Hicks had been sitting in the chair by Newt's hospital-bed for several hours now and he had given absolutely no indication that he planned to vacate it any time soon. Actually, to try to persuade him to leave would prove to be dangerous, because the corporal had absolutely no intention of doing so. After his failed attempt to blow up the cargo-hold of the derelict - an attempt foiled by from his perspective a traitorous android - Hicks had gone straight back to sick-bay to just stay with the child. There was nothing else for him now – he couldn't stop this insane mission from being accomplished, and the only ally he'd thought he could rely on had turned his back on him. Fixer was incapable of doing something as he was just a civilian engineer. Morse was a felon – there was no way Hicks was going to trust him. And everybody else onboard the Hercules all answered only to Colonel Decker.

There was only Newt left: the young sole surviving colonist of LV-426 whom Hicks originally had been sent to give aid. That was the only military mission he cared for now. Of course, it wasn't only in the military interest that he would do so... it was also because he really cared for the little girl – so much that he threatened to shoot anybody who would dare to try to step in between him and her. Hicks had asked for three minutes with her after he'd come in, and Dr. Peters had reluctantly agreed to it even though she was still heavily sedated into unconsciousness. But when the surgeon had asked him to leave as the three minutes had passed, Hicks had without saying a single word put the muzzle of his gun against the bridge of Peters' nose – and he had done the same to everybody who had tried to persuade him to vacate the sickbay. In the end Peters had gone to Colonel Decker to ask him to have Hicks forcibly removed from there, but the colonel hadn't cared. The fact was, Colonel Decker had stopped caring about the prodigals all together. He had other priorities that took precedence – the welfare of a civilian patient that was to the rest of the galaxy's knowledge dead was not worthy of his concern. Decker didn't even care about Hicks' insubordination or disregard for hospital rules – at least not for now. The corporal was no longer essential to the mission, so Decker would for the moment not waste any time with administrating any immediate disciplinary actions against him - however later when time would be available, that would be rectified. But right now that was something that didn't bother Hicks; he'd deal with that when the time came for it. So in the end the medtechs could do nothing except just to leave him sitting in the chair and ignore him – that solution was the least problematic. And the corporal hadn't been any trouble since then, he just sat quietly beside the girl's bed. He only became alert when the doctors came to change her meds and bandages as it was the only time he would allow any of them to come near her.

All three of the head doctors were gone now – only Peters' nephew Phillips was left looking after the sick-bay, a job he wasn't doing quite well. The unsocial nurse spent most of his time in the doctor's office drinking booze and reading different magazines, possibly something that Hicks suspected was related to pornographic literature. He threw a glance towards the office just to make sure that Phillips intended to stay put. It seemed like he was going to do so since the nurse was putting on some headphones over his ears to listen to some music, and out of the corner of his eye Hicks saw that the little girl had finally come to and was focusing her blue eyes at him. He sat straighter up and turned to her with a relieved smile on his face.

"Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

The child didn't say anything. Instead she gave the adult a petulant look that clearly said: 'Oh, I'm fine. I only just tore up my chest and almost died. Next silly question?' Hicks wasn't offended by it, because it had been an inane question. It had just been the first one that had come to mind as a form of greeting to welcome her back. His next question was not so inane though.

"Are you thirsty?" The girl's petulancy disappeared and was replaced with a look of eagerness as she nodded almost imperceptibly. Hicks put a water-bottle with a metal tube on top of it to her lips. She sucked at it greedily to sooth her dehydrated body. Hicks removed it before she was finished though.

"You can have more in a moment," he told her gently. "But you've been out for almost two days without solid nutrients. I want to give your metabolism a chance to catch up." She didn't understand all those technical terms, but the meaning behind it was clear. She surrendered to it. There were some occasional times when she had to face the fact that the adults did know best, and she didn't want to get any more sick than she already was.

By all standard protocols, Hicks should alert the doctors right now to inform them of Newt's changed condition. But there was only Phillips available and he didn't want a drunk anywhere near the girl. He would have to rely on his own basic medical training, hoping that it would be sufficient.

Once she had got all the water she needed, Newt laid back her head against the pillow. It looked like she composed herself and Hicks suspected what was coming. It was a subject he didn't want to think about, or even talk about - much less in the presence of the child. But it was unavoidable, and it was better if it came from him rather than anybody else. And then she spoke for the first time.

"Has it come?"

"It… happened a couple of hours ago. It's locked up in quarantine. A microbe isn't capable of getting out of there, but…" He stopped himself. The girl was perfectly aware of that this wasn't some sort of germ they were dealing with. There was no need to go into details and risks where such a creature was concerned. "Anyway, as far as I've heard: it's still there."

"They just let him die? They didn't try to save him?" Her voice was weak and totally flat. There was no fright or anger in her tone; it was just a question to get a confirmation of what she already suspected.

"Dagger was considered expendable, just like everybody else on this boat is," Hicks told her. "He will only be regarded as a casualty in the line of duty, dying for the sake of the success of the mission. There won't be any more details around the circumstances of his death than that. Somehow I don't think he'll even receive a proper send-off.

"Granted, Dagger wasn't a good man – hell, he wasn't even a good soldier… but no one deserves to die like that. The worst part is that in the army there's a rule that clearly says that you never abandon a comrade in need, but that's what happened to him. The colonel… his comrades… they all left him to his fate. That makes them no better than the monsters."

There was a lump in his throat. He thought of his own comrades that had been left to their fate down under the atmosphere processing station. Although there weren't anything the survivors of the first assault wave could have done to save them, Hicks still felt ashamed that they just had left their team-mates behind inside the alien nest to be cocooned. But Dagger hadn't been in a nest – the most humane thing to have done would have been to put a bullet to his neck and sparing him of the agony – but that mercy was denied him – all for the sake of the mission.

Newt lay still with her eyes closed as she took it all in. The funny thing was that it looked like she smiled a little.

"So, that's what he meant," she whispered. "Now I understand."

"What is it, Newt? What do you understand?"

The girl fixed her eyes on the adult again, looking thoughtful. "My mommy always said that there were no monsters. No real ones…" She paused, remembering how she once said those exact words to Ripley. But the woman had never heard the part that Newt now was about to share with Hicks. "But then my dad said something that always made mommy mad, and I couldn't understand why he did that to her since they always ended up fighting about it."

"What did he say, honey?"

"He said that true monsters… come in shape of humans. I never understood what he meant by that – how could humans be monsters?" The girl looked a little pained now. "I thought mommy was the one who was right… but she wasn't, was she? It was dad! He was talking about people like Colonel Decker… like Carter Burke… even Mr. Weyland! They're the ones who are the true monsters, aren't they? Because they're evil. They're willing to kill other people just to get their hands on the creatures… That's monstrous!"

Hicks was immensely impressed. "Newt, you are without a doubt the smartest little kid I've ever met!" His statement was absolutely genuine and for a short moment the girl looked pleased. But the pained look quickly returned and it wasn't because she felt the ache of her wounds.

"Then that makes twice my mommy was wrong… the monsters are all real, even though she said that there weren't any. She lied."

"No, sweetie, you mustn't think that of your mother. She did tell you the truth… but it was simply the only truth that she knew of from her own point of view".

"Her point of view?"

"Newt, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view." Now where did that come from? It must have been something from a movie he once liked. Anyway, it sounded good. "We each get different experiences in our time that molds our opinions. Your father must have met a couple of bad people, haven't he?"

"Uh-huh. He always said that the people running the Company were bad people. He didn't like them."

"And it sounds like your mother never got to see that side of the men your father referred to, so for her it was only natural to adopt the goodness that she saw and accept it as her truth – and it was that truth she wanted to pass on to you."

"I understand… I think." The girl seemed to ponder on it. "But why wouldn't she let my dad tell me his truth then?"

Hicks smiled. "I can't speak for all parents, but many of them doesn't want to let their kids know that there's evil out there. They think it'll give the children nightmares and they want to protect them from that. Sometimes parents can get a little too overprotective and easily assume that kids can't handle it."

"Ripley told me that too – that they believe that kids can't handle it, I mean."

"Well, you certainly can… even though I know it feels difficult for you sometimes. But I want you to know that you are a brave little kid, and any parent would be very proud of you."

"Are you a parent?" That question took Hicks completely by surprise. It was a subject he generally avoided, but their heart-to-heart talk had somehow steered it into that direction.

"Got a son out there," he admitted. "He's about your age. Come to think of it, he's much older than that now. I tend to forget that it has been three years. Not that it matters… I haven't seen him since he was a small baby."

"Why?"

"My… ex-wife won't let me near him."

"Why?"

Hicks hesitated. He had never told this story to anyone before – not to anyone in Sgt. Apone's team or to any friends in his civilian life. It was an uncomfortable subject, not something he was willing to confide to anyone. But eventually he knew it had to be told to somebody and he didn't want to ruin the connection he'd just made with this little girl. And if there was someone he felt had a right to know, it was her. Hicks composed himself and began telling her his story.

"It began when I was doing my military service in my youth – I met this extraordinary woman. Her name was Sarah. I was a cadet and she was a general's daughter doing the basic training of her own. It looked like an uneven match and I was warned to stay away from her – but we connected. We did all the training together and we spent most of our time in each other's company both inside and outside the camp.

"I fell in love with her, totally head over my heels. One problem was that she came from a family of militaries and she was expected to marry a high-ranking officer. I took career for her sake in the marines – it was a compromise for not being an officer when we married. Her father was not pleased at all about it. Anyway, as by rules; husbands and wives never go on the same missions together – however it would have been good if we had, it might possibly have been discovered earlier then what kind of a person I really was."

Newt turned to her side to face Hicks, listening intently.

"Turned out I was not the hard-core of a soldier I was expected to be in the marines. I did my job and I did it quite well, but I was still an anomaly – too optimistic, too calculative, too much of a thinker before taking action. Not the kind of soldier the army requires. The rumors of me not being a 'man' enough in the field did reach Sarah's ears, but she didn't pay much attention to them – at least not in the beginning. But then she got pregnant with our son John…"

Hicks leaned in closer to Newt's face. "Remember what I said about different 'points of view'? Sarah came from a family-line of soldiers, and she had already planned ahead to keep up the tradition. The boy was to be raised with military conditions so that he would become a great military leader – a true 'man'! That's when I did the mistake of for once talking first before thinking."

Hicks averted his eyes; looking downcast… the memory was painful. "I didn't agree with her… I didn't think it was right for us to decide for the boy what he would become. I wanted to raise John with love, with the same conditions as any other kid would get – and then let him decide for himself what he wanted to be as an adult.

"Sarah wasn't just angry – she became furious! And now she took on to the rumors that she had heard: she claimed that she had been tricked into marrying a 'sissy' and not a man. And she would not let me turn her son into a wimp! Those were her words.

"She took our baby and left. A week later I received a request for divorce, along with a court-order that forbade me to ever come near John again. And like that wasn't enough, her father the general filed a transfer for me out of the camp, straight into this unit!"

Hicks looked back at Newt. "There you have the true story on how I ended up with the 'Rawhides' – it was their way of telling me how a true army-man should be like. And yet that wasn't the ultimate insult… sometime later I received the last letter I ever got from Sarah – it contained a wedding-photo. She had married some major in the corps - a true man in her opinion, and a worthy father for John. She wrote that she would never tell my son who his biological father was, it was a shame he could be without. She had even changed his birth-certificate – as far as the world knows, the major is John's real father.

"My memories of that cuddly little boy is all I have now. The only thing I could do was to get a transfer out of the Rawhides to start anew… it was a hard work, but I finally managed - for all the good it did me…"

Hicks fell silent for a while, lost in the memory. Newt bit her lip before she took the courage to speak. "I think your wife was stupid. I like you just the way you are. I think it would be great to have a father like you."

There was a subtle hint there, Hicks didn't doubt that. But he found that he didn't mind. "Thank you, Newt. That means a lot to me."

"Do you… like me?"

"I've wished you nothing but happiness since the first time I met you."

"Liar."

Hicks was surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"The first time we met I bit you in the hand, remember?" The adult broke out in a grin, and then the girl did an unexpected ploy to him. She raised her arm and pressed her index finger to his chest. As he looked down to see what she was doing, she flicked her fingers lightly on his nose, just like she had once done to Ripley. The man looked at her in astonishment as she had managed to catch him completely by surprise, and then they both burst out in laughter. Newt couldn't laugh for long though as it hurt in her chest, so Hicks settled with tousling her hair in appreciation. He made a secret vow right there that no matter what happened; this girl would survive, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

Bishop's artificial body was back onboard the Hercules, but his mind had departed elsewhere. He was once again inside the Network of the Company, searching through the classified catalogues looking for more secret files concerning the earlier alien encounters. He was most particularly interested in the transmission that had originated from the crashed derelict that had lured the Nostromo to LV-426. He hoped that there might be an algorithm in the original signal to use as a base-point to extrapolate the exact frequency of the energy used for the presence-masking barrier.

Bishop was certain that the race of the dead pilot had designed their equipment to be powered by the same energy-form: the barrier, the holographic projections he'd found, the transmitter and possibly also the propulsion-systems, (there were after all no visible afterburners outside on the hull of the ship, so it too had to be energy-based,) they all had to come from one pool of energy. But there had to be a basic algorithm used to harness all that power. If he could learn to control that energy-source then there was no telling of what he could do, all which he could learn from that crashed ship.

There were certain risks involved of course – the ship had been there for a long time and the energy was almost depleted. There were several 'pockets' of eggs in that cargo-hold, and each of them had their own mound-like generator. Bishop theorized that every one of them had been active when the ship crashed – but as the years had gone by, they had all shut down one by one to conserve power for the others. And without the protective shield that helped to keep the nutrient mist inside, the eggs had withered and died. Only one 'pocket' had still been active when the derelict had been found, one last batch of eggs being kept preserved. But Bishop had shut down that last generator as well and now he wanted to use the power that remained in hopes of activating the other systems – if only he knew in advance on what level of power he should start to use. He didn't want to risk burning it all out at once.

Eventually Bishop found a copy of the signal that had been sent out by the derelict – he listened to it several times, looked at the extrapolations the experts had made and studied their results. He was certain that there were some misinterpretations in it, but this was not the time, nor was there any particularly good reason to try to work out a new translation. Neither did he find the algorithm he was looking for – the signal was not only garbled, but fact was that it had been recorded over sixty years ago. The technology of that time hadn't been sophisticated enough to get a full analysis of it so deep out into space. Bishop left the Network. He would get no answers there.

Back in his body he did a visual sweep all over the science lab to see that nothing had been disturbed. All was as he had left it: the partly dissected body of the alien drone still lay on the stone-table with its chest cut open and exposed – he expected the acidic properties of its blood to be completely neutralized by now. That meant he could start examining all its inner organs more closely without risk of the instruments to be destroyed.

Bishop took a moment to study the X-ray scans he had taken earlier. Strangely enough, the creatures seemed to lack several of the most essential organs a life-form would need. Unlike the facehugger, the alien drones didn't have the intricate network of forms and tubes that the smaller versions were equipped with, and which still was a mystery what they were used for - but what the larger creature did have was several extra organs that seemed to be so unnecessary. But they couldn't be: every organ in a biological body had a special function – he couldn't believe that such a resilient creature like this would be so full of worthless appendages.

Before he went to work, he took a look at the computer to see if it had managed to sort out anything of the energy-data he'd brought up from the derelict. No such luck yet, but it wasn't so strange – this was an unknown energy-form, so it didn't match with anything that was previously in the archives. The computer had to do a complete basic analysis to make something out of it and that would take time. Leaving the computer to do its task, Bishop took the recharged laser-cutter and went over to the body of the alien which waited for him. He found it remarkable how the torso was so inverted – the rib-cage lay outside the body rather than on the inside. It would be interesting to see what else could be turned inside and out. He activated the cutter and reached inside the torso…

Within the storage-room for toxic disposal, the clawed alien eggs stood stacked all over the place in silence. The parasites within them were not aware that they had been removed from their resting place, not that it would have concerned them anyway. They were after all one-purposed, so they didn't have much intelligence to speak of. It didn't even matter to them that they have been artificially encased within their ovoid shells… the fact was that they had temporarily already forgotten it. The only thing that ever would matter to them was if there was a living entity coming near them so that they could latch on to those and implant the embryo which resided within their abdomens. Once that task had been completed the parasite would die – the concept of which didn't bother them. It was as devoid for a desire to live as it lacked a sense of boredom. The waiting didn't bother them either, and since there were no entities around they just spent their time sleeping - the urge to do its only task in life wouldn't appear until something approached them. So the eggs were still, devoid of all activity – until the intruder made his way inside.

Instantly the eggs began to shake and rattle as the parasites within them came to life and struggled to get out of their shells. But each of the spindly metal claws hindered them, stopping the four petals from flipping open to allow the creatures to get out. The intruder watched the eggs, listening to their internal struggle. He felt an overwhelming anxiety, a fascination for their determination and their power… The intruder put a hand to the leathery surface on one of the eggs; his heart pounded in rhythm with each beat the parasite inside made. Was this how a pregnant woman felt as she felt the unborn infant kick? Do they feel the same anxiety in those moments as he does right now, feeling the wondrous life inside?

"Patience, my friends." A disembodied voice whispered in the darkness. "Not long now. It won't be long now…"

In the quarantine section of the ship, Dr. Roman and her assistant Arnolds busied themselves with several analyses and observations of the newborn creature. It had been a day now since it emerged and it had developed rapidly already within the first hours. With enraptured fascination the scientists had witnessed how the newly born little alien had shed its translucent skin and then quickly metamorphosed into the big and terrible organism that had caused so much death and horror. It was bizarre; an obscene elongated head, six-fingered hands, a huge tail and weird dorsal horns. Arnolds found the beast absolutely hideous while Dr. Roman found it absolutely beautiful. And yet something was wrong…

They couldn't tell what it was – they had after all never encountered one of these creatures before to be able to do a match. All they had were vague reports and they weren't all-the-way specific. At first they believed it only had something to do with its early stages of development, but as the specimen grew, the scientists became more concerned. Right now the creature was curled up against one of the farthest corners of the quarantine-cell; apparently hibernating – or waiting... the biotechs couldn't tell. But they got the impression somehow that it was closer to the latter.

Colonel Decker entered the observations-lounge, marching in with his usual strict and erected posture. The colonel would never allow himself to go slack with the military discipline even when his soldiers couldn't see him. He was the commanding officer and he had an obligation to set a good example for the troops whenever the situation called for it and even when it didn't. He walked up directly to the view-port and peered inside without acknowledging the scientists. His face became grim though as he saw that nothing had changed. Decker had encountered this species personally down in the derelict and had got, although only briefly, a good look at those before he'd taken the hit to his chest and was tossed away, so he too got the impression that this wasn't right. Without turning his head, he addressed Dr. Roman:

"Speculations?" he asked shortly.

"All theories are inconclusive." Dr. Roman answered as formal as the colonel's questions.

"Is there a prognosis for a change later on?"

"It's impossible to give any. Our knowledge of it is insufficient!"

"Then we'll have to get advice from someone who has the sufficient knowledge, won't we?" Decker said. The prospect of that bothered the woman. She was the chief biotech, this was her project; assigned to her by Michael Weyland himself. She didn't want any help from outsiders. However, time was limited and sometimes you had to take short-cuts, no matter how much you disliked it for personal reasons. Tightlipped and angered, Roman turned to her assistant: "Get them."

Isn't Tic Tac Toe supposed to be a simple game? Hicks thought melancholy as he saw his row of black marbles once again get blocked by a white marble, and there was a three-in-a-row winner of white color again. It was the simplest game aboard the ship; none of the 'Rawhides' ever touched it as they felt that it was a kid's game and nothing that big sturdy men like them would ever spend their time with. They still wondered who the wimp was who had brought it aboard in the first place.

Well, it certainly was this kid's game. Of fourteen games played, Hicks had only won three. When he'd brought it to the sick-bay, he had planned to let the girl win most of the games, but he was beginning to think that it was going the other way around. Newt seemed to anticipate his every move and always managed to make a block when it looked like he had the advantage.

Hicks cleared the wooden base of all marbles to start another game. He was enjoying this challenge and he could see that Newt had a good time too. They both needed this: for a moment they had actually forgotten about the aliens, forgotten about their ruined lives and the predicament they were in. Newt even seemed to momentarily have forgotten that she was sick, even though she could hardly move right now. She had received a new dose of antibiotics for her inflamed chest not that long ago and she was still quite dazed by the effects. Her right arm was the only limb she could use at this time, but her mind seemed to be partially clear. At least clear enough to beat Hicks at Tic Tac Toe.

The door opened and somebody with heavy footsteps came in. It was Bishop.

"Who's winning?" the android asked with a strangely cheerful tone as he saw what was going on between the two.

"It sure isn't me," Hicks said without looking up and without a hint in his voice that he still was angry with the synthetic. Newt hadn't heard what had happened between them and the adult didn't feel that it was something she needed to hear. Bishop and he may not see eye to eye right now, but the android was still considered to be a friend of Newt's and she needed everyone she could have. Hicks would not ruin that despite what he felt for the other. The girl's need was more important.

"I'm sorry I didn't come visit you earlier, Newt," the newcomer addressed the small patient. "Are you feeling any better?"

It was Hicks who answered for her. "She can't talk that well right now. It's actually better if she didn't attempt it. The meds she's getting have weakened her motor responses and I've recommended her to save her strength to adapt. Otherwise she would tire out quite quickly."

"But the inflammation has gone down?"

"That's what Dr. Peters tells me. The continued medication is to make sure that it doesn't take hold again. And we'll have to make sure to change her bandages at least once a day."

"You're in good hands, Newt," the android told the girl. She only glanced at him, smiled a little weakly but didn't answer.

"So, is this a social visit or did you come here for something?" Hicks tone wasn't aggressive – but Bishop knew that the corporal didn't want him there. He didn't let it show that he had understood that though.

"A little of both, actually," Bishop answered in his usual calm voice. "I did want to let Newt know that I'm concerned for her and that I wish her a quick recovery – but I also require some equipment for my research. I need to pick up a test-tube centrifuge and some syringes."

"I'll make sure to tell the doctors where the stuff disappeared to," Hicks said with a slight hint of dismissal. Then his eyes went wide. "How in the world did I miss that?!" Newt had beaten him again with another three in a row.

Bishop came back from a corner a minute later with the equipment he had collected. "Please tell the doctors that I borrowed a cultivator unit as well."

"I hope you're going to use it to grow a virus that will kill every alien that comes in contact with it," Hicks said, this time with a sarcastic tone.

"That would be a very dangerous development. With the creatures' powerful immune-system there isn't a virus that can affect them. More likely you'd happen to create something that will make the black plague look like a minor cold."

Hicks turned towards the android. "That's one of the things the Company's weapons department is after! Could there possibly be something that can be created from the aliens' genetic make-up? Bishop, you're not looking for something like that, are you?"

"No, nothing of the kind. I'm actually studying something else right now. Something much more interesting."

"I find nothing interesting with them except where their most vital parts are located so that I can destroy them as quickly as possible!"

Bishop sighed. "I can see why scientists and soldiers never get along so well. Hicks, I am convinced now that the specimen I've got in the science-lab is of the same brand that got aboard the Nostromo. Ripley's crew picked up a worker-drone sixty years ago - the brand that tend to the need of the queen and to the eggs."

"What difference did it make to her if she picked up a worker-drone or a warrior? Her crew still died!"

"The way it behaved, and the way the drones down in the derelict that attacked you behaved," Bishop said patiently. "I've studied Ripley's memories recorded in the hard-drive thoroughly, and there are some vague details that are particularly interesting. It appears that the first two crew-members that the drone captured: the engineer Brett and captain Dallas, they weren't killed instantly. In fact, it did something to them."

"What did it do?" Hicks on the other hand was growing more impatient.

"Sadly, she didn't know. As I said, the memories are too vague and she was too terrified at the time to comprehend what she was seeing. But I have a theory which I am not ready to divulge yet. The point is that the drone aboard the Nostromo and the drones you faced down there worked after the same principle: they weren't ready to kill you. In fact, I believe their primary function was to make sure that the colony would expand while the warriors' job is to protect the hive. And I'm certain that every drone alike work in a hive-mind so that the plan proceeds that way. Had we faced only warrior-drones down there, we would all have been killed instantly."

"So the worker-drone spared our lives?" Hicks asked.

"Yes. Because as you said: they needed you for the eggs."

"Yet that doesn't explain what you need the equipment you picked up here for? So you've got a worker-drone in the lab, what significance does that make in the end except to satisfy your scientific curiosity?"

"As I said, I'm not ready to divulge that theory yet. But as it stands right now, I admit that it won't give us any real tactical advantage."

"Then why waste time with it if it's nothing we can use?"

"Scientific curiosity," Bishop said after a short hesitation, sounding embarrassed. Hicks nodded as if in saying: 'I rest my case'. In that moment, medical assistant Arnolds came into the infirmary.

"You are ordered to come with me to the quarantine level," Arnolds said to Bishop and Hicks without as much as a greeting.

"And just who issued those orders?" Hicks asked.

"They were issued by Dr. Roman…"

The corporal nodded and turned away from the assistant, signaling that he had no intention of following those orders.

"…with the approval of Colonel Decker. They are both expecting you there," Arnolds finished. Hicks looked back at him with a displeased expression evident on his face.

"Quarantine level?" he questioned. "What for? I already know what's there and I have no need to see it!"

Arnolds stood his ground. "Corporal, you know full well that military protocol don't require you to know the errands in advance. If you receive orders from your superior officer, you are to follow them without question."

"That's tough words from somebody who isn't even in the military!" Hicks challenged the assistant and Arnolds actually did lose some of his self-assurance.

"Look," the assistant finally said. "You will know what it is they want with you when you report there, so why don't you just come with me as you are ordered?" Hicks grimaced unpleasantly at him but got up from his chair.

"I'll be right back, honey," Hicks told the girl in a far gentler tone than he'd given the other, caressing her arm.

"She's coming too," Arnolds said. Hicks threw a look at him so sharp that he took a step backwards.

"What – did – you - say?"

"A-all three of you are to r-report to…"

"She is not going!" Hicks growled to the assistant doctor. "I am not going to allow you to force her to face that nightmare! And besides, she's ill! You as a doctor should know that she's not to be out of bed in her condition!"

"Colonel Decker is aware of that…" Arnolds said. "…and he doesn't care. I am to bring all three of you to quarantine level one way or another, even if it means that we have to let one of the soldiers drag the girl there…"

Hicks grabbed the man by his collar and raised his arm to hit him, but as always Bishop intervened by grabbing Hicks' outstretched arm and tried to talk some sense into the corporal.

"That won't help anything, Hicks! Listen, we better do as he says, but only so that we can take charge of Newt instead of letting another do it carelessly. Decker won't let it go until he got what he wants – you know that."

"When we'll get back to Earth I'm going to report Decker to the Colonial Administration!" Hicks roared loudly. "I will have him court-martialed for violating civilian rights and I won't rest until he's demoted to permanent latrine duty!"

"You can do that when you get back – I won't stop you!" Arnolds said with a trembling voice. Hicks still held him by his collar. "But until you get there, you better do as he says now, or you may never get back."

"Was that some kind of threat?" Hicks asked the now nervous assistant.

"No, just stating the facts! You're officially dead, remember? No one will acknowledge you until Mr. Weyland say otherwise. And don't forget that you're not even officially aboard!"

Angrily Hicks let go of the assistant. He went back to the bed where Newt lay and he saw that the child had already surrendered to Colonel Decker's orders. She was stretching out her arms towards him, waiting to be picked up. Hicks slipped his arms under her shoulder-blades and legs and lifted her carefully up. Newt folded her small arms around his neck and snuggled against his chest to get into a comfortable position. And then they all went to the section of the Hercules where the nightmare was being held.

Colonel Decker stood with his hands folded behind his back facing the view-port to the cell when the prodigals arrived to the observations lounge of the quarantine section. As all of them entered through the door on the far end of the corridor, Decker only slightly turned around to tell them to come up to the window. Hicks was about to tell him off for how he risked Newt's health, but the colonel had obviously anticipated it and beat the corporal to it.

"You can put her back into the hospital-bed once you've told us what we need to know concerning the specimen!" Decker said in a tone that stated that that would be all that would be said about it. It was Bishop who took the role of the reasonable one.

"Is there something wrong?" the android asked.

"That's what we need you to tell us," Dr. Roman said impatiently. "Take a look at it."

"Exactly what are we supposed to look at?" Hicks questioned the woman. "If you've seen one alien, you've seen them all."

"That's not exactly true, Hicks." Bishop said. "As I just said, we faced two brands down there. And a queen should also be considered…

"SHUT UP, BISHOP!" Hicks barked. The android looked wounded. He had simply not understood that Hicks didn't want to bring Newt up to the window.

"That's why you're here," Decker said, unconcerned by Hicks' outburst. "Tell us what brand this is."

Hicks remained where he was with Newt in his arms, but Bishop stepped forward and peered in through the glass. The cell on the other side of it was almost totally devoid of light, which was just as well. Bishop's artificial eyes could see clearly through the darkness and he could see that Dagger's manhandled and decaying body was still in there on the floor. There was no way to get that out without getting into the same space as the creature that had to be remained constantly contained. And as for the creature itself…

"It's not what brand this is that concerns you, is it?" Bishop asked.

"What can you tell us?" Dr. Roman asked.

"I suspect not that which you wish to hear."

Hicks didn't want to be, but he was beginning to get curious. There was something else going on here obviously. He was about to take a small step forwards towards the dark window when Newt indicated to him that she wanted to get down. Her gaze was also plastered to the view-port.

"Are you sure?" he asked. The girl nodded and the adult complied. Struggling to remain steady on wobbly legs, the child walked slowly up to the Plexiglass. The antibiotics injected into her systems that had dulled many of her motor responses also had the same affect to some of her senses, so her immediate instinct to avoid the aliens at all costs was at the moment suppressed. She gazed inside the dark room through the window – in the corner there was a shape blended with the shadows, unmoving. But then slowly a rupture began to divide a small spot of the darkness. The light from the observations lounge was shining in and was reflected against the chrome teeth that were right now being revealed. But more as the lips parted, the more unnatural it became. The row of teeth became slowly wider, but it also became more curve-shaped. It was beginning to look like some kind of a grin.

Newt leaned in closer against the window. The shadow moved and slowly approached her as well – the row of teeth seemed to get bigger as they got closer… and still looking like a grin.

"No," she said almost inaudibly. Hicks thought that she was beginning to get afraid and moved in to get her away from the view-port.

"It is wrong… all wrong," Newt mumbled. "It's… not supposed… to look like that." And then Hicks saw it too. The brand was that of a warrior-drone, Hicks knew enough about them now to determine that. But it appeared to be misshaped! Its height still towered over that of a fully grown human, but compared to other aliens, this one appeared to be quite short and wider in an odd way. It looked like it had been extracted from the image of a TV-screen where the picture had been squashed. But the most disturbing difference that distinguished this one from the ordinary creature was the drooling grin: a satanic, maniacal smile. Hicks recognized that grin. It was the same one Dagger used to have when he was inebriated with JOY.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that this thing is high on something." Hicks said lowly.

"You're probably more right than you know." Bishop concurred. "It did after all grow inside Private Dagger."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Roman asked. She looked like a mother who'd just received news that her newborn child was born with a disfigurement.

"There's a theory that the embryos implanted inherits the physical characteristics of the host as they grow. Also the facehuggers appear to rewrite some of the host's DNA to graft into the embryo as they feed on the nutrients of the body. Dagger's blood was filled with high concentrations of drugs that affected many of his basic thought-patterns. Quite obviously that has been passed on to this subject.

"Someone like Dagger should never have been a host to those creatures," Bishop continued. "The JOY he took is integrated to this drone – it wouldn't surprise me if it produces it on its own just like humans produces endorphins."

"You're saying it is a walking JOY-factory and a consumer at the same time," Hicks said. "That means we got an alien that's permanently high on drugs! And if it is anything like a drug-addicted, it is most likely crazed!"

The alien appeared to be watching them as they talked. It tilted its elongated but flattened head from one side to another repeatedly, the padded shoulders pumped up and down and the massive tail rocked back and forth like a pendulum. And its grin then became even wider… frightening… monstrous… maniacal!

"I stand corrected," Hicks said as he watched it with a growing concern. "That thing's definitely crazed!"