After two days, Hicks and Newt were literary kicked out of sickbay with some strict prescriptions from Dr. Roman of required medication and continuous rest so that their sutured wounds would not be strained. Hicks, who personally was glad to finally be out of there wouldn't have bothered to listen to the annoying woman if it wasn't for the fact that the health-regulations was more for Newt's sake rather than for him. As a marine, Hicks had always been at good health; therefore he was surprisingly already fit to return to service despite the fact that he recently had gone through a dual organ-replacement surgery. Even the swelling in his re-positioned jaw had gone down.

Granted, he was not at one-hundred percent efficiency – at best, his new lung was functioning at sixty percent capacity, so there would be some time yet before his blood supply was restored to capillary level. He knew that he would experience some breathless moments if he exerted himself, but it was something he could live with for the time being.

Newt was a whole different matter. As if the after-effects of the autopsy hadn't been bad enough, she required a more special treatment since she never had gotten enough time to recover from her borderline malnutrition after her solitude back in Hadley's Hope. Therefore the little girl was still very weak. Hicks had argued with Dr. Roman to allow Newt to remain in the bed for a while longer, but the expulsion from sickbay for them both had been issued by Colonel Decker. The military C.O. needed all of his biotechnicians for some final preparations vital to the mission and he wouldn't allow Dr. Roman to be occupied with monitoring some final rehabilitation-procedures. The fact that Newt was still sick was something the colonel took no regard for.

Hicks was very worried for the child. Ever since Bishop had finished telling them what had happened to them, Newt had not uttered a single word. She had slipped back into the traumatized state she'd been in when they'd first found her in the complex of LV-426; silent, withdrawn and as good as autistic. She had undoubtedly taken the last events of what had happened to her very hard – not only Ripley's death, but because of the violation to her body done by the one adult she had come to trust the most after she'd lost her parents. He was sure that she felt betrayed. Damn it, Ripley. How could you do that to her? And now as she was being forced to return to the place where her trauma had originated, her condition would certainly not improve the least.

It was a good thing that she at least still found some comfort together with him. Hicks was leading Newt by her hand through the corridors and she followed along as meek as a lamb - but that was not a comforting reaction. Her relapsed catatonic state combined with being pumped full of pain-killing drugs made her more look like she was walking in her sleep. Hicks didn't dare to say a word. He wanted to talk to her, but he was afraid that he would say something that might upset the child. He was a soldier, not a therapist. He found himself not for the first time missing his old team - Corporal Dietrich was his former unit's medtech and although she'd been cool and tough-as-nails, she knew how to deal with traumas. But she was dead, along with the rest of his comrades. Bishop might be able to take up the job, especially since he had a first-hand insight into Newt's psychological profile after having accessed her recorded memories on the hard-drive of her cryotube. But Bishop was at the moment in Fixer's workshop recharging his power cell. Hicks thought that must be quite a lowdown for the synthetic. The power supply of his original body had been almost constant as the material used to build the androids also functioned as energy accumulators. Continuous power rotation, static energy of the surroundings and dynamos within the artificial bodies always replenished the energy that was used. Androids could also eat some food that could be converted into energy within their systems - but such things no longer served Bishop the way he was built now. Three days, maybe four if he didn't exert himself in some way, then it was a plug-in to a power-socket.

It was for the moment entirely up to Hicks to nurse the little girl back to health and he was going to start with fetching both of them some food. Unfortunately because they were now only a day away from their destination, the dining room were filled with newly awakened soldiers that had until now spent their time in hypersleep during the whole trip. It would have been okay if it wasn't for the fact that the 'Rawhides' had a reputation for bad language and inappropriate behavior, not at all the type of people Hicks wanted to bring Newt close to. As he opened the door to enter, they were both struck by loud laughter, shouts and disgusting sounds of bad table manners. Hicks would have preferred to just pick up a tray of food and take it someplace else to eat, but Colonel Decker had forbidden digestion anywhere else. Gently leading Newt with him, he walked straight to the table where all food was stacked; hoping that the soldiers would be too busy with each other to notice him - a wish that of course was too much to hope for.

"So Dagger was telling the truth," a loud voice broke over the rest of the noise. "We got the 'sissy' back with us!" Everyone burst into laughter; some cheered with a satirical tone, while the others booed. The one who had spoken was Hurst, the drill sergeant who answered directly to the colonel, which made him second in command of the 'Rawhides'. He was a big and average built man. He was not muscular but neither was he fat. His bad attitude and harsh drill methods completed his person. As always he wore a pair of sunglasses that he never took off, not even in hypersleep - he usually declared that the shades were part of his personality. Just like everyone else in this unit, Hicks didn't like Sgt. Hurst; therefore he only ignored him. Filling a tray for both him and the child with food that looked cheap and revolting, he surveyed the dining room for a place to sit down, away from the others. There was only one table that looked friendly enough since it was occupied by only two people: one a short-grown man in a red-colored mechanics uniform that was quite worn, the other an odd-looking scrawny person with an unruly mess of hair and stubble all over his face. Whoever they were, neither of them were military. The little man was busy going through some files on a small padd while the other just seemed to be in a world of his own as he had the typical look of 'thousand yard stare' in his eyes. At least he appeared to be harmless, so Hicks decided that they would sit there despite the remarks of the 'Rawhides'.

"What?" Hurst burst out with his mouth full of food. "Are you too good to eat with the rest of us grunts now, Hicks?" The others booed again.

"You know what they say:" Hicks replied. "Decent meals come with decent people. And as you may have noticed: I've already got the decent company I need."

"Since when is 'decent people' preferred before meals with bad atmosphere in the army? You always were the soft one, weren't you? No wonder you died!" Everyone roared with laughter at the sergeants accuse. Hurst had never been good with retorts, the only reason everybody laughed with him was because he had the rank and also because the men were always eager for a fight. So they waited for Hicks to take up on the challenge. He made them disappointed as he turned his back on them.

"Hah! We were right, weren't we?" another said. "He's a real 'sissy'." Like if they were shaking their heads in disgust they turned back to their meals. Normally Hicks would have taken the challenge, but this was not the time as he had other concerns to worry about. With the tray of food in one hand and the quiet girl in the other he addressed the lonely table's two occupants.

"Excuse me, do you mind if we take a seat? Anywhere else is taken, if you take my meaning?"

"Be my guest," Fixer said having witnessed the exchange of words that had just occurred. "No one else seems to want our company anyway." Sitting down, Hicks divided the food between himself and the girl.

"As you may already know, I'm Hicks and this is Newt. And on her behalf I'd like to thank you for lending her one of your spare overalls."

Fixer smiled at Hicks. "Think nothing of it; it's only fortunate that we share almost equal size. Quite embarrassing on the Company's part actually; planning ahead everything vital to this mission and fails to take into consideration that she needed a set of clothing."

"I'm not surprised," Hicks said. "They only look at the anticipated results - a small detail along the way that doesn't affect the outcome always eludes their minds." Hicks himself was dressed in the standard military shirt and trousers that were mass-produced and stock-piled in the supply depots onboard, so a new set of clothes for him was not any problem.

The problem he did have to deal with at present was eating the food. The swelling in his cheekbones may have gone down, but chewing was still going to be an uncomfortable experience with a healing jaw that had been previously dislocated – he could therefore not eat any food that had too much density. Liquid food would have been preferable, but there were none available. He would have to make do by preparing the slice of bread he got. He dipped the bread into his tea, soaking it and thus making it softer. It should be easier to chew it now. He took a bite of it and almost spit it out again. It tasted absolutely foul! "Yeech! I thought that the army's food couldn't get any worse!

"Tell me about it," Fixer agreed. "I can't help wondering what they made this of."

"Usually this is a quick mix of flour, dried yeast and milk powder," Hicks explained while forcing the bread down. "Just add water and put it into the oven for a while. But this must be made of second-rate supplies that have gone out of date. Even corn bread tastes better than this." Hicks took a sip of his tea to help the foul-tasting piece down. He immediately regretted it. "Eeew. Tastes like dishwater."

"So I noticed. Do I want to know why?"

Hicks made a face and waved his hand in decline. "Trust me; you don't! That's the army. To save time and energy they do everything as simply as possible without regard for taste or quality. That's why you won't find any refrigerator in the kitchen. Never take for granted that any of this will ever taste fresh."

Fixer shrugged. "At least Newt seems to like it."

Hicks looked at the child, but the sight didn't please him. Newt only stared at one spot on the table and ate mechanically, not giving any hint if she did like the food or not. Hicks couldn't help to wonder if she was so drugged beyond full consciousness that she didn't notice the bad taste or if her taste buds had become numb as a side-effect. He hoped that she simply was so hungry that she just didn't care. That's when he finally noticed that the fourth occupant, the odd-looker of a man was staring intensively at them.

"Is something wrong?" Hicks asked him, being on guard.

"You're the prodigals, aren't you?" the other said.

"We're what?"

"You're the dead ones - the people that died in the crash! I didn't believe Fixer when he said that you were alive. I saw your dead bodies. You were quite a mess I can tell you."

Hicks was not comfortable with this person's ranting, especially around the subject of them being dead. "I'm sorry, who are you? What do you know about it?"

"I know everything about it," the man said somewhat dreamily. "I saw it all. I'm Morse. I was the one that survived the massacre of Fury 16."

Hicks felt a sudden lump form in his throat, instantly regretting sitting down at the table. A criminal! An inmate of Fiorina 161 where the EEV had crashed! He wondered what Morse's crimes were. Some of the prisoners there had been child molesters! What was the reason for him being part of this expedition?

"I was at your 'funeral'," Morse continued without taking notice of Hicks' discomfort. "It was beautiful."

"Well, we missed it," Hicks said a-matter-of-factly, hoping to shut him up.

"That you did. God has other plans for you, no doubt about that. And I can add a whole new chapter to my book."

"What book?" In Hicks' opinion, the more Morse ranted, the less sense he made.

"You ought to read it. I've written three so far ever since I was moved from 'Fury' and the lawyers allowed me to serve sentence in an ordinary prison where they allowed us to use computers. I found salvation for the second time in my life when God spared me of the massacre, and now I'm honoring Ripley's memory and bravery by giving the world the entire story."

"That's what I'm reading here," Fixer said indicating to the padd he was holding. "I found it essential to familiarize myself to the whole history considering the mission we're on. Bishop let me in a little on it and I wanted to learn more. Morse was more than willing to provide the whole story."

"The whole story?" Hicks found this doubtful. "How did you manage to dig all that up? All that information is as far as I know classified and is being under denial that it even exists."

"Yes. That's why the Weyland-Yutani Company has banned my stories all together," Morse stated. "But I know my way around computers, and I got accomplices who can hack into the most guarded networks there are. The Company tried to stop me in any way they could think of on several occasions to prevent my books from being published on the net, usually by revoking my computer-privileges. But I managed to outsmart them every time." Morse sounded proud of himself.

"So what are you doing here then?" Hicks asked. "If the Company doesn't want you to spread the story, why do they put you on a mission where you'll be able to pick up more stuff that they want to keep a secret?"

Morse simply shrugged. "Maybe it's their way to keep tabs on me? Could be that I knew my way around the complex of 'Fury', and I knew where you were buried. The colonel seemed to think that it was important."

"That explains it!" Hicks scowled. "Decker is obsessed with time and efficiency. He's even willing to put up with civilians if it helps him to keep his schedule, otherwise he won't have any non-military personnel around him." So we were retrieved simply because of a timetable! That figures.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a loud howl from the other table. It was coming from Dagger who seemed to be overjoyed over something.

"Goddamn it, Dagger, get a hold of yourself!" It was Crabbe, a smartgun operator who spoke, and who unknowingly to Hicks had been part of the team that had extracted him and Newt from Fiorina . He was muscular built and he always shaved his head bald.

"Whoa… I feel good, man!" Dagger exclaimed in a loud voice, slamming his fists on the table and knocking over some glasses. "Whoo-ho-hoo… this is what's make me feel alive. Anyone for arm-breaking? I feel great!"

"You're going to feel dead if you don't calm down, you asshole!" Crabbe yelled back.

Hicks grimaced at the scene. "Christ, is he still on those things?" He saw that Dagger was sweating all over, yet he had a widely grinning face and bulging eyes. Dagger was a shabby-looking person with a bad hygiene whose hair stood out everywhere, he always wore dirty clothes and he rarely shaved his face all the way down to the skin.

"What's the matter with that guy?" Fixer asked. "He's been acting like a looney ever since I got aboard!"

"He's high on JOY again, that's what the matter is," Hicks sighed.

"JOY? But that's an illegal substance, isn't it?"

"Quite so," Hicks confirmed. "The stuff makes everybody who takes it become completely whacko."

The little man eyed Hicks curiously. "You seem to know a lot about these guys. So how long has Dagger taken that drug?"

"This is the unit I got enlisted to when… hrmm… when I first signed on to the Marine Corps. I saw early that I would never fit in, and I had to bust my ass to get a transfer away from them." Hicks drank his tea, grimaced. "You see, the 'Rawhides' is the military brass' ideal unit – they take every mission they're given without ever questioning the moral ethics that might become disregarded. Protecting civilian properties or interests has never been a priority with these guys – they only seek the adrenaline rush of fighting and lust to blow things up. The brass defend their actions and lets them get away with destruction of private property or sacrificial of innocent bystanders solely for the goal of mission accomplishments by any means necessary. No matter what they do, the brass looks the other way for reasons I could never fathom! I for one could never sink down to those levels, that's why I became an outsider.

"Anyway, to answer your second question, Dagger got enlisted here about the same time as I did, and I do suspect that he took JOY already back then. You see; Dagger is highly ambitious, striving to be something special that everyone would look up to. But he has one major problem: he's a coward, and quite a big one at that. That's why he uses JOY, to deaden the death guilt and all other factors that could hamper what little bravery he has. But it has often proven to affect his judgment as well and that always puts him in the line of danger. Sometimes he can even be more of a threat to his comrades rather than to his adversaries - there has been many occasions where he'd got so out of his mind out on the battlefield because of the drugs that he shot down his own guys in the process. I'm actually surprised that he's still alive and still in service after all this time."

"Then why does the colonel allow him to keep using it?"

"Because he seems to think that the drugs make Dagger more efficient!" Hicks snorted and forced down the last piece of the bread. "Colonel Decker despises soldiers who let their personal limitations stand in the way of the mission. And since JOY takes away inhibitions, it makes him a better soldier; therefore Decker looks past the rule to confiscate it. The fact that Dagger probably will end up in a mental institution as a raving fool is nothing that concerns him."

"That's odd. I was under the impression that Decker was a soldier who always sticks by the book."

"Not a chance. Colonel Decker's history is full of false rumors of that kind. He thinks that the Geneva Convention are for pansies, civilian rights is something he won't ever acknowledge – and I won't go into what he thinks of the Constitution! He won't even let military rule stand in the way of getting the job done."

"Then it's also a false rumor that Decker has been in the army for over 70 years?"

"I don't know what to believe of that." Hicks smiled at the ludicrous thought. "It is said that when he's not on a mission, he passes his time in cryo-stasis, which definitely increases his life span. He doesn't believe in free time."

"He lives only for the military, you mean?" Fixer said as he sipped his own mug.

Hicks nodded. "If you could call that a living…"

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted as Dagger approached the table with a funny glint in his eyes.

"Hey, 'Sissy'…" he slurred, "how 'bout a lil' arm-wrestling…? Let's see if ya can take me down. He he hee…" He held up his right trembling arm, drooling from his mouth as he giggled.

"Get out of here, you fool!" Hicks said with a cold voice.

"Wha…? Wha's the matter? Ya chicken o' wha'?" He sat down heavily beside Fixer, with his elbow placed on the table, hand extended. Morse just cooked his eyebrow, watching the scene with interest.

"Get out of my sight." Hicks glared darkly at him. "I'm won't tell you again."

But Dagger didn't move. Instead he let his gaze wander somewhere else and Hicks stomach froze to ice when he realized that the drugged soldier was looking directly at Newt.

"Say… ya don' look too happy…" he said to her.

"That's none of your concern!" Hicks exclaimed, standing up. He flexed his fingers inward his palms, turning them into fists. "I'm warning you, Dagger: lay one hand on her and you're going to get it!" Newt didn't move, but even though she was not fully awake, her senses became alert. Fixer was perplexed; he didn't know what to do. Morse didn't move either and it was a good thing that Hicks' gaze was concentrated away from him, because Morse actually seemed to enjoy the rising danger of the scene.

"Well, I got just what ya need…." Before anyone could try to stop him, Dagger put some pills into Newt's cup of tea. Hicks immediately snatched it away from her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

"Just thought I'd cheer her up a bit," Dagger explained. "The stuff will make her feel alive just like a…"

Hicks didn't let him finish his sentence as he furiously threw his fist onto the others jaw, knocking the drugged man off his seat. The turmoil caught the attention of the other soldiers. They watched but did not interfere. They, like Morse, seemed to take enjoyment of the heated situation. Hicks crossed over the table and grabbed on to Dagger's dirty shirt to pull him up and intended to throw him out of the mess hall. But Dagger managed to swing an uppercut on Hicks jaw and made him stagger backwards. The corporal saw stars and almost blacked out, as his jaw had been aching even before the hit. Dagger got to his feet, and started to giggle again. "So ya wanna fight after all, ya 'sissy'?" Hicks got back onto his feet and then both men stood their ground, facing each other.

"Fixer!" Hicks didn't take his eyes of his opponent. "Do me a favor and take Newt out of here. Now!" Fixer got up from his seat, rounded the table and grabbed Newt by her arms to lead her out of there.

"C'mon." He said to her as she hesitated. "He'll be all right, but it's best if you do not remain here." As he got the girl out through the door they heard Daggers excited voice: "Let's rock." Then the door closed, only the muffled sounds of cheering from the other soldiers could be heard together with a sound from a table that was knocked over.

"I'll might be doing both of them a disfavor, but I'm going to call the colonel and tell him about this." Newt barely heard the little man as he led her away. She was too busy trying to hold back the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

Colonel Decker's office was a war-room. It served as a museum of arms and a battle-bridge in one. The back wall behind his chair was entirely a screen from corner to corner that right now showed the Hercules destination: an image of the planet Acheron, where a computer-lit arrow marked the coordinates of the crash site of the derelict that housed the alien eggs. There were three different rows of digital numbers down in the right corner of the screen, one that showed the actual time of day, one that was counting down towards to 'estimated time of arrival' and one that marked the miles they had left to cross until they got to the planet. The desk itself was a helm- and tactical control, cleverly designed to be inconspicuous to anybody else but the colonel. If required, Decker could run the whole ship from his office.

The walls of the office served as the exhibit. Behind glass panels on the right side, there were rows with all kinds of weapons from different periods of time: ancient swords in scabbards, cutlasses, sabers, knives, and spears. There were even some Japanese Katanas among them. In any other exhibit the stabbing-weapons would usually hang with handle up and the blade pointing down to the floor – Decker displayed them with the blade pointing up. It symbolized a pose that was ready to strike instead of presenting a submission by pointing the blade down.

The left-side wall displayed the ballistic and projectile weapons, from crossbows to revolvers, bayonet-equipped rifles from the Civil war and German weapons from both the first and the Second World war. There were even grenades displayed - there were rumors that those were actually live and usable. The display cases surrounding the door into the office contained weapons of present day. The display of arms served as an inspiration of the history behind the design of every item to the kind of wars each and every one of them had been used in. They helped the colonel adapt to whatever resistance his unit would encounter, therefore every piece of armaments were all the way authentic and functioning – the blades were even sharp.

The colonel sat in his chair behind his desk thoroughly wiping his boots. Not once did he look up to the two bruised men that had recently been involved in the two-man fight in the mess hall. Hicks and Dagger stood at attention, nervously waiting for his acknowledgment. Decker didn't bother to look up even as he finally spoke.

"Who threw the first punch?" he asked shortly.

"It was him, Sir. The 'sissy'… He…"

"My name is Hicks, you moron. And you asked for it." He had trouble speaking as his face was beginning to swell up again. It was a miracle that his jaw had not ended up being dislocated a second time.

"What did you do now, Dagger?" Decker still didn't look up.

"I didn't do anything, Sir. I just…"

"He tried to poison the girl!" Hicks shouted. "He put his blasted JOY-pills into her tea! Why do you let him keep them, Colonel?"

"I was only trying to cheer her up…" Dagger started to object.

"Bullshit! It was a clear attempt to addict her to those things! Everybody knows that you think everyone should take JOY to overcome their guilt, but you're too stupid to admit the side-effects that it causes!"

"Now wait a minute, I don't have to take this shit from you…"

"Shut up, both of you!" Decker interrupted, still wiping his boots. "Did she drink anything of it, Corporal?"

"No, I took it away from her."

"Then there was no real harm done, was it, Corporal? There was obviously no need to strike him."

Hicks couldn't believe his ears. Was the colonel about to forgive Dagger for what he almost had done? Decker had said himself that Newt was needed for this mission, therefore her safety should be considered a natural importance. But here he was about to let Hicks take all the blame for the fight. Dagger seemed to have come to the same conclusion too, because he grinned mockingly at him. Hicks had to fight hard to keep his self-control.

"Colonel Decker, I must protest! Newt's safety is vital to this mission and therefore Private Dagger should be punished for his actions!"

"And he will be, Corporal." Dagger gaped at Decker when he heard those words. "But you struck him instead of just reporting him to a superior officer. Therefore I am now forced to administer discipline to both of you. You are both on penalty duty. Sgt. Hurst will drill the two of you for extra two hours after your standard training this morning. And tomorrow the two of you will clean all the toilets on deck C, using only toothbrushes. Dismissed." During his whole speech, the colonel hadn't looked up once from his work on his boots. Dagger gave out a sigh and saluted, but Hicks wasn't ready to surrender.

"Colonel, why won't you confiscate Daggers pills? They are illegal and…"

"If you question my authority one more time, Corporal, I'll double your penalty! Now get out, both of you!"

With clenched teeth, (which earned him another jolt of pain in his swollen jaw) Hicks saluted and turned on his heel to storm out from the office. Once outside he stopped and took deep breaths to calm down. Even though he was back on duty, he still had to be careful not to let his irritated state of mind strain on his health. He heard the office door close behind him and Dagger came up beside him.

"Well, thank you so much, butthead!" he said angrily. "As if it wasn't enough with my shifts of peeling potatoes, now I'll have to scrub dirty pots!"

"You got yourself to blame, dirtbag!" Hicks retorted. "But why are you complaining? You should feel right at home together with that dirt, shouldn't you?"

"Do you want another slug on your face, Sissy?"

"Do you really think you can take me on, shithead?" Both men were ready to hit the other when the door to the colonel's office opened and his cold voice was heard from inside:

"Consider your penalties doubled!" Decker said from within and the door closed again. Hicks sighed, and then he pointed his finger at Dagger and directed him to take a route of his own away from the corridor they were in. He himself would continue on the direction he first had taken. It was best if the both of them separated now before they landed themselves into more trouble. Dagger made an insulting face to him, but went on his way. Hicks continued his, heading to the medical bay. He needed to check up on his injuries as the swelling of the black bruises was making his face turning numb. Afterwards he thought that he had to find Newt to check if she was okay. As it was, he had no idea where she may have disappeared to after the incident in the mess hall.

Author's notes: About Morse writing books is not something I made up. In the novelization of 'Resurrection' and in atleast one written spinoff, it was said that Morse actually did write some books after the incident on Fiorina, and Annalee Call had read those 'banned' stories which helped make up her mind to look Ripley up.