Chrysalis by Katja

"Yes, but not like this."

"We're not going to get out of here in one piece, Hicks," Hudson continues, endless sadness in his voice. "I know you promised it, and you were always right in the past... but it's not how this will turn out. Not this time. This time-"

"No Will, we--"

"--we will buy it. And we will buy it ugly and -- and dirty -- and-"

"Will, don't!"

"-and I don't wanna die like Apone!" he yells suddenly, his voice breaking. He's coming apart at the seams. Ground zero. A full meltdown.

"Will-" Taking another step towards his friend is a reflex -- and brings up the gun again.

"Don't!"

Movement behind Hudson's back. She's quiet, and she's fast -- and he can't help look over his opposite's shoulder for the fraction of a second; a quick slip of attention the crazed ComTech picks up at once. He whirls around firing.

"Noo!"

BANG! Thunder, deafening in the confined room, shrieks, gasps, someone yelling. His muscles react, pure reflex, going for the gun -- and freeze him dead in his tracks when the gun swivels back at him in the wink of an eye. Too slow. That's it -- game over! Shrieks behind him. He doesn't even hear them.

"Hudson-" Hot steel burns his skin as the muzzle presses against his brow. The stench of fire fills his nostrils, shock numbing tongue and brain, head empty except for one final thought: So this is how it feels to die -- and then the thunder of the shot, drowning out the world. I'm dead.

Something wet sprays his face, obstructs his view with a red mist. Waiting for his knees to buckle and pain to hit him, he stares at Hudson -- and sees the deep red gash reaching from his left to his right temple, and for a frozen moment, it stays like that, as if time itself has been shocked. Then it showers down over the Private's face. No... The gun clatters to the floor. The ComTech sways, arms dropping at his sides, his strength failing him. A stumbling step forward--

"Hicks --" he croaks, and then his knees buckle, and he falls.

"Will, no!" Hicks catches him, feeling numb, like someone hit him over the head. From the corners of his eyes, he sees Gorman's rigid statue in the back of the room, hands in front of him, holding the gun. What the- He's dreaming this! It cannot be real, it can't be! But his comrade's slack weight in his arms feels real, and the thick stench of blood and -- Dropping to his knees, he lets Hudson slide to the ground, carefully, cradling his ruined head in the pit of his elbow. There's commotion around him, voices and movement-

"-must get her to Medical!"

"-put your finger there!"

"Oh my God-"

-but he doesn't care. His friend's lips move soundlessly, blood-filled eyes glued to Hicks' face, one hand clutching his arm. An endless, silent litany. He can read it from his lips, one word, again and again: "Sorry..."

"Sssshh..." Hicks makes, trying to keep the red flood that's pumping out of that awful gash at bay, to stop it somehow. But it's all in vain, and he knows it from the way it's oozing through his fingers in a steady, pulsing rhythm. His hands, his arms , everything is already slick with his friend's blood... and there's the widening pool on the ground he's kneeling in. "I know. It's gonna be okay, Will, it's gonna be okay..." But it won't. Things will never be okay again! He sees the others crowd over another figure behind them, Bishop among them. A pair of camouflaged legs sticking out between them... twitching.

"Vas..."

"Ssshh... don't talk."

"Vas..."

"Vasquez is okay," he lies, looking down, straight into Hudson's eyes, which are so dark red under the flood pumping out of his skull, he can barely see the deformed pupils in them anymore. "You missed." He smoothes away a strand of sticky, blood-soaked hair from his friend's brow, feeling Hudson's fingernails painfully digging into his arm. "Don't worry. She's okay." The Private groans in his arms, his body tensing. Hicks can't tell whether Hudson believes him. "Just relax. Let go, Will..." his throat narrows dangerously. "Come on... let go..." It's all going to hell. Hudson was right. They're not gonna get out of this one. They don't even need the aliens for this to go wrong.

"How's he-" a voice behind him asks. He doesn't recognize it, doesn't listen. Hudson's dying, and the least he can do is give him some comfort and hope to somehow make it easier for him.

"It's alright, Will," he mumbles absently, not even aware of his own words. It's the sound of Vasquez' legs, thrashing around on the floor, he's hearing. Her anguished groan. "Don't fight it."

"We need to keep her still! I can't-"

"H-Hi..."

"Ssshhhh..." Incredible urgency in Hudson's gaze, but somehow already coming from a great distance. He's fading fast now. "It'll be alright..." Finally, the body in his arms slackens, and as Hicks sees his own gaze reflect in his friend's glassy eyes, he knows that nothing will be alright ever again.

"Dwayne...?" Ripley's voice. "Dwayne, how is-" She stops when he lifts his head up and shows her his blood-speckled face, green eyes looking straight through her with a shell-shocked expression.

"He's dead." The words are almost too big for his narrow throat. A black flood of desperation and sorrow breaks through the barrier he's been putting up until now, churning up and threatens to overwhelm him as he stares up to her, as if pleading to her to make this nightmare end. It doesn't.

"Hicks, come on! We need to get her to Medical, fast!" Bishop, with his most urgent voice. Somehow, he manages to move. To carefully lay Hudson's head on the floor as if he were sleeping. To force his numb legs to carry his weight again... and take the two steps over to where his other team member lies, caught up in another battle of life and death. Things are looking bad there, too, and his stomach sinks even further when he sees all the blood on her tank top and corners of her mouth, even dripping out of her nose. She took the bullet to the chest, approximately 10 inches under her right collarbone... a direct hit to the lung. Bishop has his palm slapped over the hole and stares at him, while Gorman is in the process of kneeling down to take the smart-gunner's legs. Vasquez' face is contorted to a grimace of pain with her gritted teeth and sweat and blood running to her ears and into her hair. But from the gaze that grazes him, he can tell she's still lucid. She knows what's going on, knows about her slim chances of making it. Her need somehow wakes him out of his shocked numbness. Two fast steps bring him up to her.

"You'll make it," he hears Ripley's encouraging voice behind him as he kneels down to carefully lift his team member up, slipping his arms through under hers. A brief exchange with Bishop and Gorman.

"Now." They get up, and the anguished yell of the female smart-gunner is a sting to their hearts. "Hang in there, Vasquez, okay?" Another gush of blood erupts out of her mouth. Oh God... Faster! They need to go faster!

"Door's open!" Ripley, from somewhere in front of them, clearing their path. Hicks' is almost running backwards now, fully trusting her directions. Medical.

"Almost there. Hang in there, okay?"

"as... too slow...!" Violent coughing shakes her.

"Here! Put her here!"

They lift her a few inches higher to lay her down on the operating table.

"C-can't... breathe..." she wheezes breathlessly, her already dark, but now somehow waxy complexion developing a distinct blue hue.

"Bishop-!" Hicks looks up to see the android frantically, but systematically rip open drawers and cabinet-doors, throwing everything he finds on a movable metal-table.

"Come ON!"

"I'm coming." The next second, he's at Hicks' side, seeing what's needed. "We must intubate her. Put your palm here!" He slaps Hicks' hand onto the wound. "Press hard! Ripley?"

"Yes?"

"Look in the refrigerator behind me, see if you can find any packs of A negative blood."

"And Morphine!", Hicks adds without taking his eyes off what the synthetic's doing. "Come on, Vaz, you can do this! Don't fight the tube! It'll help you breathe." Somehow Hicks manages to free one hand and cradle her wildly moving head in the pit of his elbow.

"I'm in! Lieutenant?"

"Right here."

"Here. Press this together in a normal breathing rhythm -- Ripley?"

"There's just one!"

They pause to stare at each other in shock.

"Can't be!"

"There are only four packs, and just one with a Minus," she insists. "Maybe there's another fridge or cool-box or-"

"No," Bishop shakes his head, turning around to look for himself. "This must be it. This is the operating room. Right where they'd need it!" Behind him, Hicks and Gorman exchange an alarmed glance. "This can't be! Let me-"

"Corporal, I want you to know that I didn't...," Gorman begins, uncomfortably, feverishly searching for the right words. "I didn't want to-"

"Not now," Hicks cuts him off brusquely. He doesn't want to hear it. He's got enough to do trying to stay sane and not go on a rampage of desperation himself. Yes, he would probably be dead if it hadn't been for Gorman's last-second shot. And no, he's not in a state of mind to show any trace of appreciation, or gratitude, or -- at least -- relief over it. Right now, he'd rather it was him on the table, or lying on the floor in that huge puddle of blood in Operations. He put them there! By not being able to completely ignore Vasquez when she jumped at Hudson, he caused the tragedy they've got to ride out now. If he hadn't fucked up, she would have managed to disarm her long-term partner and friend, they'd both be alive now, and not one dead with his head half-blown away and the other drowning in her own blood! They're hard facts to swallow and only bearable right now because he's busy and doesn't have the time to think about it further. But the moment will come, inescapably, where he'll have to face the consequences of the biggest mess-up in his life! And he said he'd get them out alive!

Gorman's still looking very uneasy, but what he's got to say is important.

"Someone should watch the door to the corridors. If they decide to try it now-"

So what? he wants to bark, but of course the Lieutenant's right. He's not alone in here. He might not care for himself anymore, but there are also Ripley and Newt, and Bishop, aside from Gorman... and Burke. Where's Burke anyway? He's not seen him since... since...

"You're right," Ripley says, taking the respirator out of Gorman's hands. "You should go. I'll take over here for you." The Lieutenant seems happy to leave, but maybe Hicks is doing him an injustice. Christ, he saved his life! He should be grateful! What is wrong with him?

"Hicks? I need you to hold her still for me for a second." Somehow, Bishop's at his side again, moving in with a syringe. Finally, the morphine-shot. It'll make things easier for Vasquez.

"Vaz?" Hicks bows down to his groaning teammate. "Fight, okay? You can do this, I'm sure. Just don't give up!" Brown, very alert eyes muster him, before another violent cough attack wrecks her, and the pain makes her squeeze her eyes shut. Then the Morphine kicks in, and her eyes grow hazy. "Fight," he mumbles, still cradling her head. "Don't give up!" Her eyes close, and her body slackens in his arm. An awkward moment of absolute silence passes, only interrupted by the noise of the respirator. Hicks swallows, then lifts his head to cast an expectant glance to Bishop at his right side, looking down on their fallen comrade. "So, what now? Are you going to-"

The synthetics reply is not what he's ready for.

"It would be best for her if we let her die like this. Unconscious... not feeling any pain..."

Breathless silence, a feeling as if someone sucked the air out of the room.

"What?" Open disbelief in Hicks' voice. Bishop's face is open, wearing a truly human compassionate expression.

"Hicks... Don't think just because I'm an artificial person that I don't care for her. I probably care as much as you do, but the fact is... we can't do anything for her. I could operate on her, but... with just one pack of blood, she would die right under our hands. She's lost so much already, and if I opened her up, she'd lose even more... she'd probably need around eight or nine packs. With just one... I can't even replace what she's lost now. It would be worthless torture to put her through the procedure of--"

"I thought your behavior-inhibitors forbid for you to let a human being die if you can do something about it," Ripley throws in for the speechless Corporal. Bishop nods.

"Yes. And this alone shows you I am right. I couldn't even make that suggestion if my programming told me it would be wrong. But there is nothing I can do for her! We've got the choice between letting her die peacefully in her sleep, or cutting her open and putting her through hell to have her die during surgery. There is no other outcome possible." He looks at the unconscious female Marine and adds: "I'm sorry... if we had more blood..."

"So we..." Hicks's voice folds, and after clearing his throat, he continues lowly: "We... we just sit here on our hands and watch her die? That's what you're suggesting?"

"Dwayne--" Ripley stops. She can see he knows that the android is right. He's just fighting this battle with himself, probably putting the blame for this disaster entirely on himself.

"There must be something we can do..." He's just mumbling to himself, despairing.

"There isn't," Bishop answers silently. "I wish there were."

Oppressive silence hangs in the room. Together with the thick stench of blood, it makes their presence here almost unbearable. A small eternity passes. They're waiting. Waiting for their Corporal's decision... for the aliens to storm in and end this dread... or the rescue team to bolt through the door into operations and save the day. Whatever happens first. Finally, Hicks nods almost imperceptibly.

"Okay, we'll take it out." He takes the respirator from Ripley's hands and stares at Bishop. "How do I do it?"

"Just pull."

He looks down. Gathers the sorry remains of his courage... and pulls. The tube comes out much too easily. With his head still bowed, he inhales deeply and asks: "And now... we just wait...?" His voice is shaking, and he hopes Ripley won't act on it. If she starts comforting him now, he'll come apart. Let her and Bishop have at least the decency to let him sit through this deathwatch alone.

"Yes..." Bishop's sympathetic voice is so low, it's almost inaudible. And there it is, Ripley's hand touching his arm in confirmation, to show him he's not alone in this. "You want us to leave?"

Hicks nods, unable to maneuver the single word of affirmation around the huge lump in his throat. He's still not looking at the others, too... but he can feel Ripley's hand let go of him, and finally hears their footsteps making for the door.

"If you need something... or change your mind... let us know."

He nods again, and when he hears the door hiss open and shut behind them, he take a chair from a close-by console and drags it over to sit down, grab Vasquez' hand and wait for the inevitable...

With a start, the light's back, so unexpectedly, it's made Hicks jump. He had sunken so deeply into the dark pit of his memories that the light catches him off-guard for a moment, looking at his surroundings in slight disorientation until reality once again takes over. The camera... there's that darn camera up on the ceiling, looking at him, catching his weakness for whoever will view the recordings, to exploit it, maybe dig into it deeper. The subject seems to be upset. Let's see how it reacts if we tell it to--. Right now, with the stench of Vasquez' blood still in his nostrils, he can't stand the thought and turns his back to the camera, shielding his burning eyes with his hand. He can see his surroundings again, but the images from his mind are still there as well, creating a weird sort of double-reality. He doesn't remember for how long he had been sitting next to his fallen comrade before the shrill alarm from her heartbeat going flatline had caused him to look up. Half an hour? Two hours? His feeling for time had completely deserted him at that point, and all he had been wanting to do was to lie down and follow his teammates into relieving nothingness.

Last one, he had thought, the only thought he had still been capable of. Apone, Frost, Crowe, Ferro, Vasquez, Hudson... Spunkmeyer, Wierzbowski... Dietrich, Drake... they were all dead, and he the last one of this once so successful and respected squad. And why? Simply because of stupid, blind luck -- if it could be called luck to see all his friends and surrogate family die and not be able to do diddley-squat about it -- because - because fate, whatever it was, had decided it wasn't thirsty for his blood just yet? Or because there had been something he didn't give, something the others had given? Was he still alive because he held back? Didn't risk as much as them to get them out of this mess? Is there something he could or should have done differently, and they would have long left this god-forsaken planet? The thought is awful, tearing him up inside and causing him to bury his face in his hands...

"I've got something for you." It's a thin, sad voice that's coming from right in front of him. At first, he doesn't want to react. Just ignore it and it will go away. "Please, Mr. Hicks?" A slight nudge on his arm. He opens his eyes, bent-over on his chair, his head still supported by his blood-encrusted hands. It's Newt, and despite the terrible sight he must be with all the carnage that happened, told by his blood-soaked clothes and speckled face, he doesn't see her recoil from him. Rather, she's holding out a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. "Ripley said it would be good for you."

He wants to manage a weak smile, but can't, as he takes the cup from her. The plastic is so hot, it's almost burning his fingers, but he hardly notices.

"Thanks, Newt." It takes a major effort to make his vocal cords work, and even though his voice sounds raspy and choked, he gets an approving nod from the girl, with a face so serious and concerned for him, it causes another lump in his throat... Just to make her happy, he takes a swig almost burning the roof of his mouth. She doesn't smile, however.

"My mommy always said, it's not bad to cry when you are sad. She said it's better for you if you did."

Oh God... the lump is too big to get the words around it, so he just motions for her to come closer, and when she complies, putting her arms around him in a comforting hug, he embraces her, too... which is the point where he comes apart...

"Dwayne? Dwayne, I'm so sorry I'm late! We had a power-failure, and... are you alright?" The voice doesn't belong to the scenario in his head, and when Hicks turns his head to look at his unexpected visitor, he sees Keisha staring at him with a genuine expression of concern on her young face. Confused, he checks the clock. 5.30 already. Yes, she is late. But why couldn't she have stayed gone? He's not wild for any company right now. Especially not after what he's learned today.

"Kee..."

"You look awful," she remarks, stepping closer. Only now he notices the obviously heavy case she is carrying. Just what the hell is she up to? He doesn't want it. Warily he follows her to the table, where she places the case with some difficulty. He shrugs, beat.

"Yeah? Well... just how I am supposed to look after all I've learned today?" It's out. He didn't want to accuse her, but in his current mood it's impossible to differentiate between doers and bystanders. And sure enough, when she looks up at him again, there's a hurt expression on her dark face.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." His gaze pins her. "You must have known about the purpose of this place from the start. You knew all along what they're doing on this station." He's sure her face is getting even darker, and feels some sort of strange, guilty pleasure over this. At least he's not the only one feeling shitty now.

"Dwayne, you know I wasn't in a position to tell you. I'm just there to do what I'm told. I don't know what exactly they are doing in the rest of Phooka, outside Sickbay." She interrupts herself, hanging her head and adds with shame in her voice: "I knew it wasn't something good though..." Awkward silence ensues. They both don't know what to say. "If you want to hate me now-" She sees his throw-away gesture. "What?"

"Forget about it." He pretends to shift his attention to the plasma screen over her shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not important. Forget about it." His voice is so distant now, it makes her angry. He's withdrawing from her again! She doesn't deserve this!

"You know, I came down to bring you some great news." She pauses, not seeing a reaction. "You wanna hear them?" He just shrugs, indifferent. Like, what great news could she possibly give him in this place? It's not like they've decided to let him go all of a sudden, right? "Your Leukemia is gone." His gaze moves back to her, almost in slow-motion, but there is no trace of relief or even joy visible on it. "You defeated it. You're going to be as good as new in only a couple of weeks." Still nothing. "I was kinda hoping you'd be happy to hear this."

Finally, a smile, but the thin, sour smirk he casts her is not what she's been hoping for.

"Your bosses are probably happier to hear this than me, Keisha. It's not like I'm going to have any positive aspects from it. They're probably going to waste me even sooner now." She doesn't know what to say, and so it's left to him to change the subject by asking with a brief nod towards the case: "So what did you bring me there? Some nifty little psyche-evaluation-test for me your bosses designed to evaluate how much of a nut I am after what the company did to me already? Come on, let's do it! " He sees tears running down her cheeks and feels guilty... but unable to stop, as all the bitterness in him needs a release.

"It-its a game," she quivers, wiping away tears from her eyes. "I-I thought it would... I don't know..."

"Cheer me up?" he offers acidly. "I get locked into a rat-cage, find out that my fellow new neighbors have been abducted, too, and that every other day, one of them is hand-picked to advance mankind's knowledge on medicine or whatever, that the revolutionary PDT you implanted me with is in fact a control unit developed to keep us docile by treating us to unexpected electric shocks whenever we don't behave properly... and that the one person I had begun to trust in this hellhole has been lying straight into my face the entire time. And you think you can cheer me up with some stupid game?!?!"

She's sobbing hard now.

"I'm sorry..." He can hardly hear her as she lifts up the heavy case again and turns to leave. "I was so much loo-looking forward to bringing you this... this great message, but... but..." She turns and heads for the door in a state of total disintegration, fleeing from Hicks' unrelenting cynicism he's hating himself for...

"Keisha!" She doesn't stop. The door parts for her to leave, and she's halfway through it already. "Kee, please- don't!" Now why the hell-? He shuts up in utter confusion, not knowing why he even called her. A part of him wants to make her cry and to run from him -- but the other -- stronger - part is feeling guilty as hell. And desperate. If she leaves now, there's no mistaking that she won't be back for him. She'd more than likely switch her duties to Isis, and then he won't be left with even a single person he likes... or trusts at least halfway. "Please don't leave!" He observes as she comes to a halt outside, again wiping her eyes. "I don't mean it like this. I just had a real bad day, and I needed to get it out. I'm sorry you had to be the one to catch it. I know you're not in a position to change anything."

She turns, sniffling. Eyes him skeptically, before she takes another step back, just barely into his room, with her back on the closing door. Putting down the case, she hugs herself, uncertain whether she should listen to him at all. There are a lot of fighting emotions visible in her expression -- anger, hurt... but also a certain desire to believe him.

"You know, it would have been real easy for me to hate you, too," she begins, out of the blue. It's not what he expected to hear. "Right from the start, when they told me you were a Colonial Marine. I could have simply hated you for being one of those who trashed up my home-town, just like most other Arcturians would do. Things would be a lot easier for me if I'd just generally hated everybody in a uniform. But I don't. I keep telling myself that not all of them participated in what happened, and that you probably weren't even there! They didn't send the entire Corps to pacify a people of three million, right?"

The riots? She's talking about the riots from five years back?

"I was there," he confesses dully, but her gaze doesn't change.

"Even so, I thought to myself: Even if he was there, five years back he was probably just a cadet, or some other very lowly rank with nothing to say at all, just like me here. He didn't have the power to stop it. He surely wouldn't have participated in the plunderings and rapings. He seems to be a genuinely nice person, and I don't think he would be able to commit crimes like the ones I witnessed. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, because I felt you were different." She comes a step closer, pinning him with her gaze. "And now, with everything that happened to you, you must surely think all of us Weyland Yutani staff must be pathological liars and unscrupulous, sick, greedy sadists... and I suppose that for the most part, at least on Phooka and the Company's managers, you're right... but there are also those of us who came here to do something good, who want to find cures to diseases plaguing people... and those who didn't have a choice other than coming here." Her voice steadies as she grows more secure. Hicks can't help but feel impressed by the girl's line of reasoning.

"So how did you end up working here?" he asks calmly, making an inviting gesture to the seat opposite him. She takes it.

"Hikahi took me with him when he left Arcturus. I was eleven years old then, and both my father and my brother were killed in the riots. They had been my only family, since my mother died when I was very little, and suddenly I was all alone in a totally devastated city. I had nowhere left to go... so John Hikahi took me with him when he left the planet. He had been our neighbor. He lost his wife in the riots, and couldn't bear the thought of staying in this awful place any longer. He took me along, and we tried to find a good place to forget and to live in... and this is where we landed." She shakes her head sadly and continues in a suddenly hushed, low, secretive voice as if she's letting him in on her biggest secret: "If it's any help, Dwayne: I hate it too. Phooka is no place for young, idealistic people like me. If someone would offer me ghe chance to leave today, I would go, no matter where. But we are not allowed to leave, except down onto the planet we're circling, which is as barren and deserted as they come. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel."

Another silence ensues, but this time, it's a good one, ripe with the feeling of mutual understanding. A comforting silence. Hicks can't believe it, but he actually feels his lips form a little, encouraging smile in her direction... and finds it mirrored in her face. Everything's good between them again. Everything forgiven and forgotten. Apparently, they are nothing but good people caught in a bad mess. Inhaling deeply, he nods toward the case.

"And what kind of game did you bring me?"

The shadow has vanished from her face, as she leans forward to take the case and place it onto the table, opening the two locks.

"Well, it's not exactly a game... it's more of a... test. A learning experience, rather."

"A learning experience, huh?" Hicks views Keisha in wary amusement. She smiles briefly, hoping that he isn't thinking that this is Phooka's way of training him to be obedient or anything. Just wait until he sees the program, she tells herself. He'll understand. Before she can allow Hicks' mind to be overrun with assumptions, she removes two mechanical devices in the shape of a glove. The moment she hands them over to him she can't help but notice the small twinkle in Hicks' eyes. She takes a seat on the couch, waiting for more of a response. Hicks slowly joins her on the couch. He looks at the gloves for a long time, caught up in the whirlwind of his thoughts.

At first, she thinks that his skeptical side has returned, with more wounding words to say. Instead, however, she's surprised to see a small grin on his face. It's not much but it's there all the same. Slowly, appearing to be deep in thought, Hicks slips his hands into the mechanical glove devices, moving them as he flexes his fingers. They make small electrical sounds as bolts and wires from the devices move. Game controllers, he recalls, remembering how he used to use kick serious ass when his squad decided to throw a few rounds at the arcade back at the Sulaco. Yeah, spending years out in space and spending twice as much of that time in cryo can do that to a man. You're only left with the company of your squad, after all. Because endless trips in space could just about break any person, almost every military vessel had some form of entertainment system designed for comfort.

Of course, the public always bitched on about the Corps and other military branches spending their hard earned taxes to build these entertainment facilities. But, hey, they're not the ones serving their galaxy now, are they? It's not their asses on the line. When push comes to shove, who the fuck do you think the top guys are gonna call? The desk jockeys? Hell, no. The hounds of war, that's who, man. Even back in the old days, bases had these entertainment systems. So, naturally, when soldiers decided to spend their R&R time at the local mall's nearest to their bases, they came prepared. They literally beat and kicked the crap out of those poor pimpled-face kids in those old-fashioned arcade games. Yeah, the ones that still used joysticks and buttons. Ancient stuff. Today, not that much has changed. It's become a tradition to be, not only a soldier with skills of weaponry, but a gamer, too. Hell, he's done some ass-whooping several times once R&R came into play. Never deliberately, though, like that idiot Hudson. Man, that Hudson... (Hudson...)

"Well? What do you think?" Keisha smiles, her extremely white teeth glistening.

"Brings back some fond memories," he replies, almost sad.

"I thought... you'd like it..." She lowers her head, not knowing how to feel about Hicks' almost gloomy expression. "If you don't like this, I can take it away..."

"Oh, I like it all right," Hicks tells her, realizing how guilty she looks right now. He adds light-heartedly, "I was this close to asking you if you had any games to come with the entertainment system here." He nods toward the large screen with a chuckle. "Was it your idea?"

"Yeah," Keisha slightly blushes, "Hihaki wanted to make sure your motor and mental skills were working properly, or at least to a good level. He was gonna get you doing this way boring task." She laughs. "But I threw in the idea of video games. After all, video games help with reflexes and senses. A lot of people didn't think so back in the time when video games were developed, with the Atari and all. But games have evolved since then and studies have shown the benefits gained from using them. Of course, that doesn't mean people shouldn't take a break and get some fresh air, you know?"

"I know what you mean."

"Anyway, you've been improving so well, Hicks, that I thought it was time to tone the rest of your body functions."

"Yeah, tell me about it." He cracks a thin, somewhat sarcastic, grin. "A week ago I couldn't take a piss all by myself. And now, I'm in for the whole nine yards -- including showering. It's been pretty embarrassing, needing help with all this stuff, y' know."

Keisha blushes, her black features turning red. Her mind can only imagine that. No, she tells herself mentally when the image transforms into a fantasy of hers. Be a good girl, Keisha. Don't think about that. If only she could tell that to her raging hormones right now. After all, Hicks really is cute. Granted, he was an ugly duckling before. But as each week passes, Hicks keeps getting better and better. It'll only be a matter of time before he puts on those pounds. And then... well if they ain't busy... maybe they can...?

"Okay," she says, clearing her throat and trying to sound like a doctor. "I think we better get started. Hihaki suggested that you'd spend around a half an hour on it, I'd better get you started."

Keisha moves a little closer to him, feeling a little light-headed at the intimate moment. His thin body may need some work, but his face is a wonder. He must've been a lady killer, provided he wasn't so humble in the past. She can only hope that he can't hear her thumping heart as she hooks up a very thin and clear cable wire to his chest. Sure, there's the implant in his neck, which also monitors his heart-rate, but somehow the VR projector and the implant still refuse to share their information. So, they have to do this the old-fashioned way.

The other end of the wire, she inputs into a small laptop enclosed in the metal case. Flicking up a switch, the small monitor lights up. It shows lines of hills and troughs, demonstrating Hicks' heartbeat. From the looks of things, Hicks already knows how to play these games and probably won't suffer from epileptic seizures caused when exposed to light patterns or flashing lights. Epileptic seizures were a problem with the old generation games, even if only a certain number of people suffered from it. Even those who didn't even have a history of seizures or epilepsy were at risk. Dizziness, altered vision, eye or muscle twitches, loss of awareness, disorientation, or any involuntary movement were common symptoms. And then there was the problem with the vibrating controllers that came out. A British Medical Journal reported a 15-year-old who developed a severe injury, referred to as hand-arm vibration syndrome. His hands had become white and swollen when exposed to cold, and red and painful when it was warm. Granted, they've come a long way from this and Hicks probably wouldn't suffer any of these symptoms. Then again, Hicks is still in recovery and vulnerable to even the most basic illness.

She inputs another clear cable directly into the gloved hands' devices. The wire clicks quietly and automatically rotates itself one eighty until it locks into place. The dark skinned woman attaches yet another cable to a pair of virtual reality visors that are colored purple and black. Finally, she hands one of the visors over to Hicks to put on. Hicks gives her a quick smile that sends shivers up her spine. She immediately turns away so that he won't see the blushing on her face.

Hicks doesn't notice Keisha's slightly embarrassed expression. Instead, he puts on the purple and clear glasses. Instantly, his line of vision reveals an entire field full of large red grids and mathematical numbers floating through the air. The words loading appear large and tall. It's as if he's actually right inside a computer, looking up.

"This one of those modified virtual reality sets?" he says as he views his new surroundings, looking left and right. "The ones that cost an arm and a leg?"

Outside the virtual reality setting, Keisha nods her head. "Yep. State-of-the-art."

"Figures. This is only a hunch, but I'm guessing that you boys also created the infamous MASP 9000, huh?"

"That's right."

MASP 9000, which stands for Macro Artificial Space Program. It was basically an artificial super computer that made such an impact to the aerial space programs like NASA. Not only did it create out-of-this-world designs for spacecrafts, but actually gained tons of popularity for the design of new car models. Nowadays, car industries worldwide and beyond use its program to create top of the line models. It made an impact for the history books. Of course, this impressive program could only be created by the single monopoly company: Weyland Yutani.

"Here, put these on too," says Keisha for gently. She puts two nose-like plugs on Hicks' hand as well a smooth sheet of plastic in the shape of a tongue. Even though Hicks can't see these items, he's played the games for such a long time that it's become second nature to him, and he knows what needs to be done. He puts the nose plugs into his nostrils and the plastic into his mouth where it rests comfortably on his tongue. Now he knows that the game has a smell and taste option.

"So what type of game will I be playing?" he asks, his voice slightly slurred due to the plastic device on his tongue. "Fighting? Role-playing? Car racing?"

"Sorry, this exercise is meant to check and improve on all of your five senses," explains Keisha. "One will be for your hearing. Another for your smell. A third for visual purposes. A fourth for you taste awareness. And last, but not least, the fifth for tactility."

"Meaning, that it's going to be one of those made-for-children games, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, Hicks. But look at the good news... I'll have Hihaki look into the VR fighting games. I'm sure I'll find some excuse for you to play that."

She grins. Hicks sees the words loading vanish. The mathematical numbers suddenly come together, making shapes. Hicks walks towards them, hearing clearly their sounds as they bond into something that is round in shape. It doesn't take long for him to see that they're forming an apple. Meanwhile, Keisha puts on another set of visors found inside the metal case. She smiles once she sees Hicks inside the virtual reality setting. He isn't wearing the hospital nightgown anymore nor does he look as pale as he usually does. Rather, he appears very handsome and healthy, wearing blue jeans and a tight white shirt. Overall, his alter ego within the program seems to suit him just fine.

"This program is incredible," Hicks' alter ego says. He notices that Keisha's alter ego is wearing a flowered white dress and make-up. Her hair is pulled back by a beautiful hair decoration. He can't help but notice the smile on her face. It's not the usual one. It's more... serious. Jesus, does Keisha have a crush on him? No. Can't be. Then again, it'll explain why she's been so nice to him all the time. Keisha slowly advances towards him. As she does, she decides to change the environment around them. The program is very flexible. Much like the hologram scenario option in the Phooka facility, she's able to conjure up any place she likes with just a thought.

The black abyss turns into a bright-blue sunny day. A glistening lake is created towards her left while gigantic hills are built across them. Thousands upon thousands of trees emerge from the ground, growing fast. Their branches stretch as bright green leaves appear. She marvels at it, seeing the environment change from an abyss to an enchanting forest.

"How's it going?" she asks gently to Hicks. "Are you feeling nauseated? Some gamers can be very sensitive to virtual reality environments."

"No. I'm good."

"Great. Now, let's get down to business, Hicks. Do you see the apple there?" she points at the object next to him. He nods. "I want you to eat it."

Hicks complies by strolling next to the apple and taking it into his mouth to eat it.

"Well?" Keisha asks. "How are your taste senses?"

"According to my stomach, I'd say that was the best damn thing I've eaten since I came here. Maybe I should eat here more often."

Keisha laughs at his joke. It is very rare for him to tell one. She watches him walking near the lake. He kneels down to look at his face in the water's reflection. Hicks gazes at his face in the water, feeling a little lump form in his throat. His alter ego shows everything he used to be before LV-426. Healthy. Full of life. He wonders if he could conjure up images here... like people. Like long-dead friends. No... They'd still be fake in the end, he reminds himself. That was stupid of him to even consider. Like conjuring up Ripley, Newt, Hudson, and everyone else would make things better? Christ, how can it? Nothing can change reality. As real as this is, as real as that apple tasted, as real as this water smells, nothing here is real. It's a place for people who can't accept the truth. It's a place for fallen dreams and decaying people, like him.

Hicks' suddenly looks up from the water to get away from these thoughts. Keisha, picking up the dark vibe he's suddenly exuding, feels inclined to come to his aid.

"Why don't you show me where you're from, Dwayne?" she asks, hoping to distract him from whatever caused him to frown. "You can change this place as much as I can, you know? Wanna try it?"

He looks at her and straightens out of his crouch, wiping his wet hands dry on his jeans. "Is this already part of the training?"

"As a matter of fact, it is, but ... you know," she shrugs, "Wouldn't it be nice to feel home again?"

"For the five or ten minutes while it lasts?" he retorts. "I'm not sure."

Well, take us some other place, then. Just try it out, you'll like it. Come on."

Bad idea, Keisha, she tells herself as she observes the marine looking around sceptically. Hikahi was right. He's not ready for it, yet.

"Don't tell me you prefer that boring room you're in to what you could have in here." She watches as his gazes finally finds its way back to her, and he shrugs in resignation.

"All right. What do I have to do?"

"Just think about a place real hard. Try to imagine it as vividly as you can. The program will do the rest. Let it surprise you."

"Hmm..." He's still sounding dubious, but turns around nevertheless, staring at the peak of a mountain that's still visible through the dense foliage above their heads. Takes up his courage... and closes his eyes. Home, she said. She wanted to see the place he used to live in. Well... against some still existing, but weakening inner barrier, the picture of the beautiful, green and blue bay of Gisborne, situated in the east of New Zealand's Northern island takes shape in his head. So fast, it's as if someone switched on a projector. The hills, the blue, pounding sea with the tiny boats he used to observe from his favourite place on a sunny day, screaming seagulls... everything is right, down to the salty smell of the air and the breeze blowing into his face. From somewhere in front of him comes a surprised gasp.

"Oh Dwayne, that's beautiful!"

He opens his eyes, still kind of reluctant -- and gasps himself, for the image his eyes are showing him doesn't differ the least bit from the picture he had just conjured up in his mind. It's so real, even the bitterness that used to accompany all thoughts about home, doesn't stand a chance. It's amazing! So amazing, he can't help smile. A wistful smile, yes, but an honest smile. Not sarcastic, or bitter. Something that's been a rarity for him in these past months. And as he takes his eyes away from the sea to look at the girl, he sees real, heart-felt joy in her face. Honest happiness -- for him!

"Like it?" he asks nevertheless, and sees her smile broaden.

"It's breath-taking," she replies, beaming. "What place is this?"

"Gisborne, New Zealand." He turns around to let his gaze glide over the rugged hills in the direction of the East Cape. "On Terra."

"Oh... so you're from Earth!"

"Well, I live... I used to live there. Wasn't born there, though. But since my regiment's stationed at Gateway, I had to move." He nods to himself. "One of the best decisions in my life. Earth's much nicer than Alpha Ceti R." He looks back to Keisha, and notices the dreamy expression on her face.

"I've never been to Earth, myself," she admits with a hint of sadness. "I just heard that it's supposed to still be the most beautiful place of them all. None of the colonies can compete with it."

"Well, I don't know about that," he admits. "I guess you could argue that with the people on Elysium... but it's okay."

"Okay?" She stares at him, wide-eyed. "You call this okay? You should have seen Arcturus! Even before the riots, it was nothing but a... nevermind."

"No, no, don't get me wrong. New Zealand's great, I agree," Hicks says, stepping up towards her again. "And some other places, too. But many are still ugly, barren concrete jungles. You know, from back where there was only Earth... with a population of 10 billion people. Shortly before sub-space drive was invented and all these terraforming procedures. They had to chop everything down to put up cities full of high-rise buildings, just to make room for the people. They've started taking them down, and they're making good progress, but it's still gonna take them a while to put everything back to the state it was in. New Zealand was one of only a handful of countries which didn't surrender to overpopulation back then. They shut themselves off from the rest of the world and wouldn't admit any people into their country. It was a big issue back then."

"I know," Keisha nods, fascinated. "I heard about it in school. But it's something completely different coming from someone who experienced it."

He suddenly bursts into a hearty laugh, amazing her even more -- that's definitely a first one for him... and it suits him so well! She can tell they're making progress! What a good decision of hers to try this! Eat this, Dr. Hikahi! she thinks, almost boasting with satisfaction.

"Geez, Kee, I'm not that old," Hicks chuckles, still grinning. "I didn't experience it. Just learned it at school, like you." He sees her complexion darken considerably. "Come on, do I look like Methuselah to you?"

"You could well be over 100 years old for all I know," she defends herself, abashed. "With the cryo-sleep slowing down the aging process-"

"Yeah, right." He tries to calm down, not wanting to embarrass the young nurse. "But I would have had to spend 70 years of the last 100 in it to look like this." He shakes his head. "Not even I would have taken a job that would lead me so far away from home. Whenever we left we only needed three or four weeks of cryo-sleep, max."

"Okay..." she bites her lips... and smirks at him from under her brows. "Say, Methuselah... would you like to take me on a little sightseeing-tour? I'd like to see more."

"Keep insulting me and all you'll see is the door of this room closing in your face," he retorts, returning her smirk.

"Sorry." Her voice mimics the tone of a very small child whose daddy's angry at her. "Please?"

He laughs again, causing her heart to jump with joy.

"Alright, alright. I've never been able to resist the puppy dog eyes." Still smirking, he observes their surroundings for one last time, busily searching for an image to replace it.

"Hold on, here we go..." This time, he keeps his eyes open and watches the transformation of his mind's image into pseudo-reality, feeling like some sort of eternal being as he sees the deep fjords of Doubtful Sound take shape around them, followed by Milford Sound... Mount Taranaki... getting completely caught up in the virtual world his mind conjures up without effort.

"Oh, Dwayne, this is incredible!" his guest utters, gasping with amazement again. "And you are doing great, see? I knew you could handle this! If you want to, I can talk to Hikahi and let you play with this every day. Would you like that?"

"Sure," he replies half-heartedly, not really listening to Keisha, because he's just thought of another site he wants to show her. Suddenly, they're enveloped in thick blackness.

"Uh... Dwayne?"

"Just wait. Your eyes are still tuned to the light. It'll come in a few moments." The rushing of the water tells him he did right. They're in the cave. And as he keeps staring straight into the darkness, it comes to life... with millions -- no, myriads! -- of tiny, sparkling stars, surrounding them, making him feel as if he were floating through space.

"Oh..." Words seem to fail her, but suddenly he feels her hand taking his, pressing it. "Oh, this is... so beautiful!! What is this?" He lets her hold on, seeing only a faint outline of her in the weak glow.

"Glow-worms."

"What?"

"Tiny insects. They give off light with the back of their bodies." He cranes his neck back to look at the galaxy of lights on the ceiling, satisfied over her wonder... and creases his brow as he comes to a completely dark spot further back, wondering why there's none of the glow-worms there. The spot moves.

"Ouch!" Hicks hardly hears Keisha's surprised protest, or feels her wiggling her hand out of his. "Dwayne, what's-"

It moves. Towards them! And it's big -- at least man-sized! Obliterating the light where it moves across the ceiling, a darker shape than the artificial night enveloping it. No... no... He takes a step back, hearing an accelerating beeping behind them! The tracker signal! It doesn't lie! Can't be. They can't be here!

"Dwayne? Dwayne, what is it? Ow!!!"

"Run, Keisha!!" He shoves her in the direction of the entrance, when suddenly their surroundings change again without warning -- into the bare, metal corridors of Hadley's Hope, and now he sees them, spilling out in dozens from a hole in the ceiling, glistening, chitinous black nightmare figures!! The sparkle on chrome jaws, grinning death! Grinning at him! "Run as fast as you can!!!" He's already racing down the walkway at full tilt, when he notices she's not beside him -- and turns around to see her, down on her knees, where she's fallen ten meters behind him, the closest alien just about to reach her. "Keisha!!!"

"Dwayne, it's not-"

The aberration grabs her head, double-fingered claws digging into her face -- and yanks her up towards the ceiling with a moist ripping sound.

"Nooooo!!!" His legs denying him further service, frozen on the spot, he stares at the wave of aliens rushing at him. Dozens of them. Closing in. Grinning at him. Their grin saying, "We've finally got you!" Surrounding him until all he sees is a squirming pile of glistening chitin and sparkling chrome. Got you! We've got you!

"Nooooo!!"

Light explodes all around.

"-not real, Dwayne! Dwayne! Calm down!"

They seize him and drag him back, and he knows just where they're taking him -- and fights, summoning strength he didn't know he had left, to wrench free of their grip, to escape Apone's fate, to-

"Hold him, dammit!"

"Dwayne, Dwayne, it's me! Whatever you seeing, it's not --"

"Shut the fuck up, Keisha, and hold him down! Isis!"

"Got him!"

An iron grip pins him down, presses his arms to the floor as if they were shackled down to it.

"Noo! Get off me! Get off me!" A tiny prick in the pit of his elbow... and suddenly, his arms slackens, and he feels something like liquid lead move through his veins, spreading through his body with every pulse, paralysing him. His muscles won't obey his will anymore. Gorman... they did the same to Gorman... no...

"Dwayne, oh my God, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The girl's face appears above him, hovering in his blurred vision like a strange moon, moisture glittering on her cheeks. Something touches his face. He's so tired... "I didn't mean to-"

"How can anyone be so stupid as to subject him to the VR processor yet?" an angry, male voice booms in from afar. "Shit, Keisha, look what you've done!"

"I bet you didn't even tell Dr. Hikahi, did you?" Another voice, one he's vaguely familiar with, but by now, the words have lost their meaning to Hicks. They're just background noise, their meaning slipping from his feeble grasp as he sinks deeper and deeper...

"Dwayne..." This is Ripley, probably back to check whether Vasquez... whether it's already over. "Dwayne, I don't mean to disturb you, but... this might be important."

He looks up, tired, beat. Feeling a million years old. Not really caring. What could be important after what just happened? "What?"

She comes to a halt right in front of him, her face compassionate, but also strangely preoccupied. Tense. "There's something going on in the corridors. The RSS alarms won't cease... and we still can't find Burke."

A face emerges from behind her back, looking at him questioningly. He looks at the girl, then up to Ripley. Shrugs. "So what? His people are responsible for this mess. I hope the aliens got him!" He just can't find the energy in himself to give a shit. Ripley looks down at him, slowly shaking her head.

"Even if that's the way I'm feeling, too... something's going on outside. Gorman thinks we had better check it out."

"Well, if he's waiting for my consent, tell him to be my guest."

"He's not waiting for your consent." Her voice grows firm. "He's waiting for you to come with him. You know, to cover each others backs." It earns her a weary smile.

"You see where all this back-covering's landed us. We're not terribly efficient with it. He might be better off alone."

She narrows her eyes, as if she can't believe what she's hearing, then leans down to say something to Newt that's too low for Hicks to hear. The girl leaves.

"So that's it? You've given up?"

"Uh-huh..." He meets her hard stare for a moment, before his gaze goes to the table where Vasquez is lying. "You can count, can't you? We were 15 -- including Bishop -- when we came here... now it's just you, Gorman, Bishop and me... and the girl, and about one clip of ammunition for Gorman and me to protect us with. I'd say the odds are pretty lousy. Whenever they decide to come for us, we won't have much left to keep them off."

"Has it ever occurred to you that your calculation may be wrong? In their favour?"

"Huh?" He squints at her, not really eager to listen any further.

"You are still counting on an army of them, aren't you?"

"I think it's safe to assume there are more of them than we can handle, yes."

"But you might be wrong!" Ripley leans forward, intensity written on her face. "Just count: There were 157 colonists in Hadley's Hope... even if they had all been impregnated, there can't have been more than 157 aliens total. 156, since they didn't get Newt. "

"Not enough for you?" Hicks throws in acidly. She ignores it.

"As we've seen, the colonist didn't go down without a fight. We saw a number of some acid-holes on our way to Operations, big holes, right? Big holes equalling dead alien. Listen to me!" She's still not getting through to him. "Let's say they killed ten of them. Maybe more."

"Heck, yeah, maybe they killed them all, and what we're dealing with are just the aliens' ghosts," he hisses, angry. "What're you trying to say? That there are only a handful left to deal with?"

"Just do the math," she insists. "First the colonists, then your team over at the atmosphere processor. You did some pretty bad damage to them. And then their first attempt in the tunnel... I would bet everything that at least seventy or eighty of them were killed right then! And another twenty or thirty in the corridor. Just do the math, Dwayne! There can't be too many left!"

"It's all nothing but speculation!" He raises his voice. "Just listen to yourself! All I'm hearing is Maybe, maybe, maybe! Maybe it's not like you're saying! Huh? What then? What if there are still seventy or eighty of them out there, psyching themselves up for another go at us? You saw how fast these bastards heal up! Maybe most of them got away, hid in a corner to sprout a new arm or leg, and are just getting ready to give it to us with a vengeance! "

"I don't think-"

"You don't think!" he yells, right into her face. "You don't think! Know what? You don't know! Everything's possible! With this kind of activity in the corridors right now, it's likely they're preparing another ambush for us we won't be able to answer! Not with just one clip!" He stops, breathing hard. God knows, he didn't want to yell at Ripley. After all, she's just doing her best to cheer him up, to not make it look hopeless. But if there's something he has in abundance, it's field expertise... and he knows a lost mission when he's part of one. "I'm sorry..." His voice is low again. "That's just the way it is."

When Ripley answers, it's not with anger, but rather with sorrow. "It's sad to see when someone loses his optimism..." She expects at least a glare, but all she gets is a consternated frown.

"Yeah, well... I guess reality finally caught up with me." His gaze lies once again on the dead smart gun-operator. "Took me a while... guess I'm a slow learner..."

Now it's his opposite who's taking a deep breath. Her voice is calm, in spite of having just been yelled at. "So... what are you going to do now? Just sit here, wallowing in self-pity and waiting for them to get you?" He doesn't answer, so she gets out the most efficient weapon she can think of to rip him out of his stupor... even if she hates having to resort to it. "If they come, they won't kill just you... I'm sure you know this."

His stare grows hard, and for a brief moment, she fears she's gone too far. "Trying the good old guilt-trip, huh?" His voice is dangerously low, contradicting the diamond-hard sparkle in his eyes. "It's not enough I've got to blame myself for Vasquez and Hudson's deaths -- now you want to hold me responsible for everything that could happen to you and Newt, too." With a start, he jumps to his feet, a grim expression on his face that makes Ripley recoil from him. "Tell you what -- it works... but I didn't think you'd sink low enough to use it."

"Dwayne-"

He leaves her standing and heads for Operations.

"Lieutenant?" Gorman's face is a single, unasked question "You ready to go?"

"Yes." The officer's still looking uncomfortable. "Are you... are you sure you want to..." He interrupts himself. "Are you alright?" Considering the blood-caked skin and clothes of his opposite, the question seems rather absurd, but he has to know. He doesn't look at Hicks, but rather at Ripley who's entering Operations behind the Corporal with a set-in-stone look on her face. Even Bishop looks concerned. Hicks shrugs as he takes the one still functional pulse rifle from the console.

"Hell, yeah. I still know how to shoot, and my eyes work, too. Should be enough to do this, right?" He looks up. "Or do you want it?"

Gorman raises the hand with his pistol. "I'd rather take this. You are probably better with the rifle than me. And I'll take along the flashlight, too."

"Okay." One last check, then he takes the heavy weapon up and throws a direct look over at Ripley. "I'd say we're good to go then." He turns on his heels and heads for the door. "Lieutenant?" He's halfway through punching the manual code into the keypad, when he remembers something and turns his neck to look back. "Bishop? You're armed, right?" The android shows him the weapon. "How many rounds left?"

"Six."

Hicks nods, for once losing the hard expression he has been wearing over the last minutes and replacing it with genuine concern as he grabs his headset and adjusts the mike just below his lips.

"If it comes to the worst..." He doesn't finish his sentence, but then, he doesn't have to. Bishop understands perfectly well. "Will you be able to do this? With your behaviour-inhibitors and...? Will they let you... you know?" He struggles hard to ignore Ripley and Newt, who are standing right next to the android. A cold fist presses his stomach together at the thought of the worst-case scenario becoming real. Of little Newt, who comforted him just a few minutes back, having her head blown away after all she has endured over the last six or seven weeks. Of Ripley, too, even if she just came down brutally hard on him. He doesn't want her dead.

"Don't worry, Hicks," Bishop reassures him. "They won't get them. I'll make sure they won't."

"Thanks..." he says, rather to himself, giving his synthetic team-member the little approving nod he's waiting for, before he turns back to punch in the rest of the code. "Lieutenant? What's the tracker saying?"

"Nothing."

And now they all hear it, too -- the alarm has stopped. Everything's silent again. After listening for a few more heartbeats, Hicks opens the door. Tenses. The dark corridor lies in front of him, 50 meters to the junction with the main corridor, then, after the corner, 400 meters of solid blackness of the main walkway with it's many ventilation shafts, connecting corridors and doors, each one a possible place for an ambush. Everything's silent. Expectant. Just waiting for them to come out of hiding? He inhales deeply and silently, straining his ears as much as he can to pick up any detectable sign of danger.

"Anything?" Ripley's voice, whispering. He shakes his head. Waiting a few seconds longer, scanning the walls, the ceiling in the hardly penetrable twilight. He even checks out the shredded bodies of the four xenomorphs lying in a pile just opposite the entrance. Checks for even the tiniest move, even though the huge acid hole leading to them tells him they must be dead. But then, they had been thinking the same about the one that was responsible for wasting their precious last ten rounds from the RSS sentries, right? He gives himself a good, hard, mental kick. If they don't go now, they'll probably stay frozen to the spot for all eternity.

"Let's go." Exchanging a glance with his officer, he takes the first step, pulse rifle ready for action. "Bishop? Close the door behind us."

"Be careful." Ripley again. He doesn't respond, and a moment later the pneumatic hiss of the mechanism tells them they are alone.

"Dr. Saitchev? Dr. Saitchev, would you please come over here for a second?"

"My shift's over, Yoshi," the tall Russian-born psychologist informs his staff member, holding up a ceramic mug. "I'm only still here for the coffee."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"The corporal again?"

"Why -- yes. How do you-"

"He's always dreaming like this. And after what happened this afternoon, it was to be expected. Medication's wearing off, dreams starting again... perfectly normal."

"But, shouldn't we give him something again?" Yoshi Tanaka looks up in puzzlement as his superior leans over his table to take a look at the monitor which is showing the restlessly spinning and thrashing marine. He points at a scale. "Look at his heartbeat! We should really-!

"It'll wake him all by himself when it's fast enough, Yoshi," Saitchev calms him down. "No need to worry. Have you never had a nightmare?"

"Yes, but not like him."

"They're all the same. Just let him ride it out. He's got to come to grips with this stuff sooner or later anyway. Darwin wants him unspoiled for her project. We can't start pumping him full of this psycho-pharmaceutical shit. He's a tough guy -- he can deal with it." He turns away. "By the way, that cappuccino is i-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-e! Want some too?"

"Anything?"

"Nothing."

Their surroundings are still as quiet as a graveyard as they move on, carefully, further down the main walkway. Behind the still watchful, but empty RSS units, it's littered with the corpses of more aliens than Hicks can count on first sight, and Ripley's words echo in his head. What if she's right? What if they did indeed already decimate those bastards to the point where there's only a handful of them left? Maybe they've got them just as scared of them now, as they are of the aliens? There must be over 50 lying around here, so many, it's in fact hard finding a way through them. There are more holes in the ground than intact grating, and they really have to watch their footing. Just one wrong step, and they could seriously injure themselves by treading through a hole and cutting themselves on a razor-sharp steel strut. It doesn't make their task any easier.

"Lieutenant?" Hicks all but whispers it, but still the noise strikes him as treacherously loud. Gorman looks back. Hicks motions to the robot sentries, and then performs a cut-throat gesture telling the officer he intends to silence them before the wailing alarm gives them away once they step in front of them. It barely takes him a minute to disable the sirens. A small nod to Gorman. Confirmation to proceed. The officer takes a couple of steps before he comes to another halt, illuminating the gruesome scenery on the ground before them: biomechanical arms, legs, tails, rumps, even heads lie strewn in a state of complete disarray on the floor for as far as the flashlight reaches. Hicks cocks an eyebrow in amazement. Looked like the bastards really got their rears kicked hard by the robot sentries. Yeah, the sceptic voice in his head concludes. But still they came back for more, remember? You didn't scare them off, not even with this massacre.

"Now what?" Gorman shines the light in his direction. "If the ground breaks beneath us..." He follows Hicks' gaze up to the ceiling, looking for any handles they could use to avoid the treacherous floor. The corporal is the first one to silently shake his head to himself.

"No good. We'll have to jump from spot to spot." The doubts in Gorman's face are the same ones he's feeling as the lieutenant lights the ground in front of them, looking for a safe way. "Tracker?"

"Still nothing."

"All right..." Hicks braces for the effort. Two meters. This should be possible -- even if he isn't looking forward to landing on a heap of dead aliens. If some of that acid is still active... "Keep the light like this, okay?" Switching the safety of his rifle on for the jump, he takes aim. Three fast steps -- and then he lands on a pile of bodies, crouching, half expecting to hear the familiar hissing of the acid eating into his boots. Nothing. Relieved, he straightens and gives Gorman the thumbs up, taking two steps aside after having checked the floor. The next second, the lieutenant is at his side.

Together, they make their way through the mine-field of half dissolved grating, at last jumping over a wide hole that spans the entire width of the corridor. Another look at the tracker's readouts, almost expecting it to show nothing after the eternity it's been quiet while they made their way down here... but just as they look down, a single, sharp tone makes them jump! Hicks moves his lips in a silent curse as he checks out the reading, his fingers switching off the pulse rifle's safety automatically. The signal's hardly there, meaning they're at least 200 meters away. What to do now? His mind's racing...

"Bishop?" He barely dares to mumble into his headset. "We got something here..."

"Tell them to come back!" he hears Ripley in the background, sounding nervous.

"A big signal?"

Hicks checks again, motioning Gorman to take a few steps into the direction of the contact. The signal's getting more insistent, and now he's seeing more than just one blue dot on the monitor.

"Three... so far. About 200 meters down the corridor."

"Can you see anything yet?"

"Negative. Too far. And it's too dark. We can't see more than the next seven or eight meters." He curses himself for leaving his helmet with the in-built infrared-visor behind. "Got anything, any... messages or so? It could be the rescue team... but I'd think they'd send us a message prior to coming in. They wouldn't want us to blow them away." He waits for the android's reply.

"There's nothing. And the satellite's still working."

Another tense glance exchanged between him and Gorman. A deep breath. "Okay... we'll go investigate. Tell me when you hear anything. As long as you don't, stay quiet. We need our ears out here. Hicks, over and out." He watches Gorman disable the audio-alarm that would give them away as soon as they got closer.

"Good luck, Corporal. Bishop, over and out."

Silence again.

"All right, let's go..." Another glance reveals two more contacts and causes his stomach to freeze. If these are indeed aliens... Falling into place at the Lieutenant's side, matching his stride, he can't help looking at the signal again and again. Another one now. Six! It can't be Burke, that's for sure. So where is the bastard? When was the last time he saw him? Something heavy clatters to the floor in front of them, the thunderous echo racing through the silence. Some commotion follows, but too low to be identified as either human or alien noise. Hicks feels the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up. All of a sudden, the air appears to be almost to thick too breathe.

"Ssssshhhh..." Gorman comes to a stop, holds up the tracker. The entire monitor is now one single blue blur. Ten contacts, at least. His face is an open question: Should we really proceed? Hicks doesn't know. He doesn't want to. But what would they win if they went back? Sure, they could backtrack and hole up again in Operations, without knowing what's going on. And then? Maybe, if they'd proceeded right now, they would at least have surprise on their side and be able to do some damage -- they'd have the chance to act, not to react! Maybe their chances for survival would be bigger this way! Maybe, maybe, maybe! Annoyed with himself, he comes to a decision. Lets Gorman know about it with a curt nod and gestures for him to switch off the flashlight.

As soon as the light goes, the darkness closes in on them. An almost solid, thick environment heavy with silence and foreboding dread. Hell, he doesn't want to go... Cut the BS, soldier! his inner drill-instructor sneers at him. You really wanna go back and tell them you were too much of a chicken to check the signal out? Somehow, he manages to take the first step, even though his feet are still feeling somewhat reluctant. Another glance at the read-out. 120 meters to rendezvous point. The entire monitor's blue. If it's the aliens, they'll walk straight into their deaths...

"Hicks-"

"Ssssshh!" he shuts Ripley off, focusing on the corridor straight ahead.

100 meters to go.

The end of the walkway is solid black. They can't see shit. What if the aliens are just waiting for them on the other side, seeing them clear as day, while they're poking around in the dark. What's worse? Using the flashlight and telling their presence to every non-alien who might be looking from hundreds of meters away... or continuing in this darkness that's only broken by occasional flying sparks from severed circuits or the flickering of a not entirely dead neon-light?