Chapter 28:

"All aboard the Hijack Express!" Sands voice rang over Angseth's and Weavel's com units. Resistance was less than they had expected. Vera honestly didn't expect to make it this far. She thought that her body would have given up by now. Weavel had taken point, leaving her to stumble after him. On occasion he would reach down and grab her arm, or collar, or in one instance, her leg, and drag her to her feet to continue up the corridor. They had reached the mag-lev loading platform after fighting through several Marines and an onslaught of ceiling turrets The loading platform wasn't made of much. Just an open area with storage bays for equipment. The mag-lev itself was already there waiting for them, a long sleek monster of a train that had been the envy of other Admirals for years. The first few cars on the train were for passengers, the cars to the rear were reserved for cargo. She pondered leaning against the nearest column to take a brief nap, but knew that if she stopped now, she would never make it back out. Vera was secretly glad that Weavel took it upon himself to lead the way. He held his left hand near her collar incase he had to drag her along again. He just might need to. She thought. At the moment her stomach ached occasionally punctuated by a sharp burn. That combined with random waves of nausea was almost enough to sideline her.

They moved to the rear of the passenger section, and boarded, ready and looking for a fight. Angseth found the seats blissfully empty. "Clear." Her voice ripped from her throat. She had to remember not to speak so loudly next time.

Weavel entered after her, withdrawing his Battlehammer, but still keeping the pulse beam on standby. He watched as Vera stepped further into the car, her rifle still ready as she inspected the seats for any other passengers.

"I ain't getting no life signs," Sand said. The door closed behind them and the train began to move. Angseth paused by one seat, leaning on it momentarily. Her stomach was about to protest. Maybe if she kept still and calm then-no use. She quickly removed her helmet, and covered her mouth with her hand. Weavel stood back as she began coughing. The sound came from deep in her chest, raspy and painful. The fit passed, and Vera looked down at her palm and at the dark red thick mass of tissue in it. Well that's a new one on me. She pulled her hand back and wiped the mess on the seat behind her. Angseth could practically feel Weavel's scans flickering over her body. She turned, and then locked her cold dead gray gaze on the cyborg.

Weavel folded his arms and looked away from her. Odd behavior for a metal man. "The Phazon is eating you alive. You need to be living when we confront Aran. She needs you, and I intend to keep you alive until we get there." He gestured harshly to the red smear on the seat. "That can't be normal for humans."

Vera looked away. "No. Its not. I know that you feel that I am a liability right now. That would account for dragging me halfway here. But I will make it under my own steam. If I need your help, I will ask for it. But I will make it." She picked up her helmet, feeling suddenly awkward and nauseous, not to mention at a loss for further words. She really didn't feel like doing much of anything right now except sleeping. She was missing her ship, her bed, her mates arms, hell-she even missed her alarm clock going off.

Weavel's hand suddenly rested heavily on her shoulder. They stood for a moment in tense silence, listening to the sound of the mag-lev slip through the tunnels. Neither of them exchanged words, or even a glance. Angseth breathed in deeply. Normally she would be alert. Her body didn't feel right, and that was causing her to be sloppy. She couldn't afford to lose her focus now. Weavel already knew how badly the Phazon had affected her. If she could just push herself to get to Vault 7, then Aran would be able to take care of the rest. Weavel spoke, his tone low, almost as if he were voicing his thoughts. "I vowed to protect you. I promised Briar that I would bring you back safely."

Vera breathed in deeply. Oh now he wanted to talk. "And I promised to bring back Aran. I still can't forgive myself for what happened on FQ-359. If I hadn't been such a coward, she wouldn't be here." She covered his hand with her own. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed that contact and the small amount of comfort it offered. "All three of us will make it out Weavel. If we watch each others backs, we can do it." The mag-lev began to slow. Her hand slipped from his, and Weavel's fell from her shoulder.

"We need to review these maps before we go," he began scanning the files Sand had uploaded to his data bank. "What do you want to do if we encounter resistance?"

"Plow through them," she said blankly. "We ran out of time to be nice a while ago. Just try not to kill anyone."

"Didn't I ask you the same thing before you faced Ridley?" His voice held a hint of annoyance.

Angseth sighed. "I tried. But if you're trying to make friends in the Confederation, it would look better on the Siafu if you didn't outright slaughter anyone."

Weavel noted that she said nothing about severely injuring them.

Vera checked her own maps. What will I do when I find Aran? How do I save her? Despite her questions, she knew the answer would come to her instinctively when she found her. Dear Goddess, please don't have her put up a fight. I'm not equipped to handle one with her right now.

Weavel caught Angseth as the mag-lev fully stopped, hand going for the collar once more. Sand once again spoke up. "Exit out the rear, and then go about twenty yards down the tunnel. To your left will be a maintenance door. Follow the maps to an elevator shaft. That should be a straight shot to Vault 7. Sorry I can't do any better than that. Word went out over the coms a few moments ago. They know you're here, and have been shutting down systems faster than I can infiltrate. Expect heavy resistance. Good luck to ya's!"

"Thanks Sand." Vera stated, as they made their way to the back of the passenger car.

"Name's Gregory. Don't mention it. Just make it out safe 'kay?"

Weavel pried the door open while Vera leaned over shot out a few ceiling turrets. Even the mag-lev tunnel was armed to the teeth. They jumped out of the train and ran the twenty yards to the maintenance hatch. Weavel covered her as she scanned through lines of code. Angseth smiled with satisfaction as the door popped open. She then leaned to the side, allowing Weavel to fire past her shoulder at a few ceiling mounted turrets within. He stepped past her, giving her cover to fall into step behind him. She crawled through the hatch, which spilled them into another hall. Weavel scanned the area, then reported all was clear. Two steps into the hall and Vera finally noticed that the two of them were working as a unit. As if they had always been partnered with each other. They instinctively knew of the others position and movements, and then adapted to accommodate. Not even Nevada worked this well with her, probably because both she and her mate were so bull-headed in their own way. If they made it out, she wouldn't mind having Weavel around for future missions.

"It bothers me that there are no people here," Weavel commented.

"I can think of a few reasons for that." she whispered over the com. "The first being that these areas are used to test out new battle strategies in a controlled environment, and aren't usually manned until there is an exercise. The second, is perhaps they didn't want a repeat of what happened on Rovien, and purposefully left these halls empty." She checked her maps. "Or a third reason. Maybe being so far underground has messed with my GPS. The map says there should be an elevator shaft here."

Weavel continued up the hall and made a quick peek around the corner before darting back. He gave another all clear, and this time Angseth took the lead. So far they had met no sentient resistance, and that worried her. She felt that they were being funneled with only ceiling turrets as token resistance. Usually there would be a task force or two that would intercept any intruders that tried to penetrate this deeply into the compound. Weavel kept close to her back, covering as needed. Angseth didn't really know her way around the training rooms, but Sand had really been a big help in getting maps of the area. The halls here were dirty and crowded. Small rooms opened to either side of them, while bits and pieces of odd alien technology lay strewn on the floor or blown to pieces. Plenty of room and time to spring an ambush. Sand hadn't covered all the ins and outs of the training grounds, but the maps were correct in leading them to an elevator shaft. Maybe she had misread them earlier.

Angseth felt her hackles rise when a cackle of interference went over her com. For a moment, her line seemed to fizzle out. She stopped, and leaned against a side wall, taking cover until she could figure out what happened. There was a short list of things that could cause a sound like that, and she wasn't going anywhere until she figured out what it was. "Weavel?" She ventured after a moment.

He didn't respond, but fell into a defensive position along with her.

"Don't bother Vera," a familiar baritone sounded over the line.

Angseth felt her throat grow dry. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Not to be outdone, her stomach tightened up. She knew that voice. That voice had commanded her for the past twenty years, guided her through training, and came to her aid more times than she could count. Her grip grew weak on her rifle as she responded. "Admiral Mizzen."

"I've intercepted your com line. I knew you would notice. I wanted to speak to you, in an effort to dissuade you from continuing any further."

"I appreciate your straightforwardness." she couldn't keep the waver and fear out of her voice. Mizzen had never been one to waste time. Even in the light of her mission, she still respected and admired him. For all intents and purposes, he was like her father. He had helped her, counseled her when she felt lost, and enabled her to climb through the ranks of the ConFed Marine Corp. Her heart began to ache because of the love and respect she had always had for him. Respect that now had been twisted and forced to go against his orders, and possibly even against him. If she were anywhere else but the Pentacle, she would be turning to him for help.

"I know your mind is made up," Admiral Mizzen spoke, his deep voice reverberating in her mind, against her skull and teeth. "I recommend you stop this madness now. Surrender and I'll even let your Pirate friend go."

"I can't do that." She breathed. She had so many questions for her Admiral, and well, now was as good of a time as any to ask them.

"Why Vera? You have control over your own actions. Surrender."

"Why did you take Samus?"

Mizzen hesitated for a moment before answering. "Vera, when you surrender, all will be made clear."

Angseth drew a deep breath, but even that couldn't keep the waver of tears at bay. "Please, tell me why you took Samus."

"Samus is none of your concern Angseth. Your talents far outweigh hers at the moment. I know of your Phazon…problem…and I am willing to cover that up for you as well. Surrender now." His voice was steadily becoming more harsh.

"I can't." Even in the small, enclosed space of her helmet, her voice sounded small

"Vera." he warned.

"I'm scared." her voice shook and cracked.

"Its easy Vera. Simply put down the rifle, and lay flat on your stomach."

"You will kill me, and Weavel too."

"I will send doctors to help you, just like that time on Phadon V."

"Please don't remind me." she knew that he would try to pull some shit like this. "Please Admiral." Just when she thought that those ghosts had been dead and buried, here he was digging them up again. The Phazon wasn't making her emotions any easier to control.

"That was the second time I came to your aid. You lost your temper and almost destroyed an entire colony. Not the first time you've had blood on your hands…"

"Please Admiral, stop."

"If only I had known then that you had such a harsh reaction to stimulants. But it's off your record now." His voice continued, smooth and guiding. A voice that had comforted her through many trials. "Do you really want that to become public knowledge? Would you want your beloved Lieutenant Briar to know of all the innocents you killed,"

"THAT WASN'T JUST ME!"

Weavel didn't need a com line to hear her shout. He had no idea what kind of conversation was going on in that helmet of hers, but she needed to end it now.

"Temper Vera." Admiral Mizzen said softly, calmly. "Remember, you have many pills and exercises for that. I made sure of it."

"What does any of this have to do with Samus?! Why did you take her?! She has nothing to do with me!"

"That woman has everything and nothing to do with you Angseth. I always knew that you admired her, but what has she done to repay you? Not even so much as an inquiry into your health. And here you are, ready to sacrifice your career and your life for her."

Angseth leaned her full weight against the wall, tears streaking down her face. If she had been given a room full of renegade gorgons to fight, she would have gladly taken that option over hearing these words from her Admiral.

"Come now, my Orchid. Surrender and put all this foolishness behind you. I still have your office cleaned and secure next to mine."

Weavel nervously glanced up the hall. They needed to move before time ran out, or someone found them.

Vera burst into full-on sobs when she heard his pet name for her. She fought against the tears until she could speak. "Twenty years Mizzen."

"Vera,"

"Twenty. Years. I gave everything to you. I gave you my life, my hopes, my dreams, and I fought for you, I fought so hard just to see you happy."

"You are not yourself-"

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!" Anger, that was what she needed to beat back the tears and sobs. Anger and Phazon. "Yes, I killed innocents! Yes I destroyed a lot of property, yes I admit that I was the most irresponsible member of your inner circle for the longest time, but I did it all for YOU! Not Samus, not Briar, but YOU! I loved you with all my heart! I loved you with every fiber of my being! I admit to the Phadon V massacre! I admit to releasing the atmospheric pressure on the Richmond to contain a riot!-"

Weavel's attention was stolen at this confession. "That was you?"

Angseth went on. "And so many other horrible acts that would have landed me in GulagIX years ago! But you know what Mizzen? All of those orders had your signature on them! And now, after all the shit I've been through at your command, you take the only thing in this universe that has inspired me to keep on living! I don't care what your reasons are, I don't care what kind of deals you had set up on the side! This is my wish, and by the Goddess the only reason you haven't come down here personally to deal with me is because you are scared shitless over the fact that I am far stronger than you can hope to control!" There, that felt better now that it was out. "You want me to stop, Admiral, then you had better come and get me yourself. Send down several armies of Marines, all the tanks, power-armors, anti-personal sleds and Damliers you have stowed away up there. Better send them all because I will tear down and destroy every last single one of them. If I must have the blood of my own people on my hands, then by the Goddess I will have it because of my own free will. And when I am done, and my body is broken and splattered across these walls, Samus will have her way with you. Because I am not leaving this compound without her."

Admiral Mizzen was quiet, listening to Angseth's ragged breath and tear filled screams over the com line. After her breathing slowed he spoke. "I have no choice then…you must die Vera."

"Bring it!"

"Farewell my Orc-"

Before he could finish, Angseth reached up and disconnected the signal line. She then ran through her lines of code and blocked Mizzen from contacting her. That done, she reset her com interface, creating what amounted to a two-way between herself and Weavel.

Angseth picked up her rifle again, and now recharged with a fresh head of anger, began tromping down the halls once more. After yelling at Admiral Mizzen, she was livid. Her body was projecting radiation like a leaking core. All Weavel could do was follow her, and hope she didn't turn that anger on him. Vera paused for a moment, fists balled and shoulders shaking. Her paldrons heaved with silent sobs and even a cyborg knew that when the female of any species was this upset, the best course of action was to just smile, nod, and do anything they asked.

They rounded the last corner, and before them was the elevator. Sand had managed to gain control of the system before his presence faded, and now the door stood open, awaiting its passengers. Angseth limped along, leaving Weavel to wonder if she wanted to be caught if she fell.


Admiral Mizzen heard the end of his com cackle and then go dead. He honestly didn't think that Angseth would have the balls to hang up on him, but at this point he couldn't afford to put anything past her. His assumption had been correct. She and her pirate friend were heading straight for Vault 7. In any other circumstance he would have found the situation laughable. Only two people to take on an army of nearly invincible soldiers, but they had made it through the Umbra, as well as managed to get quite close to their final goal.

Yet even now he regretted the loss of one of his finest pawns. He felt nothing more for her, only that she was a tool that had broken and could no longer be repaired. Mizzen supposed that she was down there crying now, sobbing in her silent way that shook her body and made gallons of tears stream down her cheeks. She always thought that no one could see her, or even noticed, but Mizzen could spot it a mile away. Her crying never ceased to infuriate him.

He tapped his hoof against the hard floor thoughtfully. He couldn't afford to underestimate Angseth, after all, that was why he had hired her in the first place. She was angry at him, good. She hadn't dismissed him, she still felt passionately enough about him to be angry, which meant that she still had feelings for him. Feelings that he could use to his advantage. It would be useless to throw precious ground troops at her, she would just go right through them. Likewise with any other resistance, with the possible exception of a high-grade telepath. In the end, the only result would be huge repair bills. The Pentacle's standard defensive systems were offline due to an interesting bug that had developed. By the pattern of the hack, Mizzen knew a short list of "bugs" capable of doing the work. Angseth was a fighter, and she would conquer most things he set before her, but her emotions…she had always been a slave to those.

Admiral Mizzen's hoof stopped tapping, then rested flat on the floor. "Have our newest projects been fed yet?"

An officer to his right referenced his datapad. "No sir. They are scheduled a feeding once loaded on the drop ships, to keep them docile during transport."

The Admiral's face registered no expression. "Release ten class fives, five class threes, and a class two into the halls of the Vault."

"Sir, we still have staff in the Vault,"

Mizzen fixed his purple eyes on the officer. "After what I heard from Rovien, I don't want to take any chances. They are expendable."

The officer didn't question, only authorized the order. "Yes sir."


Weavel boarded the elevator after Angseth. Her shouting match with Admiral Mizzen still rang in her mind and ears. He had offered both of them a possible way out. To surrender and live, or venture deep into the Vault. Vera couldn't afford to do either. They had come too far to turn back now, and yet her body demanded rest. Mizzens words hurt, and she felt alone. She managed to shake those thoughts away. Of course she wasn't alone in this mission. Weavel was here with her, and her crew and mate were counting on them to pull through. She looked around her surroundings, switching her focus to the present.

The elevator had two doors, one where they had entered, and another directly in front of them. They stood back to back, covering both entrances. Before either of them could protest, the doors closed, and the elevator began to descend, carrying their bodies further down into the crust of AnubusIV. The only sounds were that of Angseth's heavy breathing, and the steady rush of air as the cab continued down. Weavel never felt so mechanical as he did while listening to another creature breathe.

He felt Angseth lean against his back. He wasn't sure if she was seeking comfort, or perhaps about to pass out. The cyborg didn't need to scan or listen to any comline to know the extent of the anxiety that Angseth was currently under. The way her body shuddered against his back, causing her armor to rattle and scrape against his own external plating made that lovely emotional inhibitor work overtime.

Angseth felt that it wasn't the fear or anticipation of the coming battle, or even their time limit that caused her the most stress. It was the damned smell. She had never encountered any records or reports of Metroids having a smell, but by either fluke or Phazon interference, Metroids now had a smell to her. It wasn't an organic scent, it didn't smell like vomit, or feces. It wasn't a chemical one either, like burnt acids or sulfur. This was like a mixture of both, like burnt rubber, except with an effect on her sinuses that stopped her from lumping it into either category. The smell crawled up her nose and down her throat, burning its way through her senses. Her eyes began to water, pushing past her tears and she grit her teeth in frustration. If she wasn't spewing water out of her face for one reason, it was another. In retrospect, they didn't really need Sand to find the Vault; all she had to do was follow her nose, so to speak. The elevator smoothly braked, then stopped. The small round room felt still and heavy. Both passengers had no indication which door would open, or perhaps both at once. It felt like an eternity before the door in front of Weavel slid open, and both of them jumped to either side of the small cab, ready to cover the other and fire on potential enemies.

The hall beyond was brightly lit and clean, with tile floor instead of grating. The walls were painted white and faded to soft gray toward the floor. The ceiling was what she had come to expect from standard work areas. Blue light bars had been installed at regular intervals. Several doors opened to either side, each with a keypad on the exterior. They didn't appear to be used for containment purposes, more like office space. There was none of the artificial decay as seen in the decks above. One small detail did not escape her. "All the security turrets and defenses are offline." She whispered.

Weavel was the first to step off the elevator, covering Angseth's path. She in turn, did the same for him as they moved further up the hall. The first door on the left led to a security checkpoint. This room was where visitors and employees would be screened before entry into the Vault proper. Angseth quickly slipped inside the checkpoint booth, expecting to find a guard violently defending their territory. She located one easily enough, but didn't expect to find him already dead. She moved to step over his body, then thought better of it and moved the body aside. Didn't want to trip over him on the way out. Weavel stepped in behind her.

"Already dead?" He asked. "Friendly fire?"

"No." Angseth said after inspecting his body. She held her rifle tighter, already on edge. "He was sucked dry."

Weavel activated the terminal. "Looks like we're dealing with the same mess we saw on Rovien. Except this time, I'm guessing they were released on purpose."

"The Admiral would never do that."

The cyborg turned as if fixing his gaze on her.

Vera caught her reflection in his faceplate, and looked away. "Okay, maybe he would. Either way, where are we heading?" She kept her rifle trained on the doorway and her scans active.

"Sand wasn't able to get maps of this area. So we get what we can here." He scanned through a few files. "Uploading maps now."

Angseth waited for the confirmation in her HUD, then stopped. "Hey, hey, wait, go back. What was that?" She reached for the terminal, then scanned through the files. "Confirmation of information packet from RVN received. Redirected to main office." She read aloud, and then reached for the holo keys. "I have got to read this bullshit. Cover the door please." Vera began opening files and pressing every last avenue of her coms training to hunt down the packet. "There you are you little shit." She opened it, then uploaded it to her HUD. "Weavel, see if you can download this as well."

The scan read several dates in order from earliest to latest, each with a corresponding log entry. Angseth took a moment to glance over the information.

RVN RD: 5-763 :1: Received biological sample from the "Astrotle." Sample appeared to be aware and confused. Placed in stasis under heavy sedative. First round of testing to begin once sample has been prepped.

Both Angseth and Weavel exchanged glances, then read the remainder of the files quickly.

RVN RD: 5-767: 2: Today's testing has resulted in three copies from the master sample. Three appears to be the threshold without compromising the structural integrity of the master copy. We had thought the copies would be humanoid in appearance, like the master, however they seem to resemble the Varia suit. Each copy is aware, yet memories of their past are scrambled and disjointed.

RVN RD: 5-774: 3: Success in mind wipe trials. First generation clones are durable, and retain the originals combat instincts without any development in personality. They are easily reprogrammed for almost any task. Master sample, has recovered and further cloning will resume tomorrow.

RVN RD: 5-792: 4: Second generation copies were completed today. The Master seems to have reached its limits at five first gen clones. We have created several second gen clones from the first gen collection, and mind wipes have been successful. However second gen clones appear to have more minor mutations. Our scientists will explore both the mental and physical limits of future generations.

RVN RD: 5-809: 5: Eight gen is the limit. Beyond eighth gen the clones become genetically unstable. Mutations become severe after third gen, and mental capabilities are greatly diminished. The Master has been growing immune to sedatives and has become more irate with each day. Current containment options are limited to increased sedatives and cold temperatures.

RVN RD: 5-812: 6: Early testing of genetic manipulation has gone better than expected. Generations two and three have grown almost fully immune to the effects of ice. Earlier generations also show a tendency to command and utilize the lesser clones for their means. This had become helpful in the creation and instruction of battle tactics in the clones. A strong enough telepath can also control and command lesser clones. Conclusions on preliminary testing shows that if a diverse enough pool of initial "breeders" are available, then the resulting clones can be engineered for almost any task.

RVN RD: 5-818: 7: The Master hasn't rested in several days. It refuses to feed and keeps demanding to see its "children." At times it will emit a very high pitched shriek that can penetrate even the most sound proof room. The clones of all generations, regardless of genetic engineering, respond to its cries. Several samples broke free of their containment and an entire batch had to be destroyed after killing three scientists.

RVN RD: 5-819: 8: The Master has been moved to another lab, hopefully far enough away from the clones do any harm. Not only can they plan, but they remember. Already several small groups have broken out of containment to find "Mother," and when placed back in general population they began to communicate with the others. This has led to the development of a new procedure to separate the generations and keep them quarantined until needed. Under no circumstances should a Master Copy be allowed to come into contact with lesser generations, as the lessers will be inclined to protect and save their "Queen."

RVN RD: 5-822: 9: We are shutting the project down. Already we have lost many samples due to hive mentality, and many of our best minds too. We cannot destroy them fast enough and some of the first and second gens have figured out how to reproduce for themselves, by a process that resembles cellular mitosis. The labs have been rigged with heavy explosives. We will begin purging in twenty-four hours.

RVN RD: 5-823: 10: No use. "Mother" had broken free moments after the purge began. The labs were immediately evacuated. A few others and I have stayed behind to ensure the charges explode and the labs properly sealed. Right now Mother is ordering her brood to break down the door to my office. The explosives have not been fully prepped and I lost contact with Dr. Freeman over an hour ago. To colleges, faculty and anyone audience to these logs, I warn you to take every precaution. I dread to think of these things getting loose in the Pentacle. Best of luck to you all.

"And the logs end there," Vera sighed. "Great, more of these glass freaks to deal with."

Weavel moved toward the door. "We're wasting time. Follow the maps and lets go."

Angseth couldn't find any reason to argue. She didn't want to think of how long Mizzen had been tinkering with Arans genetic code. If the newest batch of monstrosities were immune to ice attacks, then they were going to be resistant to other forms of attacks and defenses too. Armed with this new information, they cautiously stepped out into the hall. Aside from the lack of people, nothing seemed unusual. The Vault had been constructed for ease of movement and study. The maps said this level was composed mainly of office space. Down the hall was an elevator that would take them to an even lower level where manufacturing was based. Once there, yet another tunnel led to a secondary sub vault where the Master Copies were kept. Angseth followed the internal compass of her intuition and instinct—and of course the damn smell. Aran would be among the Master Copies.

They crept slowly forward, and eventually reached the end of the hall. If anything were to attack them, this would be the ideal location. Here the hall curved to the right and another hall branched off back to the left, creating two blind spots. Scanners were active and set on high alert, searching for any source of movement or sound. Angseth slowly advanced to the right. The elevator was at the end of this hall, roughly one hundred yards away. Now her senses flared. Her external audio picked up a noise. She followed the sound to its source, further up the hall and to the left. Angseth crouched near the wall and zoomed in her visual on the location. Weavel knelt behind her. They trained weapons and scanners in that direction. After a moment of tense silence, they discovered the source of the noise. An automatic door kept trying to close, but was caught on someone's boot.

"The elevator is in that direction isn't it?" Vera asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, at the end of this hall." His voice sounded hollow in her helmet.

"Feels like the plot of some bad horror movie." Angseth pushed back all of her Phazon bravado and somehow managed to forget the acid scent in her nose. Carefully she crept further down the hall. She grew closer to the door. Each thump the automatic door made on the boot caused what little hair was left on her head to stand up a little more. She paused at the thumping door, both because her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and because it was a room that needed to be checked. The boot was a nice one. Supportive ribbing along the sides, and advanced tread on the bottom. It seemed to have been bent or even folded at an odd angle. By its construction, it didn't belong to a human. Vera swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep her fear in check. The door slid closed again, bounced off the toe of the boot, and hissed open once more. Keeping her rifle ready, she scanned the small room.

Whoever and whatever it was, seemed to have exploded. Intestines and other internal organs were smeared across the computer terminals. Blood pooled and collected on areas of the floor. Small scraps of clothing were strewn around the room, soaked in dark blue blood. Odd marks on the floor led her to believe that something had scrambled through it. The foot at the door lay at a strange angle without a leg attached to it. Slumped against another terminal was the disemboweled torso of some unfortunate office worker. She had seen plenty of carnage before, and by instinct she scanned the body. Every Confederate soldier, officer, and scientist had a chip implanted under their skin in place of dog tags. It made identification of the dead easier in light of all the nasty ways one could be killed in space. She scanned the body, and received a name.

Science Officer Therk…I know you. You served on the Mabus last term. Serec loved your work. Vera felt compelled to investigate further. She had enjoyed Therks company. He was always ready with a smile and pictures of his children. She stepped in closer.

In the thickest part of the body, Vera thought she saw something pulsate and move. As her brain began to fill in details, she could make out a face pushing forth from the carcass. Golden red jaws unhinged and folded open. Oh shit! Vera gasped, and stepped backward to escape, but stumbled over Weavel who had come to see the freak show for himself. The beast shrieked. The sound was unlike anything she had ever encountered. It was the high-pitched cry of a Metroid with an undertone that was distinctly human. It was the sound of a woman caught between insanity and sorrow. The sound caused her instincts to surge, and by reflex, she fired. Half a dozen others answered the scream, filling the halls with piercing cries and wails. Angseth scrambled away from the door as the thing leapt from the corpse toward her throat. The clone slipped on the bloodied floor and slammed into the closing door before letting out another shriek followed by a series of calls that sounded vaguely like insane laughter.

"RUN!" Angseth screamed then charged toward the elevator. Weavel stumbled out of her way, and looked past her toward the other end of the hall. The formerly blank walls and ceiling were now covered in scampering golden glass creatures, spilling out of the offices and covered in varying degrees of gore. Some bore a resemblance to the Varia suit, and others were multi-armed mutations. Some had two glowing red eyes, some bore three. Almost all had fangs and talons bared, ready for their next meal. He didn't need to question her command; Angseth was already halfway down the hall and closing the distance between herself and the elevator. As Weavel ran, he scanned the panel to activate the door. The elevator opened, revealing two more clones feasting on another pile of offal.

Vera roared, and snapped her Battlehammer open. Weavel didn't think that he would be so happy to see the burning bright blue blade. Bring on the radiation, bring on the death it stood for. Angseth swung at the closest to her, leaving a glowing blue arc in the air. It stood from the floor, screeching and lifting four arms to attack. Angseth put all of the force she could muster into the swing, and felt her balance slip, yet the blade connected solidly. As soon as the blade touched the beast, iridescent cracks exploded across its hard mutated surface. The cracks gave way to dead black blight that soon covered its body. Weavel jumped in behind her. As he leapt into the elevator, his own Battlehammer found the cranium of the one on the left. The clones exploded in clouds of ash. He spun his torso around, and stood guard as the doors slowly closed. Angseth lost her footing with her back swing and slipped on a chunk of intestine. Her body plowed through the ash and gore, then slammed into the rear wall of the elevator, coming to rest on her hands and knees. The door closed a breath before the other clones reached them. For a moment, each of them waited breathlessly and prayed silently to whatever gods they held dear that the doors would hold.

The noise and shrieks outside in the hall ceased. Reluctantly, Weavel took a second to reset his scans and targeting systems, then selected their floor. "Private?" He asked, turned toward her.

Angseth didn't move, she remained on her hands and knees, leaning on the wall for support. Her gaze was permanently fixed on the organs under her hands. Blood was one thing, She could tolerate blood, but these were pieces. Chunks of someone she probably knew, trained, praised and sent off knowing that she had done her best to ensure their safety in this universe. Vera tried to distance herself, find comfort in some kind of meditative practice or calm, or other knowledge. Thoughts of sunset beaches or resting in Nevada's arms weren't helping much this time. She hadn't felt this helpless in so long, not since Aether. Her mind then fixed on one memory, the last memory she needed right now.

Weavel stood silent as the elevator traveled downward. He hoped Angseth hadn't gotten hurt. She remained where she had fallen. He could hear her mumbling something that at first he couldn't make out. He drew closer, tuning his sensors in on her breathing.

"…won't stop crying…why won't Baker stop crying?…he won't stop…doesn't he know that the enemy can hear him?…Baker just won't stop…"

Weavel knelt and grabbed her shoulders. "Don't you dare start this shit now." He jerked her to her knees, then shook her once. Her head snapped back, then forward again. "Not now! Keep your damned head on straight! Do you hear me?"

"Exetor said to-"

Weavel stood, grabbing the chest plate of her suit, then slammed her firmly into the wall, lifting her from the floor. "Keep it together Private."

"Need…Phazon…"

He slammed her again. "You aren't allowed!" again. "To lose your shit!" Another firm slam. "You aren't allowed to lose your shit, you fraking addict, until I SAY SO!" he slammed her one last time, causing the wall to dent and bulge. "Not until I say so. Do you understand, Angseth?!"

She became quiet, her head rolled forward and for a moment Weavel thought he had overdone it. After a moment her left hand lifted, then rested on top of his. "I'm sorry Weavel."

"Do that shit again while I'm down here and I will kill you myself."

The words hit harshly. More than anything, they reminded her that Weavel was a hardened killer, no matter how tame she thought him to be. As if reacting to her emotions, the Phazon surged through her veins, settling her anxiety and pushing her memories to the rear of her consciousness, leaving only the present, her focus, and the damn acidic smell of the clones.

Weavel noticed her nose wrinkle for the third time. "You can smell them?"

"Yes." she answered weakly. "Ever since Rovien."

"Musty? Like old hide?"

"More like a chemical fire."

"Interesting." he still held her suspended off the floor, almost as if he were uncertain what she would do.

"You can put me down now Weavel." she tried to sound as convincing as her hoarse voice could muster.

Weavel was still, almost as if all of his joints had frozen.

Angseth let go of his wrist, and instead reached out toward his chest. Her hand grazed the metal, sending blue sparks arching over the olive gray surface. The Phazon flickered over his circuits and caressed his organic components, tasting him. His head dropped and rolled to the side, almost as if he were shuddering. Vera knew that cyborgs couldn't shudder, well, at least not battle-class borgs like him. She pulled her hand away, unsure of why she had done that, yet some part of her felt satisfied.

Weavel let go, allowing her body to drop the few inches to the floor. She steadied herself and leaned against the wall, looking up at his yellow reflective visor. She saw her own image, but now her eyes burned with their own light, quite obvious even outside her visor. His arm bent and he stepped in closer. Vera grew tense as he stood over her, one hand braced on either side of her head. Her breath quickened along with her heart rate. After a moment of silence he moved his right hand to the underside her helmet, unhooking the clasp and pulling it free. Her heart dropped to her stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the elevators downward movement. With his left hand he traced a line down her naked cheek. Angseth closed her eyes and savored the sensation of cold steel against her hot skin. She craved that small comfort. It soothed her and caused her instincts to sharpen. Even so, her stomach spoke louder than her emotions. She expected nausea to hit her first, but there was only the taste of bile and iron in the back of her throat. She had never been attracted to hardware before, well, at least nothing that wasn't a tool or weapon. Goddess knew that she would drool over a new fighter or tank. Weavel was different. There was a soul trapped inside all of the metal and plastic. Someone who wasn't an AI and still struggled to retain what was left of his humanity. Was humanity even the right word? He spoke, pulling her out of her thoughts. "When we get out of here, we can finish this."

"Weavel,"

"Quiet." he pushed her helmet back into her hand. Her fingers slowly closed around the outside edge. "I've already said too much." He stepped away.

They stood for another tense moment before the elevator began to slow. Between her heart slamming away in her chest and the nausea, she felt ready to collapse again. Angseth pushed the helmet back on, and then picked a path through the remains of her fellow marines. Weavel stood before the door, and extended his Battlehammer. It might have just been a play of light, or even her own vision starting to go, but she could almost make out glowing blue streaks, almost like veins inside the weapons normally yellow surface. Angseth stepped to his side, and stood facing the door. She moved her rifle to her opposite shoulder and made ready to train it on anything that came close. The maps indicated that on the other side of the door would be a long room, labeled only as a storage facility. They would need to cross the room to reach the door that would lead to the sub vault where the master copies were kept. So far, it was quiet. Both hoped that the creatures upstairs wouldn't find a way down.

"How many do you think there are?" Weavel asked.

"Does it even matter? In the entire history of battle strategies and tactics, this has got to be the worst idea ever." Angseth breathed. "All we can do is be on our guard."

The elevator doors opened. To both passengers the space of two seconds felt like two years. Senses heightened and weapons ready, they stood ready for any amount of monstrosities…anything except an empty storage hall.

"What?" Weavel scanned the hall. Plain concrete floor with drainage holes, lined with storage units that looked eerily like escape or cryo capsules. The air was much colder here, and in the distance he could feel the rumble of refrigeration units. By the way Angseth's nose was wrinkling up, she still smelled them nearby. The room did have dim lighting. Perhaps the clones broke a few light bars in their escape?

"You first." Angseth said.

Weavel stepped into the room, and sensed her warm up a charge shot behind him. They took five steps into the hall when the elevator shut behind them. It was only a mild hiss of pressure, but still enough to set him on edge and cause the emotional inhibitor to kick in again. From this point they could see the door leading to the vault. His scanners suddenly picked up something, and he snapped his attention upward to the opposite end of the hall.

There was a clone, or at least he hoped it was, standing in their path roughly twenty yards away. It appeared to be humanoid enough, save for the gold glass appearance of the Varia suit. Years of survival and fighting instinct rose up inside him. He knew that this wasn't Aran. But there was an intelligence behind those cold red eyes that caused him alarm. This thing was smart. It was self aware and calculating. It studied them even as they studied it. It held its arm cannon at the ready, but not charging a shot, not just yet. Weavel knew this tactic, he had used it several times in the past himself. It was luring them in. The only ways out of the room were the elevator behind them, and the large vault door before them. Going back was not an option. Forward was the only choice they had. And forward was just where this thing wanted them.

The light in the room seemed to shift, and that caused Angseth to go on alert as well. It didn't flicker like a spent bulb, or even fade out. The light just moved. All around her she could smell them, but save for the one taunting her at the end of the hall, there was no trace of the clones. She took her focus from the bait, and instead scanned the room. The light shifted again, this time drawing her attention to the floor. The floor had a mottled appearance. Some areas were covered in patches of light, and others in deep shadow, almost like the reflection of amber colored water.

Very slowly she turned her head upward. She had doubts that all of the lighting in the room had been destroyed. Her senses began to burn as she studied the ceiling. Covering the entire surface of the ceiling were dozens of gold glass bodies, interlocked in each other, backlit by fully intact light bars in the ceiling. The light passed through their bodies, outlining details of internal organs and bone structure. All eyes and senses were locked on Weavel and Angseth. The creatures were patient, as quiet as dust, waiting for the command to attack.

"Weavel…"

"It's a trap. I know."

The clone at the end of the hall raised its arm cannon high. Jaws dropped open from the red glass-like head. For a moment Angseth could register a hiss of air before the sound of a woman's laughter filled the still room. The laughter gradually grew in volume, becoming increasingly higher in pitch, before finally evolving into a shriek, a scream straight from the depths of deepest sorrow and grief. The call was answered by numerous cries from the ceiling.

"Move! Now!" Weavel shouted. They charged ahead as the clones began raining down around them. Angseth fired off a shot at the first clone, and missed, badly. That caused frustration and panic to blind her. After hitting the ground, the clones rushed forward as one. Phazon surged through her again, drowning her senses. Nothing else existed in her mind save for the destruction of all these vile abominations blocking her path. She exchanged the rifle for her Battlehammer, as she did, something inside her seemed to tear. Searing pain ripped through her side, stealing the breath from her lungs. For a moment adrenaline took the brunt of the pain from her, but she knew that if she survived this onslaught, she would be in serious need of a medic.

Weavel saw her stumble and heard her shout over the com. He flanked her, complementing her movements. "Can you make it Private?"

"YES!" Vera screamed. "This is not going to be my last battle!" she summoned up what was left of her strength and swung. Her Battlehammer tore through the clones around her. Shrieks and screams pierced the air. Weavel tore through others behind her, finishing her kills as needed. They moved with grace and fluidity, their attacks and form like a dance. They were killers, they were warriors, they were lovers, leaving only ash and death in their wake. Weavel kept close to her back, and she in turn covered his.

The first three clones fell easily. Screams and ash surged through the air and their senses. Weavel set Angseth up for another charge. The clones suddenly changed their tactics. The first clone that had lured them in emitted a series of chirps and yells, commanding the others. These things are the perfect weapons. They learn and adapt quickly. Vera changed her approach slightly. She had been party to many cases of crowd control in the past. She was willing to bet her experience against this things intellect. Weavel read her body language and movements, then altered his own to compensate. They cut down two more, spreading more ash through the air. Angseth pushed forward, gagging on the thick scent of the clones. If they could just reach the opposite hall, then they could create a more fortified position.

"Take cover!" Weavel shouted. Angseth ducked as he tossed a few sticky mines into the center of the room.

Wonder where he got those…

The explosion didn't injure the clones, but it did deter them slightly. A moment was all she needed to gain more control. Vera used this moment to charge ahead while the clones recovered from the blast. She could hear and feel Weavel behind her, along with more high-pitched screams and calls. Oh they were pissed, and so was their commander. If possible she would dispatch the smart one. Get rid of the ringleader, and the others would be disoriented.

The door was now less than twenty paces away, and every inch of the distance was covered in clones. Vera ignored the claws, fangs, and golden glass bodies. They pressed in close, energy blasts rocked her armor and body. Angseth could see fangs and spittle as they chewed on her helmet, trying to loosen her from her metal shell. She lost her footing and slammed into the bodies around her. Hands, claws, and talons attacked her, piercing the joints in her armor and finding flesh. They leached power from her armor and drew Phazon from her body. Hands grabbed her arms and pulled her feet from under her. Dimly she could feel a few tugging on her legs and arms, each excited and eager to get away with their own share of the meal. Angseth struggled to swing her Battlehammer, but they pinned her before she could move. So many, so close, her body unable to move. Her anger and frustration grew, fueled by panic and fear—and oh the smell! Disgusting, foul, diseased and wrong. The Phazon in her veins screamed for blood, wanted to delight in mindless slaughter. It was a promise of power, the most potent drug she had ever encountered. All she would need to do was just let go. Stop struggling and allow the Phazon to take over. It would know what to do. It had access to the most primitive and violent part of her. With the press of bodies and smell of death in the air, Vera almost embraced the sick yet sweet rush.

A hand pressed against the center of her back. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Weavel swing his Battlehammer. He steadily chopped away at their hands and arms. Angseth wrested her body free of the remaining hands and charged forward once more. She felt Weavel plant his foot in her lower back and thrust her forward toward the door. She stumbled and another clone caught her, then buried fangs into her neck and shoulder. A burning orange blade suddenly passed over her shoulder and cut the clone's head in two. Vera shoved the body aside and pushed forward. Foot by foot they cleared the distance through the mass of bodies. With sizable pieces of their kin falling to the ground, this caused the others to fall back and regroup. Vera knew that any moment now their battle tactics would change, and took this opportunity to lunge ahead and reach for the keypad on the door.

"Hurry up, they're planning something!" Weavel shouted. He stood with his back pressed to hers and facing the horde. The leader chirped and shrieked in different tones. The others grouped accordingly.

"I'm hurrying!" Angseth scanned the lock then quickly input the code Sand had given her. She felt a sudden burn of plasma fire and weight of bodies as they rushed up and crashed against the two of them like some massive gold and red sentient gel. Vera reached blindly for something to brace herself against and found the door crank. She held tightly to the crank as they pulled away in a tidal flow. Shrieks and chirps filled her ears and sinuses, causing her mind to ring and her eyes to water. Her body felt weak and distant. The pain in her side was now screaming as loud as the clones in the room, it was soon joined by her neck and knee joint. Weavel's comforting and secure weight left her back, leaving her exposed by the door. Still clinging to the crank, she reached over and hit the "accept" key.

Mechanisms in the walls activated and the door began to slowly open. She had no idea what it was made out of, but if it took this long to open, then Admiral Mizzen indeed wasn't taking any chances with these things. Vera stumbled through doorway as soon as a gap sufficient enough for her body had opened. She gained her footing on the opposite side, then spun around. The bastards were trying to follow her through the gap. Angseth roared, the sound ripped out of her lungs as she attacked, slicing the nearest clone in two. She hit the emergency stop switch on this side of the door and began killing the creatures as they oozed through the gap. The Phazon in her blood surged forth with enough pressure and ferocity to make her veins burn. She screamed another battle cry and attacked the nearest abomination. The clone shattered, smearing ash along the length of her Battlehammer. She looked up and felt rising panic and fear in her breast when she didn't see Weavel amidst the crunch of golden bodies.

"Wea-"

An olive gray arm broke through, reaching for her.

By the gods, they're feeding on him!

The clones at the door turned and became occupied by this morsel, for the moment ignoring the much larger threat behind them.

Weavel, She stepped forward, the burn in her veins became something else. She raised her Battlehammer, ready to strike. Weavel! She could taste the Phazon on her tongue and feel it buzz in her teeth. This time there was no thought, only action. It felt satisfying, no, arousing to let herself become engulfed, enflamed, and embraced by the Phazon. Brilliant blue murderous bliss welled from her guts and washed away her inhibitions as if they were made of fragile sand. The golden bodies before her were like fire, and what she felt moving through her could only be described as cold, clean water. Deep water, so dark no light could penetrate, and so heavy it would crush all who ventured near. This was power. Power so complete, pure, and overwhelming.

Her body moved without thought, caught between instinct and dance. It felt like ritualized slaughter, or perhaps even making love. Just something she already knew how to do without being taught. Somewhere in between the rush and the surge of power, the vague sensation of solid pieces within her body quietly crumbling away. Four clones around her exploded before the Battlehammer even came near them. The blade passed smoothly through clouds of ash when it made contact with the next one.

Further...Deeper…More...

Ash was not what she wanted. She wanted blood, she wanted suffering, wanted to hear the pain of others drown in the blue waters of her hate. The energy left her body in waves and ripples, arching over the floor and filling the air with mist. Weavel's hand extended out of the golden mass toward the keypad. If he touched it, the door would close, locking him inside the room with the clones. Vera leaned toward him and with her left hand she reached for Weavel's outstretched limb. Her fingers closed around his, and the Phazon jumped from her body and into his own. It traveled along the exterior of his armor and used him as a conduit, destroying the creatures feeding from his power cells. Angseth rocked backward, pulling Weavel toward the open gap and out of the ashes, she stumbled over her own feet and fell. Weavel rushed forward and caught her, stepping through the doorway. He spun, tapped the keypad, and the door rumbled shut once more, trapping a few bodies in the seam that had tried to get through.

Angseth continued to stumble backward, then caught herself on a wall. The rush was fading, and already her body needed more Phazon. She wanted to bring back the sensation of weightlessness and power absolute. Instead her stomach churned and she rushed to pull her helmet off. Weavel leaned on the opposite wall as Angseth began to retch. He watched silently as she first expelled clear fluid, and then red. Angseth turned her back toward him, and continued to dry heave for a few more moments. Every last muscle in her torso, from her gut to her spine, cried out. She wanted to scream, and cry, and most of all just rest. Vera leaned against the wall and coughed. More things moved inside her, complaining and aching until they found another place to rest. Once the pain subsided, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Weavel checked his battery life and other status charts while she recovered. On the other side of the massive door, they could hear the clones pounding and clawing away. This door was thick, and wouldn't come down easy.

"Did I ever tell you how much I hate puking?" Vera gasped before locking her helmet back down.

"Once or twice." his batteries were low, but not as low as they should have been. Come to think of it, he felt a little more invigorated, almost like an adrenaline rush…that couldn't be it. He hadn't had the proper glands to create adrenaline in years…unless.

There was one scan he hadn't run. He quickly activated it and it came back positive. He stood staring at the results trying to understand and comprehend what had been displayed before him. He had been infected with Phazon. How that was possible he didn't even want to argue the logistics of. He pushed that information aside, vowing deal with it later. "We have forty-five minutes left."

"Then lets go." Angseth searched the dark hall around them. It was a large tunnel, big enough for heavy equipment. Tracks ran along the floor and led into equipment storage bays along the sides of the tunnel. Every ten yards or so lights had been installed on either side. The result was a kind of eerie twilight that created shadows out of nothing. She checked her scans and hissed. "My navigation is out."

Weavel took point. Behind them the beating and scraping intensified. He had faith in that door, but only for so long. "We go straight. Its just one long hall here. I think they released those on purpose. They underestimated us." Behind him he heard Angseth trip and stumble again. "What's wrong now?"

"Phazon."

He snapped around. "What?"

"I need Phazon." She said while picking herself up. "I can't think, can't focus, can't-"

Weavel's hand suddenly darted out and slapped her across the side of her helmet. As predicted her anger flared. "There's your Phazon. Happy now addict?"

Angseth stumbled back into the wall. Once again she reached up and caught the edge of her helmet. She pulled it off and dropped it to the ground. He expected her to scream, or insult him. Instead he watched in fear as a slow smile spread over her lips. "Feels like rain…Rain moving over my skin."

She is losing it. Weavel stated to himself. This far underground and in enemy territory, and her mind is completely consumed by the Phazon.

Angseth began to move forward, using the wall for support. Weavel stopped her.

"Where the hell do you think you're going without your helmet?"

She didn't look back, and didn't look up. "I don't need it. I can smell them. The helmet is getting in my way." She pushed away from the wall and began walking confidently to the other end of the hall.

Weavel held back for a moment. Forty minutes left now. Twenty paces further there was a door that would take them to the freight elevator that Sand had told them about. Every last instinct that could still exist in his metal hull was telling him to take the elevator out. Angseth reached the door, looked up at it, then laughed.

"Damn. I should have put us down closer like Sand said. Would have saved us a lot of trouble wouldn't it?" she rested her hand on the door. For a moment Weavel thought she was going to go through it, He wanted her to go. Maybe he would pick her up and hold a few medics at gunpoint until they fixed her. She instead turned and began limping down the hall once more, toward uncertain fate.

The woman is determined, I'll give her that. Weavel thought as he began to follow her. He caught up to her in no time, and together they reached the end of the tunnel. The clones pounding had become distant noise, like static. At the end of the hall was another huge vault door. Sealed up even more tightly than the one they had just passed through. Angseth searched until she found an access panel. More numbers and codes she couldn't even pretend to know the combination to. Weavel stood back, quietly observing. Her fingers hovered over the keypad for a moment. She heaved a sigh. "Screw it," she said, placing her hand over the whole panel. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

Angseth closed her eyes and focused on her palm. She just needed one emotion. One little emotion would bring the Phazon to the fore of her consciousness. Ah, here we are, Frustration. That would do nicely. Instead of letting that emotion run wild all over her body, she would focus all of her energy into one thing. The pattering rain sensation over her skin stopped, and seemed to concentrate on her right arm. These cybernetics are going to be wasted by the time I get out of here. Her skin near the connecting points on her arm burned, as if held under too much water pressure. The armor around her arm began to glow fiercely with blue inner light. The energy left her body and traveled through the door panel. She jerked her hand away and the collected Phazon slammed back into the rest of her. That stung. Once again the sensation of falling rain settled over skin. It felt like static, no-now that she thought about it she knew exactly what this sensation was. Its like the atmosphere on Dark Aether.

The door rumbled open wide enough to allow the two of them to pass. Angseth waited for the Phazon to subside before she moved again. The room beyond was dark. No emergency lighting, not even a faint glow from computer terminals. The smell here was also worse. It had gone beyond chemical/organic sting and had become another plane of existence unto itself.

Weavel stepped aside and swept his hand before him. "Ladies first."