My dreams weren't peaceful. I saw myself running. Running down long hallways, tunnels, trenches, forest paths, and empty deserts. I saw people I knew, some suffering, some who didn't know who I was. I saw myself crying, screaming. I saw myself trapped, grabbing onto the bars of a tiny cage. I saw myself trying to escape a falling building. I saw myself hugging someone, and I couldn't tell who it was.

The dreams abruptly dissipated, and I heard panicked voices. Blurry shapes were standing above me. One of them held up a pair of small, flat objects. I heard a muffled "Clear!" and the objects were slammed against my chest. I jolted, and blacked out again, going right back to dreamland.

I was sitting in a green meadow, bathed in sunlight. I heard insects and birds. I saw a forest ahead of me, and then I saw someone coming towards me.

Vasquez put her smartgun on the ground before jogging up to me. She gave me a half-cocked smile, saying, "Are you alright?"

Somehow, I couldn't talk. I still felt as though my internal organs were being squeezed in a fist.

"You know we miss you, right? I miss you."

I managed to nod.

"Can't talk to save your life, can you?" Vasquez sat next to me, taking my hand. "Never were all that good at talking. You could never convey yourself properly, and yet we understand each other. I don't think you see it, but, the other guys kinda understand you as well. We're a team and we get used to each other after a while. We see how we close ourselves off and open ourselves up." She looked at me. "You are a closed book, Drake."

I gave her a hug, but before I could give her a kiss, she put her hand over my mouth.

"Look, when you open a book, you read it from front to back. You don't start reading from the middle. Right?"

I nodded again.

"Hey, I started reading from the beginning a long time ago. I guess it's OK for me to open up to the middle." Vasquez put her head on my shoulder, holding me tightly. "You've got your moments of stupidity, Drake." Her voice seemed to change, and I could hear her choking on tears. "Just wish you had been a little less moody and used your head more. Maybe we'd be off kicking ass somewhere, together, as it should be. Not the same without you around. It's quieter, but Hudson's louder."

It was frustrating being unable to talk, but I had no way of communicating words to her. Shortly after Vasquez told me that everything was quieter without me but Hudson was still a pain in the ass, the world started to fade and blur.


The first thing to let me know I was still alive was the steady beeping of a heartrate monitor. I slowly opened my eyes, seeing I was in a brightly lit room. A bulky breathing mask was strapped to my face, and I felt cool, refreshing air rushing in and out of my lungs.

"Drake?" a familiar voice said. "If you can hear me, look to your left."

With much effort, I looked to my left, seeing a worried Delhoun standing next to the bed.

"Oh, thank God." Delhoun breathed a sigh of relief. "I had been told that you were almost lost, and even if you made it, you'd be in a coma for some time. Thank God they were wrong."

I couldn't talk with the breathing mask on, and all I could do was look at Delhoun, who was soon taken out of the room by a nurse. I was tired, and confused, and disturbed. My dreams had been very vivid and fast-paced, and I was afraid they all carried some kind of meaning.

About ten hours after I woke up, the mask was taken off, and I was allowed to sit up. I was hungry and dehydrated, and I still wanted to know what I had seen in that room with all the flowers. The nurses didn't want to give me a lot in terms of food, but they gave me a lot of water. I also wanted to talk to Delhoun, and see Winnie.

After I drank two bottles of water, I was allowed to see Delhoun. He came in my room, carrying Winnie, and dismissed the nurses, closing the door when they left. He set Winnie on the bed, letting her curl up on my lap. "I don't know if you remember," he started, "I said they almost lost you."

"I remember," I replied. "I just . . . don't know what happened."

"What happened was you walked into a room marked 'biohazard' while looking for Winnie. Those silver flowers give off a toxic fume that restricts your airways and makes you hallucinate."

"So, that's why I saw all my teammates in that room." I rubbed my face with a bedsheet, not wanting to cry in front of Delhoun. "They . . . were telling me they missed me."

"Interesting." Delhoun nodded a little. "I think it means you're very lonely and restless here. You miss them, too, don't you?"

"I do, but, before this all happened . . . I was thinking that I've gotta pull through this. I'm not always going to have people I know around me. There are some things I have to do alone, and this is one of them."

"Well, you don't exactly have a choice with this, son."

To be honest, I didn't think Delhoun was that much older than me. He certainly didn't look older than me, but I found out he was thirty, which is pretty young in my eyes, and really young to be calling me "son," given I'm in my early twenties. I figured it had something to do with mentality and experience. I'm the stupid kid who can't control his emotions. He's the older gentleman who's seen a good deal of shit and hasn't been able to enjoy life the way he should. I'm the one who's lost and he's the guy who has to guide me back. I didn't like the feeling of being indirectly told that I was hotheaded and poorly guided and . . . just an overall dumbass, but there was also a warm, somewhat comforting feeling with the fact that somebody could see I needed help becoming a better person.

I both wanted and needed that, but I didn't know how to express that.

"Drake, I told you yesterday morning that there are a lot of things in life we have no control over, and I understand how frustrating it can be to feel as though you have no control. I know you don't like me all that much as a person-"

"That's not true," I said. "No, I think you're an . . . you're an OK person. I don't dislike you. In fact, I respect you. A lot more than you realize."

A weak smile crossed over Delhoun's face. "Really? Is that so?"

"Yeah, 'course it is. You're not a bad guy. You're a little weird with your pets and your creepy fucker of an android, but-"

"Before you say anything more, thank you for reminding me about my Working Joe. While you were being treated for silver flower inhalation, I found out the real reason the power went out."


Seegson may have been put out of business years ago, but that didn't mean there weren't former workers who were pretty upset about the whole debacle. Given Weyland-Yutani's size, influence, and advancements, you'd think it'd be difficult for someone to infiltrate a facility and sabotage it. Yeah, I think there wouldn't be a need for the Marines if that was true.

According to Delhoun, there was someone inside the station who didn't belong. Someone who likely cut the power, and who had managed to hide themselves from security. My first instinct was to say, "Let me go and blow their brains out," but Delhoun said that because I was a prisoner, I was not allowed to be handling weapons.

This stinks. Not to mention I still had another twenty-four hours before my systems were clear of the silver flower toxin, and it would be yet another twenty-four hours before I would be cleared of any side effects from both the toxin and the meds being delivered through an IV drip.

So, this stinks. Royally.

Delhoun wasn't being given a lot of information regarding the station's intruder. I thought the entire hunk of junk would be on full-lockdown, but only certain sectors of the station were. All hangars were closed. The surgical labs were closed. All rooms with patients who wouldn't be released within forty-eight hours were locked and only accessible by doctors and nurses with keycards. Because I was going to be released tomorrow, my room was unlocked. Delhoun's lab was still open as well, and he was pissed, because he was certain this intruder was a former Seegson employee looking to steal his android.

Yeah, Delhoun came up with the idea that this intruder was from Seegson, not anybody in charge of the station. Then again, I made up my mind that I was going to trust him, so, I decided to go along with what he said and keep my eyes and ears open for evidence.

But, just fuck this idea that I am just going to sit around and not do anything. No, I'm going to go out there and find this intruder and slam his skull against the wall.

Truth be told, I did not want to wait to be released. I wanted to go look for this son-of-a-bitch now.

First of all, I would have to unhook myself from all the machinery, and . . . I don't know how. I also know that I still have light traces of silver flower toxin circulating in my bloodstream, and the doctors said letting me go now would mean Delhoun would have to take me back in a wheelchair, because I can't walk without the risk of passing out.

I tried playing with Winnie to pass the time, but the most I could do was let her attack me, because I couldn't move anywhere. She didn't seem to mind, and began giving me little gifts to try and cheer me up. Shortly after lunch, she trotted into my room, hopped on the bed, and took a tiny bag of chocolate candies from one of her pockets.

"This is definitely better than when we hated each other after I arrived," I said. "You agree, right?"

Winnie let out a short screech.

"I thought so." I rubbed Winnie's helmet. "Hey, maybe you can go find this intruder."

Winnie shook her head.

"Why not?" I folded my arms over my chest in mock disappointment. "Are you chicken?"

She cooed.

"Well, now that doesn't answer my question." I tilted my head. "You're one big chicken, aren't you?"

Winnie grunted.

"You don't wanna go out there because you're chicken."

Giving a grumpy snort, Winnie sat on my bladder, so I needed to call a nurse in order to use a bathroom.


When I was scheduled to be released from the hospital room, a doctor and two nurses wanted to make sure I could walk before actually letting me go. They helped me out of bed, and told me to take three steps forward. I was a little dizzy, but not to the point where I thought I was going to pass out. I walked without an issue, so I was turned over to Delhoun.

"Any word on this intruder?" I asked after Delhoun led me to his kitchen.

"Nothing. Something will happen sooner or later. A person has to find food, water, basic stuff to survive. I heard someone say that starvation or thirst might drive them into an area where they can be captured," Delhoun said. "Speaking of starvation and thirst, I'll bet you're hungry right about now."

"The hospital food wasn't bad," I replied. "Not as good as your pancakes, though."

"Thank you. I've been using my great-grandmother's recipe for years." Delhoun turned to face me. "If I didn't get interested in extraterrestrial mammals, I'd have opened up my own restaurant. I don't know why, but I've felt cooking is the freest art you can set your mind to. You can do it by yourself, in your own home, and it's something you can market to anyone."

"At least you're able to think of something besides your work," I said.

"Exactly." Delhoun set a jug of syrup on the table. "I know I said my budget was cut, but I figured you deserved something special when you got out of the hospital. Recovering from silver flower toxin is rough."

"So . . . is surviving silver flowers . . . rare?"

"No, not at all. What you went through is rare, because silver flowers generally don't grow in such close proximity to each other. In the wild, they grow in tiny clusters of around three to four plants, and the effect they have is small compared to what you went through. You still would have experienced mild hallucinations, breathing would be labored, and you would feel sick to your stomach, but you wouldn't have passed out. The toxin would remain in your system for around six to twelve hours, and after that, you'd be fine. According to all research, you should have died after breathing in the toxin of a combined three hundred and fifty flowers, but, I had been able to break into the lab and drag you out before it would've been deemed hopeless."

I found myself thinking about the fact that I had been hovering inches above death. I know that as a soldier I'm faced with my own mortality on a regular basis, but I thought that being shot would have a different feeling compared suffocating. It still meant death. It still meant . . . I was going somewhere else.

There was a part of me that wondered why I lived. Was it pure luck? Did I have a greater purpose that I needed to accomplish? Do the Powers That Be think I deserve to live out the rest of my life until I can barely remember my own name? Or am I just not worthy for Heaven yet, and Hell would be too cruel?

I swallowed past a lump in my throat, and I lost my appetite. Pushing my plate away, I stood up, saying, "I'm gonna go lay down," not making eye contact with Delhoun as I left the room.


I'm not sure how long I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while comprehending the fact that I had been so close to death. I thought about the dreams I had while unconscious. Would those dreams have continued? Would I leave the physical world and stay in my dreams?

What would happen if Vasquez and Hudson and Apone and Hicks found out? What would they say if they learned I had died because I'm a complete idiot? They'd probably make fun of me, then mourn me. They'd miss me for sure. Every time I see them in my dreams (and hallucinations), they tell me they miss me, but . . . I don't know if that's true or not.