Good luck is one of those things that can fall into your lap. The issue with it is that it does so on its own time, and it's impossible to predict. When I left the mall, I wondered if I could force the feeling of being hopeful on myself, but how? It wasn't possible to reach anything that could make me happy. There was no way to contact Vasquez. Even if she wasn't in hypersleep, contacting her and requesting her alone would be suspicious to the other members of the squad.

However, there was one other person that I could talk to, if she wasn't busy.

In a small building by city hall, I spent several minutes going through a file before placing a long-distance call to Washington, D.C. It was fairly annoying going through the university's robotic processor in order to reach Miranda Harrison, the med student who helped me find information on the lab Hudson had been held in. Our story is a little complicated, to be honest, because she developed a crush on me and I played along with it in order to keep the information coming. At least we settled on being friends in the end.

A female voice said, "Hello? Who is this?"

"It's Mark," I replied. "Are you busy right now?"

"Not really. Why?" Miranda sounded tired, almost like she had got done crying.

"Well, I just . . . wanted to talk to you, and see how you were doing."

She didn't answer right away. I heard a heavy sigh, and then she said, "There's a lot that I wish I could say, but I only have a ten-minute window here. You know Nathan McKay? The Marine you pointed out was single? I actually went on a few dates with him, and . . . it wasn't working out."

"What happened?"

"He was kinda convinced that I was trying to compare him to you, and then convinced himself that he wasn't 'as good' as you, so he quit. It's both our faults, really. He asked about some of the things I did with previous boyfriends, like places we went or gifts they gave me. I made the mistake of telling him about how you were very emotionally involved and how that was something I didn't want to throw away. I guess he interpreted that as I wasn't ready to give up on you."

"You did give up on me, right?" I asked. "Because you know I'm taken."

"I know you are, Mark, and it wasn't something I wanted to bring up because I've been thinking about it. I mean, if everything else wasn't going on, we would've never known the other existed, but it all had to align in just the right spot." She sighed again. "Is it wrong of me to wish that things had ended differently?"

"No, I don't think it's wrong. If you understand that it's not possible for things to change, and you accept it, then there's no harm in wishing or dreaming. I don't care, at least, just as long as you don't try to sabotage my relationship with my girlfriend. I love her. It doesn't mean I don't care about you; we're friends. If you need something, I'll help you. That's . . . That's how friendship works. You know, not every bond you have with a guy has to be romantic."

I could picture Miranda smiling a little bit. "Thanks." She was silent for a moment. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Not specifically. I'm stuck in Australia while everyone else is on a mission, so I'm a little bored. Hey, I could probably hop on a jet to the States and visit you, but that's a twenty-fucking-hour flight and the jet lag is a pain. Plus, a friend of mine is getting surgery tomorrow and he needs help afterward."

"Oh, geez, what happened?"

"It's some kind of routine procedure that has to do with his albinism, I think. I dunno, I didn't get the full details."

"Ah. Is it for his eyes? Lack of melanin hinders development of the optic nerves."

"Yeah, it is. He said he had the same procedure years ago." I frowned. "Please don't tell me they did something like this to your android."

Miranda laughed. "No, Mathias is OK. For now. Tonight's the night the university takes him back and breaks him again. He's getting better about not crying so much."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Hey, um . . . I have to get going. Mark? I . . . can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You know I'm graduating next year, right?"

"I know now."

"Would you . . . come to the ceremony? For support?"

"Isn't your family going?"

"Of course they are, but I'd . . . I'd like you there."

"I'll think about it. That all depends on what I'm doing then. If I'm not out with the Marines, I'll try to go."

"Thanks, Mark. Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Talk to you later." I hung up the phone, not feeling better or worse than I did before I made that call.

I guess it made me feel worse. Either that, or Miranda wasn't the right friend to talk to. After all, I faked a romantic relationship with her, but she actually loved me back. Vasquez sure wasn't happy about that, but at least she believed me when I said I did it for Hudson. I can't tell Miranda that I feel bad whenever I talk to her because I did something wrong, because then she would feel bad, and that doesn't make for a healthy friendship.

When I returned to Delhoun's facility, I didn't see anyone in the kitchen or the kennel room. I saw Aran was in the yard, and as I ventured further in the building, I found Delhoun in his bedroom. "How're you doing?" I asked.

"I'm very tired," Delhoun replied. "I can't wait until this is over."

"Only a few more hours," I said. I'm not that good at being reassuring, damn my soul. Frankly, I decided it was best to leave him alone.

With nothing else to do, I decided to clean up and sit around for the rest of the afternoon. I found Hudson in the showers, and I was greeted with, "What the hell, man, can't you knock?"

"Oh, shut up, I've seen you naked before," I muttered, laying my nightclothes on a rack before taking my shirt off. "Not something I want to experience again, but, what choice do I have?"

"No one wants to see you naked, either, Drake."

Vasquez does, but I'm certainly not telling you that. "You'd probably look better if you waxed your chest. In the unlikely event you get a girlfriend, she doesn't want to feel like she's petting a rough-haired animal."

"Aw, man, I don't think you get it; I am an animal."

And this is why you're single. I couldn't think of anything smart to say to that. "You realize we gotta get up early tomorrow."

"That's different from a regular day how?"

"No one's gonna yell at us. All we're doing is taking someone to the hospital, and then we drive around aimlessly for an hour." I turned the water off. "You can stay here, if you want. I really don't care. I can drive Delhoun in on my own."

Hudson glanced at me. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You suddenly seem annoyed."

"Of course I'm annoyed. I'd rather be with everyone else instead of down here."

"You know why that doesn't make sense?" Hudson turned off the showerhead above him, and grabbed his towel. "Doesn't make sense because you pretty much hate all of us."

"That's not true."

"Yeah it is. Even when no one's joking around, you treat everyone like crap."

"No one's given me a reason to give two shits. I'll save your ass on the battlefield, but I'm not going to care about anyone else's problems. Why? Because no one's really cared about mine, and I'm sick and tired of having to cut myself open just to explain why I want to be left alone. The fact that we were both poisoned by metal daisies is the only thing you and I have in common. That's it."

"I'm sure that's not the only thing, man."

"Oh, yeah? Tell me, do you have friends back where you grew up?"

"Yep."

"Do you actually have a structure that you can call home?"

"Yep."

"Did you complete high school?"

"Barely passed, yeah."

"Do you have a thousand regrets that haunt your dreams and make you regret your fucking existence?"

"Not . . . really."

"Then we have nothing in common." I stuffed my dirty clothes in a plastic bag. "The minute everyone goes their separate ways, no one's gonna be calling each other up to talk. I highly doubt any of you want to see my face again. You can go back to your homes, forget serving alongside me. That's fine with me. I don't want to see any of you, either."

"Seriously, Drake, what's bothering you?"

"Does it really matter to you? Does it?! This is just like Hicks a few days ago! Why should I believe that you really want to help me when all we know about each other is that we serve in the same fucking unit?!"

"Come on, Drake, you trusted me a couple days ago. Snap out of it, man."

"Oh, piss off!" I threw my towel at him before storming out of the locker room.

To be honest, I'm not sure why I snapped at Hudson. I shouldn't have; I do remember trusting him with the fact that I've said some things that sound like I want to hurt myself. I do remember trying to help him. What good reason do I have to snap at him?

I didn't say anything about it to Delhoun. He's got enough on his mind, and I feel like I need to settle this out myself. For about two hours, we were lying awake watching TV. Delhoun was in his bed, stroking Winnie, and I was on the couch, writing in my journals. At one point, my pen ran out of ink, and after rummaging around my duffel bag, I couldn't find any extras. "Shit," I muttered, "Left that box in my room."

"What box?" Delhoun asked, not looking away from the television.

"I bought a large box of pens and I forgot to bring it with me."

"What kind of point do you prefer? One millimeter? Point seven?"

"Uh . . . point seven."

"Top drawer of my desk. There's a box already open. Keep the one you take, free of charge."

"Thanks." I opened the drawer, but didn't find any pens. Instead, I found a document, listing names and I.D. numbers of Annexers. For a moment, I thought it was an adoption form, but there were around ten names. Way too much to be an adoption. "Who adopts ten animals at once?"

"The Brisbane community center," Delhoun replied. "They were testing out a program for people with special needs to bond with Annexers after I published a paper on how the animals' behavior can change if they sense human suffering. Keep in mind it was merely a hypothesis; their personalities won't change, but they can become docile temporarily. I gave them a stern warning that mishandling can negate that aspect. Abrupt approaches, loud noises, tail-pulling, you name it. Anything that'll disturb a normal pet, like a cat or dog, will piss off an Annexer."

"Did they have you examine the project?"

"Surprisingly, no. As soon as the adoption was complete, I got nothing. But, they do send me Christmas photographs when I'm living in the area."

"Who's in charge of it?"

"A former Weyland-Yutani scientist. Doctor Garrett, I believe his name is. By the way, that wasn't the drawer I was referring to. I'm sorry. It's the little one, to the left."

I felt bad for accidentally coming upon Delhoun's personal documents, but he didn't seem to mind. After putting the paper back where I found it, I opened the smaller drawer, and pulled out an open box of pens. I returned to the couch, and finished up my entry before closing the book for the night. When I tucked the pen and journal back in my bag, I glanced at the TV, taking notice of the American baseball game onscreen. My heart sank a little when I saw it was the Pittsburgh Pirates against the Chicago Cubs. "I used to sneak into the Pittsburgh stadium," I said, softly.

Delhoun snorted. "How'd that go?"

"It was fun the first couple of times. I wasn't much of a baseball fan, but I liked to know how the team was doing just so I didn't look like an outcast. After awhile, it turned into an escape. I knew my hiding spot like the back of my hand, and during the season, I would buy food from a convenience store and park there for a few hours."

"What were you escaping from?"

"Life, in general. I just didn't want to be bothered."

Delhoun decided not to press further. He moved his thumb to change the channel on the remote, but looked at me and said, "Do you want me to leave it here?"

"No. You can change it if you want."

Delhoun turned the television off, and set the remote on his nightstand. "We've got to get up in the morning," he sighed. "Good night, Drake."

The room was engulfed by darkness, save for the gentle moonlight spilling in through the cracks of the window blinds. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. My thoughts were everywhere, and I wished they could just settle down for the night. Vasquez and the others had to be on the Moon by now. Again, I wondered if she was thinking of me, and maybe even worrying about me.

When I did fall asleep, it was a bit of a mistake that my last thought was Vasquez. My nightmares took complete advantage over that. I was running down a glass hallway. The air was heavy with the silver flower toxin. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Vasquez laying on the floor. With no concern for my own safety, I ran back to get her. I tried to convince myself that she was going to be OK, but I was starting to lose my breath. My legs became weak, and I fell. I kept my head and Vasquez's head close to the ground. "Someone'll find us," I gasped. "Right?"

Nope. A masked Hicks ran by us. He paused, looking down at us, and then dashed away. I screamed for him to come back, but I ended up screaming in real life. When I realized what was happening, Delhoun was standing next to me, holding my shoulder.

"Drake? Drake, it's OK. You're having a nightmare," he said, gently shaking me.

I gasped for breath, trying to tell myself that I was alright. Eventually, just as Delhoun was about to get an emergency breath mask, I calmed down. My breathing became more even, and I knew I was alright, but what about Vasquez? "Is she OK?" I sobbed.

"Who?"

"Vasquez. I need to know if she's OK."

"Drake, it was just a nightmare. She's with your squad. I'm pretty sure she's alright." Delhoun squeezed my shoulder. "Everything's OK."

Nodding slightly, I slowly lowered myself back onto the pillow. My heart was still pounding, and I wasn't satisfied with what Delhoun told me. Upon noticing that, Delhoun decided to make me a cup of hot chocolate. It was two in the morning, but you can't say "no" to hot chocolate. It wasn't going to make me feel better, but it was a nice gesture.

"Just set the cup on the nightstand when you're done," Delhoun said after handing me the drink. "I'm going back to sleep."

We didn't that much sleep afterwards. At five-thirty AM, the alarm clock started beeping. Winnie started screeching at the device, and was about to swat it off the table when Delhoun reached over to slap the clock.

I grabbed a pair of pants from my bag, which Winnie took great interest in. I didn't notice her until I bent down to grab a T-shirt. "That's my underwear, you little pervert," I said, snatching a pair of boxers from her jaws.

Winnie jumped on the bed, clearly baffled by all the commotion. Delhoun threw on a pair of shorts and a plain black T-shirt. "We have to get going," he said. "You stay, Winnie."

She squeaked at him.

"Sorry." Delhoun grabbed some papers from his desk. "Come on, Drake."

I followed him out into the hall, and asked, "Can we grab some coffee?"

"No. We have to go." Delhoun pushed open the door to another converted classroom. "Aran? Aran! Wake up!"

Looking over Delhoun's shoulder, I saw Aran sit up, and give Delhoun a tired look.

"We're leaving. Take care of everyone, OK?"

"Hey, wait for me!" Hudson emerged from under a pile of blankets on the floor.

"Why do you want to come?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter. Hurry up!" Delhoun hissed. "And get some clothes on, for Christ's sake!"

As we were driving to the hospital, I was nodding off in the passenger seat. The drive really wasn't that long, but hovering between conscious and subconscious states made the drive seem significantly longer. When we passed through downtown Brisbane, Delhoun turned on the radio, listening for the weather forecast. Traffic gradually got heavier, and Delhoun cursed every time we were almost lodged between two other cars.

It was six o'clock by the time we arrived at the hospital. We walked into a lobby that felt more like it was part of a hotel, and I think I figured out why; the atmosphere would be calming to patients who simply aren't comfortable in a hospital setting, but there were some areas where this failed. One were the typical advisory posters on various diseases, the TV screens showing ads for new medicines and programs on treatments, and the signs pointing in the direction of the exam rooms, operating rooms, you know the drill.

Delhoun approached the front desk, and was directed to another room, where other patients would wait for surgeries of their own. It was small, square room, with only two windows. The walls were completely white, and the only thing you could do to entertain yourself was read a magazine. All electronics had to be off to avoid disrupting nearby equipment. Even if you did try turning a phone on, this room seemed to be a black spot on the grid; no signal, period.

There was no one in the room, aside from us. I didn't like how close together the chairs were, especially since I was stuck between Delhoun and Hudson. We were staring at a single door, where a nurse would come out and beckon Delhoun to follow her to wherever they were going to prep him. It seemed to be taking forever. I noticed Hudson was getting a little fidgety. He took his dogtags off and began twirling them around his fingers. All I could do was hope he didn't have a panic attack.

Eventually, that door opened, and an older woman said, "Delhoun?"

Standing up and sighing, Delhoun looked at me and Hudson. "Don't get into any trouble," he ordered. "That's all."

"Whatever you say," I muttered. "Have fun."

Question of the Chapter: Should Drake ever attempt to visit Miranda? Why or why not?