ALIENS: CHRYSALIS (Book 1)

Chapter 10: Apocalypse now


'The ZOO', Phooka Station

"Dwayne? Dwayne, I'm so sorry I'm late! We had a power-failure, and... are you alright?"

The voice doesn't belong to the scenario in his head, and when Hicks turns his head to look at his unexpected visitor, he sees Keisha staring at him with a genuine expression of concern on her young face. Confused, he checks the clock. 5.30 already. Yes, she is late. But why couldn't she have stayed gone? He's not wild for any company right now. Especially not after what he's learned today.

"Kee…"

"You look awful," she remarks, stepping closer. Only now he notices the obviously heavy case she is carrying. Just what the hell is she up to? He doesn't want it. Warily he follows her to the table, where she places the case with some difficulty. He shrugs, beat.

"Yeah? Well... just how I am supposed to look after all I've learned today?" It's out. He didn't want to accuse her, but in his current mood it's impossible to differentiate between doers and bystanders. And sure enough, when she looks up at him again, there's a hurt expression on her dark face.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." His gaze pins her. "You must have known about the purpose of this place from the start. You knew all along what they're doing on this station." He's sure her face is getting even darker, and feels some sort of strange, guilty pleasure over this. At least he's not the only one feeling shitty now.

"Dwayne, you know I wasn't in a position to tell you. I'm just there to do what I'm told. I don't know what exactly they are doing in the rest of Phooka, outside Sickbay." She interrupts herself, hanging her head and adds with shame in her voice: "I knew it wasn't something good though..." Awkward silence ensues. They both don't know what to say. "If you want to hate me now-" She sees his throw-away gesture. "What?"

"Forget about it." He pretends to shift his attention to the plasma screen over her shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not important. Forget about it." His voice is so distant now, it makes her angry. He's withdrawing from her again! She doesn't deserve this!

"You know, I came down to bring you some great news." She pauses, not seeing a reaction. "You wanna hear them?"

He just shrugs, indifferent. Like, what great news could she possibly give him in this place? It's not like they've decided to let him go all of a sudden, right?

"Your Leukemia is gone."

His gaze moves back to her, almost in slow-motion, but there is no trace of relief or even joy visible on it.

"You defeated it. You're going to be as good as new in only a couple of weeks." Still nothing. "I was kinda hoping you'd be happy to hear this."

Finally, a smile, but the thin, sour smirk he casts her is not what she's been hoping for.

"Your bosses are probably happier to hear this than me, Keisha. It's not like I'm going to have any positive aspects from it. They're probably going to waste me even sooner now."

She doesn't know what to say, and so it's left to him to change the subject by asking with a brief nod towards the case: "So what did you bring me there? Some nifty little psyche-evaluation-test for me your bosses designed to evaluate how much of a nut I am after what the company did to me already? Come on, let's do it! " He sees tears running down her cheeks and feels guilty... but unable to stop, as all the bitterness in him needs a release.

"It-its a game," she quivers, wiping away tears from her eyes. "I-I thought it would... I don't know..."

"Cheer me up?" he offers acidly. "I get locked into a rat-cage, find out that my fellow new neighbors have been abducted, too, and that every other day, one of them is hand-picked to advance mankind's knowledge on medicine or whatever, that the revolutionary PDT you implanted me with is in fact a control unit developed to keep us docile by treating us to unexpected electric shocks whenever we don't behave properly... and that the one person I had begun to trust in this hellhole has been lying straight into my face the entire time. And you think you can cheer me up with some stupid game?!"

She's sobbing hard now.

"I'm sorry..." He can hardly hear her as she lifts up the heavy case again and turns to leave. "I was so much loo-looking forward to bringing you this... this great message, but.. but..." She turns and heads for the door in a state of total disintegration, fleeing from Hicks' unrelenting cynicism he's hating himself for...

"Keisha!"

She doesn't stop. The door parts for her to leave, and she's halfway through it already.

"Kee, please- don't!"

Now why the hell-? He shuts up in utter confusion, not knowing why he even called her. A part of him wants to make her cry and to run from him – but the other – stronger - part is feeling guilty as hell. And desperate. If she leaves now, there's no mistaking that she won't be back for him. She'd more than likely switch her duties to Isis, and then he won't be left with even a single person he likes... or trusts at least halfway. "Please don't leave!" He observes as she comes to a halt outside, again wiping her eyes.

"I don't mean it like this. I just had a real bad day, and I needed to get it out. I'm sorry you had to be the one to catch it. I know you're not in a position to change anything."

She turns, sniffling. Eyes him skeptically, before she takes another step back, just barely into his room, with her back on the closing door. Putting down the case, she hugs herself, uncertain whether she should listen to him at all. There are a lot of fighting emotions visible in her expression – anger, hurt... but also a certain desire to believe him.

"You know, it would have been real easy for me to hate you, too," she begins, out of the blue. It's not what he expected to hear. "Right from the start, when they told me you were a Colonial Marine. I could have simply hated you for being one of those who trashed up my home-town, just like most other Arcturians would do. Things would be a lot easier for me if I'd just generally hated everybody in a uniform. But I don't. I keep telling myself that not all of them participated in what happened, and that you probably weren't even there! They didn't send the entire Corps to pacify a people of three million, right?"

The riots? She's talking about the riots from five years back?

"I was there," he confesses dully, but her gaze doesn't change.

"Even so, I thought to myself: Even if he was there, five years back he was probably just a cadet, or some other very lowly rank with nothing to say at all, just like me here. He didn't have the power to stop it. He surely wouldn't have participated in the plunderings and rapings. He seems to be a genuinely nice person, and I don't think he would be able to commit crimes like the ones I witnessed. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, because I felt you were different."

She comes a step closer, pinning him with her gaze.

"And now, with everything that happened to you, you must surely think all of us Weyland Yutani staff must be pathological liars and unscrupulous, sick, greedy sadists... and I suppose that for the most part, at least on Phooka and the Company's managers, you're right... but there are also those of us who came here to do something good, who want to find cures to diseases plaguing people... and those who didn't have a choice other than coming here."

Her voice steadies as she grows more secure. Hicks can't help but feel impressed by the girl's line of reasoning.

"So how did you end up working here?" he asks calmly, making an inviting gesture to the seat opposite him. She takes it.

"Hikahi took me with him when he left Arcturus. I was eleven years old then, and both my father and my brother were killed in the riots. They had been my only family, since my mother died when I was very little, and suddenly I was all alone in a totally devastated city. I had nowhere left to go... so John Hikahi took me with him when he left the planet. He had been our neighbor. He lost his wife in the riots, and couldn't bear the thought of staying in this awful place any longer. He took me along, and we tried to find a good place to forget and to live in... and this is where we landed."

She shakes her head sadly and continues in a suddenly hushed, low, secretive voice as if she's letting him in on her biggest secret.

"If it's any help, Dwayne: I hate it too. Phooka is no place for young, idealistic people like me. If someone would offer me to leave today, I would go, no matter where. But we are not allowed to leave, except down onto the planet we're circling, which is as barren and deserted as they come. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel."

Another silence ensues, but this time, it's a good one, ripe with the feeling of mutual understanding. A comforting silence. Hicks can't believe it, but he actually feels his lips form a little, encouraging smile in her direction...and finds it mirrored in her face. Everything's good between them again. Everything forgiven and forgotten. Apparently, they are nothing but good people caught in a bad mess. Inhaling deeply, he nods toward the case.

"And what kind of game did you bring me?"

The shadow has vanished from her face, as she leans forward to take the case and place it onto the table, opening the two locks.

"Well, it's not exactly a game... it's more of a... test. A learning experience, rather."

"A learning experience, huh?" Hicks views Keisha in wary amusement.

She smiles briefly, hoping that he isn't thinking that this is Phooka's way of training him to be obedient or anything. 'Just wait until he sees the program,' she tells herself. 'He'll understand.' Before she can allow Hicks' mind to be overrun with assumptions, she removes two mechanical devices in the shape of a glove. The moment she hands them over to him she can't help but notice the small twinkle in Hicks' eyes. She takes a seat on the couch, waiting for more of a response. Hicks slowly joins her on the couch. He looks at the gloves for a long time, caught up in the whirlwind of his thoughts.

At first, she thinks that his skeptical side has returned, with more wounding words to say. Instead, however, she's surprised to see a small grin on his face. It's not much but it's there all the same. Slowly, appearing to be deep in thought, Hicks slips his hands into the mechanical glove devices, moving them as he flexes his fingers. They make small electrical sounds as bolts and wires from the devices move. Game controllers, he recalls, remembering how he used to use kick serious ass when his squad decided to throw a few rounds at the 'arcade' back at the Sulaco. Yeah, spending years out in space and spending twice as much of that time in cryo can do that to a man. You're only left with the company of your squad, after all. Because endless trips in space could just about break any person, almost every military vessel had some form of entertainment system designed for comfort.

Of course, the public always bitched on about the Corps and other military branches spending 'their' hard earned taxes to build these 'entertainment' facilities. But, hey, they're not the ones serving their galaxy now, are they? It's not their asses on the line. When push comes to shove, who the fuck do you think the top guys are gonna call? The desk jockeys? Hell, no. The hounds of war, that's who, man. Even back in the old days, bases had these entertainment systems. So, naturally, when soldiers decided to spend their R&R time at the local mall's nearest to their bases, they came prepared. They literally beat and kicked the crap out of those poor pimpled-face kids in those old-fashioned arcade games. Yeah, the ones that still used joysticks and buttons. Ancient stuff. Today, not that much has changed. It's become a tradition to be, not only a soldier with skills of weaponry, but a gamer, too. Hell, he's done some ass-whooping several times once R&R came into play. Never deliberately, though, like that idiot Hudson. Man, that Hudson…

"Well? What do you think?" Keisha smiles, her extremely white teeth glistening.

"Brings back some fond memories," he replies, almost sad.

"I thought… you'd like it…" She lowers her head, not knowing how to feel about Hicks' almost gloomy expression. "If you don't like this, I can take it away…"

"Oh, I like it all right," Hicks tells her, realizing how guilty she looks right now. He adds light-heartedly, "I was this close to asking you if you had any games to come with the entertainment system here." He nods toward the large screen with a chuckle. "Was it your idea?

""Yeah," Keisha slightly blushes, "Hihaki wanted to make sure your motor and mental skills were working properly, or at least to a good level. He was gonna get you doing this way boring task." She laughs. "But I threw in the idea of video games. After all, video games help with reflexes and senses. A lot of people didn't think so back in the time when video games were developed, with the Atari and all. But games have evolved since then and studies have shown the benefits gained from using them. Of course, that doesn't mean people shouldn't take a break and get some fresh air, you know?"

"I know what you mean."

"Anyway, you've been improving so well, Hicks, that I thought it was time to tone the rest of your body functions."

"Yeah, tell me about it." He cracks a thin, somewhat sarcastic, grin. "A week ago I couldn't take a piss all by myself. And now, I'm in for the whole nine yards – including showering. It's been pretty embarrassing, needing help with all this stuff, y' know."

Keisha blushes, her black features turning red. Her mind can only imagine that. No, she tells herself mentally when the image transforms into a fantasy of hers. Be a good girl, Keisha. Don't think about that. If only she could tell that to her raging hormones right now. After all, Hicks really is cute. Granted, he was an ugly duckling before. But as each week passes, Hicks keeps getting better and better. It'll only be a matter of time before he puts on those pounds. And then… well if they ain't busy… maybe they can…?

"Okay," she says, clearing her throat and trying to sound like a doctor. "I think we better get started. Hihaki suggested that you'd spend around a half an hour on it, I'd better get you started."

Keisha moves a little closer to him, feeling a little light-headed at the intimate moment. His thin body may need some work, but his face is a wonder. He must've been a lady killer, provided he wasn't so humble in the past. She can only hope that he can't hear her thumping heart as she hooks up a very thin and clear cable wire to his chest. Sure, there's the implant in his neck, which also monitors his heart-rate, but somehow the VR projector and the implant still refuse to share their information. So, they have to do this the old-fashioned way.

The other end of the wire, she inputs into a small laptop enclosed in the metal case. Flicking up a switch, the small monitor lights up. It shows lines of hills and troughs, demonstrating Hicks' heartbeat. From the looks of things, Hicks already knows how to play these games and probably won't suffer from epileptic seizures caused when exposed to light patterns or flashing lights. Epileptic seizures were a problem with the old generation games, even if only a certain number of people suffered from it. Even those who didn't even have a history of seizures or epilepsy were at risk. Dizziness, altered vision, eye or muscle twitches, loss of awareness, disorientation, or any involuntary movement were common symptoms.

And then there was the problem with the vibrating controllers that came out. A British Medical Journal reported a 15-year-old who developed a severe injury, referred to as "hand-arm vibration syndrome". His hands had become white and swollen when exposed to cold, and red and painful when it was warm. Granted, they've come a long way from this and Hicks probably wouldn't suffer any of these symptoms. Then again, Hicks is still in recovery and vulnerable to even the most basic illness.

She inputs another clear cable directly into the gloved hands' devices. The wire clicks quietly and automatically rotates itself one eighty until it locks into place. The dark skinned woman attaches yet another cable to a pair of virtual reality visors that are colored purple and black. Finally, she hands one of the visors over to Hicks to put on. Hicks gives her a quick smile that sends shivers up her spine. She immediately turns away so that he won't see the blushing on her face.

Hicks doesn't notice Keisha's slightly embarrassed expression. Instead, he puts on the purple and clear glasses. Instantly, his line of vision reveals an entire field full of large red grids and mathematical numbers floating through the air. The words 'loading' appear large and tall. It's as if he's actually right inside a computer, looking up.

"This one of those modified virtual reality sets?" he says as he views his new surroundings, looking left and right. "The ones that cost an arm and a leg?"

Outside the virtual reality setting, Keisha nods her head. "Yep. State-of-the-art."

"Figures. This is only a hunch, but I'm guessing that you boys also created the infamous MASP 9000, huh?"

"That's right."

MASP 9000, which stands for Macro Artificial Space Program. It was basically an artificial super computer that made such an impact to the aerial space programs like NASA. Not only did it create out-of-this-world designs for spacecrafts, but actually gained tons of popularity for the design of new car models. Nowadays, car industries worldwide and beyond use its program to create top of the line models. It made an impact for the history books. Of course, this impressive program could only be created by the single monopoly company: Weyland Yutani.

"Here, put these on too," says Keisha for gently. She puts two nose-like plugs on Hicks' hand as well a smooth sheet of plastic in the shape of a tongue. Even though Hicks can't 'see' these items, he's played the games for such a long time that it's become second nature to him, and he knows what needs to be done. He puts the nose plugs into his nostrils and the plastic into his mouth where it rests comfortably on his tongue. Now he knows that the game has a 'smell' and 'taste'' option.

"So what type of game will I be playing?" he asks, his voice slightly slurred due to the plastic device on his tongue. "Fighting? Role-playing? Car racing?"

"Sorry, this exercise is meant to check and improve on all of your five senses," explains Keisha. "One will be for your hearing. Another for your smell. A third for visual purposes. A fourth for you taste awareness. And last, but not least, the fifth for tactility."

"Meaning, that it's going to be one of those made-for-children games, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, Hicks. But look at the good news… I'll have Hihaki look into the VR fighting games. I'm sure I'll find some excuse for you to play that."

She grins.

Hicks sees the words 'loading' vanish. The mathematical numbers suddenly come together, making shapes. Hicks 'walks' towards them, hearing clearly their sounds as they bond into something that is round in shape. It doesn't take long for him to see that they're forming an apple. Meanwhile, Keisha puts on another set of visors found inside the metal case. She smiles once she sees Hicks inside the virtual reality setting. He isn't wearing the hospital nightgown anymore nor does he look as pale as he usually does. Rather, he appears very handsome and healthy, wearing blue jeans and a tight white shirt. Overall, his alter ego within the program seems to suit him just fine.

"This program is incredible," Hicks' alter ego says. He notices that Keisha's alter ego is wearing a flowered white dress and make-up. Her hair is pulled back by a beautiful hair decoration. He can't help but notice the smile on her face. It's not the usual one. It's more… serious. Jesus, does Keisha have a crush on him? No. Can't be. Then again, it'll explain why she's been so nice to him all the time. Keisha slowly advances towards him. As she does, she decides to change the environment around them. The program is very flexible. Much like the hologram scenario option in the Phooka facility, she's able to conjure up any place she likes with just a thought.

The black abyss turns into a bright-blue sunny day. A glistening lake is created towards her left while gigantic hills are built across them. Thousands upon thousands of trees emerge from the ground, growing fast. Their branches stretch as bright green leaves appear. She marvels at it, seeing the environment change from an abyss to an enchanting forest.

"How's it going?" she asks gently to Hicks. "Are you feeling nauseated? Some gamers can be very sensitive to virtual reality environments."

"No. I'm good."

"Great. Now, let's get down to business, Hicks. Do you see the apple there?" she points at the object next to him. He nods. "I want you to eat it."

Hicks complies by strolling next to the 'apple' and taking it into his mouth to 'eat' it.

"Well?" Keisha asks. "How are your taste senses?"

"According to my stomach, I'd say that was the best damn thing I've eaten since I came here. Maybe I should eat here more often."

Keisha laughs at his joke. It is very rare for him to tell one. She watches him walking near the lake. He kneels down to look at his face in the water's reflection. Hicks gazes at his face in the water, feeling a little lump form in his throat. His alter ego shows everything he used to be before LV-426. Healthy. Full of life. He wonders if he could conjure up images here… like people. Like long-dead friends. No… They'd still be fake in the end, he reminds himself. That was stupid of him to even consider. Like conjuring up Ripley, Newt, Hudson, and everyone else would make things better? Christ, how can it? Nothing can change reality. As real as this is, as real as that apple tasted, as real as this water smells, nothing here is real. It's a place for people who can't accept the truth. It's a place for fallen dreams and decaying people, like him.

Hicks' suddenly looks up from the water to get away from these thoughts. Keisha, picking up the dark vibe he's suddenly exuding, feels inclined to come to his aid.

"Why don't you show me where you're from, Dwayne?" she asks, hoping to distract him from whatever caused him to frown. "You can change this place as much as I can, you know? Wanna try it?"

He looks at her and straightens out of his crouch, wiping his wet hands dry on his jeans. "Is this already part of the training?"

"As a matter of fact, it is, but .. you know," she shrugs, "-wouldn't it be nice to feel home again?"

"For the five or ten minutes while it lasts?" he retorts. "I'm not sure."

Well, take us some other place, then. Just try it out, you'll like it. Come on."

'Bad idea, Keisha', she tells herself as she observes the marine looking around sceptically. 'Hikahi was right. He's not ready for it, yet.'

"Don't tell me you prefer that boring room you're in to what you could have in here." She watches as his gazes finally finds its way back to her, and he shrugs in resignation.

"All right. What do I have to do?"

"Just think about a place real hard. Try to imagine it as vividly as you can. The program will do the rest. Let it surprise you."

"Hmm…" He's still sounding dubious, but turns around nevertheless, staring at the peak of a mountain that's still visible through the dense foliage above their heads. Takes up his courage… and closes his eyes. Home, she said. She wanted to see the place he used to live in. Well… against some still existing, but weakening inner barrier, the picture of the beautiful, green and blue bay of Gisborne, situated in the east of New Zealand's Northern island takes shape in his head. So fast, it's as if someone switched on a projector. The hills, the blue, pounding sea with the tiny boats he used to observe from his favourite place on a sunny day, screaming seagulls… everything is right, down to the salty smell of the air and the breeze blowing into his face. From somewhere in front of him comes a surprised gasp.

"Oh Dwayne, that's beautiful!"

He opens his eyes, still kind of reluctant – and gasps himself, for the image his eyes are showing him doesn't differ the least bit from the picture he had just conjured up in his mind. It's so real, even the bitterness that used to accompany all thoughts about home, doesn't stand a chance. It's amazing! So amazing, he can't help smile. A wistful smile, yes, but an honest smile. Not sarcastic, or bitter. Something that's been a rarity for him in these past months. And as he takes his eyes away from the sea to look at the girl, he sees real, heart-felt joy in her face. Honest happiness – for him!

"Like it?" he asks nevertheless, and sees her smile broaden.

"It's breath-taking," she replies, beaming. "What place is this?"

"Gisborne, New Zealand." He turns around to let his gaze glide over the rugged hills in the direction of the East Cape. "On Terra."

"Oh… so you're from Earth!"

"Well, I live…I used to live there. Wasn't borne there, though. But since my regiment's stationed at Gateway, I had to move." He nods to himself. "One of the best decisions in my life. Earth's much nicer than Alpha Ceti." He looks back to Keisha, and notices the dreamy expression on her face.

"I've never been to Earth, myself," she admits with a hint of sadness. "I just heard that it's supposed to still be the most beautiful place of them all. None of the colonies can compete with it."

"Well, I don't know about that," he admits. "I guess you could argue that with the people on Elysium… but it's okay."

"Okay?" She stares at him, wide-eyed. "You call this okay? You should have seen Arcturus! Even before the riots, it was nothing but a… nevermind."

"No, no, don't get me wrong. New Zealand's great, I agree," Hicks says, stepping up towards her again. "And some other places, too. But many are still ugly, barren concrete jungles. You know, from back where there was only Earth… with a population of 10 billion people. Shortly before sub-space drive was invented and all these terraforming procedures. They had to chop everything down to put up cities full of high-rise buildings, just to make room for the people. They've started taking them down, and they're making good progress, but it's still gonna take them a while to put everything back to the state it was in. New Zealand was one of only a handful of countries which didn't surrender to overpopulation back then. They shut themselves off from the rest of the world and wouldn't admit any people into their country. It was a big issue back then."

"I know," Keisha nods, fascinated. "I heard about it in school. But it's something completely different coming from someone who experienced it."

He suddenly bursts into a hearty laugh, amazing her even more – that's definitely a first one for him… and it suits him so well! She can tell they're making progress! What a good decision of hers to try this! `Eat this, Dr. Hikahi!' she thinks, almost boasting with satisfaction.

"Geez, Kee, I'm not that old," Hicks chuckles, still grinning. "I didn't experience it. Just learned it at school, like you." He sees her complexion darken considerably. "Come on, do I look like Methuselah to you?"

"You could well be over 100 years old for all I know," she defends herself, abashed. "With the cryo-sleep slowing down the aging process-"

"Yeah, right." He tries to calm down, not wanting to embarrass the young nurse. "But I would have had to spend 70 years of the last 100 in it to look like this." He shakes his head. "Not even I would have taken a job that would lead me so far away from home. Whenever we left we only needed three or four weeks of cryo-sleep, max."

"Okay…" she bites her lips… and smirks at him from under her brows. "Say, Methuselah… would you like to take me on a little sightseeing-tour? I'd like to see more."

"Keep insulting me and all you'll see is the door of this room closing in your face," he retorts, returning her smirk.

"Sorry." Her voice mimics the tone of a very small child whose daddy's angry at her. "Please?"

He laughs again, causing her heart to jump with joy.

"Alright, alright. I've never been able to resist the 'puppy dog eyes'." Still smirking, he observes their surroundings for one last time, busily searching for an image to replace it.

"Hold on, here we go…" This time, he keeps his eyes open and watches the transformation of his mind's image into pseudo-reality, feeling like some sort of eternal being as he sees the deep fjords of Doubtful Sound take shape around them, followed by Milford Sound… Mount Taranaki… getting completely caught up in the virtual world his mind conjures up without effort.

"Oh, Dwayne, this is incredible!" his guest utters, gasping with amazement again. "And you are doing great, see? I knew you could handle this! If you want to, I can talk to Hikahi and let you play with this every day. Would you like that?"

"Sure," he replies half-heartedly, not really listening to Keisha, because he's just thought of another site he wants to show her. Suddenly, they're enveloped in thick blackness.

"Uh… Dwayne?"

"Just wait. Your eyes are still tuned to the light. It'll come in a few moments." The rushing of the water tells him he did right. They're in the cave. And as he keeps staring straight into the darkness, it comes to life… with millions – no, myriads! – of tiny, sparkling stars, surrounding them, making him feel as if he were floating through space.

"Oh…." Words seem to fail her, but suddenly he feels her hand taking his, pressing it. "Oh, this is… so beautiful! What is this?" He lets her hold on, seeing only a faint outline of her in the weak glow.

"Glow-worms."

"What?"

"Tiny insects. They give off light with the back of their bodies." He cranes his neck back to look at the galaxy of lights on the ceiling, satisfied over her wonder… and creases his brow as he comes to a completely dark spot further back, wondering why there's none of the glow-worms there.

The spot moves.

"Ouch!" Hicks barely hears Keisha's surprised protest, or feels her wiggling her hand out of his. "Dwayne, what's-"

It moves. Towards them! And it's big – at least man-sized! Obliterating the light where it moves across the ceiling, a darker shape than the artificial night enveloping it. `No… no…' He takes a step back, hearing an accelerating beeping behind them! The tracker signal! It doesn't lie!

'Can't be. They can't be here!'

"Dwayne? Dwayne, what is it? Ow!"

"Run, Keisha!" He shoves her in the direction of the entrance, when suddenly their surroundings change again without warning – into the bare, metal corridors of Hadley's Hope, and now he sees them, spilling out in dozens from a hole in the ceiling, glistening, chitinous black nightmare figures! The sparkle on chrome jaws, grinning death! Grinning at him! "Run as fast as you can!" He's already racing down the walkway at full tilt, when he notices she's not beside him – and turns around to see her, down on her knees, where she's fallen ten meters behind him, the closest alien just about to reach her. "Keisha!"

"Dwayne, it's not-"

The aberration grabs her head, double-fingered claws digging into her face – and yanks her up towards the ceiling with a moist ripping sound.

"Nooooo!" His legs denying him further service, frozen on the spot, he stares at the wave of aliens rushing at him. Dozens of them. Closing in. Grinning at him. Their grin saying, "We've finally got you!" Surrounding him until all he sees is a squirming pile of glistening chitin and sparkling chrome. `Got you! We've got you!'

"Nooooo!"

Light explodes all around.

"-not real, Dwayne! Dwayne! Calm down!"

They seize him and drag him back, and he knows just where they're taking him – and fights, summoning strength he didn't know he had left, to wrench free of their grip, to escape Apone's fate, to-

"Hold him, dammit!"

"Dwayne, Dwayne, it's me! Whatever you seeing, it's not –"

"Shut the fuck up, Keisha, and hold him down! Isis!"

"Got him!"

An iron grip pins him down, presses his arms to the floor as if they were shackled down to it.

"Noo! Get off me! Get off me!"

A tiny prick in the pit of his elbow… and suddenly, his arms slackens, and he feels something like liquid lead move through his veins, spreading through his body with every pulse, paralysing him. His muscles won't obey his will anymore.

`Gorman… they did the same to Gorman… no….'

"Dwayne, oh my God, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The girl's face appears above him, hovering in his blurred vision like a strange moon, moisture glittering on her cheeks. Something touches his face. He's so tired…" "I didn't mean to-"

"How can anyone be so stupid as to subject him to the VR processor yet?" an angry, male voice booms in from afar. "Shit, Keisha, look what you've done!"

"I bet you didn't even tell Dr. Hikahi, did you?" Another voice, one he's vaguely familiar with, but by now, the words have lost their meaning to Hicks. They're just background noise, their meaning slipping from his feeble grasp as he sinks deeper and deeper…


Hadley's Hope, Day 11, 2300 hours

"Dwayne..." This is Ripley, probably back to check whether Vasquez... whether it's already over. "Dwayne, I don't mean to disturb you, but... this might be important."

He looks up, tired, beat. Feeling a million years old. Not really caring. What could be important after what just happened? "What?"

She comes to a halt right in front of him, her face compassionate, but also strangely preoccupied. Tense. "There's something going on in the corridors. The RSS alarms won't cease... and we still can't find Burke."

A face emerges from behind her back, looking at him questioningly. He looks at the girl, then up to Ripley. Shrugs. "So what? His people are responsible for this mess. I hope the aliens got him!" He just can't find the energy in himself to give a shit. Ripley looks down at him, slowly shaking her head.

"Even if that's the way I'm feeling, too... something's going on outside. Gorman thinks we had better check it out."

"Well, if he's waiting for my consent, tell him to be my guest."

"He's not waiting for your consent." Her voice grows firm. "He's waiting for you to come with him. You know, to cover each other's backs."

It earns her a weary smile.

"You see where all this back-covering's landed us. We're not terribly efficient with it. He might be better off alone."

She narrows her eyes, as if she can't believe what she's hearing, then leans down to say something to Newt that's too low for Hicks to hear. The girl leaves.

"So that's it? You've given up?"

"Uh-huh..." He meets her hard stare for a moment, before his gaze goes to the table where Vasquez is lying. "You can count, can't you? We were fifteen – including Bishop – when we came here... now it's just you, Gorman, Bishop and me... and the girl, and about one clip of ammunition for Gorman and me to protect us with. I'd say the odds are pretty lousy. Whenever they decide to come for us, we won't have much left to keep them off."

"Has it ever occurred to you that your calculation may be wrong? In their favour?"

"Huh?" He squints at her, not really eager to listen any further.

"You are still counting on an army of them, aren't you?"

"I think it's safe to assume there are more of them than we can handle, yes."

"But you might be wrong!" Ripley leans forward, intensity written on her face. "Just count: There were 157 colonists in Hadley's Hope... even if they had all been impregnated, there can't have been more than 157 aliens total. 156, since they didn't get Newt. "

"Not enough for you?" Hicks throws in acidly. She ignores it.

"As we've seen, the colonist didn't go down without a fight. We saw a number of some acid-holes on our way to Operations, big holes, right? Big holes equalling dead alien. Listen to me!" She's still not getting through to him. "Let's say they killed ten of them. Maybe more."

"Heck, yeah, maybe they killed them all, and what we're dealing with are just the aliens' ghosts," he hisses, angry. "What're you trying to say? That there are only a handful left to deal with?"

"Just do the math," she insists. "First the colonists, then your team over at the atmosphere processor. You did some pretty bad damage to them. And then their first attempt in the tunnel... I would bet everything that at least seventy or eighty of them were killed right then! And another twenty or thirty in the corridor. Just do the math, Dwayne! There can't be too many left!"

"It's all nothing but speculation!" He raises his voice. "Just listen to yourself! All I'm hearing is "Maybe, maybe, maybe"! Maybe it's not like you're saying! Huh? What then? What if there are still seventy or eighty of them out there, psyching themselves up for another go at us? You saw how fast these bastards heal up! Maybe most of them got away, hid in a corner to sprout a new arm or leg, and are just getting ready to give it to us with a vengeance! "

"I don't think-"

"You don't think!" he yells, right into her face. "You don't think! Know what? You don't know! Everything's possible! With this kind of activity in the corridors right now, it's likely they're preparing another ambush for us we won't be able to answer! Not with just one clip!"

He stops, breathing hard. God knows, he didn't want to yell at Ripley. After all, she's just doing her best to cheer him up , to not make it look hopeless. But if there's something he has in abundance, it's field expertise... and he knows a lost mission when he's part of one.

"I'm sorry..." His voice is low again. "That's just the way it is."

When Ripley answers, it's not with anger, but rather with sorrow. "It's sad to see when someone loses his optimism..." She expects at least a glare, but all she gets is a consternated frown.

"Yeah, well... I guess reality finally caught up with me." His gaze lies once again on the dead smart gun-operator. "Took me a while... guess I'm a slow learner..."

Now it's his opposite who's taking a deep breath. Her voice is calm, in spite of having just been yelled at. "So... what are you going to do now? Just sit here, wallowing in self-pity and waiting for them to get you?" He doesn't answer, so she gets out the most efficient weapon she can think of to rip him out of his stupor… even if she hates having to resort to it. "If they come, they won't kill just you… I'm sure you know this.

His stare grows hard, and for a brief moment, she fears she's gone too far. "Trying the good old guilt-trip, huh?" His voice is dangerously low, contradicting the diamond-hard sparkle in his eyes. "It's not enough I've got to blame myself for Vasquez and Hudson's deaths – now you want to hold me responsible for everything that could happen to you and Newt, too." With a start, he jumps to his feet, a grim expression on his face that makes Ripley recoil from him. "Tell you what – it works… but I didn't think you'd sink low enough to use it."

"Dwayne-"

He leaves her standing and heads for Operations.

"Lieutenant?" Gorman's face is a single, unasked question "You ready to go?"

"Yes." The officer's still looking uncomfortable. "Are you… are you sure you want to…" He interrupts himself. "Are you alright?" Considering the blood-caked skin and clothes of his opposite, the question seems rather absurd, but he has to know. He doesn't look at Hicks, but rather at Ripley who's entering Operations behind the Corporal with a set-in-stone look on her face. Even Bishop looks concerned. Hicks shrugs as he takes the one still functional pulse rifle from the console.

"Hell, yeah. I still know how to shoot, and my eyes work, too. Should be enough to do this, right?" He looks up. "Or do you want it?"

Gorman raises the hand with his pistol. "I'd rather take this. You are probably better with the rifle than me. And I'll take along the flashlight, too."

"Okay." One last check, then he takes the heavy weapon up and throws a direct look over at Ripley. "I'd say we're good to go then." He turns on his heels and heads for the door. "Lieutenant?"

He's halfway through punching the manual code into the keypad, when he remembers something and turns his neck to look back. "Bishop? You're armed, right?" The android shows him the weapon. "How many rounds left?"

"Six."

Hicks nods, for once losing the hard expression he has been wearing over the last minutes and replacing it with genuine concern as he grabs his headset and adjusts the mike just below his lips.

"If it comes to the worst…" He doesn't finish his sentence, but then, he doesn't have to. Bishop understands perfectly well. "Will you be able to do this? With your behaviour-inhibitors and…? Will they let you…you know?"

He struggles hard to ignore Ripley and Newt, who are standing right next to the android. A cold fist presses his stomach together at the thought of the worst-case scenario becoming real. Of little Newt, who comforted him just a few minutes back, having her head blown away after all she has endured over the last six or seven weeks. Of Ripley, too, even if she just came down brutally hard on him. He doesn't want her dead.

"Don't worry, Hicks," Bishop reassures him. "They won't get them. I'll make sure they won't."

"Thanks…" he says, rather to himself, giving his synthetic team-member the little approving nod he's waiting for, before he turns back to punch in the rest of the code. "Lieutenant? What's the tracker saying?"

"Nothing."

And now they all hear it, too – the alarm has stopped. Everything's silent again. After listening for a few more heartbeats, Hicks opens the door. Tenses. The dark corridor lies in front of him, fifty meters to the junction with the main corridor, then, after the corner, 400 meters of solid blackness of the main walkway with its many ventilation shafts, connecting corridors and doors, each one a possible place for an ambush. Everything's silent. Expectant. Just waiting for them to come out of hiding? He inhales deeply and silently, straining his ears as much as he can to pick up any detectable sign of danger.

"Anything?"

Ripley's voice, whispering. He shakes his head. Waiting a few seconds longer, scanning the walls, the ceiling in the hardly penetrable twilight. He even checks out the shredded bodies of the four xenomorphs lying in a pile just opposite the entrance. Checks for even the tiniest move, even though the huge acid hole leading to them tells him they must be dead. But then, they had been thinking the same about the one that was responsible for wasting their precious last ten rounds from the RSS sentries, right? He gives himself a good, hard, mental kick. If they don't go now, they'll probably stay frozen to the spot for all eternity.

"Let's go." Exchanging a glance with his officer, he takes the first step, pulse rifle ready for action. "Bishop? Close the door behind us."

"Be careful." Ripley again. He doesn't respond, and a moment later the pneumatic hiss of the mechanism tells them they are alone.


'IVORY TOWER', Phooka Station

"Dr. Saitchev? Dr. Saitchev, would you please come over here for a second?"

"My shift's over, Yoshi," the tall Russian-born psychologist informs his staff member, holding up a ceramic mug. "I'm only still here for the coffee."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"The corporal again?"

"Why – yes. How do you-"

"He's always dreaming like this. And after what happened this afternoon, it was to be expected. Medication's wearing off, dreams starting again… perfectly normal."

"But, shouldn't we give him something again?" Yoshi Tanaka looks up in puzzlement as his superior leans over his table to take a look at the monitor which is showing the restlessly spinning and thrashing marine. He points at a scale. "Look at his heartbeat! We should really-!

"It'll wake him all by himself when it's fast enough, Yoshi," Saitchev calms him down. "No need to worry. Have you never had a nightmare?"

"Yes, but not like him."

"They're all the same. Just let him ride it out. He's got to come to grips with this stuff sooner or later anyway. Darwin wants him unspoiled for her project. We can't start pumping him full of this psycho-pharmaceutical shit. He's a tough guy – he can deal with it." He turns away. "By the way, that cappuccino is i-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-e! Want some too?"


Hadley's Hope, Day 11, 2330 hours

"Anything?"

"Nothing."

Their surroundings are still as quiet as a graveyard as they move on, carefully, further down the main walkway. Behind the still watchful, but empty RSS units, it's littered with the corpses of more aliens than Hicks can count on first sight, and Ripley's words echo in his head. What if she's right? What if they did indeed already decimate those bastards to the point where there's only a handful of them left? Maybe they've got them just as scared of them now, as they are of the aliens? There must be over 50 lying around here, so many, it's in fact hard finding a way through them. There are more holes in the ground than intact grating, and they really have to watch their footing. Just one wrong step, and they could seriously injure themselves by treading through a hole and cutting themselves on a razor-sharp steel strut. It doesn't make their task any easier.

"Lieutenant?"

Hicks all but whispers it, but still the noise strikes him as treacherously loud. Gorman looks back. Hicks motions to the robot sentries, and then performs a cut-throat gesture telling the officer he intends to silence them before the wailing alarm gives them away once they step in front of them. It barely takes him a minute to disable the sirens. A small nod to Gorman. Confirmation to proceed. The officer takes a couple of steps before he comes to another halt, illuminating the gruesome scenery on the ground before them: biomechanical arms, legs, tails, rumps, even heads lie strewn in a state of complete disarray on the floor for as far as the flashlight reaches. Hicks cocks an eyebrow in amazement.

'Looked like the bastards really got their rears kicked hard by the robot sentries. '`Yeah,' the sceptic voice in his head concludes. `But still they came back for more, remember? You didn't scare them off, not even with this massacre.'

"Now what?" Gorman shines the light in his direction. "If the ground breaks beneath us…" He follows Hicks' gaze up to the ceiling, looking for any handles they could use to avoid the treacherous floor. The corporal is the first one to silently shake his head to himself.

"No good. We'll have to jump from spot to spot." The doubts in Gorman's face are the same ones he's feeling as the lieutenant lights the ground in front of them, looking for a safe way. "Tracker?"

"Still nothing."

"All right…"

Hicks braces for the effort. Two meters. This should be possible – even if he isn't looking forward to landing on a heap of dead aliens. If some of that acid is still active… 'Keep the light like this, okay?' Switching the safety of his rifle on for the jump, he takes aim. Three fast steps – and then he lands on a pile of bodies, crouching, half expecting to hear the familiar hissing of the acid eating into his boots. Nothing. Relieved, he straightens and gives Gorman the thumbs up, taking two steps aside after having checked the floor. The next second, the lieutenant is at his side.

Together, they make their way through the mine-field of half dissolved grating, at last jumping over a wide hole that spans the entire width of the corridor. Another look at the tracker's readouts, almost expecting it to show nothing after the eternity it's been quiet while they made their way down here… but just as they look down, a single, sharp tone makes them jump! Hicks moves his lips in a silent curse as he checks out the reading, his fingers switching off the pulse rifle's safety automatically. The signal's hardly there, meaning they're at least 200 meters away. What to do now? His mind's racing…

"Bishop?" He barely dares to mumble into his headset. "We got something here…"

"Tell them to come back!" he hears Ripley in the background, sounding nervous.

"A big signal?"

Hicks checks again, motioning Gorman to take a few steps into the direction of the contact. The signal's getting more insistent, and now he's seeing more than just one blue dot on the monitor.

"Three… so far. About 200 meters down the corridor."

"Can you see anything yet?"

"Negative. Too far. And it's too dark. We can't see more than the next seven or eight meters." He curses himself for leaving his helmet with the in-built infrared-visor behind. "Got anything, any… messages or so? It could be the rescue team… but I'd think they'd send us a message prior to coming in. They wouldn't want us to blow them away."

He waits for the android's reply.

"There's nothing. And the satellite's still working."

Another tense glance exchanged between him and Gorman. A deep breath.

"Okay…we'll go investigate. Tell me when you hear anything. As long as you don't, stay quiet. We need our ears out here. Hicks, over and out." He watches Gorman disable the audio-alarm that would give them away as soon as they got closer.

"Good luck, Corporal. Bishop, over and out."

Silence again.

"All right, let's go…"

Another glance reveals two more contacts and causes his stomach to freeze. If these are indeed aliens…Falling into place at the Lieutenant's side, matching his stride, he can't help looking at the signal again and again. Another one now. Six! It can't be Burke, that's for sure. So where is the bastard? When was the last time he saw him? Something heavy clatters to the floor in front of them, the thunderous echo racing through the silence. Some commotion follows, but too low to be identified as either human or alien noise. Hicks feels the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up. All of a sudden, the air appears to be almost to thick too breathe.

"Ssssshhhh…."

Gorman comes to a stop , holds up the tracker. The entire monitor is now one single blue blur. Ten contacts, at least. His face is an open question.

'Should we really proceed?'

Hicks doesn't know. He doesn't want to. But what would they win if they went back? Sure, they could backtrack and hole up again in Operations, without knowing what's going on. And then? Maybe, if they'd proceeded right now, they would at least have surprise on their side and be able to do some damage – they'd have the chance to act, not to react! Maybe their chances for survival would be bigger this way! Maybe, maybe, maybe! Annoyed with himself, he comes to a decision. Lets Gorman know about it with a curt nod and gestures for him to switch off the flashlight.

As soon as the light goes, the darkness closes in on them. An almost solid, thick environment heavy with silence and foreboding dread. Hell, he doesn't want to go… `Cut the BS, soldier!' his inner drill-instructor sneers at him. `You really wanna go back and tell them you were too much of a chicken to check the signal out?' Somehow, he manages to take the first step, even though his feet are still feeling somewhat reluctant. Another glance at the read-out. 120 meters to rendezvous point. The entire monitor's blue. If it's the aliens, they'll walk straight into their deaths…

"Hicks-"

"Ssssshh!" he shuts Ripley off, focusing on the corridor straight ahead.

100 meters to go.

The end of the walkway is solid black. They can't see shit. What if the aliens are just waiting for them on the other side, seeing them clear as day, while they're poking around in the dark. What's worse? Using the flashlight and telling their presence to every non-alien who might be looking from hundreds of meters away… or continuing in this darkness that's only broken by occasional flying sparks from severed circuits or the flickering of a not entirely dead neon-light?

Seventy meters.

Why is he afraid of being seen by the rescue team anyway? Shouldn't they rather run towards them, shouting and revealing their presence to avoid being accidentally confused with any of those sneaky bio-mechanoid bastards and tragically shot?

Fifty meters.

He holds up his hand, silently telling Gorman to stop and listen. It should be possible to hear something now, judging by how massive this signal is. But straining his ears as he might, there's nothing but the distinct crackling of a severed circuit somewhere off to the left, raining blue-white sparks down from the ceiling. Otherwise, there's nothing but silence, and his vivid imagination throws up the image of a pile of squirming, glistening nightmare-creatures, silently waiting for them just around the corner, ready to pounce. Smart enough not to round it themselves and jump into his line of fire while he's ready for it. If they'll have to round the corner, it'll be to their disadvantage.

`Okay, proceed.'

He doesn't say it, but Gorman, showing that he didn't earn his officer rank for nothing, understands him without words. At last, Hicks has to give the man some credit. After all, he's a rookie who had been thrown into the worst of circumstances. With almost no prior combat experience, it's no wonder he panicked when things went sour. It had been easy at first for everybody to lay the blame entirely on their incompetent officer… but they've been unfair. Gorman tries hard to make up for his blackout at the processing station – he really needs to give him a break now, even if… if he shot - `Stop it!' The mental drill-instructor again. Always handy when he needs him.

`You can't afford to think about this now!'

Thirty meters.

They're almost at the corner now. Hicks' entire skin is tingling, muscles so tense he can feel them cramping in his neck and arms, locking, almost. His pulse is thunder in his ears, a rhythm of two beats reverberating three words: `Friend or fiend? Friend or fiend? Friend or'- From the corners of his eyes, he sees Gorman securing the tracker to his belt and raising the pistol instead. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, running down his tense face. He's afraid. Deadly afraid. Doesn't want to proceed. Just like Hicks himself. Better to get this over with as long as they're still able to move. Hicks looks over and sees Gorman nod. He's ready. Okay… ready… set…

GO!

Three, four fast steps around the corner, pulse rifle ready, finger on the trigger. Gorman right behind him. Dark figures ahead, big. Many! Looking like-

"Hold it!"

"It's them!"

Burke's voice. Burke?! A spear of light stabs into his face, and for a heartbeat, he feels like an animal on the street, captured by the beam of an approaching car. The rescue team! Help's finally arrived! They're safe! They're-

"Don't shoot!"

Gorman, relieved to no ends, letting his hand sink. Whoosh! A noise he knows all to well. Even before his head has identified it as the raising of rifles in front of him, his leg-muscles catapult him down and to the side, back behind the corner – as the silence explodes into hellfire!

`Gorman -! Forget it, he's gone!' Red-glowing shrapnel from the shredded wall rains down on Hicks as he rolls to his feet in one fluent move and races back down the corridor, leaving the pulse rifle behind. All that can save him now is speed!

"Hicks? Hicks- what's going-"

"Bishop!" he yells into the microphone, simultaneously trying to concentrate on seeing enough in the twilight to not run against a support beam or into the holes in the ground, listening to the commotion behind him and telling the android what to do. "Bishop, they're Weyland Yutani elite guards! They're here to kill us!" Angry gunfire behind him, and the next moment he's in the middle of a hail of bullets. "Fuck!"

He turns sharp right, crashing into a slowly opening door, squeezing through before it's halfway open. Slams his palm on the switch to close. Too slow! Too slow! Reverberation of heavy steps coming his way.

'Go, go, GO!'

The door slams shut, and he kills the mechanism with two quick shots from his pistol, just when a burst of heavy fire explodes against the steel. Stepping back, he searches frantically for a way out.

"Hicks! What's happening?"

"They've come to kill us, Bishop! Seal the door! Barricade it! They're almost there! They already killed Gorman!"

"What?! But how are you supposed to-"

"DO IT!" An ominous hissing comes from the door, and looking back, he sees a bright red dot on the right side of the door. His heartbeat accelerates even further. "I can't make it down the corridor! Give me Ripley!" Spinning on his heels, he takes in the room in a matter of seconds. The red dot's become bright orange. There! There it is!

"Dwayne?"

"Just listen, Ellen, there's no time! They're cutting through the door!" he screams, stepping up to the ventilation shaft on the right wall, checking out the grille protecting it. "I need to you to help me find a way back to you!"

"Hold on."

The sound of faint steps over the earphones. Another frantic look back. Bright yellow-white, molten steel drops down inside the door. It can only be a matter of another minute before they're through! Securing the pistol in his belt, Hicks grabs the grille with both hands and pulls.

"I'm at the tactical console now. I can see your PDT readout!"

God, this woman's a miracle! Always knows what to do! And how right she's been to be afraid of the `rescue team'! She knew all along! One more violent jerk, and the vent lies open for him to use. One last look over his shoulder. They're already shoving the door open manually! He pulls up, not even thinking twice over eventually running into an alien in the darkness in front of him. Right now, Death is behind him, and it's real close!

"I'm in a air duct. Watch my progress and tell me whether I'm going in the right direction!"

He can only move on hands and knees, but adrenaline pushes his body forward, making him fly. An intersection, he needs an intersection, or all they'll have to do to finish him off is to let loose just one burst of fire into the vent!

"Okay! Looking good so far."

"Is there an intersection coming up?"

A short, torturous break. Sure, the blueprints are complicated to read, but man -! `Come on!' he urges her quietly, racing further along. The darkness around him is so thick, he's in constant danger of running his head in on anything protruding into the vent. Still nothing behind him, but they must be there any second now.

"Ellen?"

"Only leading up. Nothing to the sides."

"I don't care!" Inwardly, he curses. Of course he cares – a chimney-ascent on smooth steel walls over more than a few meters will be impossible! But since he's got no choice… "Where?"

"You're almost upon it! Slow down!"

Voices behind him, muffled in the narrowness of the vent. Someone shouting orders. They're in! Frantically, his hands search the ceiling – and finds the opening! Tight enough to work! Not thinking twice, he stands up, propping his back and boots against the walls – when he hears the "Whooooosh" of expanding gas, and the darkness below him explodes in a bright orange fireball! The flame's not powerful enough to reach him, but the heat that's rising up to him is no less intense; scorching his skin and making him hiss in pain.

"Dwayne!"

The metal under his back gets hot, and he climbs up frantically, faster, faster, pushing himself higher up the vertical vent, not caring whether he'll look into grinning metal jaws once he finds the time to look up.

"Aw, hell!"

Another "Whoooooosh", and more heat, blistering his back through his clothes – when, abruptly, the shaft ends and his searching hands find the space of a connecting duct! He pulls himself up and into the horizontal tunnel just as a flurry of ricocheting bullets races up with a high whine behind him, one of them embedding itself into the sole of his boot!

"Dwayne! Dwayne, are you alright?"

Ripley's voice comes booming over the earphones. Gasping and panting, lying flat on his stomach in the connecting duct, Hicks waits for his breath to return and the stinging on his back to subside before he answers.

"I'm okay…" Two more deep breaths. „How's Bishop doing?"

"The door's sealed, and he's getting started on the barricade."

"Hole up in MedLab! Let him barricade the door, and then go to MedLab, and seal it, too."

He pushes himself up again, ready to proceed. He doesn't hear anything from behind, but then again, he's too far away by now. Will they believe they got him and make for the others now?

"But then how are you supposed to get back to us?" Ripley asks, worried. "I can't monitor you once I leave, and if you take a wrong turn-"

Right.

"How's my direction right now?"

"Okay."

"Okay." His body goes on automatic while his mind races, searching for a solution. "Any intersections?" A short pause.

"Four… to both sides. And four crossing the duct vertically."

Meaning, he's got to watch it, or he'll fall down and land with a splat maybe thirty meters below. Not good.

"Damn…!"

"The first will be in about twenty meters… and they are evenly spaced. Every fifty meters."

This could help. If he measures his strides between two of the intersections, he could be able to navigate in here even in complete darkness… if nothing else happens, and only in case he won't meet any… other passers-by. But how is he supposed to know when he's reached MedLab?

"How far am I away from you?"

She doesn't respond right away, but he hears her breathing into his ears, then muttering a low curse.

"What?"

"They're at the door…" There's fear in her voice.

"How far am I away from MedLab? Just tell me this, and then you take Newt and Bishop, go there and seal it off! You got that?"

"Yes." She inhales deeply. "280 meters to MedLab. I don't know, Dwayne, there's a lot that can go wrong…"

"Right now, it's not like we have a choice," he retorts, trying to speed up. "Do it!" Another idea hits him. "Hide in the vents! Newt knows her way around there blindly! And I'll be making some ruckus when I think I'm near! You'll hear me! These vents carry the noise quite well. We should be able to find each other!"

"Okay…"

She's still sounding doubtful, but he can't understand what else she's saying, because he hears Bishop overlapping, urging her to leave.

"Go now!"

"Good luck!"

"To you, too!"


The 'IVORY TOWER', Phooka Station

Up in the control room, Yoshi Tanaka shakes his head to himself as he watches the image of the restless marine.

"Man, we really ought to wake him…"

A shadow falls over him from behind, and he turns to see whether Dr. Saitchev's back to tell him to go ahead. But no, it's his android girlfriend, checking out the image on the monitor with her usual non-telling face. Tanaka's eyes follow the black lines around her delicate eyebrows admiringly, not really caring what the synthetic will think about being gaped at from up close. And sure enough, just as he follows another intricate line on her brow, it changes its form to a high peak as its bearer cocks an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Never seen me before, Mr. Tanaka?"

Caught, he feels his face flush. Damn, why should he feel embarrassed just because of some stupid android? In spite of the redness of his face, Tanaka manages to glare in anger at his visitor. After all, Darwin told them that Isis was officially ranked below him now, right? He doesn't need to take shit from her anymore! By God, he's had to take enough from her already.

"Got a problem, Isis?" he retorts coldly. "Maybe you wanna tell Kurtz or Darwin about it." He sees his reply sink in, but can't tell its effect. She's too good at keeping her expression guarded. Instead, she's turning towards the monitor again as if he didn't exist.

"Tell me when he wakes. I'll go down and-"

"-and what?" Tanaka laughs. 'Calm him? Hold his hand? You?! That's a good one!'

Her expression remains unchanged, but her voice descends to that chilly tone he's heard far to often directed at himself.

"Laugh as much as you want to, but tell me. I've got my orders, and you've got yours. If you don't follow them, I'm going to report it to Darwin." With one last glance at Hicks, she turns to leave, not looking back at the fuming Tanaka. "You know how to reach me."


Hadley's Hope, Day 12, 0030 Hours

51… 52… 53… Hicks slows down, recalling he must by now be almost upon the final vertical shaft Ripley told him about. Somewhere right in front of him must be the last bottomless hole, and – not much further – Operations and, finally, MedLab, below him. All he'll have to do is find a way down, but he's going to cross that bridge when he's at it.… 58… 59… What was that?

He comes to a stop and strains his ears, trying to make out the noise that was loud enough to make it through the thundering of his heartbeat and heavy breaths. Voices. Voices from below, shouting orders. He thinks he's making out Burke, but just as he tries harder to decipher the exact words, the loud hissing of the welding torch drowns them out. So, they're still at the door! Good. Good indeed!

Grinning grimly into the darkness, Hicks prepares to shove himself further along the vent – when he hears it… or rather, feels it…vibrations under his hands, the thin steel shaking under something heavy – coming his way! He freezes, his blood ice-water, heartbeat accelerating into overdrive. They're here! Here in the air duct with him, and they finally found him! Somehow the 38mm appears in his hand without him realizing he's even taken it, aiming into the pitch-black darkness in front of him. Six shots is all he's got left! Six shots only! Not enough for a – the whole duct's shaking under the heavy impact now, and he can't see shit! What can he do? What can he – nerve-wracking screeching of diamond-hard claws digging into the alloy of the shaft, the sound of something heavy moving with inhumane speed – and a gust of wind hitting his face with the smell of wet metal – and then it's gone, and somewhere below him all hell breaks loose!

The angry bellow of heavy weaponry mixes with a wet ripping sound and surprised, shocked shrieks! Mesmerized, Hicks remains on his haunches for a moment longer, not able to believe his luck! For the light that's pouring up into the darkness from the vertical shaft, telling him that the alien ripped right through the ceiling to attack the humans below, is just barely one meter away from his position! Just one step, or push, further, and the alien would have crashed right into him! The realization of how close it was nauseates Hicks, but the sharp twang of a bullet ripping through the vent from below not far behind him puts him in motion again. He's close! Only thirty or fourty meters further, and he'll be right over MedLab, and then all he has to do is find a way down to –

`Move it, soldier!' he orders himself silently, searching for the continuation of the shaft on the other side of the hole, inwardly praying not to run into another alien – and then he's found it, and hurries along, not bothering to listen to the ruckus behind and below him. Squeezing the last reserves into his burning muscles, he moves through the darkness, still counting. 12… 13…14… far enough?

"Ripley? Bishop?" he tries tentatively, feeling naked and exposed as soon as he's opened his mouth. Nothing. But then again, he's hardly been shouting… more like 'talking real low', almost whispering. 21…22… 23…He clears his throat. "Ripley? Bishop? You hear me?"

"-lo?" an unrecognisable voice echoes to him from what's sounding miles away. "ee – ere! Do you – "

"Ellen?" He shouts back, and almost falls headlong into another hole in the ground. Cursing, he manages just in time to keep his balance and come to a stop. His outstretched hand doesn't find any walls in front of him at all. A major crossroads. Fine. Just dandy! "Ellen, that you?"

"-ayne? You hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you! Keep on making noise, I'm coming!"

Turning his inner radar on, he concentrates on Ripley's voice in an attempt to filter the real source from the dozens of echoes travelling through the venting system… a next to impossible task, as he soon realizes! This is the second tunnel he's tried, and the voice is sounding further away the more he's going into what he's thinking must be the right direction. Frustrated, he sits back.

"Ellen? Ellen, do you hear me? Am I closer now?"

Nothing for some long, anxious moments.

"-ne? – almost –one! me –ack!"

"Dammit…"

Muttering to himself, he slides back to the intersection backwards, as to not suddenly lose all sense of direction and head back straight the way he came without knowing.

`Guess I'm too high up. I need to get at least one level down.'

Just having finished this thought, Hicks feels his feet dangle over the abyss. Time to take a chance? Shutting down all further contemplation, he pushes himself back until he's hanging in the vertical shaft, no visible ground below him. Let go? Not let go? Straddling, he searches for another opening with his feet. None. His arm muscles start to burn. Let go? Pull up? How high up can he be? No more than four, six meters, right?

`High enough to break my legs, for sure!'

Before he can think better of it, his fingers lose their grip on the edge, and he falls – falls! Lands on something with a weird crunching noise, the impact running through his body – and then the ground beneath his feet gives way, and he falls further down, into blinding brightness, landing on something that clatters away under his weight and crashes to the ground, bumping his head on the edge of a desk.

"Ouch!"

For a long moment, there's nothing he can do except trying to catch his breath, holding his throbbing head and waiting for his eyes to readjust to the light.

`Up! Up! Up! Up!'

When his surroundings finally stumble into view, he sees to his endless relief the familiar room with the two canned facehuggers, their stasis prisons illuminating the scene in a soft, blue light. This is MedLab! He actually made it! But where –

Hicks jumps to his feet, taking the hand out of his hair, briefly checking for blood on his fingers, but he seems to have been lucky. His glance goes back to the door to the corridor connecting MedLab and Operations. Nobody here yet, but he can't see any kind of barricade. Whatever. He needs to find the others now. Turning on his heels, he checks the walls, hurriedly recalling the exact locations of the ventilation shafts down here. The first grille he sees is still intact.

Next room. Storage, right? There it is, the open mouth of the duct they took. Relief floods through him He must be real close now! Getting down on his knees, he suddenly hears voices behind him, muffled and indistinct, but coming closer! Okay… let's buy themselves some precious minutes… He slides into the opening backwards, putting the grille back in place behind him. On first view, their hunters won't see where they've gone. Turning back proves a bit tricky, but somehow Hicks manages to squeeze himself into the right direction. Now all that's left to do is find the others and haul ass!

"Bishop?"

"Dwayne? Dwayne, is that you?"

Ripley, real close now. He goes faster. A beam of light illuminates the tunnel in front of him. Yes!

"I'm coming! I'm almost there!"

The beam stabs right into his face and blinds him for a moment, before it's being moved away. Two expectant faces beam at him, overjoyed to see him. Two?! Where's Bishop?!

"Oh, thank God-"

"They must have used the air ducts to disappear," they suddenly hear behind them, muffled, but clear enough to be understood. The next second, the grille Hicks put back in place behind him is being kicked away.

"There's no other way out. See? This one's loose…"

"Move!" Hicks mouths silently to the others, speeding up himself to reach the intersection they're in. His legs clear the main tunnel, just as another beam of light is directed down into the darkness, barely missing him. Against the furious beating of his heart, he puts a finger on his lips, looking into the frightened eyes of the girl and Ripley opposite him.

`Ssssshhhh….'

"See anything?"

"No, Sir. You want me to go in?"

"Not necessary. They can't be far. We'll deal with them some other way. Give me that!"

Uh-oh… experience tells Hicks what's going to come.

`Move! Move!'

Not a sound from his lips, but his scared expression is enough to set them in motion, further down into Hadley's metal intestines in a frantic speed! The next junction, they've got to reach it or –too late! He hears the metallic clang the grenade lands with in the main tunnel – and then the ground buckles beneath him! Reflexively, he slaps his hand over his ears, but the explosion in the confined room almost tears apart his eardrums nevertheless, a feeling as if he'd stuck his head into the turbines of a starting dropship!

Then the fire comes. A faint, orange hue growing brighter faster than his eyes can see, coming their way! Thrusting himself forward, he picks up Newt and sees Ripley jump toward the connecting duct, gives her a violent shove that sends her further in, crash-landing behind her as a high-pitched whine reaches their ears, and a wall of flames and shrapnel races by.

He yells, unaware of it, unaware of the others yelling, too. The heat is insane, burning his back, his skin, his hair, eyebrows, scorching his nostrils, his mouth, windpipe, lungs. He's burning! Reflex makes him throw himself on his back to extinguish the fire, however useless the effort may be in the end. He lets go of Newt, still yelling… and realizes he's able to breathe again. The air's still hot, but not scorching hot. And his back – isn't on fire, actually, although it's throbbing like hell! Slowly, it's beginning to dawn on him - they made it. They… made it. Relaxing, he lets his head sink back onto the hot floor, smelling his own still smouldering hair and the stench of napalm.

`Dammit,' he thinks, hardly believing how close it's been. `They're serious about shutting us up! Using Napalm grenades in these confined quarters…'

Which brings him to an important question.

"Newt? Ellen? You two okay?" He turns his head and hears the child's choked voice right beside him.

"My hands hurt."

"Let me see… Ellen?" He feels his way up to Newt's hands.

"I'm fine."

He hears her sitting up, gasping.

"That was close…"

"Too close," he mumbles, sensing some blisters on the child's fingers. "You burnt your fingers a bit, Newt. I know it hurts, but…there's nothing worse, right?"

"No."

Finally, the flashlight comes back on.

"Good." He squints into Ripley's sweat-beaded face, finally able to utter the one question he's been burning to ask since he's seen them. "Where's Bishop?"

She embraces Newt, who flings herself at her adult protector, still trembling with shock, and sadly shakes her head.

"He didn't want to come with us…

"What? Why?" Hicks stares at her, incredulous, not wanting to believe his still ringing ears.

"He said he couldn't be sure he'd be… be loyal to us if we got too close to the Weyland Yutani guards. Didn't know whether he would be able to lie to them. He didn't trust his programming. He said, he couldn't be certain he wouldn't hold us up if they told him to... You know…they built him," she shrugs, matter-of-factly. "I understood his concerns."

She's sounding sad, but not as sad as Hicks is feeling. Sure, Bishop's only been another android for her, a thing. A successor of the one who betrayed her. It's not like she's had him as a constant source of good advice and genuine concern over the course of eight years…

He sighs and places his back against the wall. It's getting cooler quickly and soothes his back.

"You know you're smoking?" She asks, trying to lighten up the bleak mood.

"Huh?"

"Your back."

"Oh…" He turns his neck and smells the sickening stench of burnt fabric. "Yeah… it's just the jacket. I'm fine."

'Bishop gone… shit!' If anyone could have helped them at all in this bleakest of situations, it would have been the resourceful synthetic, but now… what the hell are they supposed to do?

As if she picked up his vibe, Ripley asks him: "What now?"

Hicks exhales noisily, eyes glued on the red-glowing numbers of his chronometer. "We wait."

"For…?"

"They can see us on their trackers, if they care to watch them," he explains. "And they get my PDT-reading. If we move now, they'll know they missed. I assume we all agree we don't need that."

She nods.

"Okay…" she inhales deeply, not really wanting to continue. "Let's wait. But we should try to come up with a plan in the meantime…unless we want to stay here…"

It's an eternity before the three people in the tunnel stir again.

"Still everything quiet," Hicks whispers lowly, checking his chronometer for the umpteenth time since they'd taken refuge in the ventilation system one and a half hours ago. "I guess it's safe to assume they're gone."

"Too bad we don't have the tracker anymore," is Ripley's answer.

He can only hear her, since they've decided to spare the flashlight's batteries for as long as possible, sitting in the darkness for the last ninety minutes and listening in on the surrounding noises intently. But the tense waiting and anticipation of an attack had been wearing them out quickly after the efforts of the last hours and days, and soon it had been impossible to keep their guard up as much as in the beginning.

"Gorman had it. They mowed him down before he could react… and I couldn't wait to pick it up."

Hicks falls silent. Over the course of the last hour, he had been chewing on their hopeless-looking situation again and again and again to come up with a reasonable sounding plan. There is really just one he can think of.

"So, what do you say?"

He hears Ripley's breathing.

"Shall we go back to Operations and find out? Or…"

"Naw…" He shakes his head in the dark. 'I think we should leave Hadley's Hope as fast as possible. We should make our way down to the station's garage, see if we find a working all-terrain vehicle there, and make for the second-nearest atmosphere processor… which – hopefully – won't be alien-infested."

There's no reply. She's probably tasting the implications of his suggestion and searching for possible flaws or alternatives.

"Let's face it, Ellen, if we stay here, we've had it. It's only us three now, we don't have any means to detect those bastards before they can sneak up on us, and even if we did, we're out of ammo. All I've got left are six rounds of 38mm calibre. I doubt that's enough even for just one of them! We've got to leave. Take along as much supplies as we can carry, and disappear. The next processor is about twenty klicks away. Even in this rough terrain, we should be able to make it within a few hours. We pack enough to last us for the next six weeks, go out there and activate the emergency signal. What do you think?"

"Sounds good… but once we activate the signal, won't we call back the Weyland Yutani ship? Because they will pick it up… always provided they won't still be here and be able to locate us even faster."

"I doubt they'll stay here for longer than absolutely necessary," Hicks replies confidently. "They were attacked by an alien just prior to entering Operations, and it sounded as if at least some of them bought it back there. They'll collect their specimen and see that they'll get their asses out of the sling as fast as possible. If anything, I suspect they're gone already."

"Good to hear your optimism's back." It almost sounds as if she's smiling. "You had me worried for a while."

"Well…" he shrugs, not sure of what to say. "I guess the incident with those W.Y. forces made me angry. I don't won't them to get away with what they did here. I want to see Burke getting nailed to the wall for this!"

Now he's sure she's smiling.

"Well, that makes two of us."

The flashlight comes back on and make them squint at each other for a moment.

"Let's get it done! Which way?"

"Medical. Let's get us some medical supplies first."


'THE ZOO', Phooka Station

'Bright. Too bright! Something's not right. Did they find us?! Did they –'

Hicks sits up with a start and squints into the light, cupping his eyes with his hands to see. The realization of where he is comes seeping through his profound drowsiness and lets him sink back onto the mattress with a groan.

`Not again…!'

The desperation he's feeling each time when he wakes from his dreams or memories to find where he is still hasn't dulled, and he can't help wondering whether he will ever grow accustomed to the thought of what lies before him. Or go nuts. Maybe turning crazy would really feel better. But why is the light on? The sound of the door cycling and opening makes him tilt his head.

"Hello…"

It's the synthetic. At this time of night? A quick look at the glowing numbers behind him tell him that it's almost 3.00 a.m. What is she doing here? Bringing him something, obviously. He watches her approach tensely and put a plastic cup onto the table.

"I couldn't help noticing you were having bad dreams again. I brought you something to help you sleep."

`Huh?' Is he still dreaming?

"But it's-"

"In the middle of the night?" A very, very faint trace of a smile he's never seen on her face. "Yes. I'm on night shift. Your read-outs went all over the scale, and I decided to help you calm down. After what happened this afternoon, we just want you to calm down again. That's all." A small nod towards the cup.

Hicks narrows his eyes.

"What is it? Warm milk?" His sarcasm doesn't catch.

"A very light medication. It's not addictive and will do nothing more than calm you down a bit. Enough to go back to sleep… and even to dream…only something nice this time."

"How do I know it's not something to knock me out, so that you can tie me up and get me up or down to wherever it is you're taking people for your experiments?" His visitor shakes her head in what seems to be slight disappointment.

"Geez… you're still paranoid, huh? Still convinced everyone here's out to get you. Well, you're wrong. I brought you this because I thought it would make you feel better, but I realize there's probably no way of convincing you."

She makes for the door again.

"So, believe whatever you want. Good night."

She leaves and the door cycles behind her. He's alone. Again. Staring at the grey steel of the door, deep in thought, puzzled. What was this all about? Who told her to act as his mother, and why? Curiously, he picks up the cup and eyes the contents, holds his nose over it to smell it. Not too bad…

He hesitates a moment longer, then suddenly makes up his mind and downs the white liquid with two swigs. There really is just one way of finding out, whether she's telling the truth, right? If he wants to know more about the synthetic's intentions, he needs to know whether she's honest with him. And if she is, maybe he'll be able to take it from there…

His gaze going up to the ever-watching surveillance camera on the ceiling, Hicks puts the empty cup back onto the table and braces for what's to come… in addition to the slight taste of cinnamon in his mouth. Is he going to realize it if she doped him? He's feeling drowsy enough already to lie back on the mattress and stare into the darkness of where the ceiling must be. He doesn't want the dream to go on. He doesn't want to think of what happened next. Fumbling around in the dark, he searches for the remote and turns the room into a gigantic aquarium a moment later in attempt to distract himself from the devastating memories the dream stirred up. A shark circles majestically over his head, so realistic, Hicks feels like reaching out and touching it. His eyes stay glued on the sleek predator while he's listening in on the rushing of the waves travelling the shores of his small room above him. It's a soothing noise, comforting – `Ripley's dead!' - hypnotic, pulling him under…'No…'… making him drowsy… and suddenly he doesn't want it anymore, searches for the remote again to turn the illuso off, but he can't find it, can't –


Hadley's Hope, Day 12, 0400 Hours

"Can't we just continue in the tunnels?" Ripley inquires, holding the first aid kit they found in MedLab to her chest and eyeing the huge hole in the ground before them uncomfortably. Hicks, who's standing to her right and is just stretching his neck in an attempt to see something in the darkness below, turns around and shrugs.

"There haven't been any we could have used for a while now. Just the ones leading vertically up."

A taxing glance to the other side of the hole. Three or three and a half meters max., Hicks judges. Probably not too far for Ripley, but too far in any case for little Newt. He'll have to carry her… which will make the jump just a bit more precarious for him, too. But what the heck, it's not like they got a choice, right?

"Let's do it. You first, Ellen."

She casts him another sceptical look, but the expression on her face tells Hicks she knows he's right.

"Come on, you can do this. Piece of cake."

"Let's just hope the ground on the other side is stable," she mutters, more to herself, while she goes back for the approach run. Everything's still quiet… except for the low humming of the generators. No sign of any aliens. "All right…" She gathers speed, tenses… and jumps over the gap securely, landing in a crouch and rolling to reduce the impact on her knees.

"See?" Hicks nods his appreciation. "I knew you're the sporty type." He crouches down next to the girl, who seems scared.

"Please, I can't do this, Mr. Hicks! I –"

"You won't have to, Newt, don't worry. We'll do it together."

A new noise joins the generators, or maybe not so much a noise as a feeling… vibrations he's picking up from the ground through his boots, and through the air, as well. Enough to distract him from the task at hand for a moment. Enough to make him crane back his neck to look at the non-telling ceiling in puzzlement.

"You're feeling this too?" Ripley.

"Uh-huh." A cold chill travels down his spine. He can't tell why, can't define the bad feeling that's suddenly overcome him. The vibrations get stronger. "From above, wouldn't you say?"

"Feels like it…" He can tell she's sharing his feeling when she looks at him now. "What do you think it is?"

"Can't tell… but I don't like it. Let's get going. – Newt?"

He kneels down again, switching security on his 38mm on again and placing in the back of his pants.

"Climb on my back, put your arms around my neck and hold on – real tight! Okay?"

"Okay…"

"You sure about this, Dwayne?" Ripley asks, worried.

He cracks a very false grin.

"What do you think did they made us do in Boot Camp?" He jumps on place, testing the feeling with the child's weight on his back. "No prob. Stand back, Ellen, I'm going to need some space!"

He steps back, feeling his muscles tense… and the vibrations get worse! And now there's definitely a sound accompanying it: a low, powerful grumble he can't place at all. But first things first!

"We're coming!"

He accelerates, feeling Newt's arms tighten around his neck until she's almost choking him, sees the dark, deep hole in front of him… and jumps! The impact of the landing is hard on his knees, and a tell-tailing sound from under his feet causes him to thrust himself forward and fall flat on his stomach as the acid-speckled grating breaks off under his weight. Cursing under his breath, he manages to wriggle himself onto safe ground and feels Newt jumping off his back.

"Damn…"

A brief glance back confirms how close they were to falling down into the hole, but the circumstances don't leave him room to ponder it – the whole station is shaking now, and the growling thunderous! Ripley's face mirrors his own fear as they stare at each other, fearing the worst.

"Ripleyyyy…" Newt makes, pressing her adult protector's hand so hard she gets her attention despite the ear-shattering roar.

"Earthquake?"

`Meteor', is Hicks' thought, before something else dawns on him. `Missile!'

Could it be a missile, launched by the Weyland Yutani ship to make sure there's no one left down here to spill the truth to whoever would listen? The thought's almost too horrible to be true, but then again… they killed Gorman at point-blank range, they were trying to kill him and the others. Of course this is what they'd do to make sure!

"Further down," he barks, involuntarily falling into command tone. "And fast!" Ripley bends down to pick up Newt. "No. I'll take her. Go!"

They run down the corridor, hardly looking left or right for aliens. The growling is ear-shattering now, drowning out all other sounds, the floor under their feet swinging with the vibrations, making it hard to keep their balance. `Must be a meteor,' Hicks thinks, frantically searching for a way down, deeper into Hadley's Hope, and following Ripley when she sees it first. Not even the biggest inter-stellar missile he knows of would be this loud. It's as if heaven's falling down on them, as if all of Acheron was in fact one giant volcano about to erupt.

"Ripleyyyyyyy….."

He sees Newt's mouth open in a terrified scream, but can't hear her anymore.

"Down! Down!"

They run down another flight of stairs, by now underground, when all of a sudden the ground buckles under their feet as if the planet got hit by gigantic hammer! Jumps up half a meter and knocks them off their feet – and then it's Armageddon! An explosion of proportions Hicks has never experienced deafens them in an instant, so loud he can feel the sound race through every fibre of his body – and then the pressure-wave hits the station with a wall of fire and debris, slicing it open like the galaxy's biggest and angriest predator.

Ripping away parts of the roof and allowing the hurricane to wreak havoc inside, collapsing walls like cards and sending everything – furniture, instruments, everything - shooting through the corridors as projectiles in a deadly horizontal rain. Smashing support beams, doors, security glass panes, flattening everything in its way. Down on Sublevel 1, the three remaining survivors struggle to come to their feet again to get away from the raining debris, when suddenly all air is being sucked away through the air-ducts with a high-pitched sound they're unable to hear. Hicks, however, knows what this means, and his heart skips a beat.

"Down!"

Shooting out his hand to push Ripley down who just managed to get back on her feet, he rolls to the side of the corridor, holding his breath, just as the evenly spaced vertical air ducts breathe fountains of fire down into the walkway, the nearest one only ten meters away! It's hell! They've landed themselves in hell, and they're going to be incinerated within the next – it stops. Just when he thinks he can't possibly hold his breath any longer, the fire stops, except for parts of the wall-panels which caught and rain down sparks from the torched circuits in the ceiling. The stench of burnt plastic is overwhelming, dizzying. Probably even toxic, Hicks thinks, looking up to the thick trails of dark grey fumes fogging the corridor and cupping his mouth with his hand.

`Ripley? Newt?'

They're on the other side of the walkway, moving, thank God, and as he comes to his feet, staggering into their direction, their sweat-beaded, slightly scorched faces turn around. He motions for them to get up, to hurry, to use this short break to go deeper yet, still hearing nothing but a loud buzz in his ears. Somehow, they comply, even though half-paralysed with shock. Race down the next flight of stairs in the treacherous calm and come to a halt in the next sublevel, turning to him.

"Which way?"

He can hear her again, although very, very distant. Which way? A good question, actually. He doesn't have a clue about their whereabouts.

"Newt? You know where we are?"

Embarrassing having to turn to a child for directions, but right now, they don't have the time for intense contemplating. But the girl, to his intense disappointment, shakes her head.

"Let's just get going." The fire came from behind, so – He motions ahead. "You two okay?"

"Yes." Ripley's eyes scan the walls for any signs of danger as they hasten through the wounded station. "What in God's name was that? An asteroid?"

"Don't know," Hicks replies, not caring to share his `missile-theory' with her just yet, and instead concentrating on the markings on a connecting corridor in an attempt to recall the blueprint he studied in what seems another life. The garage, where's the garage? Just as he feels the taste of memory coming, a chain of three, four fast explosions rattles the station, and the ground beneath their feet starts to quiver. Another hot gust of wind comes their way, and the darkness behind them erupts into menacing orange.

"Come on, hurry up!" He's not even finished when there's another crash, and the ceiling comes down.

Silence. A narcotic silence, thick and liquid. The distant crackling of fire. Groans. Someone crying. And pain. Not crippling, but bad enough to make his head ring. Sweat trickles down his face, searching for a way down his dirt-smeared face. Something pushes awkwardly against his back, some pointy object. It's heavy and pinning him to the ground, almost squashing him. Hicks opens his eyes, but it remains dark. He tries to move – and grunts in surprise at the pain in his head. The thin stream from his brow has reached his lips, and tastes remarkably like iron when he licks it away. Sweat, huh? White supernovas explode in his vision and force him to sink back and catch his breath for the next attempt.

"Ellen? Newt?"

The heavy weight on his back makes breathing – and yelling - almost impossible. And –is it getting hotter?

"Ellen?"

Nothing but moaning and suppressed little sobs, almost too low to hear, answer him. Grunting, Hicks gives it another try to crawl out from under the pile of rubble, inwardly close to panic. Why don't they answer him? His imagination throws up the images of the two, impaled by a piece of torn grating, or half-squashed by a heavy cabinet. His fingers finding a hold between the steel struts on the floor, he drags himself forward, finally feeling the weight on his back slip down inch for inch, until – at last – he's free. Feeling knocked about, but free.

It's pure will-power that makes him stand up and turn around, anxious to see his companions to prove they're not dead. It's not like he can see anything, actually, except for the dark pile of debris he just crawled out from and the orange glow further down the corridor.

"Ellen? Newt?"

Taking a staggering step forward, he grabs for the first thing he can see, a massive steel-strut.

"Come on, answer me!"

`They can't be dead! Please, don't let them be dead!'

The strut is too heavy for him to move, so he stops, instead attempting to localise the source of the almost inaudible sobbing. Left… left…kneeling down, Hicks sticks his hand into a gap between some large chunks of debris – and touches hair. A small head.

"Newt?! Newt, it's me! I'm here! I'm getting you out! Are you okay?"

Her silent sobbing is answer enough for him to confirm she's at least conscious. Whether she's caught under anything, he'll have to see. Sticking his other arm into the gap, too, he feels his way down to her shoulders.

"Newt, listen, I need your help for this! Can you grab my arms? Come on, let's try it!"

She moves! God bless, she moves! But why can't he hear Ripley? Why doesn't she answer? Little fingers dig into the fabric of his jacket, and he pulls, ignoring the furious protest of his bruised back.

"That's good, Newt! Almost there! Just hold on, okay?"

He's got to get them out, got to! The thought of losing them both, as well, and to be left alone is… unbearable! Straining once more with all his might, Hicks feels the girl slip out of her prison, and places her gently on her feet in front of him, hardly seeing more than the glittering of her tear-streaked face as he quickly probes her body for broken bones or deep, bleeding wounds. To his relief, he doesn't find any.

"Are you hurting, Newt? Are you-"

"Ripley…!" she sobs, not even now letting go of his sleeves, and realization hits Hicks: He can see her eyes now! Sees them clearly in the flickering light from further back! And it is getting hotter! Wiping sweat and blood away from his eyebrows with his sleeve, he lets go of her, urging her to take a few steps back.

"Wait here, Newt, okay? I'll get Ripley now."

Easier said than done. Despair jumps at him as he eyes the pile of debris in front of him once again, searching for a life-sign from the woman.

"Ellen? Ellen, where are you? Can you hear me?"

`Please, p-l-e-a-s-e, don't let her be dead!'

Straining his ears, he listens into the darkness, right under the increasing crackling of the fire, and the sound of something coming down in one of the upper levels. He can't help looking up… and shudders at the sight of the enormous hole in the ceiling, directly above their heads, going through all the levels he can see before they disappear in the darkness.

"Ellen!"

She can't be far from where Newt was, so he tries the same spot gain, going down on all four to squeeze himself into the small gap, knowing full well the danger of doing this. If there's just one loose part, it can make the whole pile collapse- on him! If he could only see just one damned thing! Frantic, but methodically, he probes the floor for any sign of Ripley… and touches something wet and sticky on the floor. `No, no…!' But his nose confirms it nevertheless: it's blood.

"Ellen, answer me! Ripley!"

There's undisguised fear now in his voice as he sticks his arm into another small hole in the rubble – and touches clothes!

"Ripleyyyy!" Newt's voice comes to his ears even through the shock.

Does she move? Does she breathe? Holding his own breath, Hicks waits for the body under his hand to give a life sign – even the weakest one will do! And he gets it – a hardly audible moan from somewhere to his right. He adjusts his position, rounds a large piece of torn ceiling – and finds her, a dark figure on the floor, partly buried under shredded panels and insulation. His heart beating furiously, he kneels down at her side to see what he can do. Again, he finds he can see more than just a few moments earlier – a hasty glance down the corridor confirms that the fire's coming closer.

"Ellen! I'm here, okay? I'm getting you out! Just hold on a little longer. For me, alright?"

She moans again, and – to Hicks endless relief – moves her head just the tiniest bit, her words, however, smashing his hopes in an instant.

"I broke my legs…" Her eyes find his in dawning realization.

For a few endless seconds, he's too stunned for an answer. They stare at each other, knowing the implication of these four words. She's dead. As good as. Even if he does get her out and is able to carry her to wherever, maybe even a working vehicle… with injuries as severe as hers - there's no way she's gonna make it, except if the `real' rescue team – if the USCM really sent one separately – would arrive within the next few hours.

`No!'

His mind goes into immediate denial as he claws at the heavy pieces of debris pinning her down in an attempt to free her. He can't lose her, too! And he won't!

"Dwayne, please… you can't help me…"

"Yes, I can!" he barks, furious, slipping his fingers under a tiny crack and straining his muscles to lift the panel off her.

"Just.. go… and take care of Newt…"

"Shut up, Ellen!"

He comes to his feet, feeling the weight shift just the slightest bit under his grasp.

`Come on, come on, COME ON!'

An inch… another half an inch –his shoulders and arms trembling with effort – and then Newt's scream!

"They're coming!"

Snapping up his head, he expects to see the Weyland Yutani guards running towards them – but it's worse: it's the aliens! Two of them in close order, two black shapes glistening in the fire behind them, jumping along the ceiling at frantic speed. No time to think. He drops the debris and brings up his pistol in one fast move, firing three shots in fast consecution at the approaching creatures, and then they're above his head, moving so fast, he feels a rush of air, and he fires once more, knowing how futile his attempt of stopping them will be – but the aliens don't attack. Without even bothering to look at them, they disappear into a hole in the ceiling, leaving him to gape at the void they've left behind, his hammering heart almost bursting out of his chest, unable to move.

Until another heavy explosion not too far off throws him off-balance! The orange glow erupts into bright yellow flames and brings with it the stench of burning insulation and plastic… and excruciating heat! Time's running out fast.. He kneels down again, ready for another go, desperately alternating pushing the piece of wreckage and trying to lift it.

"Fuck it!"

He throws his entire weight, every fibre of his body strained in the effort, his heart pumping furiously. Feels the tiniest of movement, hears Ripley moan – and then momentum's gone again, and he sinks back on his knees, exhausted, breath coming in deep, raspy draws – making him break into a hard cough as his lungs fill with smoke and fumes.

"Dwayne, you must leave! Now!" Sweat is running all over Ripley's pain-contorted face, but her voice is still firm, her tone no-nonsense. "You can't help me! Or… maybe you can…"

It takes a lot of out of her to raise her head to meet his shocked gaze. He knows exactly what she wants. After all, he'd promised it on their first day in this hellhole. But he's still denying the facts, firmly shaking his head no as he jumps up to look at the girl.

"Newt?" He has to almost scream it over the growing noise of the inferno and another distant explosion. "Go to the nearest duct that's too small for the aliens and stay there. Right now!"

"But Ripley-!"

"We'll be with you in a moment, but I first have to get her out. Now move!" He still sees profound concern and doubt in her expression, but she does as he told her and disappears into the twilight.

"What are you doing?"

"What I said: Getting you out!"

He runs up to the nearest door he can see and shoves it open manually, since there's no more power to work the mechanism. There must be something down here he can use! A cutting torch, or… But the room's almost empty, except for some laboratory equipment. Dishes, empty stasis cylinders, boxes of unused working clothes… Cursing under his breath, he storms out, towards the next door. Throws his weight against it to push it open. Sweats runs into his eyes, stings. Jesus, it's getting hot! A frantic look back, another cough attack. A wall of flames is coming their way – fast!

"Dwayne!"

He almost falls into the next room, desperate enough to use whatever he can find to wrench Ripley free – but there's nothing! As far as he can see in the flickering twilight, he's standing in an empty room – empty except for a few bare shelves. Next! The next room! He bursts out into the corridor – and hears Ripley cough. Sees the flames approach with unreal speed. There's no time…! Groaning, he runs back to her, hardly able to breath in the thick, stinking fumes and immense heat. His eyes burn and water, blurring his vision. No time!

"I'm sorry, Ellen," he mutters, grabbing her arms. No more time for elegant solutions. He pulls, drawing an anguished scream from her. Throws himself back with all his might, fingers slipping on her skin.

She. Doesn't. MOVE!

He tries again, angry at himself, furious, swearing, yelling.

"Come on, dammit!" – and collapses down coughing.

"No more… Dwayne…" He can hardly hear her over the roar of the fire anymore. "Please… go."

`No…'

"And please.. please don't let me burn…!"

He swallows, but can't turn his eyes from her piercing stare. She's pleading now, reminding him of his promise. His promise… oh God, no…! He can't do this!

"Ellen-"

"Do it, please! Don't let me burn."

Twenty meters behind them, another part of the ceiling comes down with an ear-splitting crash, forming a black cloud of smoke in the corridor that makes them both choke.

"Do it! Do it, Dwayne! Please!"

Smoke and his blurred vision make it almost impossible for Hicks to see Ripley's face anymore. But somehow, he doesn't know how, the heavy weight of the pistol's suddenly in his hand, still everything inside him cringes and struggles against what he's about to do. But he's got to leave; he's got to – the fire's almost upon them! Yet he can't.

"Jesus, Ellen-"

"Take care of Newt for me," she manages between coughs, not able to lift her head anymore. "Promise me this. Promise me to do everything you can to…" She can't catch her breath anymore. "Do it…", she gasps. "Do it and go."

The air id too hot to breathe now, searing his eyes. If he stays any longer, he'll get cremated himself. And what is the point in that… despite ending it all and sparing himself from whatever fate has still in store for him? But no… no, he can do this… yet!

`Move it, soldier!'

He squeezes Ripley's hand in affection, inwardly separating himself from all the emotions the action he'll have to take now stirs up, throwing them into a vault for later.

`Sometimes, to kill someone is an act of mercy," a voice echoes through his head as he places the muzzle of the 38 against her head, feeling as if someone were moving his hand by remote control. He recognizes it as that of Master Sergeant Delancey, his drill instructor at New Brisbane.

`To kill a friend in order to save him from a worse fate, or to spare him unnecessary pain, may very well be the hardest task you'll ever have to fulfil. It's probably the worst thing to be asked for. But when the time arrives where you all will be faced with making that decision, you've got to forget about yourself. You've got to focus on what you're sparing this person from, not on what you'll be doing to him. It will take a lot of courage and strength to do this, but it's the ultimate act of mercy.'

Flames. Fire and smoke. Everywhere. Ripley convulses under his hand, unable to breathe the searing air anymore.

"I'm sorry, Ellen…" He shuts his eyes, holds on to her hand… and squeezes the trigger.

Fire. The roar of the flames drowning out the world, encompassing him as he stumbles and falls to his knees, burning his hand on the hot grating as he lands. Picks himself up.

"Newt! Newt, where are you?"

He means to shout it, but hardly manages a faint wheeze before another violent cough attack almost makes him collapse again. Too long, he waited for too long, and now he's gonna buy it!

"Newt!"

`Run, dammit! Move your sorry ass, you pussy! Failure's not an option, you hear me?' Delancy's voice again, pushing him further. `Quit whining! I'm going to get medieval on everybody's ass who thinks about giving up. Now MOVE IT!'

He stumbles forward, coughing, out of air and nauseated by the thick stench of toxic fumes, not seeing a damned thing in the smoke.

"Where are you?"

"Hicks! Hicks, I'm here! I'm here!"

Her frightened voice is like a beacon, leading him to a duct that's so narrow he knows he won't fit. He squeezes himself in anyway, barely clearing the opening, and hears her moving in front of him. The next second, he's sliding down headlong through the darkness, downward, downward – and gets spat into a crammed little room, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Too stunned to move, he waits to catch his breath again – and hears the girl's voice right in front of him.

"Where's Ripley? Where's-"

"Newt-" He coughs again, his lungs burning.

"Where is she? Where is she? Ripley?!" She runs towards the shaft entrance, sticks her head in. "Ripley?! "Ripley?!"

Somehow, he doesn't know how, Hicks manages to pick himself up, at least to his knees.

"Ripley's not coming, honey…." His still watering eyes show him nothing more but a blurry image of her, but he can hear her shocked silence all too well. "She… I couldn't get her out…"

"No…" Her voice has always been that of the small child she still is, but now she sounds even smaller. "No…. Ripley…you promised! You said you'd-"

"I tried it, Newt. I did what I could. I-"

"No! No! No! You promised! You promised! Where is she?!"

Little fists pound against his chest. He doesn't make any effort at stopping her.

"I'm sorry, Newt… I'm so sorry…"

"I hate you!" Then nothing more but painful, uncontrolled sobs…