'And so it would seem that the prodigy commander, one reenacting the old battles of yore, has awakened,' a female, sardonic voice said. Aleksander's eyes slowly awakened, but the vision was blurred. He could see the figure of a face in front of him; one of the same female. His executive officer, Captain Mira Erickson. Aleksander's concentration was destroyed by the crippling headache that still plagued him. But it was a dream. Aliens destroying planets; insurgents powerful enough to attack Tarsonis... and feral, insect-like aliens, one that had given him nightmares since had first seen pictures of them. And now some bizzare chain of events that had caused them to turn on each other, and for a psionic to abruptly explode.

Of course, a bucket of water would soon bring his attention back to the fore. Aleksander leaped up, to see Erickson with a flat, deadpan face. Even with a straight face, her remarks had almost earnt her a firing squad. Aleksander slowly turned his head away from her, to gain an awareness of his surroundings. It was almost pitch-black. He knew where they were. The subway. He noticed in the periphery of his vision, fires, with his men sitting around them. He was too shy to look at Mira directly for long. Without his eyes towards her, he began to inquire.

'What... what happened?' Aleksander said.

'All our psionics are dead, sir. Suddenly, they went mad, or worse. Tried to charge at the men; or...' Mira replied.

'I know,' Aleksander said, confused by the situation.

'From the last report that you recieved, five-hundred men died. From all causes.'

'And what is our location?'

'A hundred-kilometres from Tarsonis City. Only a few kilometres from Alterius Spire did the, whatever happened - cease,'

'And communications?'

'We were warned that the xenomorphs possess the ability to listen in to our coummunications,'

Aleksander sighed.

'Order the troops to move,' Aleksander said.

'Of course, perhaps excercise moving towards a random location is the suitable course of action,' Mira said with a sardonic, tired voice. She knew that he was far too unconfident to question her tone. And, given that society had just been destroyed, she didn't care of reprisals. Brief thoughts went through Aleksander's mind, that this would be his moment of glory. Without the corruption and bureaucracy of the Confederacy of Man, perhaps he would forge a path of victory.

But he knew, and so did everyone else, that he was an inept commander, and that his defense of Naggalfar square was a failure, saved only by some bizzare show of providence. If he couldn't even stare a subordinate in the eye; then what chance did he have? The only reason that he had achieved the rank of Colonel, was that he was less inept then the rest of the Confederate Marine Corps - and perhaps most importantly, not brainpanned. After terrorists had crippled the heating systems of his hometown, Boralis, he had spent a decade in bed, crippled from the frost. He acquired a hobby; that of history. He had no friends; even his own family shunned him, seeing him as something of a freak.

His men held no respect for him; seeing him as an armchair commander. When he had finally recovered and was able to enlist in the Confederate Security Forces, he was still frail beyond comprehension. Officer school was the only possibility for him. The basic training that most recruits endured was impossible for him.

He contemplated on his thoughts for a long time. They depressed him to no end; but they kept him occupied for the long walk through the subway tunnels. In front and behind him were a few thousand men, lugging supplies or otherwise. It was cold and miserable. Above, the sounds of warfare still sounded, although now faintly. Occasionally, the regiment would pass burning trains, and the carcass of xenomorphs, and the corpses of many thousands of people. Some with the content of their heads splattered across the tracks. Occasionally, there would be a child hiding amongst the rubble, and they would be handed a gun, and conscripted into Aleksander's forces.