The commotion outside would be unintelligible for a human, but I understand every word of it. Alexander's good. He's really good. He completely unarmed, and yet – from the sound of it – he has created the first real big problem for the escapees. The high art of psychology – he is definitely a master of it. In his place, I wouldn't even have known how to begin. I stare at Samuel and Lance, my two artificial brothers, on the other side of the ship's entrance. I hope Kurtz is right about the illuso shielding us from their view when they come in. To the eye of an unsuspecting human being, we are just a part of the wall. We're not there. And I agree that this can probably fool Raven, who comes from a world that's still in the stone ages technology-wise, compared to others. He won't know about the achievements of technology, especially on the illuso-sector. The marine, on the other hand, has already displayed his abilities as a serious gamer. He has an eye for artificial things. The entertainment center in his cell is proof of that. In the weeks he's been here, his reaction time and skill in virtual reality-scenarios has improved to a point that demands respect even from me. He knows a holographic scene from a real one when he sees it. Will he see us in here? What will he do then? Kill Darwin? And if I succeed – how am I supposed to ever be able to get on his good side? Kurtz said Darwin's little manipulation plan wouldn't count anymore in this situation, and I agree. The project's not important right now. She is. We have to make sure she gets out of this alive. All other concerns are minor. 'Damn, Darwin', I curse silently. 'Why did you have to rush over to the west wing as soon as I was gone? Against Kurtz' order? What were you looking for?' The voices from outside draw closer, and even though I'm camouflaged, I step back. Only a few minutes left now, if Alexander doesn't succeed. As brilliant as he is, I don't think so. It'll be up to us synthetics to save the day... as always.
***
"He's messing with your head, Kee! You know he's just trying to manipulate you! You're doing the right thing, Keisha! Deep down, you know I'm not what he says! He's lying, and he is desperate! You're his only chance! He's trying to make us turn against each other! Don't listen to him! We're almost there!" Hicks can, in fact, already see the ship's silhouette in the adjourning hangar. So close...! They've already passed almost the entire line of guards without incident, and once they're inside the ship – that'll be it! With Phooka being a scientific outpost, Hicks doesn't think they've got the weapons to shot them down once they're space-borne. Of course he could be wrong, but... they'd still have Darwin. They wouldn't dare to shoot, would they?
"Who do you believe, Keisha?" Alexander Saitchev is still standing between them and the ship, his blue eyes focussing on the silently crying girl. "A murderer... or me?"
"He's just telling you first-class bullshit, girl," Raven can be heard now for the first time. "I'm only interested in killing guys who can defend themselves. It's more of a sport, really. I'm not interested in duking it out with kids – I'm a hunter, not a perv."
"I didn't say he'd kill you...," Saitchev adds suggestively, making her even more afraid.
"Hey!" The big man turns, and for the first time ever, he seems to be in danger of losing his cool, threatening to leave his place behind Hicks and go for his adversary. "I'm no kiddie-raper, asshole! I'd kill you in an instant, and with pleasure, but I don't get off doing babies! Now shut the fuck up, or I'll make you!"
"Raven!" Hicks sends him a warning glance. "Don't! He's just trying to separate us, one way or the other. Get back behind me. We're almost there. Don't throw it all away just because he's insulting you. He's desperate. If this doesn't work, they'll lose. Don't let them win at the last second!"
Grumbling and still obviously reluctant, the killer falls back into place, sending Saitchev a glare that's more than a promise. 'I'll get you... count on it!'
The entrance to the hangar. And in the middle the waiting ship, a sleek, middle-ranged executive's model. Finally! A huge surge of energy races through Hicks' body. The impulse of turning around and run the last 50 meters to the open ramp is hard to ignore. There are no further guards in here, at least none that he can see. They're all behind them, as he turns around now to face them after clearing the entrance, still aiming for him. Almost there! Now, what would he have done in Kurtz's place? Set up not one, but at least two traps, right? And what better trap would there be than the ship itself? Easiest thing in the world to place a few men inside the shuttle and wait for them where he can't see them!
"Raven? Go and take a look inside." He hears the big man step up behind him and casts a grim smile over to the waiting Saitchev. "Let's hope your boss is playing by the rules. Right, Darwin?"
He's coming. Even though I'm protected by the illuso, I press my back against the wall. I know I am strong and fast enough to even keep the upper hand in a battle with Raven... but he is armed. I know, they could probably 'repair' me, but – I don't want to be shot. I don't want to know what it feels like. Would I feel something equivalent to pain? And if there'd be a battle, my human sister would probably die. She's been treating me strangely these past weeks, but – I also don't want her to die. She is the only one I'm able to talk to on the same level of intelligence – sorry, Alex.
I see a pair of boots below me at the end of the ramp. Shins... massive thighs... Raven's careful. Even if he can't see me, he's got those animal instincts. I freeze, even stop breathing. Can he sense me nevertheless? Smell me, maybe? He's coming closer. Middle of the ramp, rifle pointing my way. His eyes move like a security-camera, unblinking. Two more steps. Only three meters separate us now. He listens. If I jumped at him now, I could disarm him in a tenth of a second. I don't.
He passes me, and my head moves with him just the slightest bit – when, suddenly, he turns around, and his colorless eyes stare right at me! Did he hear me? Did he – he stretches out his arm and – touches the wall about 50 cm to my left – where it's still real! I don't even dare to blink, while his fingers glide over the metal, testing, probing… over to the wrong side. Over the real wall. Pauses. Lines appear on his forehead. I can tell he's smelling something and prepare to defend myself, when he abruptly turns again and continues on his way, sizing up the ship's interior and looking straight at my synthetic brothers without seeing them.
"Raven?" The Corporal sounds impatient. Calmly, the killer turns around, his eyes once again surveying the Stardust's cockpit and cryo-capsules – and us – before he takes a deep breath and retraces his steps down the ramp.
"Looks good."
I wait for a few moments longer before I dare to breath again, feeling my flesh burn from lack of oxygen. A short glance over to Samuel and Lance shows they're feeling the same. This was close!
"So, how do we do it?" Raven mumbles under his breath. The crucial part. Provided the guards still have something up their sleeves, they're bound to act now – or they will be gone. Hicks doesn't look at his partner, his eyes sizing up the small army at the hangar's entry. Alexander Saitchev has already cleared the path for them to shoot by taking cover behind a container to his right. When he finally answers, he's keeping his voice down. Tension flows through his body like electricity.
"Kee, you first." Hearing her footsteps behind his back, he pulls his hostage towards the ship, reaching the end of the ramp. "Raven? You go last. Cover us. If they try something, shoot."
"Pleasure." He grins in Saitchev's direction, who takes on the challenge.
"You know they won't let you leave, Corporal. They can't let you leave. They'll rather kill all of you than letting you escape. This is your last chance to-"
"Why don't you save it for someone who cares?" Hicks suggests. "For Kurtz, maybe? You've lost, and you know it." Halfway up the ramp now. Keisha's already inside. Exhilaration. They've made it! They- a rush of air behind him, and then it all goes to hell!
The girl passes us without even taking up the notion that she isn't alone. She believes it for a full five seconds, until I blink once into Lance's direction, and he snatches her, fast, silently, his hand over her mouth and lifting her off the floor before she can even begin to fight. Not one sound escapes her, and another step back brings the Corporal into my range.
I lunge and seize his hand with the scalpel, pull it from Darwin's throat in the wink of an eye. Expecting him to let go of it, but impossibly he holds on and whirls around to fight me while his hostage dives down the ramp.
"Clear! Shoot!"
The sound of the tazers explodes outside the ship, and I hear Raven scream, followed by a low thud, but can't see what happened. A fist shoots toward my face, and I seize it, too, forcing Hicks's hands down with a grip of steel, twisting his arms until they almost snap. He is no match for me, but even though he realizes it, he continues to struggle, face twisted with fierce effort. Sorry, Corporal – can't let you go! Another fast move and I got him in a deadlock, forcing him down to his knees right behind the cockpit door.
"Got-" I start, but a piercing cry of agony cuts me off and ends with a moist gargle. What the-
"Shoot! Shoot the bastard!" one of the guards is shouting, but I don't hear him, I don't care as I shove my opponent into Samuel's arms and run down the ramp to Alexander's aid. Even in mid-jump, with only a fraction of a second to determine what happened, I know I'm too late: Raven's limp body hangs from my lover's neck like an oversized bulldog, his face not visible under all the blood showering down on him. Alex is on his knees, eyes glazed with shock, his mouth opened wide in a silent scream while he uselessly pummels the fallen giant with his fists. Again the tazers explode all around me, their flashes creating a fierce thunderstorm of electricity when I hit the floor – and crash to the ground, my flesh first burning, then turning numb.
"Don't kill him! Don't-"
"No! No! Alex!" I try to stand up, but my body disobeys. My joints move, but the real muscles and sinew refuse to work, can't stabilize the limbs enough for me to move. I can't reach him, can't help him! I'm forced to see Raven's strong jaws clench one final time, and then the bald head hits the floor with a thud as he comes loose, his teeth still closed around... no. No! I don't want to believe my eyes as I see Alexander collapse on top of the killer, stunned by the tazer shots that hit him, too, a gaping hole in his neck where the blood's spurting out. "Help him!" I yell on top of my voice, meaning everybody – but most of all Darwin. She's the smartest being in the universe, she must be able to do something! She owes me! "Alex!"
Hicks' weak leg gives in and he almost falls, feels strong arms seizing him again from behind and rams back his elbow – into a wall so hard it almost shatters the bone, sending a silver bolt through his arm, and rendering it useless. A surprised grunt, and then the cursed noise of plastic cuffs locking on his wrist – and, with another 'click', on a bar. A low, barely audible noise, but as finite as the crunching sound of a heavy lid being put on top of a coffin. He stops struggling, lets his hands sink, a bitter taste in his mouth. Against all hope, they made it into the ship – and still, they didn't succeed. How could it go so wrong all of a sudden? Their escape was so close... but now, everything has turned into its opposite. Bitterness replaces optimism, despair replaces hope. This was the one change he had, and he blew it. But why here? Why not when they left the elevator shaft, or on the stairs? What kind of a cruel god let them succeed far enough to sniff at freedom, only to yank it away at the last possible moment?
His eyes wander down his arm to the plastic shackle that holds him, and from there to the man opposite him... and Keisha. She has also given up the struggle and just stands there, looking at him. She doesn't cry anymore. Her eyes are calm and dark. She knows what awaits her. She can't hope for mercy. Neither can he.
There's commotion outside the ship now, different voices yelling orders, and one very desperate sounding one he recognizes as the one of the female android. Their two capturers look at each other, and, apparently having decided that their presence is no longer essential here, make for the exit to see whether they can be of help in the hangar. A hollow silence follows their departure. Hicks stares at his young co-conspirator for a moment longer, before determination makes a last reappearance. He yanks back his shackled arm, squeezes his thumb as much towards the middle of his hand as possible and pulls fiercely. It's only plastic, there's got to be a way!
"Save it," Keisha's tonelessly says, sitting down on the floor. Her legs won't carry her any more, and as the initial shock diminishes, the reactions of her body catch up with her and she starts shaking violently. "You can't break them."
He doesn't listen. There has to be a way to free himself yet, to close the ramp and shut them all out and somehow – somehow leave the station behind and… and he's got no pilot. No hostage, either. No way he can force them to give him a pilot. No way to get off. His arms slump at his side. 'Time to face it, soldier: You lost." The bitter voice of reason, finally loud enough make itself heard. 'You played with maximum risk, and it was a nice try – but you lost. Now take it like a man."
The taste in his mouth is bitter as he turns around to meet Keisha's eyes. Another promise he broke. Another one which really counted.
"I'm sorry, Kee…" He's at a loss for words, feeling numb as if somebody hit him over the head. The noise from outside slowly subsides, but he doesn't even hear it. It's not important anymore. Nothing is. He shakes his head and sees an unhappy smile form on the teenager's lips.
"It's okay, Dwayne. I don't blame you. It was my own decision."
There's nothing left to say, nothing left to do. They wait in silence until they finally hear the sounds of footsteps coming their way. The two man – probably synthetics – who set them captive, and a group of guards. No Isis, no Darwin, no Kurtz, no Alexander. They're coming to bring them back to the dungeon. For a brief moment, Hicks actually considers trying to get a hold of one of the rifles to shoot himself, but they're too careful now.
"Samuel will release you now," the guard in the front – his name tag says "Salinas" – barks at him. "Try something, and you'll find we can make things a lot more painful for you."
He doesn't move as the man steps up to him and opens the cuff around the bar to close it around Hicks' other wrist behind his back, his eyes staring unfocussed through the men in front of him at something only he can see. A hand pushes him forward and down the ramp. Trance-like, he steps down, his distant gaze gliding over the hangar, the troops, the ring of humans gathered around someone lying on the floor next to the ramp. Another body's lying right beside it. Raven. Motionless, his face a mask of dried blood. Dead? He must be, or they would have tied him up already – or at least watch him. But nobody is. They're all kneeling around the second man, and from the blue pants he sees sticking out of the tight circle, he knows it's the psychiatrist. A very cynic thought pulses through his mind – "At least one of us kept his promise!" – and vaporizes when he meets the eyes of his android caretaker, who is sitting in a strange, awkward position at the foot of the ramp. A hateful, bitter stare so full of human emotion, it can't possibly belong to a synthetic. It cuts through his trance like a knife, making him wonder in spite of the situation. 'What are you, Isis?' Crouching next to her, holding her bloodied neck is his hostage, likewise looking at him, her face a non-telling, bland mask. Where he expected to see relief or even triumph, there is nothing but iron self-control. What is she thinking? She must have been scared to death, right? Just a few minutes ago, he was about to slash her throat – and yet, with her kidnapper captured and about to be thrown into a cell again, there is not the slightest trace of emotion visible on her face? Who is the synthetic here? Isis – or 'Phooka's brain'? The moment stretches, with neither of them being able to break eye-contact, until the tip of a rifle is jammed against his shoulder blade and breaks the spell.
"Move it, asshole!"
One last, regretful look back. Towards the ship, the sky with all its twinkling stars, towards Keisha, who is slowly being led down the ramp behind him. Upsorbing the images, storing them away in his memories. A short, final nod. Bidding each other farewell. They will never meet again. Not in this life.
***
"I don't care whether you're hurting or not, Darwin! I wouldn't care if your head fell off, if it weren't for the fact that they would somehow put the blame on me. But you can claim this mess entirely for yourself! This time you're going to get the flak you've been deserving for a long time, girl! Just what the hell where you thinking? I explicitly ordered you to stay in Lab 1 until the situation was under control, and what do you do? Run straight over to the west wing and let yourself be captured? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were deliberately trying to help them!"
"Right. I sabotaged the generator! I told Hikahi's little brat to deactivate their PDTs! All because I wanted that freak to cut off my head."
"Your snotty replies are completely uncalled for, Superbrain! Someone died because of your stupidity! Five people, to be exact!"
"Five?"
"Yes, five! The guards on level 10 and Alexander Saitchev. Thanks to you, we lost one of our best men – and someone crucial to the project, as well. As far as screw-ups go, you definitely hit the jackpot with this one. They would have gone nowhere if you hadn't walked right into their waiting arms! I can't wait until Rosselli gets you into his fingers."
"Who told Alexander Saitchev to check on that psycho before he was secured? Why did he have to kneel right beside him? Nobody! It was completely his own fault! He must have known Raven was faking it."
"You know damn well that usually one tazer shot is enough to stun anybody. And Raven caught at least three. That's enough to stop someone's heart. He was being concerned. But of course that's an alien idea to you. And I'm going to ask you this once again, and this time I want an answer: Why did you go to the west wing disobeying my direct order? Just to annoy me? I wouldn't deem it completely beneath you, but there's got to be something more important, or you wouldn't have risked losing your head. What was it?"
Darwin's tone is as condescending as ever, pure arrogance, even though she doesn't have a reason to feel superior. Not in this case. In this case, it's probably the first time I have to agree with Kurtz.
"Believe it or not, I thought I could be of help. I thought you could use someone with more than two brain cells over there."
I can tell this is just the thing to say to Kurtz right now! He's having a field day taking her apart! It's the one occasion he has been waiting for all this time.
"Right! You are perfectly right, Darwin! This was a situation where intelligence was definitely needed. And you were not the one to supply it! You just made an unusual, but potentially serious, situation go critical! Don't you have any idea what you've done? You killed five people!"
No further reply from Darwin. Kurtz goes on, a little lower now, and I sort of listen in on their discussions behind the curtain, but my mind is somewhere else, moving in a loop it can't break: Alexander, eyes glazed with shock, gurgling. The ever-widening red pool around his head and shoulders when they pull him away from Raven and lay him on the floor to stop the bleeding. Noises, frantic yelling all around me, people gathering around him, obstructing my view. I want to stand up, to be at his side, to help him, but I cannot move. The sensation of my numb body. I'm not wounded, but I'm hurting nevertheless. The loop begins again, painstakingly accurate to the last detail, until something comes to my ears which wakes me from my daze. Kurtz again.
"And what was this shit with Isis?"
"What do you mean?"
"Miss Darwin, I cannot stitch you up if you keep moving your head like this!"
"Then excuse us for a minute, Dr. deJoria, but this is important. One minute is all I'm asking."
Footsteps, moving towards the curtain. I turn my head and see the doctor enter my temporary shelter, her face telling that she's glad to get away from the two combatants as she walks up to the bed I'm sitting on.
"Get this off, Isis. I need to look at you."
"It's nothing." Behind the curtain, the noise of the discussion rises again.
"Look, Darwin told me to, and I'll damned well do it. It's enough to have her fight with Kurtz. I'm not going to have her angry with me, too. Now get the suit off!"
"What do you mean "this shit with Isis"?" Darwin asks acidly. "She saved the day, didn't she? You should reward her with a prize or something!"
Kurtzes' voice drops to a threatening grumble:
"You know damn well what I mean! She didn't behave like an android up there! Everybody noticed it! What is she, Darwin?"
"You know what she is. She is a cyborg. Human flesh, artificial mind and skeleton."
"This was no programmed reaction! She acted like a human being! She yelled! I've never heard her yell before! She almost cried! I'm sure if she had the capacity to shed tears she would have done! She was – she behaved as if she were in shock! She still does!"
deJoria looks at me while I strip, and still I can't tell what she's thinking. Behind us, the discussion goes on. I fold the jumpsuit together and stack it neatly on the chair by the bed, noticing a red mark on my left arm and drawing my brows together:
"Nothing, hm?" The doctor shakes her head, and her scrutinizing look is enough to let me see for myself. There are red marks all over my body. Burn marks, where the tazers hit. "Turn around… Okay. Now sit down." She turns to open a drawer on the cabinet behind her. "You were hit at least seven times. It's a wonder you're still…" She probably wants to say "functioning", but thinks otherwise, "you're still up and running." She turns again, cradling a small tube and a handful of bandages. "Do you hurt? Or feel any – you know, anything that's… not working?"
"You mean do I have some loose screws?" I rephrase the question for her in a neutral tone. Maybe I should be annoyed over her choice of words, but right now, I can't summon up the energy to care. All I can think about is what this beast did to my Alexander. It's frightening. 'Yes, Dr. deJoria, something is definitely 'not working'! I think I caught a virus, since I can only think in this one loop. Can you please reprogram me?'
"Reprogram her? Are you mad?" Darwin, finally sounding riled for the first time since I've known her. Did she just pick up my thoughts? "I won't! Forget it! She's my assistant! I programmed her exactly the way I wanted her to be, and if you don't like it, that's just too bad! I am not going to turn her into a mindless robot just because she freaks you out!"
"She freaked everybody out! People will talk about it, and it's only a matter of time until Rosselli hears about it. You know how adamant he is in this regard. You know the law!"
"Don't tell me about the law!" Darwin hisses. "You mean there's actually a law in this universe we didn't already violate on this station? Wasn't this why this place was built in the first place?"
"We both know this, but people are still sensitive towards this android/human issue. Including me. And since I run Phooka, I order you to do something about it, or I'll include this in my report as well and watch them burn you!"
I listen intently while the doctor works on me, and feel something else crawl its way from my CPU down my spine. I can't put a name on it, but I don't like it. It feels cold and settles in the middle of my body, sitting there as if I just took a deep swig of liquid nitrogen.
"Isis?" deJoria's stern face hovers in front of me, her brows drawn together in puzzlement. "Are you sure you're alright?"
I look down on her work – white bandages on my arms, the middle of my rump, my left thigh, and don't know what to answer. What is that hot, throbbing sensation in my body? What am I supposed to do with that? What's the reason for it? It's keeping my already unfocussed mind from concentrating on the things at hand, something I can't afford right now. I never felt anything like it.
"What's all that for?"
"You've got second degree burns, Isis. I applied some ointment and hope that will do the job. After all, your flesh is real, isn't it?" I nod vaguely. "So, it should heal up normally. If you were human, I would keep you here for the night at least, but since you're more… robust, I think we can spare you the experience. I just have to ask you to come back this evening for me to have another look at it. Okay?"
"Okay."
"If you feel anything strange, or … hurt, come back sooner, and I'll see what I can do. You promise me that?"
"Yes." I feel numb, apart from the stinging sensation from the marks and that coldness in my middle. then, out of the blue, a question hits me. "What about Raven?"
deJoria looks confused.
"Raven? Why do you ask?"
"Did they kill him?" I don't know why I'm asking you this, doctor. I just know I need to know! "Is he dead?" I want him to be!
"No. He's severely burned, and we had to resuscitate him on the way down, but he's in the operating room now. Hikahi's fixing his PDT."
I chew on this for a moment, not wanting to believe what I just heard. They revived the pig?
"And what about the marine?"
"He's sitting in the next room. Shackled, of course, and there are three guards with him. As far as I know, he's next in line. We can't let something like this happen again, can we? I only wish I knew what got into Keisha…God knows what they will to do with her… that girl is so confused. If you ask me, she did it out of desperation. There wasn't much for her here. And now…" She doesn't finish her sentence and takes a step back, giving me an approving nod. "Good. That's it. You can put the suit on again and go get some rest. I suppose you have some use for it. And now I'm going to stitch up your boss – if she lets me."
She leaves me standing and disappears behind the curtain while I numbly reach for my jumpsuit. Judging by the silence in Medical, Kurtz has left. Good. I don't feel like putting up with him tonight anymore… or what's left of the night. It's almost morning. I pull up the zipper – I'm still cold – and step through the curtain. deJoria just puts the needle back and reaches for another bandage, throwing me a brief glance, which I barely notice. Darwin's piercing blue eyes pin me, her face showing neither sorrow, nor pain, nor compassion. Her stare is as cold as my insides. As cold as her voice when she finally speaks.
"You heard him, Isis, didn't you? If you give Kurtz just one more reason, he will do it. Get yourself together. Quit this 'I'm so human' crap! You aren't. Get it in your head!" No word of compassion, or thanks. No "Thanks for saving my head, Isis!". If anything, she looks threatening. After everything that happened last night, she's turning against me? Why? How? I saved her life! My seemingly infinite processing capabilities refuse to compute her behavior. Am I crashing? Total system error? What is happening with me? I can't even think of a reply to her question.
"Do we have an understanding, Isis?"
Her stare is merciless.
"Yes," I finally manage to mumble, all my systems running amok.
Error! Error!
Alexander.
Death.
Pain.
Alexander.
Death.
Pain.
Alexander.
Death. –
I must leave at once, before she notices. Using the last remains of my fading control, I put on a bland voice for her. "Yes, Darwin. I understand. – Do you still need me, or can I leave?"
"You can leave for now. But stay where I can find you."
I give her the acknowledging nod she demands and leave Sickbay behind me, my once superior mind crumbling to dust with each passing second now…
***
Three days have passed. Three days of confinement in a narrow, empty cell. No illusos to entertain the mind or keep it off his heavy pondering, no entertainment center or even false paintings or windows on the walls. Nothing but naked, cold steel, a sparse bunk bed, an empty table, a food dispenser in the wall and a small bathroom that doesn't even deserve the name. Not a soul to talk to, be it in holo-form or in person. No one to answer his urgent questions, no way to work out the destructive mood. The silence is oppressive. This is his sentence. Isolation. They're trying to bore him out of his skull.
Hicks hardly cares. All that's left for him to do now is wait for whatever is to come. He just wished he knew what they did to Keisha. He doesn't feel sorry for himself. Lord knows he's had it coming. By all rights he should have perished at Hadley's Hope. These past weeks, they have been nothing more than an undue prolongation of his life, worthless, joyless, pointless. Given the choice, he would have preferred to die in the tunnel and spare himself the long, hard way back into life, only to land in another kind of death cell… after having destroyed another young life. He shuts his eyes. He can take isolation.
Today though, it seems they are taking a new approach. They shut off the water, and the food dispenser doesn't work, either. He'd had his breakfast at eight o'clock, but now it's already after 4:00 p.m., and still he hasn't hear the bright 'Ping' or seen the green lamp light which usually indicates something's waiting for him inside. Some more of this half-cold, mushy, tasteless something they've been feeding him these past few days – another part of his sentence, no doubt – that probably contains everything to sustain your body, but almost makes you gag. But there was no lunch today. No 'Ping', no green light. At first he didn't care. But when he got thirsty an hour later, and the damn thing wouldn't even supply him with a glass of water, he finally felt that something was wrong. He had wandered into the little bathroom niche to drink some water from the sink, only to discover that it also didn't work. A malfunction, or did they suddenly decide to starve him, or let him die of thirst?
He had gone and done his little act in front of the camera, telling them to come down and fix the problem, and then continued to spend the day in forced apathy as he did for the better part of the three days, lying on his back, head resting on his folded arms, and going into his mind to see something other than the naked ceiling or the surveillance camera hovering over him. But as hard as he tried, he just couldn't dig deep enough into his memories to come up with any nice events. Like, his last days at home? Mental images of his friends back there? Nope. Zip. All that comes to him are the scenes from the flight deck over and over again, and the expression on Keisha's face when it was over. This is going to stay with him for as long as he lives. She decided to take her chance with him, and he failed her. But was it his fault? It was a very good attempt, wasn't it? If it hadn't been for that android, they would be God-knows-where by now, several systems away from this place. The only mistake he made, as far as he can tell, was not going in to check out the ship himself. Maybe he would have sniffed the trap. Maybe he would have seen what Raven failed to see – even if he has to admit that the illuso-technology on this station is beyond anything he has ever seen. No, it was a good attempt, and it was a good parade on Kurtz' part. He did his best and it wasn't enough, that's it. No need for useless ego-bashing.
He manages to spend a couple more hours pondering his heavy thoughts, but when the clock proceeds to 6:00pm without anyone showing up, he finally decides he's had enough. Instead of begging for it, he's going to force them to take notice of him one way or another. How about robbing them of their sight? With a provoking grin, he steps in front of the camera and takes his shirt off.
"Hey, Big Brother? You know what? Eat me!" He throws the shirt over the lens and nods to himself, satisfied. "Camera malfunction, huh? Ain't technology a bitch?"
"Remove the shirt." It's a male voice, and it sounds tired. Annoyed. Yeah! Finally, a reaction! Hicks cracks a grin to himself. Small are his victories these days, but he still knows how to enjoy them. "Right now!"
"What if I don't?" An awkward pause. The guy probably doesn't know what to say. "No supper and no drink for me today? Forget it – I already have that." He returns to his bed and rests his back against the wall.
"Remove it!"
"Fuck you! Do it yourself!" He leans back and waits. Exactly ten minutes later, the familiar hiss of the door indicates the success of his strategy. A satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, but it dies when he sees his visitor. Of course. It had to be her, right? No one else available on this station, or what? Upon her entry, a bright line forms on floor and ceiling, and he knows a stasis shield has been activated around his bed, keeping him there. They're actually afraid of him! Does that count as another victory?
He watches as the synthetic steps up to the camera to pull the shirt off.
'Okay,' I sigh inwardly. So this is why they called me in the middle of my down-time, huh? To play baby-sitter for our stubborn, angry marine. Just because they're scared of facing him themselves? Or to annoy me? Do they think I can't wait to see him again after what he did three days ago? I stretch, pluck the shirt from the lens and lay it on the table.
"Don't you think that's a bit immature?" His eyes examine me. I don't know what he's looking for and just give it back to him. Not challenging, no. I know the chances of us still becoming best buddies after all that happened are miniscule, but I'm not going to blow them by giving him further reason, even if he seems to be looking for a battle.
"Why? Are you afraid I'll catch a cold?" I don't honor this remark with an answer. "It did the trick, didn't it?" He nods in the general direction of the food dispenser. "The damned thing's not working. Neither is the water in the bath. You wanna starve me now, or will you do something about it?"
I wait for a moment of intense contemplation. Should I tell him or not? I ruined his escape, so I probably can't sink any lower in his eyes. What did Alexander – Alexander – tell me once? 'Honesty wins friends'? I doubt that this will be the case here, but… I'll probably piss him off even more if I lied to him again. So, see whether you like this, Corporal!
"It is working. It's just shut off."
"Oh…" He nods to himself in confirmation, no doubt searching for another sarcastic remark he can throw my way. "So you wanna starve me indeed."
"They are going to come for you tonight. That's why. It is your turn now, and they don't want you to mess up their clean table." There now. It's all out. Swallow or spit it out, I don't care.
He has already opened his mouth for a reply, has already taken the breath he needs to spit his sarcastic answer right into my face – but nothing comes. His mouth closes again without a sound coming from him. I stunned him into silence. Very well. I turn to leave, when, after clearing his throat, he finally remembers how to use his voice.
"Tonight, huh? When?"
I turn again.
"Around midnight."
He nods, his face a pale mask, his voice toneless. A brief glance over to the clock. A predictable action. 'Checking how many hours remain in your miserable life, huh? Are you afraid now, Super-Soldier? As afraid as Alexander was in his last moments of life?' I can't help it, I feel a certain satisfaction.
"What will they do with me?"
"Turn you into something better?" I offer. His eyes pin me. "Wouldn't that be in your best interest? Be all you can be? Isn't that the USCM's motto?" The green eyes narrow, and I think for a moment he will try to jump at me even though he must have noticed that the shield is activated, but he reconsiders and does something I didn't expect: He smiles. It's not a friendly smile.
"What is that? A bitter android? You want revenge?"
'I AM NOT AN ANDROID!' I yell at him – but only in my head. Don't show your anger, Isis! Don't show him your weak spot!
"Why? Do you think you're the only one who has a right to feel bitter?"
He's still holding eye-contact.
"I don't know. What reason would you have? I didn't kill him. Raven did. You androids always pride yourselves with your accuracy, so you should have gotten this fact right."
Oh, he certainly knows how to infuriate me. But where is my usual calm, sensible, merciless intelligent self now that I need it most? Why is my head in an uproar? Why can't I think?
"It was because of you the pig even got the chance! And because of that dumb kid! You are responsible, whether you like it or not!" I take a step closer, hands closed to fists. He looks astonished – and amused. Amused?
"That's quite an impressive show, Isis. But I don't buy it. You're not human, even if you believe that part of you is."
"What?" How dare he!
"I wouldn't want to lower myself to that level."
"Whoever wrote your software did a pretty good job, but you can't fool me. It's just like all this other crap you gave me. God, you're so plump! Do you really think by isolating me and giving me food and stuff, that you'd become my friend?" A short, dry laugh. Maybe I should switch of the stasis barrier and kill him myself. "I ain't no dog, Isis! You can't condition me! You're so terribly inadequate as a human being, and yet you're so convinced of yourself, it's a riot! You think you're so much better than us, right? And you think you can imitate us whenever you choose to? That's downright hilarious! You don't have the faintest idea what it means to be human."
His laughter is 100% pure insult. Until three days ago, I would have left and not wasted another second on him. Until three days ago. Now, I can't even think of an appropriate retort. Something to shut him up with, just like a minute ago. Can't leave, either.
"You can laugh as much as you like, Corporal! I doubt you'll be laughing in about six hours from now!"
"Probably," he agrees, still smiling. "But you know what? You'll never laugh! Not really. And you'll never be angry. Or hopeful. Or whatever. Because you don't 'feel'. You just 'do'. You follow your programming. You don't know what makes us tick, why we do the things we do. You don't know about despair... or pain... or love! Courage. Hope. Friendship. Compassion. You don't have the slightest idea what any of these mean! You don't have a free will, or a mind of your own. You think you're enraged about that guy's death? You aren't. Let's face it. You're just 'functioning' within the limits they define. They would never allow you to become fully human, or act fully human. They didn't invent you synthetics to mirror them. They created you as their faithful, obedient, always dependable... slaves. Someone who'd do their dirty work for them. All the shit they don't want to mess with themselves. Among us two, you are the dog! All that you are, all that you're doing, was written by others. By humans even! Damn, that must be an insult to you! You may think you're genuine, but you're all false. Your brilliant mind was written by an inferior being! You're just a copy of human behavior, and a bad one, too. You're the one to pity here, not me."
"That's all I ever wanted," I manage to say, even though I feel the words are far too weak even as I'm speaking them. His words bounce around in my head. Burning. Worsening 'the problem'. "Your pity. Thank you very much." Sarcasm, yes. But why do I have the feeling I spilled something to him I didn't intend to? I have to leave, or – I don't know. Anything could happen. Anything.
"You're welcome."
He doesn't even acknowledge my being sarcastic. I turn, this time for good. I can't take any more of this. I can't put up with him any longer.
"Oh, just in case you want to do the shirt-trick again," I manage to say in a cold, clipped tone, while the door opens for me, "- they'll strap you to the bed. Or take away your clothes. Just for your information."
"Thank you, Isis."
The door locks behind me and cuts him off before he can utter more insulting shit. I turn towards the elevators, feeling mentally exhausted, his words still echoing in my head. I'm a slave? A dog? A bad copy? – The real hurt, surprisingly, comes from a different direction: I agree with him! He is right! It explains the way Darwin's been treating me for those past nine weeks – I'm nothing but a puppet to her! A means to get her will done! – No! What am I thinking? What is this shit? It must be a virus. I can't actually be thinking this! I can't go on like that! I have to talk to Darwin about this. She has to help me.
She's gone. He'd managed to get past her superior, detached attitude for a moment and insult her, and it was a deep, unexpected satisfaction - but her blow was harder. Hicks' gaze wanders from the closed door upwards. Finds the clock again, where the minute's just changed. 6.38pm. They will come for him in less than six hours. Six hours left before he'll pass the gates of hell. Six hours left to think. To wait for it. Six hours left to live. He won't waste them with sleep. He'll wait for them.
His stare goes straight through the clock, unseeing. He needs to leave it all behind him now. Fear. Despair. Anger. All futile. All worthless. He knew all along this would happen. It's hardly come as a surprise. And since he can't change it, he might as well accept it. Make his peace. Whatever's out there waiting for him, behind the horizon, it can't be worse than what's behind him. Maybe it's much better. Maybe it's even worth looking forward to. Maybe this is the trick to accepting his fate.
***
"-s it look?"
"He's sleeping. Safe and sound. What did you expect?"
Light. A bright white super-nova. He senses it through his still closed eyelids… and finds that he can't open them. The sound of footsteps nearing his bed, but through a wall of padding so thick, it's almost as if the noise is coming from another dimension. Just when did he fall asleep? Didn't he want to wait for them? Or is this a dream?
"His vitals are good. We've got about 30 minutes. Let's get to it."
"Ready when you are?"
"Just be careful with him. He's valuable."
A commotion of at least three different voices, two male one female. He can't put names to them. They're there, swimming in and out of focus, just like the rest of his sensations. It's like coming out of narcosis after surgery.
'Bastards drugged me,' he manages to think, one clear notion before it all swims apart again. Strong hands lift his upper body, and through the cloud surrounding his mind he feels his arms fall limply to the sides as if he were a corpse. 'How did they do it?' The noise and distant sensation of fabric rushing over his skin as they begin to strip him. Another attempt of his inner alarm to sound off is strangled by the drug. He's still aware of what's going on – 'My turn now...' – but his mind's too far out to feel any concern about it. They've come to – what? Plant a second head on his shoulders? Lay open his brain and plaster it with electrodes? Inject him with stuff to turn him into Superman, which will ultimately make him implode? A whiff of cold air rushes over his bare body and makes him shiver, but otherwise, he's doing a-okay. He really figured this to be worse. 'It'll become worse… don't worry.'
"Ready to move him? One… two…three!"
A brief moment of uneasiness. The feeling of being levitated.
'I'm flying…'
The notion ends when his naked skin comes in contact with a cold, hard surface.
"Pull him down a bit? Okay. Strap him down." A short mechanical click can be heard, then another one. Four, no, five, one directly underneath his head "Got the blanket? Good." Something's being draped over him and warms him in an instant. An unconscious smile. This is not feeling bad at all…
"Got everything?" A muffled answer. "Okay. Let's haul ass. They're waiting for us."
They're moving again, and from the feeling he gets, not too slowly. The noise of parting doors, then they stop again.
"Level 1. No music."
Vertical movement. Must be the elevator. Finally. One-way ticket to nirvana. 'Can I upgrade to First Class?'
"How's he doing?"
Bright light explodes in his brain when his eyelids are lifted and a beam of light blinds him.
"Still out. His pupils are as big as dinner plates. See?"
'Hey! I'm right here! I can hear you! Don't talk about me as if I wasn't here!' Hicks means to say, but his tongue feels like a lifeless object in his mouth. Vaguely annoyed over the state he's in, he relaxes again, trying to empty his head. To not think about what will happen to him. But the images are there, in his subconscious. Fuzzy, indistinct, two-dimensional images that still don't bother him too much in this sort of half-conscious coma, but he knows what they'll become once the drug's out of his system. The movement stops, and he hears the doors part again.
"Think he'll pull through?" one of the male voices drifts in from the right.
'Pull through what?'
"You know, he's still not in prime condition. The others were, and yet they still didn't make it. I can't help wondering… maybe it's too early for this guy. It's hard to get suitable material. We shouldn't waste what we have just because that little bitch is getting impatient."
"I'm sure that little bitch is perfectly aware of what she's doing." The other voice sounds icy. "And if you let her hear that or start discussing her decision with her she'll have your ass for a late-night snack, I guarantee you that."
The leaden drowsiness that covers his body like a blanket seems to be a little lighter now. The voices are more distinct, and he hears a few more details again… like the humming of the gurney he's obviously lying on, the pneumatic hiss of another door and the intensified light from the ceiling. His body obeys enough to raise his eyelids for a tenth of a second now. Long enough to establish that they've left the corridors with their energy-saving nightly illumination and entered the realm of… yeah, of what, exactly?
"Okay, get him over there. Good." The of sound his restraints being opened. "On three. One… two… three." Finally, a voice he recognizes even in this dazed state. Darwin. The little witch is going to finally have her way with him. An opportunity to get even for cutting her up and putting her through fear and misery. This must be such a triumph…
They lift him again, and again the surface they lay him down on is cold, only this time, the sensation is more distinct. He manages to blink again and grimaces. Too bright… it's too fucking bright. The light's searing his eye-nerves!
"He's waking. Secure him."
Click. Directly under his chin. And something presses against his temples like… big screws? Click-click. Further down. His arms, probably. Click-click. His ankles. Even through the fog surrounding his brain, he begins to worry. They've all but nailed him to the table. Because they're afraid? Simple precaution? Or – 'Because it's gonna hurt like hell, idiot!' Probably the truth. 'They'll cut you up and lay you open, and poke around in your intestines, and they can't have you move around and scream like heck, right? Maybe they'll even sever your vocal cords before they begin, huh? Spare their ears the agony.' Proportional to the effect of the drug wearing off, the ice block in his stomach grows. 'Hey, do with me what you want, but at least give me the 'happy pill, okay?' He climbs to the surface of his consciousness and actually manages to open his eyes for more than a second – starts to think up the words for his plea – when his chin is being seized and his neck stretches backwards when something underneath it rises. They pry open his mouth and force something in before he can utter his protest. A tube. Wandering down his throat. He gags, going into panic-mode. 'Can't breathe! Can't-" They're impregnating me with one of these things, it's not a tube at all, it's a facehugger, help-me-HELP-ME-HELPME!!!
"Vitals?"
"PDT's online. Vitals looking good. Strong. He's getting a bit anxious. The sedative's wearing off."
"Okay. Mariah, we need that rapid infuser. Now."
Air's being forced into his lungs in a rhythm that's not his, and now the distinct sensation of pain coming from his arms. Little stings. Tubes and needles invading his body. More than he can count. They're hooking him up to their instruments. A feeling like being raped. He wants to scream, and feels he could again, too, but for the damned tube in his throat! A new, major pain comes from his neck. They're cutting him up! They're- what are they doing? His eyes snap open, and this time, they stay open – to offer him an image like those supposed alien-abductees from the late 20th and early 21st century always described in unison: A ring formed by figures in pale green frocks, complete with facemasks and the full surgical gear. Busy with him, muttering to each other behind those masks without him being able to understand a single word through the thunder of his heartbeat. The scene has a decidedly unreal quality. It's has to be a nightmare! He'll wake up any second and find himself still lying on the bed and-
"Hello, Corporal." That blonde bitch. Actually smiling at him! Not maliciously, no. In a purely professional 'Hello, I'm Darwin, your doctor. How can I help you?'-way. He didn't notice last time how young she's still looking. Like a teenager. The cruelest teenager in the whole wide universe, with an entire station built for her entertainment? "So we meet again at last."
He notices the bandage on her neck, but it doesn't give him any satisfaction. He should have cut her throat while he had the chance. Now, she's going to make him bleed.
"Rapid infuser applied and working."
Making a mental note to himself to never hesitate again should the future present him with another chance, he attempts to take a peek down to see what they did to his neck, and sees another, wider tube leading towards an apparatus of uncertain function. The tube is red with his blood flowing through it. The sight makes his skin crawl. What are they doing? Replace it? With what? So many questions, so much rage, and all cut off by the fucking thing in his throat! Steps lead around the head-end of the table, and he takes his eyes from the disturbing sight to follow Darwin's way over to the left side, unable to move his head. A wall of instruments with scales, lights and gauges is behind him, blinking, beeping, documenting whatever's going on in his body without emotion, pity or mercy. In front of the wall, hanging into his vision and leading up to a variety of bottles are several IV-lines, which Darwin now carefully examines to finally select one of the lines. He notices a syringe with dark contents in her hand and feels an icy chill race down his spine. This has to be it. The stuff that will turn him into – what? A bloody pulp? A screaming mess? Superman? Super-Whatever? A monster? His muscles tense.
"Everybody ready? You know what you have to do?"
He can't see the others reactions, but Darwin seems to be satisfied. She opens the line and inserts the needle. Turns her head to look at him while she presses the plunger down. Smiling. The clear liquid in the bottle turns dark gray.
"One day, you'll thank me for this, Corporal. I know it." She retracts the empty syringe and closes the line again, before she notices his tenseness and gently strokes his hair. "Don't be afraid. Just let it happen."
He doesn't hear her. Doesn't see her. His eyes are glued to the tube. A first dark drop starts to make his way down into his system. Another 60 cm left until it will reach the vein in the pit of his elbow. Another 60 cm before he'll be changed forever. 55 now.
"How's he doing?" Still near him.
"Heartbeat's a bit fast, but other than that, everything's completely normal. I think it's perfectly understandable."
Again her hand on his head. Stroking him reassuringly. As if he were a pet. A dog, maybe.
"Just relax. It'll be much easier if you just relax. Nothing will happen to you. We're here to help you. It may be a little uncomfortable now, but if you just accept it, you will come out of it stronger. Much stronger. You will be the first super-soldier this universe has ever seen! A prototype. Others will envy you. Just let it in, don't fight it."
25 cm. Almost there. He struggles, but can't move an inch, except for his hands clenching into fists. Screams without a sound. 20 cm. 15. 10.
"Don't fight it, Hicks…"
Out of his sight. It must enter his system right now. Will he feel it? Will it feel hot? Cold?… Different? Will he notice if he's not himself anymore? He would hold his breath, but the ventilator doesn't let him. His gaze goes up, and he freezes at the sight of more dark gray running down.
"Isis! You are late! Can you tell me why? You knew we'd do it tonight."
An unintelligible answer, followed by another outburst. Hicks hears it through the roaring of his blood in his ears and doesn't care. Doesn't care, because it's starting… The sensation of – something - moving up inside his arm. Passing his shoulder. Using the highways of his arteries to spread, to invade his body like a virus. It burns! Muscles start twitching in reaction, nerve-ends fire up their signals. It's happening. It's happening!
"Heartbeat's increasing! 130 now! Temperature at 38 °C! It's started!"
The blonde's face reappears in his vision, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Come on, don't fight it, Hicks! Just let it in. Accept it."
Her face is a huge, pale moon in his orbit. He sees every detail of it as if through a magnifying glass. The thin, slightly curved lips. Unpainted. The soft, faultless skin, giving her youth away in spite of the much older, diamond-hard expression in her fair blue eyes. An unexpected glimpse of bitterness behind the facade of excitement. What the-
Out of the blue, he sees her through a tunnel, impossibly far away even though her face was hovering right above him just a moment ago. Her eyebrows are drawn together, and she moves her lips in what seems to be a question directed at him – the words sounding somewhat like "Are you okay?", stretched in an impossible slow-motion – and he wants to scream "No, I'm not okay! How could I be okay? – except there is still this tube in his throat. But even if it weren't – there is the sickening sensation of something slowly seeping into his brain now like… like thick chocolate syrup. The feeling of being watched… of being probed… from the inside! Of an awareness invading him, saturating his mind, scanning his body and taking it over, another awareness so alien, it makes his skin crawl… except it doesn't. First his voice, then his muscles… and now not even the most basic reflexes work anymore! His eyes – he can't blink! He's still seeing through them, but as if he were looking through a window. Panic stretches its night-black wings in the little corner of his mind that is still his, a panic so profound, a fear so primal, it would have stopped his heart – if it hadn't been hijacked as well! He screams in absolute terror… and doesn't utter a single sound.
His mind, he feels it expand, not in size, his mind expands in scope. He can't cope, doesn't understand, can't control dizzying expansion, he sinks into blackness.
The queen is careful this time. She had been lying dormant for some time, resting from the efforts of procreation, and swimming in her memories for recreation, visiting long gone times and incidents – when another glitch in the stream had occurred. Something was connecting, tenuously, weakly, to the stream. Another one of the weak, soft-shelled things invading her territory. She could feel the gentle touch via the sub-space transceiver embedded in her neural net, not that she knew what this was, all she knew was a connection was being formed with her mind.
The first time it happened, she had been too hasty, too greedy for information, and the nanobots in the creature's bloodstream, eager to provide a path for her, had virtually ripped it apart. The second time, she attempted to restrain her power, knowing how vital the data could prove for her hive's survival, but once again the body had been too weak to resist her examination for more than barely the beginning of the scan. This time, she knows she has to succeed. She doesn't know if there will be another chance if she doesn't, so her thoughts reach out with the utmost caution, caressing the being's mind, lighter than air… scanning it. Trying to understand it. Searching for answers… for weaknesses… for the one piece information that will help them to escape.
"Hicks? Hicks, do you hear me? Press my hand if you do!" I turned up late, but know exactly what I have to do. I know my task and feel Darwin's gaze on me. I push everything that was keeping me occupied until I came here back into storage and focus on the task at hand. Hicks is waking again, but so far he doesn't respond to my addressing him. He doesn't even blink, even though his eyeballs must be feeling dry by now. His pupils are glued to a point on the ceiling, neither widening nor narrowing. Dead man's eyes. It's happening again. Darwin believed she finally found the glitch, but here we go again. I can see her already pale face turning even whiter as she observes the marine's readouts changing from 'normal' to 'crazy' in just a few seconds. We are going to lose our prime testing object, as well, and there is nothing we can do about it. I pick up a wad of gauze and dab away at the thin river of blood which has started to flow from his nose. Cellular breakdown. Nothing we can do about it. "You hang in there, okay?" I address him, trying to wake his fighting spirit like Darwin told me to, but I'm not believing in it. They're nothing more than empty words. In about an hour, what's left of him will be put into another black bag and carried to the furnace. Another mess to clean up. Another night of staying up and looking for answers. I'm beginning to wonder whether we will ever find them. I look down again. His face starts to twitch, single muscles even I wouldn't know how to strain. It's the same all over again.
His tongue presses against his gums. Examines the roof of his mouth. His molars. Continues to his front teeth. Slowly. Methodically. Without him doing it! All he can do is sit in this dark pit, this little cave of his mind and watch his body answering to commands he isn't giving. A human puppet. The ultimate nightmare. He can't move, but he can still feel: the sensation of his tongue inquisitively pressing against the plastic tube in his mouth. The feeling of muscles twitching in response to little electric jolts from the inside. Of his fingers flexing, one by one, and then returning to their normal position. The pain of blood vessels bursting, of body fibers over-stretching and ripping, only to be repaired in the next moment. Of his eyes, focusing and refocusing, as if he were but a camera, his eyelids fluttering a couple of times, before they're kept open again. The backs of his eyes are hurting. A blue glow suddenly surrounds the faces looking down on him, then his vision changes again and the bright black-and white sears his eye-nerves. His hearing becomes first muffled, then picks up sound from the far side of the room, then changes again only to the sound of different voices directly at his side. Uttering noises he can't even apply a language to, in frequencies he can't wrap his mind around. All that's left for him to do is sit around in the prison of his body and wait for it to be over. He prays it will be soon when he feels his tongue go for the tube in his throat again.
This thing is not part of the being. She's learned enough about it to feel that now, enough to know what it does. It is feeding the creature oxygen. The principle is familiar to her, but she doesn't sense the being responsible for it. If it's not of her kind, then it has to be different. Different means enemy. Breeding in a being that could hold the key to her survival! She can't let this happen.
"What is he doing?" Darwin sounds as puzzled as I'm feeling as I watch the Corporal's tongue move in his mouth, examining the tube again. Suddenly, he bites down hard, so hard his jaw muscles stand out and every muscle in his neck strains with effort. "No!" She lunges for the outside part of the tube, just as Hicks bites right through the plastic! "Isis, help me! We must get it out!"
He starts to gag. I don't care what damage I cause when I break open his jaws and rip the long piece of plastic from his trachea. Something snaps, but before I can start wondering what, his teeth lock again with brutal force, almost biting off my finger.
"Got it!" His head, which I believed to be securely fixed to the table, snaps around to look at me – with those dead eyes of his. The bright sound of a screw flying out of its setting and hitting the console behind. Another violent jerk, and his head is free!
The being is under attack. It is weak, its body painfully inaccurate and almost falling apart under her control, but maybe she can save it nevertheless. She issues a series of commands which, transparent to her mind, enters the stream in the form of binary data.
"Isis!" From the corners of my eyes I see Darwin inject more sedative into the IV-line, just as, with a single move, Hicks' arm comes loose, the sharp edges of the busted metal restraints scratching off the skin. It shoots out at me so fast, I can barely avoid it. The line is being ripped from his arm, and blood spatters on the blanket still covering him. A violent move, and the other arm's free as well. His sudden power is frightening … but yet more frightening is this dead, bland expression on his face. No signs of rage, or effort, or anything!
"What do you want me to do?"
"Can you hold him down, while I – watch it!"
The restraints around his legs burst, too, and now all that holds him on the table is the one around his waist. I throw myself at him – and meet resistance.
The body is getting harder to control. She can almost taste the substance suddenly flooding its veins, its molecular constituents a clear picture in her mind. She's trying her best, but control is slipping from her with each passing moment now. Yet, she refuses to give up.
"Sam, take his arm! His arm! You-!" The loud groan of tortured steel, and suddenly, he's free! Against four people trying to hold him down! Three of us synthetics! With a violent move, he shakes off Sanchez, the guard who was assigned to this project just in case of an emergency. This certainly is one, but I bet he never counted on experiencing something like this. "Dwayne! Dwayne! Calm down! Do you hear me? Do-" He flings me against the wall with shattering force, and while the combination of impact and that new sensation – pain – momentarily stun me, I see him break free, his bare feet touch the floor, and he stumbles forward like a drunk. One step, two, and then all sense of balance leaves him and he hits the floor with a thud, not even the reflex of stretching out his arms to catch his fall working anymore. He falls flat on his face.
"Hold him down!" Darwin yells, moving in with another syringe, while we others scrape ourselves up from the floor and try again. I feel reminded of video footage from an old, human sport. 'American Football', I remember they called it. What we are doing here looks so amazingly similar, I feel the insane desire to laugh. But the fierce force the Corporal is still fighting us with is not funny.
"Hurry up, Darwin," I shout, one hand in his hair, the other pressing against his back, and see her plunge the needle into Hicks' hip, emptying the entire load into his system – enough to bring down an elephant! Enough to kill any human being! Another fit of fierce resistance… and suddenly, the body shudders beneath me.
The fight is lost. It's impossible to control the creature any longer. She doesn't know enough about it yet to find a way to overcome the effect of the substance, even if the nanobots are doing their best to disintegrate it, to split it up into its various components. There are not enough of them yet to work anywhere near fast enough. They multiply as fast as they can, rearranging the body according to their needs, but they are still too few. All she can do now is collect as much data as possible until the body is spent. She pulls her attention from the creature's limbs – and heads straight for its data base.
From his temporary shelter in the back of his mind, Hicks watches passively the fight of his hijacked body against its restraints. He feels it go to heck all around him, but what's left of his conscious is too dazed to care much. Very close to shutting down permanently. Finally. Can't be long now. The prospects don't frighten him. Not after experiencing this nightmare. He just wants to pull down the shutters and go to sleep, but just as he gets ready to let go, he's suddenly catapulted back into his body, and the sudden change is another shock! For a second, he feels the weight of the others pressing him to the floor, the leaden drowsiness caused by the sedative and – somewhere underneath it all – an all consuming, stinging-throbbing-pulsing pain from his abused body, sees someone kneeling right in front of him – And then his vision caves in again and explodes into a wild frenzy of pictures. A surprised grunt is all he's capable of before the storm of images devours him.
"What is it?"
"I don't know. BP's hitting rock bottom! Get him back on the table!"
The creature's data base is large, it's undergone a sophisticated learning process, not what she expected at all. But it could still be useful – if she finds the key to deciphering it. As for now, all she can do in the short time she suspects is left for her to complete her task, is download whatever she finds and review it in depth later on. However unlikely it is that such a life-form carries something of importance to her race in its mind, she has to try.
"They are going to come for you tonight, Dwayne."
"Please... don't die."
"Do it, please! Don't let me burn."
"He's going into arrest! We're losing him!"
"- cc's Supra! Move it!"
"They've come to kill us, Bishop!"
"Where is she? Where is she? Ripley??!!"
"-must get her to Medical!"
"I don't wanna die like Apone!"
"De-Fib! Charging-"
Ripley's blood-streaked face. Newt, crying. Keisha, eyes wide, shocked. Isis-Raven-Kurtz. Phooka. Flight deck. Atmosphere processor. Driving rain. Cold. Darkness. Screeching metal. Hissing. – Replay. And again. Gun shot. Flying acid. Angry squealing. – Replay. And again. Replay. Alien charging. Replay.
"Clear!"
Pain! A bolt of white fire in her mind! She screeches. Holds on. Almost done.
"No pulse."
"Charging again –"
"She didn't make it."
"I found the Sarge! He's still alive! Look!"
"You want me to grease him?"
"It was wounded. It must've… healed itself."
Replay.
"It must've… healed itself."
Replay.
He's leaking. There's a hole in his brain spilling his memories into the void. Emptying out his head. He slaps mental palms over it, but can't stop the flood.
"Clear!"
Another flash. This time, she lets go. It's enough. She has enough to keep her busy for the time being. This thing has encountered her race before. She heard her off-spring scream in its mind. She needs to find out more. But not now. There will be another chance.
"Got a pulse!"
"Mariah?"
"Sedative's almost cleared from his blood. He should be okay now."
"Isis?"
It doesn't take me more than a second to check the eight readouts that cover my territory.
"He's still in shock, and there's been internal bleeding, but the ruptures seem to be closing. Some broken bones, too, but they're also starting to heal. He's already recovering. Incredible." I meet Darwin's gaze and finally see that first spark of triumph in her eyes. Yes! The first successful combination of human and alien DNA, and she was its engineer! She's got her place in the history books now. I turn towards the instruments again, pretending to watch them. I don't want her to see my expression right now. For the time when she needed me, I was able to focus, but now my thoughts return to the discussion I had with my maker just prior to coming here. The discussion that made me turn up late. To say I'm in an inner turmoil would be an understatement – I'm deeply shaken. First the encounter with the corporal and the ugly truth he threw right into my face, and then Rogue. I contacted him even before our scheduled meeting because I needed his reassurance, his understanding – and yet, impossibly, he unhinged me even more! All that I knew, all that I've counted on, depended upon, has been turned upside down. And for the first time in my existence, I'm afraid. Yes, I am. Even if Hicks told me I would never know the feeling, I'm sure I do now. I'm afraid because I know what Kurtz will do with me once he finds out what's wrong with me. And Darwin, too! I'm glad I didn't tell her, that I spoke to Rogue, first, because how could there be a way for her to accept the truth?
"-sis?" I look up, puzzled. Caught.
"Yes?" Her stare seem to go right through me. Just a few days ago, I was able to daydream and listen to discussions at the same time. Not anymore.
"I said we're moving him to the rest area. Keep him hooked up, but let him recover for now. You'll stay with him, just in case. If anything happens, you call me."
"Like what?"
"Anything. An emergency, or just anything unusual. The instruments will document it, but I would prefer to see it firsthand."
"Okay."
"Then let's get to it."