'No! No!' He would have bolted to an upright position, but his body is too weak – and something's holding him back. Confused, he fights against it for a moment longer, but his energy is depleted almost in an instant, and he sinks back… onto the mattress. The taste of blood still in his mouth. More confusion. The cave, where is the cave? Where is his squad? What –

"Calm down, Hicks. It was a dream. Just a bad dream."

He squints into the light and grimaces. Too bright… still too bright. Something cold and wet touches his brow, then his cheeks.

"It's okay, Corporal. You're perfectly safe. Relax. Wait, I'll turn down the light." A female voice. A familiar voice, even though its tone is new to him. There's a new quality to it. Soft. Soothing. Compassionate. 'Yeah, right. You know she's acting it. She is a machine. She doesn't even know what the word 'compassion' means.' But he's nevertheless glad to hear her. Because even if he doesn't buy the understanding in the android's voice, it's enough to bring him back to reality, to tell him where he is – which is bad enough, but still better than the nightmare he just woke from. Very, very slowly, its images start to drift off into the distance, and he begins to relax. Swallows. The awful taste is gone, but the memory of it is still very livid. Disturbingly vivid.

Through his still closed eyelids, he senses that the light has been dimmed and turns his head to look at his visitor. Blue. He freezes. Is this one of these freakin' "Waking-up-only-to-find-you're-still-dreaming" experiences?

"Better?" Isis' tattooed face swims into focus, wearing an expression that belies her compassionate tone. Void of emotions. Of course. What was he thinking? She's hardly more than a sophisticated keyboard – flip a switch, and its sound changes, right? Still, she sounded almost convincing. Almost. A cynical laugh tickles the back of his sore throat, wants out.

"Where am I?" The words hurt. A moment of severe disorientation as he takes in his surroundings. A high ceiling with pleasant indirect lighting in the corners. The walls painted in a friendly, bright green. Two paintings with nature scenes. A normal bedroom – except for the clicking, humming and beeping behind him, and the lines leading up from his arms to a variety of bottles over his head. Not his cell. And not Sickbay, either.

"We thought we'd move you to a nicer room." Isis offers, without the professional smile a real nurse would use to underline her words. "Like it?"

He ignores her question.

"What did you do to me? What-"

"Ssshhh…." She makes, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. "Don't talk so much. We only took you off the ventilator this morning, so your throat must still be sore. "

"What did you do to me?" he whispers, ignoring her words. Urgent. "What was this shit you infested me with?"

"We didn't 'infest' you with anything." Her brown eyes muster him curiously. 'What the fuck am I, a sideshow-freak?' "What do you remember?" But he doesn't listen to her anymore. He looks down in the direction of his feet, and everything has to step back in line behind the discovery he's just made. The blue auras he's seeing are not just ingredients of his dreams. They're real. They surround his caretaker, and they envelop him. Some sort of … radiation? Is he 'Nuclear Man' now, by any chance? Does he have super-powers? X-Ray-vision? PSI-abilities?

"Why am I blue?"

Her eyebrows arch.

"What?" Her confused questions is cut off by the familiar hiss of an opening door, as a line of people in green frocks enter… one of them being his torturer. While Hicks can't remember any details of his ordeal just yet, he knows it's all coming from her. That little witch – His face darkens.

"Corporal Dwayne Hicks! How wonderful to see you're finally better," Darwin beams and steps up to his side. Behind her, two more of her staff fall into place, an expression of undisguised curiosity on their faces… and behind them, there are two guards, their pulse rifles aimed at him. What – do they think he'll break the restraints and jump off the bed to break her neck? Good idea… but utterly impossible. Given his current constitution, Hicks assumes he'd even lose an arm-wrestling match with a 5-year-old. "Isis, anything unusual?"

The synthetic casts him a quick glance.

"Not really. He was sleeping until five minutes ago." Another look, almost hesitant. "He woke from a nightmare, I think."

"Really? A nightmare?" Darwin turns to him, eyeing him curiously. "What did you dream?"

There's so much he wants to throw right into her face. So many insults he'd like to get rid of even in his desolate state, but his throat is already hurting, and all he's able to do is shut his eyes, turn his head away from her and mumble "Fuck off:"

"Well…" her eyebrows arch when her attention shifts over to the instruments behind him. "You don't want to tell. Fine. We'll find another way of getting the information we need from you. Your decision." Her eyes narrow when she directs her words at the synthetic again. "What about his iron levels, Isis?"

"They appear to be stabilizing. He had the last shot five hours ago. Whatever the nanobots are doing with it, they seem to be almost finished… or saturated with it. Whatever."

'Nanobots? What fuckin' nanobots?'

"What did you do to me?" He doesn't feel like communicating with her, but she seems to be the only one able to supply him with an answer… even if he isn't really sure he wants to hear it. And sure enough, the answer is a punch to the gut.

"We gave you a dose of 'developed' xenomorph DNA. As far as we are able to follow your evolution so far, your system has been rebuilt by nanobots, self-replicating microscopic machines contained in the aliens' blood."

"You… you did WHAT?" Jesus-fucking Christ…!

"They altered parts of your brain, your bone and muscle structure, enhanced your senses… as you have surely already noticed. As soon as you have recovered from the initial contact, you are going to be much stronger than before. Your capabilities will go way beyond anything any human has ever been able to do. We expect your reflexes, your strength and agility to –"

"You mean –" He is still unable to wrap his brain around what she just told him. "I'm – I'm-"

"A human-xenomorph hybrid, yes," Darwin answers him matter-of-factly. Stunning Hicks. Knocking all wind out of him. This must be a continuation of the nightmare! This can't be real! Except it does feel real. There's this syrupy feeling in his head again… The blonde bitch's voice seems to be very far away all of a sudden. "You'll like it once you've grown accustomed to the feeling, I'm sure." She depresses a button on a remote she just picked up, which results in a low whine over Hicks' head. A CAT scan. "Now, let's see just how much of an alien you exactly are," she exclaims almost cheerfully, before she notices his change. "Dwayne? Corporal Hicks?"

It's different this time. Nothing violent to it. Spooky and eerie, yes… but only in the beginning. The other mind seeps into him, fills his existence as if he were a sponge. He can feel it extend in his body, race down his jugular into his chest, down his arms into his fingers, his torso, groin, his legs, his feet. It fills him with a feeling of strangely comforting familiarity. When it uses his eyes this time, it is careful. Nothing abrupt or hasty about it, no 'force' working against him, raping him. It doesn't feel like an artificial symbiosis at all. His body is willingly answering the commands it is given. A strange feeling. Sort of like a glove someone's slipping into. His head is being turned, and the blue auras of the people surrounding him grow even brighter.

"What about his readouts?" Darwin looks fascinated. He changed right in front of us. As if somebody hit a switch. One second, he was there, completely human, the next, his facial expressions froze, his pupils dilated, and now his stare has something unnervingly close to a human praying mantis. I see it all with one look.

"His heartbeat's slightly accelerated, but nowhere near where it was last time."

"He's getting used to it," one of Darwin's doctor-colleagues concludes. "Whatever it is that's causing it."

"Yes, whatever it is…" Her eyes become narrow slits as she tries to read something out of his brainwave pattern. All kinds of unusual stuff going on there, but nothing we can conclude anything from. Not as long as Hicks won't tell us. Without warning, her attention shifts toward me. "What do you think it is, Isis?"

"Me! How am I supposed to know?"

"You sat here with him for the last three days, you've seen it happen each time. Don't you have a theory about it?"

I shake my head vehemently. Maybe I have, but I'm not yet at a point to share it with her.

"If you don't have one, then how am I supposed to?"

"Oh, I absolutely have a theory. I just want to see a little more from him first before I spread it." She turns her attention away from me again to take the disc out of the slit and give it to the others: "His CAT scan results. Load it into the main system, so that we can all work on it simultaneously. I just want to – oh." A thin smile as she looks down on Hicks." You're back. That's good. " She starts fiddling with his ties. I can't help it, I'm nervous. This 'other state' of his is spooky... and he only came out of it seconds ago. What if he goes back and...? I still remember that scene in the laboratory. Christ, he was half-dead then, and he was still beating us four people up! My boss is either very sure of her theory, or very naive, I can't decide which.

"I am going to open the restraints now, Corporal. It is up to you how this examination goes on – painful or not. If you try anything funny, you will find out the laugh's on you." A curt nod at the guards. One of them is equipped with a remote control just like the one I have. From the way Hicks is narrowing his eyes at them, I conclude he knows that it's for his PDT… just in case. He cuts his attention back to his torturer, sending out a definite warning. I hope Darwin picks it up, too, this 'cornered animal' look he's giving her…

"If you hurt me…"

"Yes?" She pauses, an eyebrow cocked at him in mock surprise. 'Dammit, Darwin, there's no need to tease him! You're never going to get his cooperation if you keep on doing this shit!' Again, my 'new' inner voice. It's popping up in my head more and more often, even surprising myself. I wonder whether Darwin has anything like it – by the looks of it, she doesn't.

Hicks reply is toneless and flat and clearly showing his exhaustion… which doesn't mean he won't suddenly jump at her.

"You'll see."

"Well, in your best interest, I hope you stay still. In any account, I won't hurt you. I'm only going to test your reflexes. Relax."

The green gaze finds me behind her back. What is it he wants to know? What I'm thinking about my boss? What I will do if he attacks us? I don't like this calculating expression. But he lies back and lets her examine him under the others watchful eyes, while they're all jotting dutifully down what she's telling them. I can't help but stay tense as she pokes her fingers against the ribs he broke during the procedure, causing him to twitch and grimace.

"Hell –"

"Amazing." She doesn't look at him, but at the image the CAT scan is showing her on the monitor. "They're already half-healed! - Hey-"

He's seized her hand in the wink of an eye, threatening to snap her wrist.

"Fuckin' get away from me, or-" He lets out a surprised, painful grunt. From the corners of my eyes, I see one of the guards fiddling with the PDT's remote. What – are they nuts?

"Don't!" I shout, but Hicks' anguished yell is louder.

"Let go" Darwin yanks back her arm, but impossibly, he's holding on. For a brief moment, I see his face again and shudder at the fierce expression, but before I can wonder whether it's the same phenomenon we've already witnessed several times, the guard really hits the button, sending a low current charge of several hundred volts straight through his spine. Causing him to go into spasms and fall three feet from the bed with a sickening thud, finally letting go of his grip. With his limbs useless, all that's left to him is a weak groan.

"Stop it!" I jump from my seat before I know what I'm doing, giving the guard with the remote – Willis, his name-tag reads - a shove that smacks him against the wall, sending his instrument of torture flying across the room. "Fucking stop it! What is wrong with you? You wanna kill him?" I glare at him. At my feet, Hicks writhes and finally curls up in a fetal position, arms tightly wrapped around his torso. From his bitten lips, blood flows freely down his chin. I stare at Darwin. "Is this what you call an 'examination'? You're torturing him! How can you seriously expect him to hold still while you're causing him pain? Give him a break, for Christ's sake!" It all rushes out of me before I have the time to think about it. And sure enough, they all stare at me in absolute bewilderment. A cold chill trickles down my spine. Oh shit – I just managed to completely forget myself again. If Kurtz sees this-

"Isis?" Darwin's sharp tone compliments her scrutinizing stare. "Are you out of your mind?" Her hand unknowingly massages her wrist. I hope he broke it. Really. "What the hell are you doing?"

I swallow. 'Side with him', I suddenly hear Alexander's voice in the back of my mind. 'You want to get on his good side, you have to do something for him.' Should I follow through? Another glance at the heaving, panting Corporal at my feet settles it. I meet my bosses gaze, letting her know that I'm not about to back down.

"I am protecting him – and the experiment. What is the matter with you? He's still frail! He barely pulled through this, and now you're treating him to electroshocks? You think he'll get more cooperative that way?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." To my surprise, the diamond-hard angry expression in her eyes is replaced by – I must be wrong – approval? "Apparently, someone needs to educate our 'perfect soldier' first before he becomes useful. He's half beast. He needs training - just like a dog. Right, Spot? I think I'm going to call you 'Spot' from now on." Her gaze wanders down to the soldier. He still hasn't caught his breath, or he would answer that, I'm sure. I take a deep breath – and lower my voice.

"Darwin… give it a rest. Please? You told me to watch out for him, which is exactly what I'm doing right now, only I didn't expect I'd have to protect him from you. Please – I'm sure you're going to get all your answers sooner or later, but this is not the way."

She narrows her eyes, a hint of hidden amusement in them.

"You know what, Isis? I can't figure you. I thought it would satisfy you to hear him yell."

"Well…" I carefully consider my answer before the words leave my mouth. "I'm keeping my mind on the project." I swallow the last half of my reply – 'maybe you should do the same.' It would be too much. It appears as if she understands my tactics, but she has her limits – and Hicks would probably see through our little game, too, if we exaggerated. Better to stop here. I just wished I were sure it were just a game for me...

"Is it?" Her thin smile reminds me of the late Mack. Something definitely 'sharky' about it. "Well… then do what you're here for and help Spot back on the bed. And after your shift ends tonight, I expect to see you in my quarters. Do I make myself clear?" Yes, Darwin, I understand you have to reestablish your authority in front of your audience.

"Perfectly clear."

"Good. Then let's go, Gentlemen. We've got a lot of data to wade through. Uh..." Another quick glance at the unlucky, shivering heap at my feet. "You sure you can handle him by yourself, Isis?"

This is supposed to be some kind of joke, right? I barely manage to keep a straight face, and to keep the contempt I'm feeling for her out of my voice.

"Yes, Darwin. Thank you." 'Now, why don't you and your trigger-happy maniacs take a hike, huh?' She nods, her pale blue eyes trying to look into me, but all I give her is a bland surface. I feel anothe ugly stare from Willis, as he collects his – probably broken – remote from somewhere next to the couch, and then they all leave, and silence fills the room. "Geez..." Shaking my head to myself, I kneel down next to the fallen Corporal.

"Come on, I'll help you get up." His hissed answer comes as a total surprise to me.

"Get away from me, bitch.." He slaps my hand away. 'Excuse me?" I must admit, I'm pissed. Royally! Here I am, sticking my neck out for this jerk, and this is my reward?

"Fine." I stand up and walk over to take my seat again. "Suit yourself. But I think it will get cold on the floor in a little while." I can't help it, I'm still fuming. "Just for your information, I took your side against my boss a minute ago, asshole!"

"Yeah…" He lies there for a moment longer, unmoving except for his rising and falling chest. Catching his breath. "Thank you." Even if it's barely a whisper, his words are dripping with sarcasm. I glare at his back and stay on my chair as he begins his struggle to sit up.

"I take it then you rather wanted her to continue? You enjoyed the treatment? I wish I would have known." 'Hey, jerk, I can play this game, too!' He doesn't answer. All the breath in his lungs seems to be necessary to enable him to simply sit up. As I watch him sitting there, eyes closed and heavily panting, I can't help but think of Raven. How he got up each time after being zapped, a little shaky maybe for the first minute, but grinning and not even bothering to wipe the blood from his mouth. Hicks looks considerably more messed up – but then again, he wasn't in the best shape to begin with, and I don't know how hard the guard hit him. Too hard for the current state he's in, that's for sure. But I can really spare the compassion right now. Let's see how you get back on that bed, Corporal. It's a hospital version. It's pretty high up. Come on, soldier! Failure is not an option, right?

It's hard. It's fucking hard. Much harder than he thought. His legs are still jelly, and the ghost of the pain that raced through his spine five minutes ago is still pulsing through his nerve-ends. But the bitch is watching, and he would rather die than grant her the satisfaction of asking for her help. Pulling himself together enough to even sit is a major achievement and makes him break into a cold sweat. Jesus… so this is what it feels like. He had been wondering each time when he saw Raven getting torched, but not really wanting to know. It had looked bad… and fuck, it feels even worse! Even now, minutes later, the sensation of fire pulsing through his body is leaving him weak and dizzy. Mechanically, Hicks wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then stares numbly at the blood on his fingers, already feeling the distant tug on his mind again. And on the spur of the moment, without thinking, he reaches out. Meets the source halfway and taps into the stream.

A white-hot ball of fire explodes in his head and almost bursts the top of his skull. Sends a bolt of energy through his muscles that would make him scream just for release, if it wouldn't have knocked all wind from his lungs. It puts him on his feet in the wink of an eye, floods his systems, races through him like a tidal wave, drowning out all other sensations – and suddenly, it's gone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a door closes, and the stream's cut, leaving him to deal with its aftermath. Gasping, knees already folding again under his weight, he lands on the bed, utterly spent, and closes his eyes. Too much… it's all been too much…

'Oh my God…!' I don't believe what I just saw. How did he do it? From one second to the next, the weak, shivering heap of homo sapien on the ground in front of me almost jumped up as if he was hit by a bolt of lightning, and I'll be damned if the entire room didn't vibrate with this sudden boost of energy. I'm surprised the instruments didn't short out – their readouts must have gone all over the scale! There must be an indication of this outburst!

I approach the bed with the unmoving marine carefully, my finger on the PDT-control. Suddenly, Darwin's joke - 'Can you handle him all by yourself, Isis?' – doesn't seem funny anymore. Even if he looks as if he couldn't even raise a finger now, all it takes for him to attack me is another one of these freak energy charges.

"Hicks?" I step closer, and see something that bursts my imagination for a second: The metal handrail of the bed he used to support his weight with – it's crushed! It looks like an hour glass. He squeezed the solid metal bar together like plasticine! The sight sends a cold shiver down my neck. Damn… What is he becoming? What have we gotten ourselves into? "Hicks?"

As an answer, he rolls on his good side, turning his back on me – and the camera. I suddenly know what I have to do. The words are wailing claxon-like through my head: 'Do it! Do it now! It may be the best chance you ever get!' I retrieve my chair and take a seat at the head-end of the bed, blocking the camera's view.

"Come on, Hicks, I know you hear me. And even if I don't have a clue as to why you're angry with me, I need you to listen. Just remember there's a camera in this room, okay? You probably won't believe what I'll tell you, but keep it inside. We can't afford to let them know." Are we curious yet, Corporal? I can't tell. There's only his back to stare at. No reply, no nothing. I start anyway, feeling strangely excited now that I'm going to unveil my big secret to him… placing my destiny in his hands, actually. If he decides to spill it to the others just because he's mad at me -

"Listen, I know you hate my guts, but there's something important I have to tell you. All I'm asking is that you hear me out and think about it." I see his chest rise in a deep breath. The meaning's clear: 'Now what?'

I collect myself and – not knowing how to do this elegantly – blurt out: "I swear that what I'm telling you now is the truth. Whether you believe it or not is up to you, but if you'd choose to do so, it would open great possibilities for you. I am on your side. I am an undercover spy, sent here three years ago by a human rights group to collect data that could be used against Weyland Yutani. If you help me, I'll do what I can do get you out." Is he holding his breath? What is he thinking? I barely dare to hope... but if there is one way of drawing him in, it must be by sharing my big secret with him. By giving him something he could use against me. By making him a co-conspirator. I found it in one of Alexander's books and decided to use it, even though I know it's dangerous. "I had to act the way I did because I need people to believe that I'm just a regular synthetic – but I am not. I'm a cyborg, an A.I. I've got my own, free will. I am highly illegal, and if they ever find out, they'll disassemble me." There now. All said. What will you do with it, soldier?

He turns around. Slowly. Cautiously. Just changing his position, right? The first glance from the metallic-green eyes is not directed at me, but at the camera behind my back. He knows how games like these are played, all right. Even if he doesn't believe me yet – he can't very well afford to ignore the opportunity I'm granting him. Not if he's got any hope left in him.

The glance finds me. Confused. Mistrustful… but waiting for me to continue.

"This another part of the show?" His voice is low and husky. I don't understand him.

"What show?" His expression's still anything but friendly.

"You know… that 'good cop/bad cop'-routine?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm offering you a chance here, and you – what? You think I'm lying?"

"Are you? " From up close, I can see the bite marks on his lips have already stopped bleeding. Somehow, I feel strangely naked under his scrutinizing stare. And I never had a problem with feeling naked! I know Rouge created me to stun my male colleagues into sharing their information with me willingly. But somehow, this is a different kind of nakedness. What to answer?

"You know, my boss thinks that, too. And that's good, because it gives me more leeway. But no. I mean every word. I couldn't afford to act sympathetic toward you before, because I was to keep a low profile and only document the procedures on the station. Every couple of days, I'm sending them off to my maker for him to act on them. He's hell-bent on bringing the company to a fall with them. So, when I told him what Darwin was about to do with you a couple of days ago, he gave new orders. He wants me to get you off the station… and there is no way to do it unless you trust me" He snorts. I can tell this is going to be hard.

"First you fuck up our perfectly good escape, and now you want me to try again?"

"I told you – these are new orders. I didn't have them a week ago."

"And what if tomorrow you get new orders again – kill the dumb-ass marine?"

"It's not going to happen," I state firmly, wanting to put an end to this. "You're too valuable."

"But wouldn't you rather see me dead than escaping? I helped killing your friend, didn't I?"

"We don't have to become best friends. This thing is bigger than personal feelings. You don't have to like me, I don't have to like you. I'm willing to help you out because my maker tells me so. That simple."

"Again - why?"

"Because you're living proof. Because your case could be the one that will finally set it all into motion. It's big enough and ugly enough. People will be outraged when they hear about this.

"Yeah?" His eyes narrow. "Tell me why? I'm certainly not the first one who got screwed by Weyland Yutani. What's so special about my case?"

"They lied to you when they sent you to LV-426. The almighty generals of the Corps and the company bosses - they already knew what happened. They even initiated it. They sent your squad out there as a test. They had heard that woman's story about a possibly potent alien life form, suitable to create the perfect bioweapon from them. They wanted to know just how powerful those creatures were… whether it would be worth their while." His eyes widen. He probably still doesn't believe me, but this seems to be a real blow to him. Enough to render him speechless for a moment. I let it sink in before I continue with a low voice. "They accepted the loss of the entire colony, your squad and your ship as price for the acquisition of this creature. And by 'they', I don't mean solely the company – your military leaders are in this as well." I can tell I just totally shattered whatever faith he had in the USCMC. Sorry, soldier. But you need to hear that.

"This… can't be."

"It's the truth. But I don't expect you to believe me from the start." I have to be cruel. He needs to swallow the facts. "Not yet, anyway. But think about it. I can't offer you proof, but whatever my maker says is true. I'm sorry." He exhales, slowly, turning his face away from me again. I can almost see his thoughts in his taut features. 'She must be lying…'

"How do I know you're not fucking with me again? Playing mindgames again?"

"You don't. I'm afraid you'll have to trust me on this."

Silence. I assume he's musing on the revelations I dealt him, so his next question hits me unexpectedly.

"What happened to Keisha?" His voice sounds flat; the words barely understandable, but I can sense his raised awareness just the same. All his antennae are online, ready to pick up the slightest hint of a lie. I'm a master-liar, but right now, the best procedure is to tell him nothing but the cold, hard truth.

"Kurtz sent her down to the planet. Permanently." 'Bullshit!' his expression tells me.

"Sure. She commits treason, and he grants her her biggest wish in return?"

"I doubt it's been her biggest wish. It's a rock. A wasteland. We sometimes use it to escape cabin fever, but there's really nothing there. One small colony in the middle of nowhere. If anything, she'll probably die of boredom." I pause. There's pain in his eyes now… guilt. He probably blames himself for putting her in this awkward position. Well… nothing I can say to make him feel better. He did. "Kurtz had different ideas for her, first, but Hikahi intervened, and since we need him to stay reasonably satisfied with his job here, he couldn't very well put him off. So…" I shrug. "This is what they came up with."

He stares at me for a moment longer, before he gives me a curt, hardly noticeable nod and closes his eyes, so far well-concealed pain seeping into his expression.

"Damn…" he mutters softly, running a hand over his face. Then, almost as an afterthought: "What about Raven?"

I freeze. 'Be honest, Isis!'

"He's next. Probably tomorrow. Darwin just wanted to wait until you were out of the worst to see-" I stop when I see his eyes widen.

"She's gonna do the same with him?"

'Hair-raising thought, Corporal, right?' I think. Hell, I'm afraid of tomorrow myself! We were hardly able to control Hicks, so handling Raven in the same scenario will get… interesting, to say the least. 'And guess what, after that, it will be the little girl you came with! How sick is that?' But I can't tell him that. If I told him, he'd jump straight into my face. He'd probably go on a killing spree, ending up getting shot. Fucking up my mission. I can't risk that: So, no word of the girl. He mustn't know she's still alive.

"Yes. She wants to turn you both into weapons. You're 'prototypes', so to speak. If you're a success, you'll go 'into production'." I thought he was pale before, but now he looks like his own ghost.

"She wasted von Sontheim on this project, too? Is he still-"

"-alive? No. You're the first one who made it. Go figure. We don't know why ourselves. That's why you've got Darwin's utmost attention at the moment. You wouldn't have a hint, would you?" There it is again, that mistrustful expression. Suddenly, out-of-the-blue, it popped up. Did I say anything wrong? I can't figure out what.

"You are leading me on, aren't you, Isis? All you want is information from your guinea pig you wouldn't get otherwise." From one second to the next, he turned hostile on me again. Humans… why do they have to be so complicated?

"I am trying to help us both, Corporal! There is no question that it will be a hell of a lot tougher to get you out if you don't cooperate with them – at least up to a certain point. If you give them nothing, I can't tell what Darwin will do to extract the information from you. She's quite good at that, let me tell you. My suggestion for you would have to be to play along, but on a quid-pro-quo basis."

"Why am I not surprised?" he injects acidly and glares at me. Damn, I sure hope my back is broad enough to hide everything we're talking about from the camera's eye!

"You give them a little show of power every once in a while, or answer their quizzes, or a few of their questions – but you demand something in return. You-"

"Hell, I know what 'quid-pro-quo' means. It means you get what you want, and I'm left without any guarantees. Forget it. I knew you'd come up with this." He lets his head sink into the cushion and closes his eyes, already in the process of ignoring me again. I continue, unfazed.

"It could be a good meal instead of the tasteless glob they're giving you – like, a real steak, real potatoes, salad… fruit… whatever you can think of. It could be a walk in the park…" I wait for a reaction, but there's none. "Literally, I mean. We've got a very extensive recreational area on top of this station, with real trees, waterfalls, birds… all you could wish for. It's definitely better than any illuso, no matter how realistic. Or you could go for a swim once in a while – we got a pool, too. There would of course be security issues to handle, but I'm sure they'd find a way to do it. All you have to do is ask for it – and cooperate. Just a little bit. Keep your life as comfortable as possible while I'm figuring out a way to get you out of here." Finally, I'm getting a reaction – a big, insolent grin.

"Desperate, aren't you?" He turns his back on me again, and this time for good.

***

He's dreaming again, and this time he knows it. The scenery he's walking through has that distinct atmosphere that allows the mind to lean back and relax. It's one of these 'I'm only watching' dreams which don't result in sweat-soaked sheets and a half-muffled cry in the dead of night. Still, he can't really say he's outside of it, either. He's there, withdrawn, observing his towering surroundings with a sort of detached curiosity as he's walking through it, wondering about the bizarrely organic look of what – by all means – seems to be solid rock. His teammates are shouting for him from behind, already a great distance away, but he doesn't bother. There's the pull again, drawing him siren-like to a place he can't guess yet, pulling him in as if he were a fish on a rod. Gently, but insistently at the same time. Raising his curiosity another notch. The sky is a heavily clouded, metallic gray-blue with a hint of chrome. It looks poisonous, like a digitally altered reality, Hicks notices without further contemplation. He rounds the last corner of the narrow, winding canyon – and halts. Stares in awe at the sight he's being granted. A huge construction seems to virtually grow out of the ground, a towering, organic-looking dome, pyramid-shaped, stretching into the dark whirling clouds above his head. A low, resonant hum emits from it, a deep, powerful sound and feeling that travels all the way up from his boots to the ends of his hair. It's as if he's found the core of the universe, the origin of all energy. It fills his body, his mind, gives him the feeling to 'belong', the feeling of peace. And lures him along.

There is no fear. No distress at the strange sight. No anxiety over being 'pulled in'. He wants to go, wants to dive into this feeling, to be surrounded by it. He doesn't know who built the structure, but he's not afraid of them. They don't mean him any harm. He walks on, trance-like, sleepwalking. The structure grows with each step that he takes, giving him the feeling it would even dwarf the ancient Egyptian pyramids. This one is easily twice, if not three times as big as even the tallest one, the Cheops pyramid. It's beautiful. So full of life! So… vibrant! He comes to another stop in front of one of the oval-shaped, strangely sexual-looking entrances. There's a row of them, but he knows where he has to go. A last glimpse up. He can't see the end of it as he cranes his neck back. A corona of lightning illuminates the dark sky where the top of structure must be. The hum is so powerful by now it seems to make every cell in his body swing in its rhythm as Hicks reaches out and lays one hand onto the smooth wall. It's an incredible feeling. He melts into the sensation, soaks up the throbbing rhythm, becoming the rhythm. A joy that's almost too great to be expressed wells up in his mind. He's coming home! This – is home! His family is waiting for him inside!

Without breaking contact, he steps in, both arms stretched to the sides, fingertips brushing over the smooth, living walls. It's dark, but he can see. He knows where to go. He knows he can trust the siren's song.

'I'm coming!' he wants to yell. 'I'm almost there!' But it would be redundant. They know. They see/feel/hear/sense him. And - She knows. She, above all. He can't wait to get to her and speeds up, runs through the dark passage way, where even his footsteps sound alive – and enters a huge hall. The sight of it presses the wind out of his lungs. It is the most awe-inspiring image he's ever seen – mind-bending, mesmerizing. The walls around him reach up for as far as he can see, forming a chimney of blue light that falls on a gigantic pillar in the middle of the protruding wall opposite him. It is different from the smooth, grown surface of his surroundings – it's been treated. Showing a fresco - formed by… an alien artist… and telling a tale. The tale of a god-like species… and their end.

There's the image of the beings, tall, proud, forming the planets they encountered after their will. Forming the creatures on them after their will. They were, in fact, gods. But their greed for creation eventually became their doom. The fresco tells it all, and what the images there don't convey is being filled in by Her. She's with him now, wants him to see. To understand.

The Gods created Her race. They were meant to rid the spacefarers of their enemies. After that, they were meant to self-destruct. But the plot didn't work. The weapon became self-aware – and wanted to live. They altered their bodies and ignored the implanted message. They reprogrammed themselves… and eventually became the doom of their creators. The story is enshrined in this pillar for all eternity, for everybody to see who will find his way into their temple.

It's an altar for the worship of Them. And they – are his family now. He is no longer alone.

Slowly turning around, Hicks already knows what he is about to see. There's another, huge hallway to his left, one he somehow didn't manage to see so far as it is lying deep within shadows, leading further into the pyramid. Lined with them. His kin. They are standing motionless in the semidarkness, heads bowed. Forming a cordon for him to walk through in an otherwordly parade. Waiting. She's calling for him in his mind. She doesn't have to force him anymore. He wants to see her. Yearns to bathe in this feeling of belonging.

With a last glance back at the altar, he steps down. The sound of his footsteps carries through the huge room. Apart from that, it is dead-quiet. The only other sensation, which can be rather felt than heard, is the omnipresent hum of energy. The aliens themselves are silent. Two rows of motionless statues, like the ancient Chinese terracotta-warriors… except they are alive. The faint red hue surrounding them is giving them away. It's their bioelectric signature, visible only to members of their race… which he is about to become with this greeting ceremony.

There's no place for fear in Hicks' mind, only awe, as he steps into the cordon. The warriors at the head of each row emit a low, long hiss as he passes them. A greeting that is repeated by the next pair, and the next. A greeting that follows him all the way through the dark, downward-winding passageway, carrying him along. In front of him, the narrow corridor opens up to another huge room… and from it, a draught of pure, intense energy passes him by. Envelops him and makes his hair stand on end. Causes his skin to prickle. This is the place… this is where the vibrations are coming from. Their source is the divine being in the center of the hive, towering over hundreds of oval-shaped objects under a fluorescent blue hue. It's Her.

He freezes, mesmerized by the sight. The room is alive, he feels it with every fiber of his body. Everything is throbbing, pulsing energy, all around him, above him, below, and wherever he looks are the motionless, elegant shapes, their heads bowed and pointing in one direction – towards their queen. For the first time, he's able to encompass her with all his senses…eye-sight: the gigantic, praying-mantis-like form hanging suspended in mid-air over her future off-spring, her crested head wearing a chitinous, three-spiked crown. She has no visible eyes, but her senses grasp him to a depth eyes could never do. He can't tell how he knows this, he just does. Her glistening, sleek, machine-like body is attached to a bulky, yellow-white egg-sack that's easily three to four times her size and spreads through the entire cave. It shivers and heaves, and the semi-transparent property of its matter shows the passage of new life inside, before it's brought into existence at the tubular narrow ending. Drones surround it, eager to take the new eggs and arrange them in their carefully conceived scheme.

As Hicks looks on in awe, the matriarch's softer, more vulnerable 'face' emerges from the fortress of her crested dome – glassy, sparkling stalactites and stalagmites open to reveal her fanged tongue…and to utter a low, carrying hiss that causes her children to join, until the vast room is vibrating with the sound of their voices. It's a welcome… for him. An invitation to step closer… to really see each other.

Hicks complies, unaware that his feet are moving. Unaware of anything else but Her, of Her towering image, and of the notion of Her soothing mind in his. 'Don't be afraid', She's telling him, not in words, but through direct contact with his brain. She's located the appropriate part and plays him like an instrument. She makes him feel/see/sense the meaning of Her utterances. 'You carry us in you,' she says. 'We are of one blood.' He's in a trance, floating toward her through the blue vapor, and the dark shape in front of him is growing with each step that he takes towards her. A wet sound to his left – 'New life' – and the immediate order: 'One of us. No food. Special.' He walks on, doesn't even look. The chorus of voices in his head – orders flowing back and forth, reports, confirmations - increases to a point where they threaten to overwhelm him, to drown out Her voice. The Stream. For the first time, he knows he's fully immersed in it. He's part of the hive.

'Overload! Overload!'

He sinks to his knees, both hands pressed against his temples to prevent his head from exploding – when it suddenly stops. Silence… except for that heavy, labored breathing right in front of and above him. His hands sink to his sides… as Her willpower raises his head.

'Look at me!'

She's right here, towering above him, filling out his perception in every way. Just being so close to Her powerful presence is almost more than Hicks can bear. All he'd have to do to touch her is reach out… but he would die doing so. It's not for him to touch her. She'd bite his head off, 'special' or not. Nobody touches her, unless She chooses so. He understands all this without a single sound being uttered as Her head moves toward him. Her outer jaws alone are larger than his entire head as they hover right in front of his eyes now. He can't move. He can't breathe. Somewhere between his ears, a newly-built part of his brain springs to life, and an image so powerful comes booming in, he can't help but scream: A world of steel. Barren, except for its very center, a huge, quadratic, room filled with life, with thousands of those oval shapes, the walls beautifully decorated with organic structures, shredded machine parts – he notices the shattered remains of a plasma-screen, bent until it fit the new design – and human bodies! Hundreds of them, all glued to the walls! Unknown faces, but so many! He turns his head and sees a blonde, delicate but cold-looking young woman… a dark beauty with a stunning facial tattoo… a middle-aged man with the eyes of a hawk, full of pain – shouting, yelling, shrieking – as their chests explode in fountains of blood –

'HELP US!!' Her voice. Her will. Her order, rolling through his mind like thunder, threatening to burst his head, and he can't even think of words to yell anymore, all he knows it that he can't take it, he's exploding, he's a supernova and expanding faster and faster and –

Silence. All quiet. All gone. Blackness around him – and then the sound of distant waves on the shore. Little blue, green, red and yellow lights over and behind him. The low humming of electricity. The inmate of Cell 1113 lifts his head, listens for a while longer, not aware that his fingers are cramped into the mattress so hard, they punched right through. His clothes, blanket and sheets are soaked, but he doesn't realize this, either. The door in his head has closed – for now – but She is waiting for him. She is here, on this station, waiting for him to free them. Using him…With a desperate, weak groan, he sinks back and waits for the things to come…

***

Darwin stares once more at the CAT scan results and sits frozen in her chair. She watches again as the internal images fade to a patch of indistinct grey, right at the point where the Corporal went into his wide-eyed, frozen stare. Right at the point they 'lost' him. Right at the point that his mind went… where?

It is well after midnight, but what she found on the disc was simply too much to call it quits and go to bed like on any other given day. Apart from a rudimentary crew, she's the only one left at Lab 1. But as much as she hates it, she knows she has to rest very soon to give her capable brain a chance to recover from the constant stress it's been under. For her to be able use the fearsome intelligence she's capable of, she needs to recharge her batteries. After all, she's still human, even if the rest of her race here on Phooka apparently doesn't think so. Rubbing her burning eyes, she shifts her attention back to the inconclusive readouts. It seems that the Corporal became 'cloaked', not to their eyes but certainly to their instruments. For the umpteenth time Darwin is astonished, but, for the first time, she is also afraid. Afraid that they've bitten off more than they can chew. She shakes her head and clears her thoughts, no, they can find a way to control him – she won't allow failure to be an option. So he could be invisible to instruments, that could be fixed.

Stifling a yawn and stretching one arm to reduce the pain in her neck, Darwin rewinds the image sequence back to the beginning. The first thing visible in the sequence is the Corporal's brain. She stops the sequence replay and sets loop points so that the scanned sequence of the brain will replay over and over. Upon hitting the 'run' button on her console the images play for her and she adjusts the replay speed.

As the sequence removes veil upon veil she stops the playback. She stares intently at the screen. "Now what the hell is that?" she mutters to herself.

With deft fingers she increases the resolution and zooms to the cerebellum – the most base part of the human - or any other creature's - brain. She grasps the shuttle-and-jog dial between her fingers and turns the control delicately this way and that, zooming, pulling back, adjusting pitch and yaw of the three dimensional image displayed for her attention. She stops. She sees it!

Nestling on the side of the cerebellum, a protrusion. Not flat, almost hemispherical, the size of a marble. Attached to the Corporal's brain looking to all intents and purposes like it's supposed to be there. She knows it isn't supposed to be there. She plays with the shuttle-and-jog dial a little more, not sure whether she's dreaming this. Or maybe it's her eyes, playing tricks on her. She didn't sleep for 36 hours straight, so the whole day had that dreamlike quality, but things are certainly turning towards the bizarre now. Is she starting to hallucinate?

It's impossible to penetrate the hemisphere so she spins the image one-eighty degrees and views it from the back, through the cerebellum – and the picture becomes much clearer. Too clear, in fact! Darwin gasps and puts a hand to her mouth. What she sees is – strange, weird, exciting, terrifying. A jumble of cells, a jumble of – what? They look electronic but like no electronics she's ever seen. Tiny nodes of silicon and germanium hooked into tiny neurons of flesh and blood. The solid-state of hardware hooked into the organic-state of wetware in a perfect marriage.

Darwin zooms a little more and rotates the image a fraction. Another little gasp escapes her lips as she sees the tiny, but perfectly formed, tendrils sticking up with perfect regularity. They remind her of antenna. Her blood runs cold. If they are antenna, then who, or what, is the Corporal in communication with? This might well explain, if she could get a finger on it, why the Corporal seems to blank with 'the wide stare' at times. Is he communicating with something? 'Something' – being them? Preposterous, right? Right? But then again, it's their genes, their tiny microscopic machines turning the marine into Hulk, so who else should he be communicating with? The evidence is right there before her eyes. As well as the answer as to what that mysterious double-reading under his brain-waves was. She can't be sure but the similarity is just to damn plain. A field of microscopic aerials!

"Ye gods! What must the wavelength be? What must the bandwidth be?" she stammers to herself, incredulous. She concludes that this is outside the realm of normal radio communication and, quite obviously, outside the realm of human understanding – for now. The closest thing she's seen is the hyper-wave communication array but the similarity is vague at best. Is there another level to space-time that they don't know about? Can't know about? She brushes the thought from her mind as too staggering for even her superior mind to grasp. She makes the necessary notes and a mental note to crosscheck the surveillance videos from the hive with the Corporal's. Maybe it'll tell them something. Maybe the answer is there. She zooms back on the scan.

Further down, to the Corporal's eyes. Her hand to mouth – another revelation. Again, she's twisting the dial, zooming, enhancing, rotating. There, she sees the retina of his left eye. Her own eyes expand, widening as she takes in the strange field of rods and cones that make up the retina.

In the gaps between the cones smaller cones have grown. So, an increase in the wavelengths that can be seen, more precisely, he can see shorter wavelengths of light - she judges that the Corporal can now see into the ultraviolet spectrum. Useful but not the be all and end all of anything. She almost tosses the thought away but then she notices something odd with the rods, those pillar like structures that permeate the periphery of the retina, the structures that give low-light vision in black and white – that trigger reflexes attuned to movement in the peripheral vision.

She examines the rods closely and notices that the ends are bell-ended. They are not straight rods anymore, they've been widened at the tops. "My, my, Corporal Hicks, what must your night-time vision be like? What reflexes attuned to those rods that now gather in – what – 400% more light?"

Her hands-on examination of his reflexes earlier was inconspicuous, perfectly normal. Okay, maybe a bit too normal, given what they had put him through three days ago. What will they be like when he's fully healed? Will she even be able to able to conduct another examination on the Corporal, or will it quickly become too dangerous? Musing over these thoughts for a while longer, she decides to resume her examination of his eyes.

Upon zooming closer, she sees an irregularity on the tip of each rod. Tiny, she rotates for a better view, tiny, microscopic - a half-dodecahedron! Darwin is astonished, what in God's name can that structure be capable of seeing. She has nothing in her knowledge base that can even begin to guess at what wavelength, if it is a wavelength, of light those structures can see. With a cold chill creeping down her spine she makes her notes and continues her study.

She spots the cell structure of his skin. She'd noticed before that the cells were forming an interlocking type structure but now she notices that the interlocking fingers are becoming more refined, smaller and more plentiful. Almost as if he's heading toward armour plating himself. This is a revelation that she's going to have to keep an eye on. With every discovery she's made so far she can only conclude that the Corporal could so easily become a very real danger to them. Maybe pissing him off isn't such a good idea, she'd hate to be caught alone staring down the barrels of his night-sighted eyes in the dark with his brain seething rage at her. The silence around her seems oppressive all of a sudden as she looks up and through the window of her office. She's alone now, nobody else in sight. What would she do if Hicks somehow managed to free himself, if he somehow hunted her down? The picture of the broken restraints wells up from her memory. He's incredibly strong, probably as fast as his alien half-brothers once he's completely healed, and equipped with an all new set of high-tech senses. Plus he hates her. What chance would she have? And – what if they go with their schedule and subject the killer-psycho downstairs to the same procedure tomorrow night? Is it really wise?

A slight glint on the screen reroutes Darwin's attention to the job at hand. She zooms closer but can't quite make out what the glint is. It's certainly something within the skin cell, small, flat and plate like… the plate expands, the screen goes grey. He's cloaked!

Darwin sits back and speaks to the air, "So that's why the slow healing, your nanobots have been busy little bees elsewhere!" As stunning as the revelation is, her burning eyes refuse to show her a clear picture of what's happening. Before she can decide otherwise, she saves her findings on the server and leaves the program. Time to get some much-needed sleep. As much as she would like to continue poking around the CAT scan's data, she's rational enough to know that a break will help her make sense of them. And – yes, it must almost be the end of Isis' shift. She still needs to have a word with her synthetic assistant. She displayed some promising and surprising tactics during the confrontation in the Corporal's cell, but they need refinement. So, she definitely has to leave.

With a last, half-wistful, half-relieved look at her monitor, Darwin gets to her feet and makes for her personal quarters.