved toward us, I knew it had to be a ship with a camouflage alloy, reflecting the starlight." He pauses dramatically. "Now I'm pretty much up-to-date technology-wise, and yet I haven't heard of any such thing in existence. It must be brand new." A deep breath. "Who would invent such a thing and equip a full-size spaceship with it if not to use it for illegal purposes? No... this ship was specifically designed for kidnapping actions." The others' faces are solemn as they ponder the meaning of this new bit of information. von Sontheim puts the rest of the roll he has been eating back onto the plate. "It all fits. I heard of sightings and traceless disappearances of small private spacecraft in this sector before. It was actually the reason for my being there."
"You are the one who found out about Weyland Yutani's illegal cloning procedures a few years back, right?" Hicks suddenly remembers. "The guy they're all burning to have in their talk shows!"
"Yeah," his opposite sighs. "The one who swore to bring down the company. That's me." He shrugs, disillusioned. "Guess I won't be able to end what I started... just like so many before me." He ruffles his hair and then slumps in his seat.
"Don't say that," Hicks offers after a leaden pause. "Even if you can't do it yourself -- which remains yet to be seen -- your example has shown that the company can be beaten -- there are bound to be others just like you now. Others that won't back down." His outburst earns him a thin, sarcastic smile.
"Well... it's obvious you are new down here. Otherwise you wouldn't speak like this."
"It's time to check your naïvete at the door, son," Zen adds. "This is not a place for optimism... this is a place where people disappear without a trace from one day to the other."
"Well, where I've come from, people disappeared, too. Sometimes traceless, sometimes you could find puddles of blood and pieces of them, depending on how hard you looked," Hicks replies without flinching. "And the company had their fingers up to their elbows in this one, too, so spare me the lecture about naïvete, all right?" The outburst makes him the center of attention, even if the inmates among them can't have understood what he just said. The big Zen narrows his eyes.
"So how did you end up here? What kind of hole did they dig you out of?" They stare at him, waiting for his story. He is not ready to give to them, doesn't want to talk about the darkest days of his life - apart from Corps regulations forbidding for him to share his story with civilians. And if he's learned one thing in all these years in the service, it's that soldiers -- USCM, Army or whatever -- are rarely welcome among the rest of humanity. So he leans back in his chair, a shadow wandering over his face. He's beginning to feel tired, too, not having lead a heated discussion like this for a long time. And the rising talk in a language he doesn't recognize from behind makes it hard for him to concentrate.
"I'd rather not talk about it. Not yet, at least." He sees a trace of hostility reappear in the faces before him and feels inclined to add: "I guess I'll have to come to grips with it myself, first, before I can talk about it. No offense meant."
"Well...," Zen replies acidly. "Don't take too long... or you won't have anyone left to tell your story to -- Excuse me." He snorts and slips back with his chair from the table, gets on his feet and declares: "I'll be at the gym... in case they come looking for me." He stomps off. Hicks looks after him thoughtfully, a bitter metallic taste in his mouth. Just what he thought... he just landed his precious behind in the rat-cage.
"Shocked?" he hears von Sontheim's curious tone, and when he comes back from his short moment of day-dreaming, he sees a slight smile on the journalist's lips, in which his eyes don't participate. Hicks shakes his head.
"Not really... guess I expected as much." He inhales deeply and looks around in the hall. "How long have you all been here?"
"About six weeks. Then, we were 29 people. What you see here are the sorry remains of the Aldana's staff and cargo." von Sontheim's gaze is fixed on Raven's broad shoulders, and he points his chin at the killer. "He arrived here yesterday. But from that first meeting you two had half an hour ago, I assume you didn't come together." He folds his hands and waits for Hicks to deny it, but the Marine has been mesmerized by something else.
"29? There were 29 of you just six weeks ago?" He feels a cold chill trickling down his spine.
"U-huh." His opposite empties his coffee and leans back. "They disappeared one by one. Every other day, there was someone missing at breakfast." The journalist pauses, and then even the sarcastic smile drops from his face. "They always take them at night. After the general lock-in. We don't have a clue of how exactly they're doing it or where they take them, but..." he shrugs "...we never see them again. Judging from what I already know of the Company, I think it's safe to assume they've been wasted for the Well-being of Humanity."
Hicks can't do anything but stare at him for what seems to him like an eternity. Sure, he'd had his suspicions, but hearing it now first hand... is something different altogether. He'll have to talk this over with his android caretaker later today. See her reaction. He wonders for a moment whether Keisha knows about this too, and remembers her face when he left the hospital wing. Oh, she knows, all right! Time to face it, he tells himself. You can't trust anyone on this station. It takes him a while to make his voice and brain work again.
"You said you were on your way to Sirius Alpha because you heard about ships vanishing in this sector..."
"We had two separate reports from eye-witnesses who saw the same what I saw," von Sontheim deadpans, entirely serious now. "The stars moving towards them, and then the dark silhouette of the ship. One even saw how it swallowed a small spacecraft. The guy was lucky enough to have a very fast ship, so he got away and spread the word, until it eventually reached me. From the rumors that were flying around, it was clear to me that W.Y. probably had their hands in this. They've always been desperate for human guinea pigs, and even more so after the first Cloning Scandal. Since they couldn't just carry on breeding them, it was obvious they would have to look for other... resources. And let's face it: Who else has the resources to develop a completely new, expensive technology?"
"Nobody we know of."
"Right. So I decided to get down to the bottom of things... well, and here I am: I found out all about it, and will take it into my grave." A sinister smile. "The irony of this is not completely beyond me, you know? It's just the thought of what they have in store for me that makes me uncomfortable..."
It's that part of the conversation where Hicks feels anger mix with his fear, actually becoming the strongest emotion.
"And you're willing to accept that fate, just like that?"
His opposite snorts.
"If you're insinuating I should raise hell and start a mutiny down here to take control, forget it. They never come down while we're wandering around in these premises. We've never even seen them here -- not even once! The only time you get to see someone is when they come to get you, as it seems." He shrugs. "They're smart people. They know what would happen to them if they showed themselves here."
"There's always a way." Now von Sontheim actually laughs, while his gaze goes briefly up towards one of the surveillance cameras. Hicks, however, is not amused, as he lowers his voice confidentially. "What if someone faked being sick in this hall? Having an epileptic fit or something. I bet that would bring them down. Or if we faked a brawl between--"
"A brawl?" von Sontheim asks with highly arched eyebrows. "You forgot about the-"
"Luring them down here to mess them up?" another voice comes from behind them. "Hey, I like this plan." As Hicks cranes his neck, he looks straight into Raven's still blood-speckled, grinning face.
"And then what?" the journalist sighs, impatient.
"We get a hold of them and--"
"And what? You forgot about that fucking pacifier! If anything's only in the least bit of danger of getting out of control, they can simply shut you off!" He shakes his head. "You saw what happened to him!" A nod to Raven. "So even if the all-mighty chief of this station came down, and you'd be able to put a knife to his throat -- which we don't have, by the way, just like any other sharp or pointy objects --" another nod toward the plastic forks, spoons and knifes -- "the second they hit that switch, you go down! You won't be able to move a finger." A long pause, during which they just stare at each other, before von Sontheim shakes his head again. "And you won't be able to fake anything. The same thing that doubles you over in agony sends them your readouts! They'll know if you got a migraine or not from the other side of the station! You can't fool them! Forget about it. There is no way out of here."
Hicks is almost knocked off his chair by a hearty blow to his shoulder from behind.
"Fuck this, I'm not going down without a fight. If you think something up, mate, I'm with you. Let's make the suckers bleed!"
Hicks narrows his eyes, deeply skeptic. The expression on Raven's face seems truly enthusiastic.
"Just half an hour ago you were about to smash my head in. And now I'm your mate?"
The killer shrugs.
"Nothing personal. It's okay when people refuse to take shit. I respect that." He smirks at von Sontheim and the other inmates and adds: "Your group is a bunch of whiners. They're so scared of me, I bet they would kiss my ass if I asked them to. But you --" his gaze goes back to Hicks, and his powerful hand lands again on the Marine's shoulder -- "you were ready to fight me. That's cool... even if you wouldn't stand a chance." The broad grin makes a dramatic reappearance. Hicks cocks an eyebrow at him, but doesn't respond. His gaze goes up to one of the surveillance cameras, deep in thought. He doesn't see von Sontheim's mildly derogatory smile directed at him and Raven. He asks himself whether the man behind it -- Alex, he remembers Raven calling him -- picked anything up of this unlikely fraternizing, even though they kept their voices low. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, he turns to face the giant again.
"I'll let you know when I come up with something. Until then, I guess it will be best for us to just observe. There must be way... there always is."
1400 hours. He's back in his quarters, fiddling around with the remote control, zapping through the recorded programs and games provided for him to kill off the inescapable boredom that has to get a hold of him in this confined space sooner or later. A superfluous luxury? At first sight, yes. But the psychology behind it is quite clever and justifies the extra-expenses: Anything that will keep the inmates from developing aggression and/or cabin fever is invaluable. They need to be kept docile and manageable with the least bit of effort for W.Y. staff. Things would only get incredibly more difficult for them if they had to come down here with a cattle prod and a bunch of bodyguards each time they actually let themselves be seen. They would get more difficult if they had to separate their Zoo-animals every hour to keep them from smashing their heads in. People watching movies and documentaries or playing virtual reality games are easy to handle. And heck, the virtual reality surroundings will even help in keeping off the cabin-fever, just like all the elaborate illusos he's wading through in the corridor or the big hall. Yes, they've got this figured out.
His thoughts turn back to the latest conversation with his synthetic caretaker, Isis, just a few hours ago. He confronted her about all the new information he had learned at breakfast, putting every effort into extracting more information from her, or -- when it was clear to him that she was once again immune to his request -- at least getting her angry at him. Nothing. She had fended him off as if he were nothing more than background noise to her... after he had made it clear to her, too, that he still wouldn't talk about the events on Hadley's Hope after the Sulaco had shredded it to pieces, which had to be where their records ended. Stalemate. He wonders whether she will try it again, or maybe they're just going to pump some newly-developed drugs into his system to make him babble until his lower jaw falls off, if they can't get him to talk otherwise. Slowly shaking his head to himself in frustration, he changes the channel again -- and the entire room goes black. Pitch black. So black, he can't even see his hand in front of his eyes.
Okay, it's just a power-failure, he thinks, surprised to find his heartbeat accelerating. Some stupid little circuit shorted out. Nothing to get all excited about. Light will be back in a second. If only he could believe himself! And if only the nasty images wouldn't reappear behind his open but unseeing eyes with a jump-start, as the vault in his sub-conscious breaks, where he had been keeping the gruesome truth about the beginning of Hadley's end... The memories flood his racing mind like a tidal wave, so vivid, the sounds, the smells, everything comes back to him in a micro-second. It had started with the lights going out there, too. The deep blackness that encircled them... and then the wailing of the robot-sentries' alarm, picking up something moving around in the corridors beyond their door... followed by the flickering of the red emergency lighting, and the sight of Hudson racing toward the door, holding the revolver Hicks took from him two days earlier and beginning to punch in the sequence that would unlock it, uttering unintelligible gibberish that scared Hicks more than any alien could have done by showing itself at the door...
"Will, come on, think about it for a second! This cannot be your-" The gun spins around, and suddenly Hicks finds himself looking into the biggest, blackest hole he's ever seen. Death stares him straight in the eye, and the sudden chill raises the short hairs on the back of his neck and steals his breath. He doesn't even hear the others gasp behind him. "Will..." How did he get his gun back?!!
"Stand back, Hicks. Stand back, or I'll shoot, so help me God!" The ComTech's voice sounds treacherously calm, but all Hicks has to see to know his friend has snapped are his bulging eyes, the endless terror in them. Slowly, almost in slow-motion, he raises his hands, palms turned upward in a soothing gesture.
"I'm unarmed, Will. I won't do anything. I just want to talk." Another step closer, and the black hole rises another inch, now pointing directly between his eyes. He feels the point where it would hit him turn hot. His voice is intense, but low. Calm. The voice of reason. Hudson has to listen to him! "Come on, ease down. You don't want to do this. I know you don't." Silence - except for the wailing of the alarm. Then the Private's voice, uncertain.
"I don't want to, but if I have to-"
"You won't." Finally, Hicks feels like he's getting through to the real Hudson inside that chaos of terror. "I won't do a thing. Let's just talk this over, okay? Will you hear me out?" From the corners of his eyes, he sees the Mexican smartgun operator move ever so slightly. One sidestep... pause... another one... slowly but surely making her way behind the Private's position. Her intent is clear, and Hicks knows it's on him not to spoil it by glancing too long into her direction. They're both performing a Pas-de-Deux on the tightrope at breathtaking height. Messing up will be punished with death. The others know it, too, which is why none of them cuts in with any smart suggestions of their own. Back in the good old days, he used to be the most cool-headed one of them all. The one to talk sense when all the others were in hysterics. They always listened to him whenever they found themselves in a bad situation. Hudson must remember this. He must remember that whatever promises his superior had been making in the past, about keeping them out of harm's way and getting them all out alive, he'd kept them. Every single one of them. And this will be no different! He tries to put it all into his eyes, to silently communicate his understanding and conviction. "Come on, Will, put the gun down, what d'you say? Let's talk." A spark of hope flickers to life when he sees the shadow of a doubt in his comrade's fear-crazed face. He's considering it! He's actually considering it!
Behind him, Vasquez takes another step. Bringing her out of the Private's field of vision. Don't look! The steel muzzle in front of his eyes sinks... an inch, two... Hudson's face comes into view behind it, his eyes wide and... moist? There's a lost expression in his features, as if he were about to cry. Yes, Hicks thinks, and it aches: He's lost. Completely lost. And he probably contributed to his friend's state of mind by locking him up earlier. He should have never done this! But maybe he can make up for it now, maybe...
"That's good, Will. Take it down. You don't want to shoot me, right? I'm not one of them. I-"
"They'll get in here, Hicks," the Comtech quivers. "They're outside. Don't you hear them?"
"It's just the robot sentries. We don't know what they're picking up yet. It could be anything. A piece of paper. You know the outer hull's been damaged, and there's a lot of wind in the corridors. With the lights out like that-"
"It's them. I know it."
"Okay..." Hicks stretches the word, feverishly thinking of something intelligent to say. Something soothing... something to buy Vasquez some time behind Hudson's back. Or maybe, if he can just find the right words, she won't even have to take action. Everyone else is in a different galaxy, light years away. "Then why do you want to open the door? They won't come in here. They remember what happened to them last time. If you open it now --"
"Hicks..." the desperation in his friend's eyes is bottomless. "Please! I can't stand this anymore! I can't stand to sit around on my hands, just waiting for them to decide when they're gonna take us. I can't stand these fucking alarms anymore! I'm dying with each new alarm! I can't sleep anymore! I can't eat anymore! I'm so scared I... I just want it to end. I can't go on like this... Don't you want it to end, too?"
For a moment, they just stare at each other. Hicks takes in a slow, deliberate breath.
PHOENIX
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