Chrysalis by Katja

70 meters.

Why is he afraid of being seen by the rescue team anyway? Shouldn't they rather run towards them, shouting and revealing their presence to avoid being accidentally confused with any of those sneaky biomechanoid bastards and tragically shot?

50 meters.

He holds up his hand, silently telling Gorman to stop and listen. It should be possible to hear something now, judging by how massive this signal is. But straining his ears as he might, there's nothing but the distinct crackling of a severed circuit somewhere off to the left, raining blue-white sparks down from the ceiling. Otherwise, there's nothing but silence, and his vivid imagination throws up the image of a pile of squirming, glistening nightmare-creatures, silently waiting for them just around the corner, ready to pounce. Smart enough not to round it themselves and jump into his line of fire while he's ready for it. If they have to round the corner, it'll be to their disadvantage. Okay, proceed. He doesn't say it, but Gorman, showing that he didn't earn his officer rank for nothing, understands him without words. At last, Hicks has to give the man some credit. After all, he's a rookie who had been thrown into the worst of circumstances. With almost no prior combat experience, it's no wonder he panicked when things went sour. It had been easy at first for everybody to lay the blame entirely on their incompetent officer... but they've been unfair. Gorman tries hard to make up for his blackout at the processing station -- he really needs to give him a break now, even if... if he shot - Stop it! The mental drill-instructor again. Always handy when he needs him. You can't afford to think about this now!

30 meters.

They're almost at the corner now. Hicks' entire skin is tingling, muscles so tense he can feel them cramping in his neck and arms, locking, almost. His pulse is thunder in his ears, a rhythm of two beats reverberating three words: Friend or fiend? Friend or fiend? Friend or- From the corners of his eyes, he sees Gorman securing the tracker to his belt and raising the pistol instead. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, running down his tense face. He's afraid. Deadly afraid. Doesn't want to proceed. Just like Hicks himself. Better to get this over with as long as they're still able to move. Hicks looks over and sees Gorman nod. He's ready. Okay... ready... set...

GO!

Three, four fast steps around the corner, pulse rifle ready, finger on the trigger. Gorman right behind him. Dark figures ahead, big. Many! Looking like-

"Hold it!"

"It's them!" Burke's voice. Burke?!?! A spear of light stabs into his face, and for a heartbeat, he feels like an animal on the street, captured by the beam of an approaching car. The rescue team! Help's finally arrived! They're safe! They're-

"Don't shoot!" Gorman, relieved to no ends, letting his hand sink. Whoosh! A noise he knows all to well. Even before his head has identified it as the raising of rifles in front of him, his leg-muscles catapult him down and to the side, back behind the corner -- as the silence explodes into hellfire!

"Gorman -! Forget it, he's gone!" Red-glowing shrapnel from the shredded wall rains down on Hicks as he rolls to his feet in one fluent move and races back down the corridor, leaving the pulse rifle behind. All that can save him now is speed!

"Hicks? Hicks- what's going-"

"Bishop!" he yells into the microphone, simultaneously trying to concentrate on seeing enough in the twilight to not run against a support beam or into the holes in the ground, listening to the commotion behind him and telling the android what to do. "Bishop, they're Weyland Yutani elite guards! They're here to kill us!" Angry gunfire behind him, and the next moment he's in the middle of a hail of bullets. "Fuck!" He turns sharp right, crashing into a slowly opening door, squeezing through before it's halfway open. Slams his palm on the switch to close. Too slow! Too slow! Reverberation of heavy steps coming his way. "Go, go, GO!" The door slams shut, and he kills the mechanism with two quick shots from his pistol, just when a burst of heavy fire explodes against the steel. Stepping back, he searches frantically for a way out.

"Hicks! What's happening?"

"They've come to kill us, Bishop! Seal the door! Barricade it! They're almost there! They already killed Gorman!"

"What?! But how are you supposed to-"

"DO IT!" An ominous hissing comes from the door, and looking back, he sees a bright red dot on the right side of the door. His heartbeat accelerates even further. "I can't make it down the corridor! Give me Ripley!" Spinning on his heels, he takes in the room in a matter of seconds. The red dot's become bright orange. There! There it is!

"Dwayne?"

"Just listen, Ellen, there's no time! They're cutting through the door!" he screams, stepping up to the ventilation shaft on the right wall, checking out the grille protecting it. "I need to you to help me find a way back to you!"

"Hold on." The sound of faint steps over the earphones. Another frantic look back. Bright yellow-white, molten steel drops down inside the door. It can only be a matter of another minute before they're through! Securing the pistol in his belt, Hicks grabs the grille with both hands and pulls. "I'm at the tactical console now. I can see your PDT readout!"

God, this woman's a miracle! Always knows what to do! And how right she's been to be afraid of the rescue team!! She knew all along! One more violent jerk, and the vent lies open for him to use. One last look over his shoulder. They're already shoving the door open manually! He pulls up, not even thinking twice over eventually running into an alien in the darkness in front of him. Right now, Death is behind him, and it's real close!

"I'm in an air duct. Watch my progress and tell me whether I'm going in the right direction!" He can only move on hands and knees, but adrenaline pushes his body forward, making him fly. An intersection, he needs an intersection, or all they'll have to do to finish him off is to let loose just one burst of fire into the vent!

"Okay! Looking good so far."

"Is there an intersection coming up?" A short, torturous break. Sure, the blueprints are complicated to read, but man -! Come on! he urges her quietly, racing further along. The darkness around him is so thick, he's in constant danger of running his head in on anything protruding into the vent. Still nothing behind him, but they must be there any second now. "Ellen?"

"Only leading up. Nothing to the sides."

"I don't care!" Inwardly, he curses. Of course he cares -- a chimney-ascent on smooth steel walls over more than a few meters will be impossible! But since he's got no choice... "Where?"

"You're almost upon it! Slow down!"

Voices behind him, muffled in the narrowness of the vent. Someone shouting orders. They're in! Frantically, his hands search the ceiling -- and finds the opening! Tight enough to work! Not thinking twice, he stands up, propping his back and boots against the walls -- when he hears the Whooooosh of expanding gas, and the darkness below him explodes in a bright orange fireball! The flame's not powerful enough to reach him, but the heat that's rising up to him is no less intense; scorching his skin and making him hiss in pain.

"Dwayne!"

The metal under his back gets hot, and he climbs up frantically, faster, faster, pushing himself higher up the vertical vent, not caring whether he'll look into grinning metal jaws once he finds the time to look up.

"Aw, hell!" Another Whoooooosh, and more heat, blistering his back through his clothes -- when, abruptly, the shaft ends and his searching hands find the space of a connecting duct! He pulls himself up and into the horizontal tunnel just as a flurry of ricocheting bullets races up with a high whine behind him, one of them embedding itself into the sole of his boot!

"Dwayne! Dwayne, are you alright?" Ripley's voice comes booming over the earphones. Gasping and panting, lying flat on his stomach in the connecting duct, Hicks waits for his breath to return and the stinging on his back to subside before he answers.

"I'm okay..." Two more deep breaths. How's Bishop doing?"

"The door's sealed, and he's getting started on the barricade."

"Hole up in MedLab! Let him barricade the door, and then go to MedLab, and seal it, too." He pushes himself up again, ready to proceed. He doesn't hear anything from behind, but then again, he's too far away by now. Will they believe they got him and make for the others now?

"But then how are you supposed to get back to us?" Ripley asks, worried. "I can't monitor you once I leave, and if you take a wrong turn-"

Right.

"How's my direction right now?"

"Okay."

"Okay." His body goes on automatic while his mind races, searching for a solution. "Any intersections?" A short pause.

"Four... to both sides. And four crossing the duct vertically." Meaning, he's got to watch it, or he'll fall down and land with a splat maybe 30 meters below. Not good.

"Damn...!"

"The first will be in about 20 meters... and they are evenly spaced. Every 50 meters."

This could help. If he measures his strides between two of the intersections, he could be able to navigate in here even in complete darkness... if nothing else happens, and only in case he won't meet any... other passers-by. But how is he supposed to know when he's reached MedLab?

"How far am I away from you?" She doesn't respond right away, but he hears her breathing into his ears, then muttering a low curse. "What?"

"They're at the door..." There's fear in her voice.

"How far am I away from MedLab? Just tell me this, and then you take Newt and Bishop, go there and seal it off! You got that?"

"Yes." She inhales deeply. "280 meters to MedLab. I don't know, Dwayne, there's a lot that can go wrong..."

"Right now, it's not like we have a choice," he retorts, trying to speed up. "Do it!" Another idea hits him. "Hide in the vents! Newt knows her way around there blindly! And I'll be making some ruckus when I think I'm near! You'll hear me! These vents carry the noise quite well. We should be able to find each other!!"

"Okay..." She's still sounding doubtful, but he can't understand what else she's saying, because he hears Bishop overlapping, urging her to leave.

"Go now!"

"Good luck!"

"To you, too!"

Up in the control room, Yoshi Tanaka shakes his head to himself as he watches the image of the restless marine.

"Man, we really ought to wake him..."

A shadow falls over him from behind, and he turns to see whether Dr. Saitchev's back to tell him to go ahead. But no, it's his android girlfriend, checking out the image on the monitor with her usual non-telling face. Tanaka's eyes follow the black lines around her delicate eyebrows admiringly, not really caring what the synthetic will think about being gaped at from up close. And sure enough, just as he follows another intricate line on her brow, it changes its form to a high peak as its bearer cocks an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Never seen me before, Mr. Tanaka?"

Caught, he feels his face flush. Damn, why should he feel embarrassed just because of some stupid android? In spite of the redness of his face, Tanaka manages to glare in anger at his visitor. After all, Darwin told them that Isis was officially ranked below him now, right? He doesn't need to take shit from her anymore! By God, he's had to take enough from her already.

"Got a problem, Isis?" he retorts coldly. "Maybe you wanna tell Kurtz or Darwin about it." He sees his reply sink in, but can't tell its effect. She's too good at keeping her expression guarded. Instead, she's turning towards the monitor again as if he didn't exist.

"Tell me when he wakes. I'll go down and-"

"-and what?" Tanaka laughs. Calm him? Hold his hand? You??! That's a good one!

Her expression remains unchanged, but her voice descends to that chilly tone he's heard far to often directed at himself.

"Laugh as much as you want to, but tell me. I've got my orders, and you've got yours. If you don't follow them, I'm going to report it to Darwin." With one last glance at Hicks, she turns to leave, not looking back at the fuming Tanaka. "You know how to reach me."

51... 52... 53... Hicks slows down, recalling he must by now be almost upon the final vertical shaft Ripley told him about. Somewhere right in front of him must be the last bottomless hole, and -- not much further -- Operations and, finally, MedLab, below him. All he'll have to do is find a way down, but he's going to cross that bridge when he's at it... 58... 59... What was that?

He comes to a stop and strains his ears, trying to make out the noise that was loud enough to make it through the thundering of his heartbeat and heavy breaths. Voices. Voices from below, shouting orders. He thinks he's making out Burke, but just as he tries harder to decipher the exact words, the loud hissing of the welding torch drowns them out. So, they're still at the door! Good. Good indeed! Grinning grimly into the darkness, Hicks prepares to shove himself further along the vent -- when he hears it... or rather, feels it...vibrations under his hands, the thin steel shaking under something heavy -- coming his way!!! He freezes, his blood ice-water, heartbeat accelerating into overdrive. They're here! Here in the air duct with him, and they finally found him! Somehow the 38mm appears in his hand without him realizing he's even taken it, aiming into the pitch-black darkness in front of him. Six shots is all he's got left! Six shots only! Not enough for a -- the whole duct's shaking under the heavy impact now, and he can't see shit!! What can he do? What can he -- nerve-wracking screeching of diamond-hard claws digging into the alloy of the shaft, the sound of something heavy moving with inhumane speed -- and a gust of wind hitting his face with the smell of wet metal -- and then it's gone, and somewhere below him all hell breaks loose!

The angry bellow of heavy weaponry mixes with a wet ripping sound and surprised, shocked shrieks! Mesmerized, Hicks remains on his haunches for a moment longer, not able to believe his luck! For the light that's pouring up into the darkness from the vertical shaft, telling him that the alien ripped right through the ceiling to attack the humans below, is just barely one meter away from his position! Just one step, or push, further, and the alien would have crashed right into him! The realization of how close it was nauseates Hicks, but the sharp twang of a bullet ripping through the vent from below not far behind him puts him in motion again. He's close! Only 30 or 40 more meters, and he'll be right over MedLab, and then all he has to do is find a way down to --

Move it, soldier! he orders himself silently, searching for the continuation of the shaft on the other side of the hole, inwardly praying not to run into another alien -- and then he's found it, and hurries along, not bothering to listen to the ruckus behind and below him. Squeezing the last reserves into his burning muscles, he moves through the darkness, still counting. 12... 13...14... far enough?

"Ripley? Bishop?" he tries tentatively, feeling naked and exposed as soon as he's opened his mouth. Nothing. But then again, he's hardly been shouting... more like talking real low, almost whispering. 21...22... 23...He clears his throat. "Ripley? Bishop? You hear me?"

"-lo?" an unrecognisable voice echoes to him from what's sounding miles away. "ee -- ere! Do you--"

"Ellen?" He shouts back, and almost falls headlong into another hole in the ground. Cursing, he manages just in time to keep his balance and come to a stop. His outstretched hand don't find any walls in front of him at all. A major crossroads. Fine. Just dandy! "Ellen, that you?"

"-ayne? You hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you! Keep on making noise, I'm coming!" Turning his inner radar on, he concentrates on Ripley's voice in an attempt to filter the real source from the dozens of echoes travelling through the venting system... a next to impossible task, as he soon realizes! This is the second tunnel he's tried, and the voice is sounding further away the more he's going into what he's thinking must be the right direction. Frustrated, he sits back. "Ellen? Ellen, do you hear me? Am I closer now?" Nothing for some long, anxious moments.

"-ne? -- almost --one! me --ack!"

"Dammit..." Muttering to himself, he slides back to the intersection backwards, as to not suddenly lose all sense of direction and head back straight the way he came without knowing. Guess I'm too high up. I need to get at least one level down. Just having finished this thought, Hicks feels his feet dangle over the abyss. Time to take a chance? Shutting down all further contemplation, he pushes himself back until he's hanging in the vertical shaft, no visible ground below him. Let go? Not let go? Straddling, he searches for another opening with his feet. None. His arm muscles start to burn. Let go? Pull up? How high up can he be? No more than 4, 6 meters, right? High enough to break my legs, for sure! Before he can think better of it, his fingers loose their grip on the edge, and he falls -- falls! Lands on something with a weird crunching noise, the impact running through his body -- and then the ground beneath his feet gives way, and he falls further down, into blinding brightness, landing on something that clatters away under his weight and crashes to the ground, bumping his head on the edge of a desk. "Ouch!!"

For a long moment, there's nothing he can do except trying to catch his breath, holding his throbbing head and waiting for his eyes to readjust to the light. Up! Up! Up! Up! When his surroundings finally stumble into view, he sees to his endless relief the familiar room with the two canned facehuggers, their stasis prisons illuminating the scene in a soft, blue light. This is MedLab! He actually made it! But where -- Hicks jumps to his feet, taking the hand out of his hair, briefly checking for blood on his fingers, but he seems to have been lucky. His glance goes back to the door to the corridor connecting MedLab and Operations. Nobody here yet, but he can't see any kind of barricade. Whatever. He needs to find the others now. Turning on his heels, he checks the walls, hurriedly recalling the exact locations of the ventilation shafts down here. The first grille he sees is still intact.

Next room. Storage, right? There it is, the open mouth of the duct they took. Relief floods through him He must be real close now! Getting down on his knees, he suddenly hears voices behind him, muffled and indistinct, but coming closer! Okay... let's buy themselves some precious minutes... He slides into the opening backwards, putting the grille back in place behind him. On first view, their hunters won't see where they've gone. Turning back proves a bit tricky, but somehow Hicks manages to squeeze himself into the right direction. Now all that's left to do is find the others and haul ass!

"Bishop?"

"Dwayne? Dwayne, is that you?" Ripley, real close now. He goes faster. A beam of light illuminates the tunnel in front of him. Yes!

"I'm coming! I'm almost there!" The beam stabs right into his face and blinds him for a moment, before it's being moved away. Two expectant faces beam at him, overjoyed to see him. Two?!? Where's Bishop?!

"Oh, thank God-"

"They must have used the air ducts to disappear," they suddenly hear behind them, muffled, but clear enough to be understood. The next second, the grille Hicks put back in place behind him is being kicked away. "There's no other way out. See? This one's loose..."

"Move!" Hicks mouths silently to the others, speeding up himself to reach the intersection they're in. His legs clear the main tunnel, just as another beam of light's directed down into the darkness, barely missing him. Against the furious beating of his heart, he puts a finger on his lips, looking into the frightened eyes of the girl and Ripley opposite him. Ssssshhhh...

"See anything?"

"No, Sir. You want me to go in?"

"Not necessary. They can't be far. We'll deal with them some other way. Give me that!"

Uh-oh... experience tells Hicks what's going to come.

Move! Move! Not a sound from his lips, but his scared expression is enough to set them in motion, further down into Hadley's metal intestines in a frantic speed! The next junction, they've got to reach it or -- too late! He hears the metallic clang the grenade lands with in the main tunnel -- and then the ground buckles beneath him! Reflexively, he slaps his hand over his ears, but the explosion in the confined room almost tears apart his eardrums nevertheless, a feeling as if he'd stuck his head into the turbines of a starting dropship! Then the fire comes. A faint, orange hue growing brighter faster than his eyes can see, coming their way! Thrusting himself forward, he picks up Newt and sees Ripley jump toward the connecting duct, gives her a violent shove that sends her further in, crash-landing behind her as a high-pitched whine reaches their ears, and a wall of flames and shrapnel races by.

He yells, unaware of it, unaware of the others yelling, too. The heat's insane, burning his back, his naked skin, his hair, eyebrows, scorching his nostrils, his mouth, windpipe, lungs. He's burning! Reflex makes him throw himself on his back to extinguish the fire, however useless the effort may be in the end. He lets go of Newt, still yelling... and realizes he's able to breathe again. The air's still hot, but not scorching hot. And his back -- isn't on fire, actually, although it's throbbing like hell! Slowly, it's beginning to dawn on him - they made it. They... made it. Relaxing, he lets his head sink back onto the hot floor, smelling his own still smouldering hair and the stench of napalm. Dammit, he thinks, hardly believing how close it's been. They're serious about shutting us up! Using Napalm grenades in these confined quarters... Which brings him to an important question.

"Newt? Ellen? You two okay?" He turns his head and hears the child's choked voice right beside him.

"My hands hurt."

"Let me see... Ellen?" He feels his way up to Newt's hands.

"I'm fine." He hears her sitting up, gasping. "That was close..."

"Too close," he mumbles, sensing some blisters on the child's fingers. "You burnt your fingers a bit, Newt. I know it hurts, but... there's nothing worse, right?"

"No." Finally, the flashlight comes back on.

"Good." He squints into Ripley's sweat-beaded face, finally able to utter the one question he's been burning to ask since he's seen them. "Where's Bishop?" She embraces Newt, who flings herself at her adult protector, still trembling with shock, and sadly shakes her head.

"He didn't want to come with us...

"What? Why?" Hicks stares at her, incredulous, not wanting to believe his still ringing ears.

"He said he couldn't be sure he'd be... be loyal to us if we got too close to the Weyland Yutani guards. Didn't know whether he would be able to lie to them. He didn't trust his programming. He said, he couldn't be certain he wouldn't hold us up if they told him to... You know...they built him," she shrugs, matter-of-factly. "I understood his concerns." She's sounding sad, but not as sad as Hicks is feeling. Sure, Bishop's only been another android for her, a thing. A successor of the one who betrayed her. It's not like she's had him as a constant source of good advice and genuine concern over the course of eight years... He sighs and places his back against the wall. It's getting cooler quickly and soothes his back.

"You know you're smoking?" She asks, trying to lighten up the bleak mood.

"Huh?"

"Your back."

"Oh..." He turns his neck and smells the sickening stench of burnt fabric. "Yeah... it's just the jacket. I'm fine." Bishop gone... shit! If anyone could have helped them at all in this bleakest of situations, it would have been the resourceful synthetic, but now... what the hell are they supposed to do ?

As if she picked up his vibe, Ripley asks him: "What now?"

Hicks exhales noisily, eyes glued on the red-glowing numbers of his chronometer. "We wait."

"For...?"

"They can see us on their trackers, if they care to watch them," he explains. "And they get my PDT-reading. If we move now, they'll know they missed. I assume we all agree we don't need that."

She nods.

"Okay..." she inhales deeply, not really wanting to continue. "Let's wait. But we should try to come up with a plan in the meantime...unless we want to stay here..."

It's an eternity before the three people in the tunnel stir again.

"Still everything quiet," Hicks whispers lowly, checking his chronometer for the umpteenth time since they'd taken refuge in the ventilation system one and a half hours ago. "I guess it's safe to assume they're gone."

"Too bad we don't have the tracker anymore," is Ripley's answer. He can only hear her, since they've decided to spare the flashlight's batteries for as long as possible, sitting in the darkness for the last 90 minutes and listening in on the surrounding noises intently. But the tense waiting and anticipation of an attack had been wearing them out quickly after the efforts of the last hours and days, and soon it had been impossible to keep their guard up as much as in the beginning.

"Gorman had it. They mowed him down before he could react... and I couldn't wait to pick it up." Hicks falls silent. Over the course of the last hour, he had been chewing on their hopeless-looking situation again and again and again to come up with a reasonable sounding plan. There is really just one he can think of.

"So, what do you say?" He hears Ripley's breathing. "Shall we go back to Operations and find out? Or..."

"Naw..." He shakes his head in the dark. "I think we should leave Hadley's Hope as fast as possible. We should make our way down to the station's garage, see if we find a working all-terrain vehicle there, and make for the second-nearest atmosphere processor... which -- hopefully -- won't be alien-infested."

There's no reply. She's probably tasting the implications of his suggestion and searching for possible flaws or alternatives. "Let's face it, Ellen, if we stay here, we've had it. It's only us three now, we don't have any means to detect those bastards before they can sneak up on us, and even if we did, we're out of ammo. All I've got left are six rounds of 38mm calibre. I doubt that's enough even for just one of them! We've got to leave. Take along as much supplies as we can carry, and disappear. The next processor is about 20 klicks away. Even in this rough terrain, we should be able to make it within a few hours. We pack enough to last us for the next six weeks, go out there and activate the emergency signal. What do you think?"

"Sounds good... but once we activate the signal, won't we call back the Weyland Yutani ship? Because they will pick it up... always provided they won't still be here and be able to locate us even faster."

"I doubt they'll stay here for longer than absolutely necessary," Hicks replies confidently. "They were attacked by an alien just prior to entering Operations, and it sounded as if at least some of them bought it back there. They'll collect their specimen and see that they'll get their asses out of the sling as fast as possible. If anything, I suspect they're gone already."

"Good to hear your optimism's back." It almost sounds as if she's smiling. "You had me worried for a while."

"Well..." he shrugs, not sure of what to say. "I guess the incident with those W.Y. forces made me angry. I don't want them to get away with what they did here. I want to see Burke getting nailed to the wall for this!" Now he's sure she's smiling.

"Well, that makes two of us." The flashlight comes back on and make them squint at each other for a moment. "Let's get it done! Which way?"

"Medical. Let's get us some medical supplies first."

Bright. Too bright! Something's not right. Did they find us?! Did they -- Hicks sits up with a start and squints into the light, cupping his eyes with his hands to see. The realization of where he is comes seeping through his profound drowsiness and lets him sink back onto the mattress with a groan. Not again...! The desperation he's feeling each time when he wakes from his dreams or memories to find where he is still hasn't dulled, and he can't help wondering whether he will ever grow accustomed to the thought of what lies before him. Or go nuts. Maybe turning crazy would really feel better. But why is the light on? The sound of the door cycling and opening makes him tilt his head.

"Hello..." It's the synthetic. At this time of night? A quick look at the glowing numbers behind him tell him that it's almost 3.00 a.m. What is she doing here? Bringing him something, obviously. He watches her approach tensely and put a plastic cup onto the table. "I couldn't help noticing you were having bad dreams again. I brought you something to help you sleep."

Huh? Is he still dreaming?

"But it's-"

"In the middle of the night?" A very, very faint trace of a smile he's never seen on her face. "Yes. I'm on night shift. Your read-outs went all over the scale, and I decided to help you calm down. After what happened this afternoon, we just want you to calm down again. That's all." A small nod towards the cup.

Hicks narrows his eyes.

"What is it? Warm milk?" His sarcasm doesn't catch.

"A very light medication. It's not addictive and will do nothing more than calm you down a bit. Enough to go back to sleep... and even to dream... only something nice this time."

"How do I know it's not something to knock me out, so that you can tie me up and get me up or down to wherever it is you're taking people for your experiments?" His opposite shakes his head in what seems to be slight disappointment.

"Geez... you're still paranoid, huh? Still convinced everyone here's out to get you. Well, you're wrong. I brought you this because I thought it would make you feel better, but I realize there's probably no way of convincing you." She makes for the door again. "So, believe whatever you want. Good night." She leaves and the door cycles behind her. He's alone. Again. Staring at the grey steel of the door, deep in thought, puzzled. What was this all about? Who told her to act as his mother, and why? Curiously, he picks up the cup and eyes the contents, holds his nose over it to smell it. Not too bad... He hesitates a moment longer, then suddenly makes up his mind and downs the white liquid with two swigs. There really is just one way of finding out, whether she's telling the truth, right? If he wants to know more about the synthetic's intentions, he needs to know whether she's honest with him. And if she is, maybe he'll be able to take it from there...

His gaze going up to the ever-watching surveillance camera on the ceiling, Hicks puts the empty cup back onto the table and braces for what's to come... in addition to the slight taste of cinnamon in his mouth. Is he going to realize it if she doped him? He's feeling drowsy enough already to lie back on the mattress and stare into the darkness of where the ceiling must be. He doesn't want the dream to go on. He doesn't want to think of what happened next. Fumbling around in the dark, he searches for the remote and turns the room into a gigantic aquarium a moment later in attempt to distract himself from the devastating memories the dream stirred up. A shark circles majestically over his head, so realistic, Hicks feels like reaching out and touching it. His eyes stay glued on the sleek predator while he's listening in on the rushing of the waves travelling the shores of his small room above him. It's a soothing noise, comforting -- Ripley's dead! - hypnotic, pulling him under... No... making him drowsy... and suddenly he doesn't want it anymore, searches for the remote again to turn the illuso off, but he can't find it, can't--

"Can't we just continue in the tunnels?" Ripley inquires, holding the first aid kit they found in MedLab to her chest and eyeing the huge hole in the ground before them uncomfortably. Hicks, who's standing to her right and is just stretching his neck in an attempt to see something in the darkness below, turns around and shrugs.

"There haven't been any we could have used for a while now. Just the ones leading vertically up." A taxing glance to the other side of the hole. 3 or 3.5 meters max., Hicks judges. Probably not too far for Ripley, but too far in any case for little Newt. He'll have to carry her... which will make the jump just a bit more precarious for him, too. But what the heck, it's not like they got a choice, right?

"Let's do it. You first, Ellen." She casts him another sceptical look, but the expression on her face tells Hicks she knows he's right. "Come on, you can do this. Piece of cake."

"Let's just hope the ground on the other side is stable," she mutters, more to herself, while she goes back for the approach run. Everything's still quiet... except for the low humming of the generators. No sign of any aliens. "All right..." She gathers speed, tenses... and jumps over the gap securely, landing in a crouch and rolling to reduce the impact on her knees.

"See?" Hicks nods his appreciation. "I knew you're the sporty type." He crouches down next to the girl, who seems scared.

"Please, I can't do this, Mr. Hicks! I --"

"You won't have to, Newt, don't worry. We'll do it together."

A new noise joins the generators, or maybe not so much a noise as a feeling... vibrations he's picking up from the ground through his boots, and through the air, as well. Enough to distract him from the task at hand for a moment. Enough to make him crane back his neck to look at the non-telling ceiling in puzzlement.

"You're feeling this too?" Ripley.

"Uh-huh." A cold chill travels down his spine. He can't tell why, can't define the bad feeling that's suddenly overcome him. The vibrations get stronger. "From above, wouldn't you say?"

"Feels like it..." He can tell she's sharing his feeling when she looks at him now. "What do you think it is?"

"Can't tell... but I don't like it. Let's get going -- Newt?" He kneels down again, switching security on his 38mm on again and placing in the back of his pants. "Climb on my back, put your arms around my neck and hold on -- real tight! Okay?"

"Okay..."

"You sure about this, Dwayne?" Ripley asks, worried. He cracks a very false grin.

"What do you think did they made us do in Boot Camp?" He jumps on place, testing the feeling with the child's weight on his back. "No prob. Stand back, Ellen, I'm going to need some space!" He steps back, feeling his muscles tense... and the vibrations get worse! And now there's definitely a sound accompanying it: a low, powerful grumble he can't place at all. But first things first!

"We're coming!" He accelerates, feeling Newt's arms tighten around his neck until she's almost choking him, sees the dark, deep hole in front of him... and jumps! The impact of the landing is hard on his knees, and a tell-tailing sound from under his feet causes him to thrust himself forward and fall flat on his stomach as the acid-speckled grating breaks off under his weight. Cursing under his breath, he manages to wriggle himself onto safe ground and feels Newt jumping off his back. "Damn..." A brief glance back confirms how close they were to falling down into the hole, but the circumstances don't leave him room to ponder it -- the whole station is shaking now, and the growling thunderous! Ripley's face mirrors his own fear as they stare at each other, fearing the worst.

"Ripleyyyy..." Newt makes, pressing her adult protector's hand so hard she gets her attention despite the ear-shattering roar.

"Earthquake?"

Meteor, is Hicks' thought, before something else dawns on him. Missile!! Could it be a missile, launched by the Weyland Yutani ship to make sure there's no one left down here to spill the truth to whoever would listen? The thought's almost too horrible to be true, but then again... they killed Gorman at point-blank range, they were trying to kill him and the others. Of course this is what they'd do to make sure!

"Further down," he barks, involuntarily falling into command tone. "And fast!" Ripley bends down to pick up Newt. "No. I'll take her. Go!"

They run down the corridor, hardly looking left or right for aliens. The growling's ear-shattering now, drowning out all other sounds, the floor under their feet swinging with the vibrations, making it hard to keep their balance. Must be a meteor, Hicks thinks, frantically searching for a way down, deeper into Hadley's Hope, and following Ripley when she sees it first. Not even the biggest inter-stellar missile he knows of would be this loud. It's as if heaven's falling down on them, as if all of Acheron was in fact one giant volcano about to erupt.

"Ripleyyyyyyy..."

He sees Newt's mouth open in a terrified scream, but can't hear her anymore.

"Down! Down!"

They run down another flight of stairs, by now underground, when all of a sudden the ground buckles under their feet as if the planet got hit by gigantic hammer! Jumps up half a meter and knocks them off their feet -- and then it's Armageddon! An explosion of proportions Hicks has never experienced deafens them in an instant, so loud he can feel the sound race through every fibre of his body -- and then the pressure-wave hits the station with a wall of fire and debris, slicing it open like the galaxy's biggest and angriest predator.

Ripping away parts of the roof and allowing the hurricane to wreak havoc inside, collapsing walls like cards and sending everything -- furniture, instruments, everything - shooting through the corridors as projectiles in a deadly horizontal rain. Smashing support beams, doors, security glass panes, flattening everything in it's way. Down on sublevel 1, the three remaining survivors struggle to come to their feet again to get away from the raining debris, when suddenly all air is being sucked away through the air-ducts with a high-pitched sound they're unable to hear. Hicks, however, knows what this means, and his heart skips a beat.

"Down!!!" Shooting out his hand to push Ripley down who just managed to get back on her feet, he rolls to the side of the corridor, holding his breath, just as the evenly spaced vertical air ducts breathe fountains of fire down into the walkway, the nearest one only 10 meters away! It's hell! They've landed themselves in hell, and they're going to be incinerated within the next -- it stops. Just when he thinks he can't possibly hold his breath any longer, the fire stops, except for parts of the wall-panels which caught and rain down sparks from the torched circuits in the ceiling. The stench of burnt plastic is overwhelming, dizzying. Probably even toxic, Hicks thinks, looking up to the thick trails of dark grey fumes fogging the corridor and cupping his mouth with his hand. "Ripley? Newt?"

They're on the other side of the walkway, moving, thank God, and as he comes to his feet, staggering into their direction, their sweat-beaded, slightly scorched faces turn around. He motions for them to get up, to hurry, to use this short break to go deeper yet, still hearing nothing but a loud buzz in his ears. Somehow, they comply, even though half-paralysed with shock. Race down the next flight of stairs in the treacherous calm and come to a halt in the next sublevel, turning to him.

"Which way?" He can hear her again, although very, very distant. Which way? A good question, actually. He doesn't have a clue about their whereabouts.

"Newt? You know where we are?" Embarrassing having to turn to a child for directions, but right now, they don't have the time for intense contemplating. But the girl, to his intense disappointment, shakes her head. "Let's just get going." The fire came from behind, so -- He motions ahead. "You two okay?"

"Yes." Ripley's eyes scan the walls for any signs of danger as they hasten through the wounded station. "What in God's name was that? An asteroid?"

"Don't know," Hicks replies, not caring to share his missile-theory with her just yet, and instead concentrating on the markings on a connecting corridor in an attempt to recall the blueprint he studied in what seems another life. The garage, where's the garage? Just as he feels the taste of memory coming, a chain of three, four fast explosions rattles the station, and the ground beneath their feet starts to quiver. Another hot gust of wind comes their way, and the darkness behind them erupts into menacing orange. "Come on, hurry up!" He's not even finished when there's another crash, and the ceiling comes down.

Silence. A narcotic silence, thick and liquid. The distant crackling of fire. Groans. Someone crying. And pain. Not crippling, but bad enough to make his head ring. Sweat trickles down his face, searching for a way down his dirt-smeared face. Something pushes awkwardly against his back, some pointy object. It's heavy and pinning him to the ground, almost squashing him. Hicks opens his eyes, but it remains dark. He tries to move -- and grunts in surprise at the pain in his head. The thin stream from his brow has reached his lips, and tastes remarkably like iron when he licks it away. Sweat, huh? White supernovas explode in his vision and force him to sink back and catch his breath for the next attempt.

"Ellen? Newt?" The heavy weight on his back makes breathing -- and yelling - almost impossible. And -- is it getting hotter? "Ellen?" Nothing but moaning and suppressed little sobs, almost too low to hear, answer him. Grunting, Hicks gives it another try to crawl out from under the pile of rubble, inwardly close to panic. Why don't they answer him? His imagination throws up the images of the two, impaled by a piece of torn grating, or half-squashed by a heavy cabinet. His fingers finding a hold between the steel struts on the floor, he drags himself forward, finally feeling the weight on his back slip down inch for inch, until -- at last -- he's free. Feeling knocked about, but free. It's pure will-power that makes him stand up and turn around, anxious to see his companions to prove they're not dead. It's not like he can see anything, actually, except for the dark pile of debris he just crawled out from and the orange glow further down the corridor. "Ellen? Newt?" Taking a staggering step forward, he grabs for the first thing he can see, a massive steel-strut. "Come on, answer me!" They can't be dead! Please, don't let them be dead! The strut's too heavy for him to move, so he stops, instead attempting to localise the source of the almost inaudible sobbing. Left... left...kneeling down, Hicks sticks his hand into a gap between some large chunks of debris -- and touches hair. A small head. "Newt?! Newt, it's me! I'm here! I'm getting you out! Are you okay?"

Her silent sobbing is answer enough for him to confirm she's at least conscious. Whether she's caught under anything, he'll have to see. Sticking his other arm into the gap, too, he feels his way down to her shoulders.

"Newt, listen, I need your help for this! Can you grab my arms? Come on, let's try it!" She moves! God bless, she moves! But why can't he hear Ripley? Why doesn't she answer? Little fingers dig into the fabric of his jacket, and he pulls, ignoring the furious protest of his bruised back. "That's good, Newt! Almost there! Just hold on, okay?" He's got to get them out, got to! The thought of losing them both, as well, and to be left alone is... unbearable! Straining once more with all his might, Hicks feels the girl slip out of her prison, and places her gently on her feet in front of him, hardly seeing more than the glittering of her tear-streaked face as he quickly probes her body for broken bones or deep, bleeding wounds. To his relief, he doesn't find any. "Are you hurting, Newt? Are you-"

"Ripley...!" she sobs, not even now letting go of his sleeves, and realization hits Hicks: He can see her eyes now! Sees them clearly in the flickering light from further back! And it is getting hotter! Wiping sweat and blood away from his eyebrows with his sleeve, he lets go of her, urging her to take a few steps back.

"Wait here, Newt, okay? I'll get Ripley now." Easier said than done. Despair jumps at him as he eyes the pile of debris in front of him once again, searching for a life-sign from the woman. "Ellen? Ellen, where are you? Can you hear me?" Please, p-l-e-a-s-e, don't let her be dead!!! Straining his ears, he listens into the darkness, right under the increasing crackling of the fire, and the sound of something coming down in one of the upper levels. He can't help looking up... and shudders at the sight of the enormous hole in the ceiling, directly above their heads, going through all the levels he can see before they disappear in the darkness. "Ellen!"

She can't be far from where Newt was, so he tries the same spot gain, going down on all four to squeeze himself into the small gap, knowing full well the danger of doing this. If there's just one loose part, it can make the whole pile collapse -- on him! If he could only see just one damned thing! Frantic, but methodically, he probes the floor for any sign of Ripley... and touches something wet and sticky on the floor. No, no...! But his nose confirms it nevertheless: it's blood.

"Ellen, answer me! Ripley!" There's undisguised fear now in his voice as he sticks his arm into another small hole in the rubble -- and touches clothes!

"Ripleyyyy!" Newt's voice comes to his ears even through the shock. Does she move? Does she breathe? Holding his own breath, Hicks waits for the body under his hand to give a life sign -- even the weakest one will do! And he gets it -- a hardly audible moan from somewhere to his right. He adjusts his position, rounds a large piece of torn ceiling -- and finds her, a dark figure on the floor, partly buried under shredded panels and insulation. His heart beating furiously, he kneels down at her side to see what he can do. Again, he finds he can see more than just a few moments earlier -- a hasty glance down the corridor confirms that the fire's coming closer.

"Ellen! I'm here, okay? I'm getting you out! Just hold on a little longer. For me, alright?" She moans again, and -- to Hicks endless relief -- moves her head just the tiniest bit, her words, however, smashing his hopes in an instant.

"I broke my legs..."

Her eyes find his in dawning realization. For a few endless seconds, he's too stunned for an answer. They stare at each other, knowing the implication of these four words. She's dead. As good as. Even if he does get her out and is able to carry her to wherever, maybe even a working vehicle... with injuries as severe as hers - there's no way she's gonna make it, except if the real rescue team -- if the USCM really sent one separately -- would arrive within the next few hours.

No! His mind goes into immediate denial as he claws at the heavy pieces of debris pinning her down in an attempt to free her. He can't lose her, too! And he won't!

"Dwayne, please... you can't help me..."

"Yes, I can!" he barks, furious, slipping his fingers under a tiny crack and straining his muscles to lift the panel off her.

"Just... go... and take care of Newt..."

"Shut up, Ellen!" He comes to his feet, feeling the weight shift just the slightest bit under his grasp. Come on, come on, COME ON! An inch... another half an inch -- his shoulders and arms trembling with effort -- and then Newt's scream!

"They're coming!"

Snapping up his head, he expects to see the Weyland Yutani guards running towards them -- but it's worse: it's the aliens! Two of them in close order, two black shapes glistening in the fire behind them, jumping along the ceiling at frantic speed. No time to think. He drops the debris and brings up his pistol in one fast move, firing three shots in fast consecution at the approaching creatures, and then they're above his head, moving so fast, he feels a rush of air, and he fires once more, knowing how futile his attempt of stopping them will be -- but the aliens don't attack. Without even bothering to look at them, they disappear into a hole in the ceiling, leaving him to gape at the void they've left behind, his hammering heart almost bursting out of his chest, unable to move.

Until another heavy explosion not too far off throws him off-balance! The orange glow erupts into bright yellow flames and brings with it the stench of burning insulation and plastic... and excruciating heat! Time's running out fast... He kneels down again, ready for another go, desperately alternating pushing the piece of wreckage and trying to lift it.

"Fuck it!" He throws his entire weight, every fibre of his body strained in the effort, his heart pumping furiously. Feels the tiniest of movement, hears Ripley moan -- and then momentum's gone again, and he sinks back on his knees, exhausted, breath coming in deep, raspy draws -- making him break into a hard cough as his lungs fill with smoke and fumes.

"Dwayne, you must leave! Now!" Sweat is running all over Ripley's pain-contorted face, but her voice is still firm, her tone no-nonsense. "You can't help me! Or... maybe you can..." It takes a lot of out of her to raise her head to meet his shocked gaze. He knows exactly what she wants. After all, he'd promised it on their first day in this hellhole. But he's still denying the facts, firmly shaking his head no as he jumps up to look at the girl.

"Newt?" He has to almost scream it over the growing noise of the inferno and another distant explosion. "Go to the nearest duct that's too small for the aliens and stay there. Right now!"

"But Ripley-!"

"We'll be with you in a few minutes, but I first have to get her out. Now move!" He still sees profound concern and doubt in her expression, but she does as he told her and disappears into the twilight.

"What are you doing?"

"What I said: Getting you out!"

He runs up to the nearest door he can see and shoves it open manually, since there's no more power to work the mechanism. There must be something down here he can use! A cutting torch, or... But the room's almost empty, except for some laboratory equipment. Dishes, empty stasis cylinders, boxes of unused working clothes... Cursing under his breath, he storms out, towards the next door. Throws his weight against it to push it open. Sweats runs into his eyes, stings. Jesus, it's getting hot! A frantic look back, another cough attack. A wall of flames is coming their way -- fast!

"Dwayne!"

He almost falls into the next room, desperate enough to use whatever he can find to wrench Ripley free -- but there's nothing! As far as he can see in the flickering twilight, he's standing in an empty room -- empty except for a few bare shelves. Next! The next room! He bursts out into the corridor -- and hears Ripley cough. Sees the flames approach with unreal speed. There's no time...! Groaning, he runs back to her, hardly able to breath in the thick, stinking fumes and immense heat. His eyes burn and water, blurring his vision. No time!

"I'm sorry, Ellen," he mutters, grabbing her arms. No more time for elegant solutions. He pulls, drawing an anguished scream from her. Throws himself back with all his might, fingers slipping on her skin. She. Doesn't. MOVE! He tries again, angry at himself, furious, swearing, yelling. "Come on, dammit!!" -- and collapses down coughing.

"No more... Dwayne..." He can hardly hear her over the roar of the fire anymore. "Please... go." No... "And please... please don't let me burn...!"

He swallows, but can't turn his eyes from her piercing stare. She's pleading now, reminding him of his promise. His promise... oh God, no...! He can't do this!

"Ellen-"

"Do it, please! Don't let me burn." Twenty meters behind them, another part of the ceiling comes down with an ear-splitting crash, forming a black cloud of smoke in the corridor that makes them both choke. "Do it! Do it, Dwayne! Please!" Smoke and his blurred vision make it almost impossible for Hicks to see Ripley's face anymore. But somehow, he doesn't know how, the heavy weight of the pistol's suddenly in his hand, still everything inside him cringes and struggles against what he's about to do. But he's got to leave, he's got to -- the fire's almost upon them! Yet he can't.

"Jesus, Ellen-"

"Take care of Newt for me," she manages between coughs, not able to lift her head anymore. "Promise me this. Promise me to do everything you can to..." She can't catch her breath anymore. "Do it...", she gasps. "Do it and go."

The air's too hot to breathe now, searing his eyes open. If he stays any longer, he'll get cremated himself. And what is the point in that... despite ending it all and sparing himself from whatever fate has still in store for him? But no... no, he can do this... yet! Move it, soldier! He squeezes Ripley's hand in affection, inwardly separating himself from all the emotions the action he'll have to take now stirs up, throwing them into a vault for later. Sometimes, to kill someone is an act of mercy, a voice echoes through his head as he places the muzzle of the 38 against her head, feeling as if someone were moving his hand by remote control. He recognizes it as that of Master Sergeant Delancey, his drill instructor at New Brisbane. To kill a friend in order to save him from a worse fate, or to spare him unnecessary pain, may very well be the hardest task you'll ever have to fulfil. It's probably the worst thing to be asked for. But when the time arrives where you all will be faced with making that decision, you've got to forget about yourself. You've got to focus on what you're sparing this person from, not on what you'll be doing to him. It will take a lot of courage and strength to do this, but it's the ultimate act of mercy.

Flames. Fire and smoke. Everywhere. Ripley convulses under his hand, unable to breathe the searing air anymore.

"I'm sorry, Ellen..." He shuts his eyes, holds on to her hand... and squeezes the trigger.

Fire. The roar of the flames drowning out the world, encompassing him as he stumbles and falls to his knees, burning his hand on the hot grating as he lands. Picks himself up.

"Newt! Newt, where are you?" He means to shout it, but hardly manages a faint wheeze before another violent cough attack almost makes him collapse again. Too long, he waited for too long, and now he's gonna buy it! "Newt!" Run, dammit! Move your sorry ass, you pussy! Failure's not an option, you hear me? Delancy's voice again, pushing him further. Quit whining! I'm going to get medieval on everybody's ass who thinks about giving up. Now MOVE IT! He stumbles forward, coughing, out of air and nauseated by the thick stench of toxic fumes, not seeing a damned thing in the smoke. "Where are you?"

"Hicks! Hicks, I'm here! I'm here!" Her frightened voice is like a beacon, leading him to a duct that's so narrow he knows he won't fit. He squeezes himself in anyway, barely clearing the opening, and hears her moving in front of him. The next second, he's sliding down headlong through the darkness, downward, downward -- and gets spat into a crammed little room, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Too stunned to move, he waits to catch his breath again -- and hears the girl's voice right in front of him. "Where's Ripley? Where's-"

"Newt-" He coughs again, his lungs burning.

"Where is she? Where is she? Ripley??!!" She runs towards the shaft entrance, sticks her head in. "Ripley??!! "Ripley??!!"

Somehow, he doesn't know how, Hicks manages to pick himself up, at least to his knees.

"Ripley's not coming, honey..." His still watering eyes show him nothing more but a blurry image of her, but he can hear her shocked silence all too well. "She... I couldn't get her out..."

"No..." Her voice has always been that of the small child she still is, but now she sounds even smaller. "No... Ripley...you promised! You said you'd-"

"I tried it, Newt. I did what I could. I-"

"No! No! No! You promised! You promised! Where is she?!!" Little fists pound against his chest. He doesn't make any effort at stopping her.

"I'm sorry, Newt... I'm so sorry..."

"I hate you!" Then nothing more but painful, uncontrolled sobs...

"I heard there were some problems today concerning our marine," Darwin asks in a casual voice, without looking at me. "Alexander told me he had a panic attack?"

"Well, yes." I wonder how her mind still has the capacity to concern itself with this topic while she's in the middle of removing the alien's chitinous dome that protects its brain. She's so skilled with the instruments, she doesn't even have to concentrate on what she's doing. It's a sight to behold.

"That stupid girl from Hikahi's staff put him on a VR processor. You know, those which are powered by the individual's imagination. Apparently, his subconscious took control somewhere during the session, and he got lost in a nightmare vision that seemed perfectly real to him. He even continued to fight us long after we had ripped the visor from his eyes. He was totally gone."

"Hmm..." Darwin purses her lips and lays the laser-saw down onto the tray. The cut around the alien's head is complete, and she slips out of the protective gloves and turns to the console to direct another instrument to remove the head plate. "What's his status now?"

"We had to sedate him. But it's already starting to wear off. I've been in his room to give him some more, since he was continuing to have severe nightmares, and he was coherent. I'm positive that the shock wasn't too severe. Last thing I heard, he was sleeping again."

"Good." She's done situating the pliers at four different points of the alien's head, and presses a button. The plate comes away with a wet sound. Small geysers of acid shoot up into the air from the huge wound, but the base Darwin developed within just 24 hours after knowing the ingredients of the molecular acid rains down from the Sprinklers in the room and neutralize it before it can cause any damage. The xenomorph shrieks and hisses, but it's obvious that its strength is beginning to fail it. If we continue to abuse it like this, it will die in the near future. Darwin won't mind. She already told us during our morning meeting that the data the probes collected on their journeys through its body will provide us with everything we dreamt of. We're going to get all the information we need to go ahead with the project from just one specimen, and even if we didn't, by tomorrow evening we are going to have four new ones, so the loss won't be too great. That's a price she's happily willing to pay. The other two specimens we had went to Kurtz, who's getting started on his Behavioural approach. I doubt that these things will take any conditioning, but maybe I will stand to be surprised. In any case, it's breathtaking to witness how fast everything is happening now. Just this morning I transferred everything I had to Rogue, and not even a day later I'm boasting of information. But I need to be careful now. I can't have Darwin stumble over me during the downloading again. As if she could read my thoughts, she's staring at me.

"Want to come with me and have a first-hand look?" A brief nod towards the alien.

"You don't wanna do it from here?"

"It can't do anything. The acid's neutralized, the bleeding has stopped... there's no reason why we shouldn't do it directly. I still prefer it to this." She rolls back with her chair and gets up. I shrug.

"Okay."

"Oh, just one more thing before we proceed..." she turns around in the door, facing me with those piercing eyes. "I don't want Keisha to be able to mess up our marine again. See to it that her security status will be revoked. I don't want her to have access to the Zoo anymore."

"Who is going to continue the rehabilitation sessions with him?" I ask. "Because he still needs them. And Alexander even suggested after that scene today, that some psychological counselling might also be called for. We should think about who-"

"You will." She doesn't smile, she doesn't wink at me -- she's dead serious. But she can't be!

"Oh, please," I snort, trying to let her hear how ridiculous I find her suggestion. "Me? His shrink? Darwin, you can't be-"

"Yes, I am serious. We remove that Keisha-person, which will leave him without anyone to confide in. He'll need someone to replace her -- and you will be available. Perfect!"

I toss my hand up in desperation and follow her down the corridor, since she left me standing.

"Come on, I'm not a psychiatrist! I don't even understand normal humans!"

"Talk to Alexander," is her valuable advice. "And download the files. You've got the capacity to learn everything a psychiatrist needs to know in a matter of five minutes or less. Where's the problem?"

Where's the problem? Hello?

"The problem is that I'm not even human! I don't get many things you people consider perfectly normal. How should I be able to cure him of his trauma?" The door starts to close, and I hop into the room holding the strapped alien behind her.

"You don't have to cure him," she tells me, distracted, since she's already standing at the table, peering down at the alien's open brain. "You just have to win his trust. And you will start tomorrow. End of discussion." I bite my tongue, burning with frustration. "So come and help me here, will you?"

Down at the Zoo, inhabitant no. 230 continues to toss and turn around on his bed, unable to wake from the nightmares that make him soak the sheets with sweat. The real nightmares. Memories that are going to haunt him for the rest of his life, however short it's going to be. Just when he's relived one awful event and hopes to float to the surface of the dream, medication kicks in and pulls him under again, serving him nightmare after nightmare. The long night continues...

"No, Newt. No way!" Hicks hates having to resort to this hard tone, but this is too important. He demonstrates his determination by eye-contact despite her angry, accusing and stubborn stare. "You're not going alone. Get it out of your head!"

"I know where everything is. You don't." Her bullheadedness is astounding, given that he's just dealing with a six year old girl. "I did it before. Almost every day." She clutches the stained plaid to her body, her fingers working in the fabric in barely controlled anger. Hicks exhales. Man, he doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to fight with the girl. She's been through so much already. Hell, he's been through more than he ever thought he could take! They're both in strung-out shape, their prospects looking grim, so why should they -- on top of all the rotten things that are going on around them -- fight with each other? He makes an effort at returning to a calmer, more sensible tone.

"Newt --" She is trying to cut him off, but he won't have that now and holds up his hand, lets her see the intensity in his eyes -- and she stops. He sits back. "Listen. I told you what happened. Don't you think it was hard for me? Don't you think I wish there had been some other way? It was the last thing I wanted to do, Rebecca. And I almost couldn't." He changes his position, leans a little more towards her, his face a display of all the sorrow and horror they have endured together. He lets it out, lets it show in an attempt to reach her after two days of the hateful glares she's given him. Another heavy breath. "But it was a promise I gave to Ripley right on the first day when we stranded here." He thinks he sees something in her eyes, like... a little flickering? Is she doubtful?

"A promise?" She barely whispers the words, but they still sound uncertain. She liked him before, yes. She even trusted him. So why is it that he --

"Yes. I promised Ripley that -- if it came to the worst -- I would kill her rather than let the aliens get her, or let something horrible happen to her. She wanted it, Newt. You were already in the tunnel when she asked me to keep my promise." He shakes his head slightly, no longer seeing Newt but Ripley's blood-streaked face in front of his inner eyes, biting his lip when the pain of the memory hits him again. He has been trying to come to grips with his action for every minute of the past two days, but to no avail. Rationally, he knows he's done the right thing. But still... He returns his attention back to the child, and to his endless relief, he finds a reaction to his words on her face. Her features have finally softened, and while this makes room for the sorrow and despair she's feeling, it's definitely better than the hateful expression he's been getting from her before.

"But why didn't you save her?" Her voice sounds very small and thin, as if she were about to cry again. It sends a sharp pang of guilt down his conscience. He remembers he told her all of this before. Repeatedly. But she didn't listen to him. His words didn't reach her then as they do now. He can see their effect and is relieved.

"I tried to, Newt. Believe me, if there had been a way of reversing our positions, I would have done it. But I couldn't get her out. And I couldn't lift the debris off her -- it was too heavy. But I tried, Newt. I did everything I could to save her." Telling it to himself aloud feels good. It sounds more real than just thinking the words. "And then the fire was upon us and... there was just no more time. I had to do something. I could have stayed with her, and we would both be dead now. You would have been alone again. I didn't want that. And Ripley didn't want that either. She begged me to look out for you." He sees her lower lip quiver, and his voice becomes even softer. "And she begged me to..." the word feels almost to big to handle -- "-to kill her before the fire reached us. God, I didn't wanna do it, Newt, I didn't. But it was better for her that way... You understand that, right? I know you do." Now she is crying, wordlessly nodding her head. He opens his arms, offering comfort, and finally, after an eternal 48 hours, the child flings herself against his chest, little arms are being clutched around him, and her tear-streaked face lands on his shoulder, the little body wrecked by spasms. " Sssshhh... it's okay. Just let it out. Let it all come out..."

He doesn't know for how long he's holding her, stroking her hair and murmuring reassuring words he doesn't believe in himself, whispering about how things will get better and they'll get away from this place, and finding to his surprise that some his words even have a soothing effect on himself. It feels good to be there, to be able to comfort the child and -- in reverse -- himself, too. This is better than sitting around here in the semi-darkness of the hideout, doing nothing but brooding and replaying the violent deaths of his comrades in his mind again and again and again. He has a task to fulfil. He has to be strong enough for the both of them. And -- with a little luck -- they will get out of here. Somehow. The sarcastic smile that seems to belong to this hopelessly optimistic thought is blocked by Newt's voice as she turns her head at his shoulder just the slightest bit to ask:

"Will they come and help us?" Her way of asking Is there any hope left? Is there a reason for us to stay alive? His first reflex is to flat-out lie and tell her of course everything would turn for the better. The easiest way. But not the honest way. Surely the Corps will send someone to find out what had happened to it's outfit... right? The Weyland Yutani force couldn't have been the rescue team? There has to be a real one on the way. But... are they going to come down to the surface? Or will the data they'll get from Sulaco's computers give them sufficient answer and prevent them from exploring this hellhole in the middle of stellar nowhere? He dare not say. And so he's meeting her questioning glance with one of absolute honesty which -- he hopes -- won't be too much for the child to handle.

"I'm counting on it, Newt. But... I don't know whether they will come down here. It would be best if we made our way to one of those atmosphere processors and activate the emergency signal. That way they'll know that someone's still alive, and they will come looking. If we stay here..." he shakes his head "... it won't help us." Yeah, sure, man, no sweat. Just walk around through alien-infested territory for the next 30 miles to the next processor, because the closest one is their hive. Great idea, Hicks! Against Hudson's voice in his head he adds : "I'm going to find a way for us to get there, but first we'll have to find some food... and water." His way of silently reminding her that she's got a task to fulfil as much as he does. She knows the way, as she constantly keeps reminding him. Hicks still doesn't like the thought of her actually accompanying him on this trip, of putting her into lethal danger, but he realizes that he doesn't really have a choice: Four eyes will detect danger faster than two, and also four hands are able to carry more than if he went alone. However little she can carry, it will at least be a day's ration for each of them... which could very well mean the difference between life and death. He detects another question in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Water? But there's water everywhere."

He nods. There's barely been a way of missing it, the way it has been dripping into their temporary shelter for the last two days. The whole structure of the station has been shredded to pieces and become a playground for the various elements.

"Yeah, but it might not be okay for drinking, Newt. It could be contaminated." He sees her uncomprehending look and curses silently. Man, you're talking to a child, not a terraformer! Watch your language! "Sorry. What I meant is that there could be... stuff in there that could make us sick." Like radiation... which will kill us either way sooner or later, whether we drink it or not. But maybe, just maybe, the explosion spared the vital parts of the station... like the reactor. Maybe there's no fallout whatsoever, and they are missing the easiest opportunity of getting water. Do you still believe in Santa Claus, Hicks? Hudson's voice again, bitterly sarcastic. Get real, soldier. You know what the chances are. Let's play it as safe as possible. Plan. You're responsible for the girl, so act responsible! He doesn't think his explanation was sufficient and halfway waits for another question like Like what?, but to his surprise, Newt gives him a little nod. Whether she understands or just doesn't want to proceed with questioning him he doesn't know, but he's thankful for it. There are more urgent things on his mind than giving a brief summary to a six-year old about nuclear waste and it's effect on human beings. And -- to be honest -- he's got a feeling Newt's already beginning to trust him again. The way she's looking at him as she lets go of him now, seemingly having regained her composure and concentrating on the task at hand -- a task he, an adult has laid on her -- tells him that things have taken a turn for the better. "So, what do you say, Newt?"

Half an hour later, 200 meters away from their hideout and relative safety, there's no further delaying it.

"Okay, this is what we'll do: We sneak up silently to the storage door over there. You go in and pack whatever you can reach as fast as possible. I'll watch for them outside. When you're ready, you show yourself briefly at the door, but you don't call me. I take the bag, and we both disappear in this duct again." Hicks' eyes wander from the opening waiting for them, approximately 20 yards ahead, to his young partner in crime, lying right beside him in this narrow tunnel. Sees the excitement on the girl's face and sighs inwardly. It's definitely not fear he's seeing... it's more as if she's actually looking forward to her dangerous mission. Right, she has been doing this kind of thing almost on a daily basis while his platoon was still sound asleep in their cryo-chambers. She's a pro, and she knows it. She's also a survivor. In the course of seven or eight weeks she did not only outlast the 147 of Acheron's colonists, but a platoon of Colonial Marines and a civilian. After her chances to leave this dreadful place had been looking good for a short while, they are back in the pits now... but it's not hopeless... right? He'll do everything in his power to ensure they'll make it through this nightmare. A cynical voice in the back of his head opens its mouth to vent protest, but he strangles the life out of it. He doesn't intend to die on fuckin' LV-426! He is going to live through this, and be it only some day to have a chance to get this asshole Burke into his hands again! To see the company rep's face when he finally has to face the consequences of his evil doings! It's a purpose... right? Even if its fulfilment appears unrealistic at best.

But his thoughts are straying from their current task. Right now he can't afford this. There will be enough time for him to further evaluate their chances when they are back in their crammed little niche that they are calling a home these days. He feels that little tale-tell-tale tingle on the back of his neck and shifts his gaze to the child, finding that she's still watching him, eagerly waiting for his commands.

"Okay, Newt..." Damn, he doesn't want do this... He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with oxygen. "Ready?"

"Aye-firmative." Newt's tone leaves little place for interpretation -- she's actually looking forward to showing her adult guardian what she's capable of. Looks as if she prefers danger to permanent boredom. Let's hope you're right, girl, Hicks thinks grimly and places his fingers against he already loosened grille, one last time straining his ears and listening for the slightest hint of danger in the semi-darkness before them. Everything seems so quiet, deserted... but if the past weeks taught him one thing, it's how suddenly and out of nowhere these monsters can appear. Over him. Under him. Behind him. If he lets his guard down for just a moment, they'll pay for it. The grating's almost out when he remembers something. Something important. He needs to hear it from her.

"Newt?"

"What?" Damned if she doesn't sound impatient, almost annoyed over this new delay.

"If you see or hear any of them, or have just the slightest feeling that one of those things is near -- you leave. As fast as possible. You get back to safety, okay? You don't stop for anything, and you don't wait for me. You're faster in these ducts, and if anything goes wrong, I'll cover your back and follow you. But you don't wait. Are we clear about this?" Hicks knows he's sounding rough. Whatever. This is too important. She's got to understand this. Has to understand he means it exactly as he says. It's enough to think of that he's responsible for the deaths of Vasquez and Hudson -- he doesn't want to be guilty of her death, too. He couldn't bear it! It's bad enough he had to take her with him, but her knowledge of this labyrinth is essential for their survival, and they will have to starve if this desperate venture fails. There is no alternative. While he can't get around doing this without her, there are at least some ways of limiting the risks. She nods, but it's not enough for Hicks. He needs to hear it from her... "I mean it, Newt. You leave."

"Yes, Sir!" It's an angry, bullheaded hiss which almost makes him smile despite the tension inside of him. Almost.