Several months had passed since the mission to Sinensis. The pirate data was in the hands of the Federation at last, and with it their phazon program had accelerated at an unprecedented rate. Within weeks they had the first PED models; Phazon Enhancement Devices which could raise a marine's firepower to match even the strongest of foes.

The Federation had come up with a name for this state of power, known as Hypermode. Numerous victories had been achieved thanks to this blessed boost, but the war was far from over.

It was only through the pirates' data on how they themselves had achieved Hypermode that the Federation was able to replicate it. As a show of gratitude for Kayleer's contribution, he was offered his own PED upgrade for his suit. Phazon was a limited resource, and so only specially-selected troops were allowed to use it.

But Kayleer was quite sure he'd rather be dead than carry phazon at all times. Entering Hypermode meant having it course through his armor; directly on top of his skin. The thought alone made him feel nauseated.

Kayleer was soon stationed on Norion. A strong military presence existed on the hardy, forested world, one which Kayleer was happy to contribute to, so long as no one forced a PED into his suit.

The Admiral personally selected his new squadron. One of moderate experience and expertise, he saw it as a better fit for Kayleer than the usual, similarly green recruits. It was a team with which the pirate was already somewhat familiar.

An armorclad marine raised his hand to his forehead in salute to the Admiral. His team of six others waited in orderly formation behind him.

"I've chosen a soldier to fill your eighth rank," the Admiral began, walking before the line-up with a stalwart gait. "I'm sure you're already acquainted. I'm also sure you're aware of what this pirate has done for our cause. So any petty animosity you might still bear - I suggest you lose it," he ordered.

Obediently the soldiers gave their salutes.

"I leave you in Commander Brady's hands," he told Kayleer. The pirate gave his own salute as he watched the Admiral depart, reboarding a sleek silver vessel to carry him back out to space.

The commander looked up, watching the ship as it left Norion's thick atmosphere. He offered a hand to Kayleer, who, having fallen back on his limited knowledge of humans, knew the gesture well enough to shake it.

"Commander Leonard Brady," he said. "Good to have you on our team."

The next marine raised her own hand in a salute.

"Lieutenant Commander Shendra Pearse," she introduced herself.

Another four soldiers followed in succession, giving their names and rank. Only one had yet to come forward, and by process of elimination, Kayleer knew exactly who he was. Despite their previous misgivings, the pirate was more than willing to put the past behind him. It would be in the best interests of everyone there.

But Adelaide kept his helmet closed and remained silent, ignoring the glares of his squadmates. As the opaque cyan visor turned to Kayleer, the pirate realized something troubling.

He could feel the very anger and fear coming from the human. The strange sensation of empathy caught the pirate off-guard, for he had never experienced it before.

As the last soldier was finally coaxed to open his visor and welcome the new addition to his team, he tried to keep his expression free of his true feelings. But Kayleer could see straight through the facade. He found himself rebounding the emotions, and a growl rose in his throat as the soldier neared him.

He had begun to reflect the emotions of his fellow soldiers, and without fully realizing it, Kayleer had become reliant on them for his very state of mind.

"Do you remember your name?"

"Unit…. U-Unit 463," the pirate stuttered, mandibles twitching in erratic spasms.

"Your rank?"

"Science Team, Class 0…06. Research Lab Hydra."

The pirate at the console perked up in surprise. It came as a great delight that he might have just salvaged a fellow scientist.

"Unit 463, you were recommissioned as a slave following unsatisfactory work. Do you remember that?"

The pirate twitched his head in uncomfortable silence. He was wracked in constant, spastic movements, unfortunate indicators of brain damage.

"Yes I-I remember," he wheezed.

"Do you remember your research in Hydra?" the other continued, desperate to see if his experiment was successful.

As the pirate tried to recall the information, his spasms worsened. He let out a terrified roar and clutched at his head. A seizure threw his head against the table, time and time again.

"463, control yourself," the other Unit hissed futilely.

But it was to no avail. White foam began to dribble from the experiment's mandibles. His movements stopped and his arms and legs became limp, hanging quietly over the edge of the lab table. His sputum glistened with bits of metal - tiny mechanical devices the scientist had placed within the slave in a failed attempt to restore his mind and knowledge. With a final twitch, the slave's lifesigns failed, his heart had flatlined.

387 rammed a fist into his console and growled in frustration. Another failure, another wasted pirate. Another tally to take off the limited forces of the uninfected.

But he was not one to accept defeat. No, he would try again. He would continue to try until he found success, until he perfected the process, and could send his creations out to their true target.