"How does that feel?"
I move my legs and – satisfied with the results - place my feet on the ground. They carry my weight. Finally, after three days of intense repair-work by my human alter-ego, I'll be able to move around again. I can't wait. Laying around immobilized all day long is not really my cup of tea. And from what I was able to conclude from her narration as well as my 'internal' research with the new communication device I'm carrying around in my head, I know that my presence is badly needed. Something's up with Hicks, something bad. I haven't been able to raise him loud and clear at all in the past three days. All I got was a weird response, gibberish I wasn't able to make sense of. Images and words mixed into to a cocktail that got stranger by the hour. And when Darwin told me our marine had been lying dormant on his bed for the past two days, not reacting to any outside impulses, his skin hardened to some kind of chrysalis, I couldn't wait to get my behind off the stupid gurney. I know when I'm needed. I only hope it's not too late to reach him yet. And I hope the creature that will slip out of the cocoon will still be accessible to me… and some part of the old Hicks left in it. To say I'm worried doesn't begin to describe it. If Rogue only knew what he's asking of me…
"Very good." I take a couple of steps towards the wall and back. "I guess you did it." I would have expected Darwin to look immensely pleased with herself, but the expression on her face is nothing but honest relief. "Thanks, Darwin. You rescued me. I'm sure Kurtz would have jumped at the chance to throw me away."
Her smile tells of all the sleepless nights she's had since project "Xenomorph" started – many. She's only 21 years old, I remind myself. There's a point where even otherworldly-talented geniuses can't take the pressure anymore!
" Ah, Kurtz… the bastard's just grumpy because his own branch of the project's such a complete failure. It must eat him alive we're making such good progress. We're making him look bad."
Are we making progress? Really? I'm skeptical. The wheels are in motion, that's for sure, but my take on it is that we're just along for the ride – we don't possess any control over the proceedings anymore. But I'm curious, since this is the first time I actually hear about Kurtz' progress – or rather, 'non-progress' – with the behavioral part of the project.
"I take it he wasn't able to tame the xenomorphs, then?" I ask, coming to a halt in front of a mirror and checking my face. Rogue will be pissed if he sees this. My wonderful, elaborate Maori facial-tattoo has been messed-up considerably by Raven. The new flesh Hikahi put on the holes has nicely merged with the rest of my face and there is nothing left but a bit of swelling and bruising on the edges, but the detailed black lines are gone. I raise my hand to check the feeling with my fingertips – and look at the sorry remains of my left hand: It's blue and black with bruises and has a funny form… and it hurts. The sensation's still new for me, unwelcome, so I let it sink and use the other hand. In a couple of days, my face will look almost normal again. At least something positive.
"Hikahi did a good job, I'd say," Darwin's voice comes from behind. "Considering that he doesn't like you, he put a lot of effort into it."
"Just my luck." I turn around. "So, what about Kurtz?"
"No, he couldn't 'tame' the aliens. Of course not. He was able to condition them to do what he wanted by threatening them with fire, but as soon as you removed the threat, the xenos had a will of their own. I was told he already wasted half of Skylar's pet zoo in the process. Skin hates him."
I retrace my steps to the gurney.
"And you're, of course, overly sorry about his failure, boss, right?"
I expect a gleeful expression, but to my surprise, she just shrugs.
"Actually, I've had other things on my mind than worrying about him, Isis… not least of all you." She eyes my hand with dismay. "I'm having great problems getting the proper parts for you. I'll speak with some of the bio-engineers tonight to see what they can do, but if they can't help… we'll have to build these parts completely from scratch. This could take several days."
"No problem. As long as you don't need me to wrestle with Raven again, I will get by without it for a while."
"Maybe." She purses her lips, deep in thought. "But you should put a dressing on it, just in case. The damage is bad enough already, we don't need it to get worse. If your flesh starts to fall off we'll be in trouble." She wants to go on, but the alert from the Vidcom interrupts her. We turn towards the monitor simultaneously and see Kurtz' hawk-like face materialize there… as if he knew we were talking about him.
"There you are, Darwin! I had been looking for you everywhere!"
"Everybody in Lab 1 knows I'm here. I told them I'd be working on Isis this morning. What's the problem?"
"You got an incoming call from Rosselli," he huffs. "He's been waiting for several minutes now. You know how he likes being put on hold."
"Yeah, well…" my boss sounds vaguely annoyed, "it's not my fault. Put him through then. You know what he wants?"
"He wanted to talk to you specifically."
Only my bio-mechanical nature prevents me from bursting into a grin. How frustrating for the mighty Head of Operations to not be let in on the important dealings of the company! I wander over to the couch and make myself comfortable, hoping I won't be thrown out, too.
"Very well." Darwin takes a seat next to the screen and the next moment, Santiago Rosselli's handsome but serious face looks at us through some static interference. "Mr. Rosselli. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" She knows he wouldn't call her from God-knows-where if it weren't important.
"Ms. Darwin, I need to know about the progress you are making with project 'Perfect Soldier' and project 'Human Bomb'. Everything you can tell me." He doesn't even say 'good morning'.
"Uh…" Darwin wrinkles her brow, no doubt having picked up the unusual anxiety of the executive as distinctively as I did. "There's a lot. I'm afraid I cannot put it into one or two sentences, Mr. Rosselli. Can I send you the files somewhere?"
"Just give me a clue as to what you have achieved so far," he urges, his face filling out the screen as he leans forward. "Have you subjected all test-subjects to the substance yet?"
"The Corporal and Raven have each received their dose of xenomorph-DNA. You saw the Corporal yourself and Raven underwent the procedure three days ago. We didn't get around to the girl yet, since we first wanted to observe how the Corporal was taking the treatment. We didn't want to uselessly endanger our test-subjects in case anything went wrong."
"How is Raven responding to the change?"
"Well…" Darwin stretches the word and I see she's briefly looking at me out of the corners of her eyes, "- the way it was to be expected. Violent. He almost killed Isis. If I hadn't zapped him with the defibrillator, she'd be a pile of junk now… which would have been a catastrophe for the project." She waits for a reaction, but he doesn't respond. "So, I'd go as far as to say that Project 'Human Bomb' has been pretty much a success, if you take the ferocity and strength of the subject as the only measure."
"You don't sound convinced."
"No. We don't have the slightest bit of control over him. You could take him someplace in heavy restraints or stasis and drop him off and he'll wreak havoc, just as you wanted. But if the enemy doesn't kill him at one point you're going to have a problem with him yourself. Of course, we will have to see whether this is mainly because of his individual character traits, or if it comes with the xenomorph genes. The Corporal's been transformed over a week longer and he's behaving differently. But I'm not sure of him, either."
"How is he coming along?"
"Right now, he's entered a phase of dormancy, similar – at least from what we know about other examples in nature – to an insect. Or as the xenomorphs themselves when they enter a different stage of their existence. He developed a kind of… chrysalis and is no doubt changing under that cover. But we can't tell in what way, or how long it's going to take. The nanobots in his body disabled his PDT so we can't say what's going on in his body."
A kind of morbid fascination plays on Rosselli's face for a moment before the urgency returns: I begin to ask myself what made him so anxious.
"Anything else? Has he healed up? Did he do anything out of the ordinary so far?"
"Quite so. His physique has vastly improved even before his current state: His eyesight increased – from what I can tell – around 400%. His skin is on the way to armor-plating him and his reflexes are about five times faster than before - judging from the games he's played. We've not been able to subject him to specific tests yet."
If Darwin expected her superior to be impressed by her short recapitulation, she's mistaken. The sudden lines on the executive's forehead are a sure sign of anger – although I wouldn't begin to know why he would be angry with us.
"You haven't performed any tests on him yet? Damn, Darwin, what are you doing all day long? You know how vital this project is for Weyland Yutani! It's got to have the utmost priority for you and your staff right now! It's astonishing I should even have to point it out to you!"
"Mr. Rosselli, with all due respect: You don't know what you're saying!" The so accused begins, angry herself, but before she can go on, he blows off right into her face.
"Watch your mouth, young Miss! I know they call you a genius, but this doesn't entitle you to insult your superiors. You've always been difficult and condescending and I've already swallowed a lot more than I should have had to in the past because my time was limited and I couldn't afford to waste it ordering you back into line. But I'm warning you, Ms. Darwin, I am not going to take any more from you! Now tell me why you didn't do the tests!"
I can only see Darwin's back, but her body language has thoroughly changed during Rosselli's outburst. Stiff and rigid, telling both him and me how much self-control it's taking her not to answer his accusations as she deems fit. Even her voice is tense.
"Sir, my staff and I are working shifts around the clock to advance our knowledge of the species and our two test subjects and it is my firm believe we've already made great progress with the project. We only started work on it four months ago and-"
"Four months, exactly," he barks, cutting her off again. "Four months and millions of credits ago and I don't have to show anything for it, yet. I can't just simply fork over the money for an unlimited span of time without seeing results. The company's rich but we can't afford to throw our financial resources out of the window, I'm sure you understand that."
It begins to dawn on me what this is all about. Some of the big bosses stepped onto his toes.
"Without results?" Darwin sounds incredulous. "Excuse me, Sir, did you say 'without results'? In just four months we were able to produce hybrids from a completely unknown species! We-"
"You know perfectly well what I'm speaking of, Ms. Darwin! You're taking too long. You've got a 'human bomb' that poses a problem to ourselves, you've got a 'perfect soldier' you haven't even tested yet and Kurtz completely failed at making the xenomorphs jump through hoops for him. I can hardly call this satisfactory. The company's getting impatient. Someone with an I.Q., as high as yours should have been able to solve those problems weeks ago. We pay you and your staff a ridiculous amount of money and we blasted it out the windows buying Raven off the death cell and making sure the Corps wouldn't interfere with the proceedings on Acheron."
"But Sir-"
"I'm going to push my deadline back another four weeks, but in four weeks, I'll be coming to Phooka myself, along with some members of the board, you should be prepared to show us something by then. Something that will make all the spent resources look worthwhile, if you catch my drift, Ms. Darwin." The threat behind his words is unmistakable. "Do I make myself clear?"
Darwin's voice sounds as if she had to press it through a mile of granite.
"You mean you want the 'Perfect Soldier' and 'Human Bomb' ready for presentation to our clients by then."
"We understand each other, then?"
"I do understand you, Sir, but I'm asking you to please understand the fact that there is a high probability we won't be able to make this deadline. The nature of the problem being the human psyche. Both our test subjects are subject to an extraordinary amount of-"
"Darwin?" He doesn't yell. He doesn't sneer. He sounds perfectly calm – and all the more threatening this way. "Just do it." His expression is that of a steel door someone just closed in your face. Darwin knows better than to try arguing again. From behind I see her take a deep breath.
"I'll do my best, Sir."
"If you had done so from the start, we wouldn't have to talk like this." A shadow falls over him and he's distracted by someone else. When we have his attention again, it's only for two more sentences. "I have to go now: If I can give you a piece of advise, Darwin, see to it that the members of the board will be happy with your presentation. Rosselli, over and out." The transmission folds before she has an opportunity to reply. For a long, leaden moment she stays put on her chair, frozen. I can't tell what she's thinking. But then she spins around and I see something on her face I didn't expect to ever see there: It's the look of someone overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work she's facing. Someone knowing she's facing impossible odds. Something dangerously close to despair.
My worry must be visible on my face because she gives me a weak smile when her attention returns to me after a moment of self-absorption. She never looked younger – like a scared teenager.
"You heard the man, Isis. Let's get to work." She remains seated.
"He can't be serious!" I try to comfort her, strangely touched by her unexpected display of anxiety. "He can't seriously expect you to have an army of 'perfect soldiers' ready for him in four weeks! This kind of research takes years until you get anywhere!"
"You know that and I know that. I'm sure, he knows that, too," she admits. "But for one reason or another, it appears as if Mr. Santiago Rosselli has decided to axe me. It's obvious he's looking for a reason to get rid of me."
I shake my head slowly, unbelieving. "I don't understand it."
"There are plenty of possible reasons. Apparently, he got some flak from the board because of all the credits he spent on the project. Who knows, maybe they were against it from the start and he promised them something impossible. Or he authorized it all by himself and didn't ask anyone and now the ground's getting hot for him; whatever it is, it looks as if he's making sure his bases are covered and someone else goes down for his mistakes – me." I don't know what to say. Who is supposed to run Phooka's science department if not Darwin? Kurtz? Please…! The ghostly, weak expression on my bosses face suddenly turns into one of grim determination while I'm looking on. When she finally continues and her voice mirrors the change. "I will not became Santiago Rosselli's scapegoat, Isis. We'll beat the odds, I know we can do it! Can I count on your help?"
"Of course, Darwin," I utter, flustered.
"Good. First, we've got to subject the girl to the test. I want you to talk to Dr. deJoria and find out how soon she thinks we can do it. We don't know yet how females respond to the substance and with her we'll be able to find out whether the effects of the treatment will be greater if the test subjects are exposed to them at a younger age, before puberty sets in. Then – what?" She noticed my expression. But I can't tell her what's on my mind. If she exposes the girl to the alien-DNA she'll inevitably grow her own transceiver – and Hicks will find out I've been lying to him the entire time! It would mean the end of our communication. The end of my mission. But I can't tell her that, because then I'd also have to tell her about that transceiver in my head and the things I'm able to do with it! If – and this is a very big 'if' – she doesn't know about it already. So far, she hasn't mentioned anything, but if she worked on me for the past days…
I shrug, pretending it's something else I'm uncomfortable with.
"I don't know, Darwin… the reaction to the substance is still very violent. We could very easily lose her."
" I know and I can't do anything about it. If the almighty Mr. Rosselli wants us to do it, we have to obey, even if we know better. Please, go and talk to Dr. deJoria today. She won't be happy. She kind of adopted the little girl and to take her away from her will surely meet with resistance. If you want my advise: Don't even tell her what we'll be doing with her. Tell her – I don't know, tell her that Kurtz unexpectedly found it in his heart to send the girl home and she'll leave with the TerraNova tomorrow. She won't resist that."
"What if she finds out?"
"How could she?" Darwin shrugs, the gesture a sign of deep fatigue. "Even if she does – we can't begin now to care about the feelings of our minor employees. Lying to her will be the best course of action." For a moment, the old intensity finds back into her gaze. "Can I count on you, Isis?"
I meet her eyes - and lie straight into my human sister's face.
"Of course, Darwin. Consider it done."
***
A quarter past ten. The day's almost over, the lights are low, the stars on the ceiling twinkling and the jaguar is on its nightly prowl through illuso-land as I walk down the quiet corridors of the living quarters. I can hardly believe the schedule I was forced to work through today after Darwin 'repaired' me this morning. For the first time, I wish I were human. They wouldn't force a human being to get up from his hospital bed and go to work as if nothing happened after a severe injury. I couldn't say no. I couldn't tell Darwin or Kurtz how emotionally and bodily spent I'm feeling after the latest incidents. The injuries to my neck and face still hurt and if I weren't able to shut off the connection to my left hand, I'd go insane with the pain. Pain… a strange, unsettling reaction. I wasn't quite able to fully grasp it when I first made its acquaintance on the flight-deck, when they hit me with those tazer-shots. But I'm getting better at it and I begin to understand Hicks. Feeling bodily beat is bound to get you down mentally sooner or later. The longer it lasts, the less you can take it. It's wearing you out and you start hating the ones who are responsible for it. No wonder Hicks was so aggressive all the time.
Hicks… one of the reasons my schedule was so crammed was that I had to see for myself what was going on in his cell. Everything, from my own, unsuccessful attempts of raising him via the transceiver to all that Darwin told me, was screaming at me to get busy. To do something if I wanted to remain able to fulfill my maker's mission. But when I finally got down to his compound and saw this ... thing... lying on the bed, I felt for the first time a tug of despair. Despair... and yet some kind of morbid, reluctant fascination, I couldn't shake. The chrysalis wasn't opaque. It was nothing more than a thin, semi-transparent hard crust following the shape of his body. No gross, utterly inhuman changes. I could still see Hicks' sleeping features under that hard shell enveloping him. Sleeping with open eyes, devoid of expression. As if someone poured acrylic over him. Spooky. In some ways, it reminded me of an ancient sarcophagus. Except that its contents was still alive.
I had to touch it. Carefully reaching out, ready to draw back at the slightest signs of trouble. I first placed my fingers, then my entire palm on Hicks' brow. Holding my breath. Feeling. Sensing. Probing. Reaching out with all my superior senses – plus my new one.
'Dwayne? Dwayne, come on, give me a sign if you hear me. I'm standing right at your side! Just blink if you hear me!'
Nothing. I leaned forward for a closer look and waved my hand in front of his face, but his eyes remained unfocussed under the shell, his mind apparently light-years away, God-knows-where. I tried to contact him again, reaching out with the transceiver, but all I got was this dark maelstrom of indefinable sensations, half-finished images and thoughts.
'Dwayne? Come on, follow my voice! You need to fight her, you hear me? You can do it! Just follow my voice!'
No use. Wherever his mind was it was undergoing a drastic change and while I leave the elevator on Level 4, Living Quarters, I realize that there's no guarantee that the creature that will leave the cocoon will be accessible to us. If Hicks' human part is really gone, then what I'm about to do will be rendered meaningless. I'll be sticking out my neck for Rogue's mission in vain. But I can't afford to wait. With Rosselli pressuring Darwin like he is, it could very well be that my boss decides to take the girl from Dr. deJoria tomorrow. She can't afford to waste a single day if she doesn't want to make herself an easy target for the executive. I need to risk it. The way I see it, there's no way back to human-ness for Hicks without the girl. And no way out of Phooka. The two belong together, no matter what. There's no way of playing this safe.
Pushing these uncomfortable thoughts aside, my mind returns once more to what I found in the marine's cell. How I raked my nail over the hard shell covering Hicks' forehead without being able to dent, let alone penetrate, it. I wasn't surprised. Darwin managed to take some samples earlier by using one of the tools we invented for handling the xenomorphs, but the cover was too hard for an ordinary fingernail. She also managed to set up sensors all over his body, even though she was hesitant at first of drilling into the chrysalis. Afraid the procedure could kill her most valuable toy. But we need the data. Only an overwhelming amount of information will be enough to satisfy Rosselli when he gets here.
A brief glance at the readouts and gauges showed how much Hicks' metabolism had slowed. With his heartbeat down to five beats per minute and his body temperature lowered to room temperature – a measly 21°C - he seemed to be experiencing some sort of hibernation. A different form of cryo-sleep. Realizing that there was nothing I could do for him, I then decided to no longer delay the inevitable visit to Doctor deJoria's habitat. It was time to get my first card on the table. Out of impulse – impulse? - I knocked on his sarcophagus and said/ thought:
'You hang in there, Dwayne, you hear me? You can't leave me hanging now. Things are in motion and I need you to pull through. Do the deed, marine!'
With these thoughts I come to a halt in front of Dr. deJoria's door. Knowing I'm about to take that first unforgivable step towards betrayal. It's the point of no return. How will she react? Will she believe me? Pushing my doubts aside I activate the VidCom next to the door. It takes a moment for the doctor's tired face to appear on the screen. Apparently, she was just about to go to bed.
"Isis? What's the matter?"
"Can I come in, please, Doctor? I need to discuss something with you – in private."
Lines appear on her brow and one of her dark brown, long locks falls into her face. Absent-mindedly she smoothes it away. A brief look down, checking her watch.
"What, now? Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
"I'm afraid it can't. Please?" Until a few weeks back I would have retorted with a snide reply – now I'm the model of courtesy. I can hardly believe my own voice. The new attitude, however, seems to work because the door opens an instant later and I look at the real Eloise deJoria, who comes out, adjusting her blue kimono-like robe and looking at me flustered and worried simultaneously.
"What is it, Isis? An emergency? Do they need me in Medical?" She narrows her eyes. "What happened to your face?"
"I'm not important, Doctor, and this is not an official visit. I need to talk to you in private. Can I come in?"
She motions me to follow her into her living room, nonplussed at my urgency.
"Please…"
She's living in the 'Countryside Home' illuso. The perfect illusion of wood, warm-colored fabrics and lived-in, comfortable furniture. A view of a dark red sunset over plains through one of the non-existent windows. I look around for the girl, but remind myself that she is probably fast asleep at this time. After all, she doesn't know what the gods of the station have in store for her. Good. I pushed this conversation back all day long because I didn't want her to be present. It will be hard enough to bring the news to the unsuspecting doctor, who motions me to take a seat on her couch now, nervousness written all over her forty-ish, slightly lined face.
"I'm sorry, Isis," she adds, sitting down next to me, still nestling with her robe. "I was just about to go turn in, so-"
If she means her appearance, I couldn't care less. No surveillance cameras here. Good. I'm about to commit treason. Darwin would kill me herself if she knew. Somewhere in the far, far back of my mind, I feel bad about my betrayal. But at the next moment, I brush my concerns aside.
"I'm here about the girl, Dr. deJoria." She twitches, her body tense. I suspect she has been fearing for this for ages.
"Rebecca? Are you going to take her away from me? You can't! She –"
"It's worse, Doctor. Much worse." I don't know how to bring this to her in a gentle way. And maybe the gentle way would be wrong here. Maybe throwing her headfirst into the ice-cold water will be the most efficient way for getting the results I need. "Darwin wants her for her project."
"What?" Her eyes widen in stunned shock. Unable to stay put she jumps to her feet and starts to pace the room. "You mean for her experiments? She wants to run tests on her? What kind of tests? You can't be serious!"
"Unfortunately, I am. And I can't tell you what kind of experiment, but it's ugly, I can assure you of that." She pales. "Which is the reason why I'm here, Doctor. Darwin sent me to talk to you about taking the girl away from you but I'm not about to do that. Quite the opposite, really."
She comes to a halt, deep skepticism written all over her face. I can't blame her. What I'm about to tell her is so unlike the 'old Isis' I can hardly believe my own words.
"I'm here to help you. What I'm about to say to you must remain strictly between the two of us – nobody must know about it. If you breathe but one word to the wrong person we'll all deeply regret it.."
"What? What is it, Isis? You're Darwin's closest assistant – how can I know you mean what you say? Since when do you care-"
"Look, Doctor, I understand you're skeptical, but you don't have a choice. Believe me not and they'll come and take her away from you, chances being you will never see her again. What Darwin is about to do to Rebecca could very well kill her. But even if she lives through it, it will change her forever." My words knock the wind for a reply right out of her lungs. She looks as if she were about to faint. "Follow my plan and we may be able to save her. It's not a nice plan, either, but the only way I see to postpone the experiment. You'll have to make her sick. Very sick."
"What?" I don't know how she gets the word out without breath. It's not going well. Everything I just disclosed is going down deJoria's throat sideways, still sticking there. Her pale complexion and huge eyes together with the restless pacing can't be misinterpreted. She's one of the decent people among Phooka's personnel, I remind myself. She doesn't usually have to cope with the gruesome things Darwin's staff are handling. My words alone were enough to shake her up pretty good. "I don't understand a word you're saying!"
She doesn't want to understand. Denial. Very human. Suddenly, I'm able to grasp it. Is this where my new identity comes in helpfully?
"The procedure Darwin has planned is very demanding on the test subject. In order to survive it is essential that the subject is in prime condition. Darwin is very aware of the fact that it is a high risk to subject a child to it, but she's forced to do it. Rosselli's pushing her. But she'd have to postpone the treatment if the child were sick. And I don't mean an ordinary cold. In order to buy me a little time Rebecca needs to be earnestly sick… or injured."
"You don't honestly expect me to – to do this to her, do you?" She's getting angry.
"As paradoxical as it sounds, it would be in her best interest. You would spare her a much worse fate, take my word. I'm aware you only know me as a cold fish who never cared for anyone or anything, but this was a cover." There, out now. I'm in the middle of putting my neck into the noose. A nasty voice in the back of my head asks me what I'll do if she doesn't believe me. What if I'm throwing all my big secrets at her and she doesn't comply? I need to be able to trust her! I can't let her walk around knowing what I'm about to tell her otherwise. Rogue beware, do I have to kill her then? "I'm on a mission, Doctor. I can't tell you my purpose, but trust me, I am not your enemy. I want to help you."
"How about… I mean – can't we hide her?" It's not an acknowledgement of my suggestion, but her tone is less aggressive and more worried now. I shake my head.
"Doctor deJoria, we both know perfectly well nobody can hide on Phooka Station. For a few hours, yes, maybe. If you deactivated her PDT, but even then they would find her eventually. With all the surveillance cameras in almost every corner, they would be able to trace her very fast, even to one of the few places where they can't see her." She knows all right. Frustrated by the sheer logic, deJoria picks up her pacing again, only stopping briefly to eventually throw the million-dollar question at me.
"Provided I agree to do it - what are you going to do? What do you need the 'additional time' for? And how long is it going to take you?"
"I can't tell, because I don't know myself. The situation is complicated and is getting more so with every passing day." A deep breath. I lower my voice to an even more confidential tone. "There is someone else I need to get off Phooka." I didn't want to tell her this part but, apparently, there's no way around it. And intuition – 'intuition?' – is whispering to me that telling her the truth – or at least part of it - is the best course of action. "He has already undergone the treatment and is in a big mess right now. He'll have to put in some real effort to withstand its effects and I'm afraid he's about to give up. But he used to have this great bond with the girl, from what I gather and with her help, or even just the mention of her name and that she's still alive, I hope I'll be able to influence him into giving it a try."
deJoria comes to an abrupt halt in front of me, her eyes widening. "You don't mean the soldier she arrived together with, do you?"
"Yes, I do. He's a very important person."
"Hicks is still alive?"
It's a tiny, scared-sounding voice and its coming from behind! I whirl around and sure enough, the object of our conversation is standing in the doorway, clutching a teddy bear in her arms, her eyes huge. Apparently, she has been listening for a while already. There's nothing sleepy about her as her face lights up with an unexpected joy and excitement so great it's touching to see, even for an old bio-mechanoid like me. Things have just gotten a whole lot more complicated!
"Newt! You were supposed to be sleeping!" deJoria rushes over and kneels down in front of the girl, taking her into her arms, but she might as well be in a different universe. The child's attention is on me alone.
"He's alive? Hicks is alive? Really?" Her huge eyes beg me to tell her the truth. I nod. What else can I do? I don't know how much she heard. I don't know how good she can keep her mouth shut. Everything I planned is at stake now. Hell, what now?
"Yes, Rebecca. He is. Just like you. They told him you were dead, too, that's why he didn't look for you." I stop when I see tears running down her face. She's crying and laughing at the same time! Interesting. "He's not far away," I add, not knowing why. To intensify that look of utter, pure joy? I've never seen an expression like it on anyone on this station, not even Darwin when she made one of her break-through discoveries. I can't help but smile with her as she frees herself from her caretaker's embrace to come running at me. Just before she reaches the couch, however, she stops dead in her tracks. I realize she was just about to hug me, but now her distrust has gotten the better of her and her eyes scan my face to a depth I wouldn't have expected from a child. She's getting right past the black lines, really looking into me. A moment of silence. I let her examine me, praying she'll believe me. Now that she knows, my plan depends on her cooperation. I catch a notion of deep hurt when she finally turns back to deJoria, unconsciously strangling her teddy bear.
"You lied to me?"
"Newt..." The doctor straightens out of her crouch and wrings her hands, not knowing what to say. It seems to me I can hear the noise of the little girl's world shattering. "I had to. They said you two mustn't know about each other. They thought – I don't know what they thought. They probably thought it would be easier that way."
"They?"
"My boss... and Isis' boss. They're very mighty people… and they're not nice people."
"But – you should have told me. I mean, they wouldn't have known, right? You lied to me and I believed you, even though it hurt so bad." She sobs silently. I keep my mouth shut, let them handle things. This is between them. DeJoria moves closer, but the child takes another step away from her. Forcing her to stop. It's clear she doesn't know what to think anymore of her adult protector.
"Newt, I'm so sorry… I hated having to lie about that. I so much wanted to help you. When they brought you here, you were almost… you know…"
"Dead."
"Yes. Both of you. And then they told me what you went through on that planet you came from and said I should be careful with you. You were so frail and so scared and I felt so sorry for you, all I wanted to do was help you get over it. I wasn't allowed to tell you about him."
I can't tell whether she's satisfied with deJoria's answer when she finally turns around to acknowledge my presence again.
"Is Hicks all right? Can I see him? Please?"
I shake my head, inviting her over to the couch by sitting down again myself.
"He's okay for the time being, but I'm sorry, Rebecca, you can't visit him. That way, we-" I point at the doctor and myself – " we'd get big, big problems because we told you about him. Nobody must know, remember? As far as you are concerned you haven't heard any of this. You don't even think of him anymore, okay? You don't know he's still alive."
Her accusatory gaze is too painful even for me.
"But I do know. And I think about him all the time. On the planet, he promised me he'd save me - and he did." She gnaws at her lower lip, apparently revisiting a scene in her mind. "He warned me about the alien and so it attacked him instead. He ran away so that it would follow him and I could go back to our hiding place and I did, because that was what he told me to do..." Her arms sneak around her sides, hugging herself. "But he didn't come back. I waited for so long and I got scared. I was so afraid it had killed him and I was alone again. So... so I went looking for him and..." She suddenly starts to shake as her self-control slips away. "I miss him so bad." Without warning she turns around to meet her foster mother's embrace, crying so hard she almost makes deJoria join her in her misery. Hell, I had no idea what I was getting myself into with this! Human emotions seem to be quite a powerful thing and I'm only just beginning to get the hang of them.
"It's all right, Newt. Everything's going to be okay again." The doctor murmurs reassuringly, rocking the girl and picking her up. Her eyes find me. "Isis will help us, right?"
"Right," I mumble, not sure at all. DeJoria comes over to the couch and sits down, her hand stroking the child's head.
"You said you wanted to get the soldier – Hicks – off the station."
"Yes."
"Newt, too?"
"Of course. I wasn't going to use her and then leave her here. I doubt I'd even get Hicks into a shuttle without her if he knew she was alive."
"Where you do want to go?"
"I can't tell you. Away from Weyland Yutani's grasp. Somewhere where they won't find them."
"Why?"
"Because that's my mission. I can't tell you more, doctor, I'm sorry. It's all I can offer you for now. Take it or leave it."
"Okay." She chews on the next bit for a moment longer and then throws it at me. "I'm in. But you take me with you."
Oh heck! More complications. Can't things be simple for a change? I swallow. What to say? The look on deJoria's face is one of absolute determination. A human concrete wall. Every objection against it must shatter.
"You want to leave Phooka, too? You'll never be able to work for Weyland Yutani again, you know? In fact, they will probably search for you. Things could get very dicey for you… dangerous. They can't afford to have someone running around who isn't absolutely loyal to the company."
"I know and I'm not." Her voice is firm. Interesting. I never knew Dr. deJoria wasn't 100% Weyland Yutani staff. "I never knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted this job. I'm sick and tired of being held captive on this station, Isis, and I won't spend my entire life on it. Just take me along."
"Okay…" Quite interesting revelations I'm getting to know in the wake of my actions. I give the promise not knowing whether I'll be able to keep it. It will be hard enough getting Hicks and the girl into a ship – and myself. The more people I'll have to juggle, the likelier the plan is to go down the drain. If things get too complicated I might just have to leave her behind. But I don't tell her that. "Okay, we have a deal then." Silence ensues, during which – I guess – we all realize the enormity of the things we've agreed upon tonight. I wait it out, until my opposite gives me a short nod and tells me that she's going to be right back, she just wants to put the girl to sleep again. I mimic her gesture, knowing there are still some things to discuss between us and that it would be better if Rebecca didn't hear them.
"Isis?" Still in her foster mother's clutches, Newt extends her hand to me. "Will you really help us?"
I reach out and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"Yes, Newt. I'll give it my very best try. And I've got a reputation of being very capable, you know? So sleep tight and don't worry." That's quite a mouthful I said there, but somehow I felt that she needed it. It's obvious from the little smile she gives me as deJoria takes her back to her room. A smile that tells me that I have her trust. A somehow supremely good feeling.
It takes deJoria almost 15 minutes to come back. I understand. Everything she heard must have gotten the girl extremely messed up. If she's really sleeping now it's probably out of emotional exhaustion and not because she's tired.
"I'm sorry, Isis, I'm a lousy host." My unexpected co-conspirator absent-mindedly smoothes back another strand of her hair. "Would you care for something to drink, or-"
I raise my hands. "No, thank you. I'm about to leave, anyway. I just wanted to ask you…" I take a deep breath. Let's get down to the ugly details. "Do you already know how you're going to achieve what we talked about? I may be able to be of greater help if I know how you're going to proceed."
A shadow falls on her tired face.
"I've… I've got an idea." Expression and tone of her voice tells me she's not feeling comfortable with it. The silence stretches and after a few long, leaden moments, I feel inclined to ask further.
"But…?"
"I don't like it, but I don't see any other way." 'Yes?' my gaze tells her. She smiles unhappily. "It involves the Arcturian Fever…"
All of a sudden I understand her. Arcturian Fever is still one of the most deadly diseases in the known universe. A fatality rate of approx. 75%. I don't doubt that the possibilities of defeating it may be higher here than anyplace else, but still… It would take an enormous amount of despair to go down this road. Despair… and trust. I exhale.
"You're working with the Arcturian Fever-virus?"
"With Kurtz and Hikahi, yes. We've made some progress, but we still haven't gotten the fatality under 50% in our rat population. The antibiotic's not even tested on humans yet. I'm frightened to even think about infecting myself with it… but it would be the only way to infect Newt with it, too. I don't have access to any other viruses. None that would do the trick, anyway."
I nod, face serious. "You mean, since there are no other possibilities on Phooka to become sick. If Newt gets sick, they know you must be behind it. And the only way to ensure they wouldn't know you did it deliberately is to make them believe you didn't notice you were exposed to it yourself. That you infected yourself during your work."
"Yes. Those are my thoughts. But I'm afraid of actually doing it, Isis." She stares me right in the face. "Deadly afraid."
I don't know what to say. I have my own sinister thoughts about this. One symptom of Arcturian Fever are severe fever-cramps and delusions. What if the doctor and Newt spill our big secret, not knowing what they're saying any longer. Mumbling into the wrong ears. What then? I exhale noisily, then meet her gaze.
"But you will follow through, right?"
"Yes. I… I guess I trust you." Amazing. I must have misunderstood her. She smiles weakly. "You're a different person now, Isis. I didn't see you much during those last weeks, but you've changed. It's quite obvious. I got the impression it started with Alexander Saitchev's death… something happened to you there. I don't know whether it was because of Darwin's reaction or…" She shrugs and I'm flustered by her accurate observation. If it was that obvious for her, has everybody noticed it? Am I only thinking I can still surprise everybody here, while they all along have my number? A frightening thought. deJoria's smile deepens. "Don't worry, Isis, I don't think anyone has noticed. Certainly not Darwin. Kurtz maybe, but… he has other things on his mind these days. You've done a good job at concealing it."
"You think?"
"Definitely."
"I can't judge anything I'm doing anymore. Anything connected with emotions, anyway. They're a very … new sensation to me."
"I understand completely." Another smile. "Welcome to the perpetual roller-coaster, Isis. Even we humans don't understand ourselves most of the time. So why should you be able to?" We share the laugh and I can't help but wonder how I was never able to see what a decent person the doctor is. In fact, I barely noticed her at all. And now she surprises me with her observations, the fact that she kept her mouth shut about them and her confession that she hates being trapped on this place. She could have been a very valuable co-conspirator from the start and I never even gave it a single thought. But if she really exposes herself to the virus tomorrow she won't be able to help me. She'll be happy to live. In my mind, the promise I gave her carelessly gains importance. I don't want to leave her here.
The silence stretches between us, until, at last, she directs her gaze to the clock over the door, stifling a yawn. The adrenaline flood caused by the unexpected agitation I brought along has subsided and it is late. It's not only her who's feeling beat.
I get up and turn towards the door.
"I think it's time I let you get some shut-eye now…" 'cause you won't be getting any more for quite some time.' I hear her get up behind me and turn around, already standing in the corridor. A moment of mutual agreement between us. We're both on the same side. And we'll do what's necessary to come out of this victorious. Since I'm in view of the surveillance cameras in the corridor again, I tone my body language down to the rigid, controlled way I use during duty. It's only in my gaze where I wish Dr. deJoria good luck and I see I'm being understood. She'll need it.
"Are we clear about this, Doctor?" I ask in a bossy tone. A comedy for the cameras. Just to be on the safe side. She nods, her face taught. Playing along.
"Yes, Isis. Perfectly clear." The door closes in my face and I turn away, feeling satisfied. One mission accomplished.
