.x.
I found sleep somehow. The chaotic, turbulent mass of my thoughts eventually succumbed to both weariness and the hint of the sedative still flowing in my veins. It was a knocking at the door that jolted me out of my slumber. Sitting up, startled, I stared around confused before I realized what the sound was. Recollections of the night previous, of my short and intensely frustrating meeting with Scar, came rushing back to me and I fell back against the pillow with a groan.
"Come in," I called hoarsely as the knocking continued. I watched through eyes that felt gritty and heavy as the door swung open silently to admit Ana. She stepped into the room and stopped when she saw the sheet lying in a twisted heap on the floor. From there her eyes moved to the remains of the shattered glass bottle I had thrown in my fury and the puddles of clear liquid on the floor. I inwardly grimaced. I'd been so perturbed by my revelations the night previous that I'd forgotten the mess. Ana merely arched an eyebrow at me before stooping to pick up the blanket. Bringing it over to the bed, she asked simply, "Rough night?"
"I don't remember," I lied, letting my arm fall across my face to shield my eyes from the harsh glare of the overhead lights as Ana flicked the switch. I felt groggy, and there was a mild throbbing ache reverberating in my head. It was a slight pain now, but it held the distinct threat of erupting into something more potent. I heard the telltale whisk of a broom and the tinkle of glass shards. Ana was cleaning up after me. I sighed and struggled into a sitting position, feeling the tightness of the burns on my back and the stiffness in my side. "I'm sorry for that," I said, watching as Ana carried a dustpan over to the garbage near the door and emptied it.
"It's alright. I've seen it before. People who have been traumatized will sleepwalk or lash out even after being given a sedative."
Traumatized. That was a good way of putting it.
"Anyway, I figured you might like a bath. We cleaned you up when you were brought in, but I think your wounds are healed enough now for full submersion. Sound good?"
It did. It sounded very good. Where the bandages covered my skin I was itchy, and my hair, bound back as it was, was a complete and total mess. "Yes," I replied.
Returning the broom and the dustpan to the corner from whence they came, Ana nodded. "I figured it would. There's a bathroom right across the hall for infirmary use. Do you think you'll need any help?"
"No," I said. "Except to get the gauze off my back."
"I'll help you with that here. Turn around."
I obeyed, turning and lifting the hem of my shirts up until they rode under my arms. With gentle hands Ana peeled the bandages from my skin, and while she was careful there were occasions that I would suck my breath in sharply, wincing. When she patted me on the shoulder I let the shirts fall back.
"Doesn't look too bad," Ana said as I turned back around. "Except for the scarring …"
She trailed off, and I shrugged. I wasn't pleased about numerous scars I'd accumulated in the last couple weeks, but at least I wasn't dead, and therefore I wouldn't complain.
"Everything is over there already, so you're all set. I'll be back in a half hour, because that's when Reed wants to talk to you."
My gut tightened at the name. I'd forgotten that today was the day I'd be answering everyone's questions about how I'd survived. Perhaps my unease had showed on my face, for Ana gave me a quick smile of support. "Don't worry," she said, "I won't leave you alone with him. Now go have your bath."
She left me then, and after a moment I trailed warily after her out into the hall. Before pushing through the door into the bathroom I cast a furtive, searching glance all around me. Invisible blood brothers are all good and fun, but in light of my latest suspicions, I wasn't going to take a chance of being observed while bathing. Satisfied, I slipped through the door and swiftly pushed it shut, sliding the deadbolt home. I turned to survey the surroundings—large metal tub, toilet, full length mirror, and a décor plain enough to rival any hospital. I crossed the floor to the tub and played with the faucets until I got a steady stream of hot water, and while I waited for it to fill I perched myself on the edge and warily eyed the rest of the room, searching for unwanted visitors.
This was so going to be the fastest bath in history.
.x.
Roughly twenty minutes later—washed, dried and fully outfitted—I was standing outside the infirmary, waiting for Ana to return. I'd pulled my hair—which had taken about three quarters of my total bathing time to untangle and wash—back into a tail at the nape of my neck. I hadn't done a decent job of drying it and it was dripping in an uncomfortably cold manner down my back. I felt much better now that I was clean. Using the mirror, I'd taken a very quick look at the expanse of my back, and it hadn't been a pleasant thing to look at. Like my arms, the length of my spine was a mass of rivulet-like scars, carved into my skin by the acid blood of the alien … I'd quickly donned my shirts again, not wanting to stare any longer at the brutal reminder of my recent trials.
Ana arrived soon after my leaving the bathroom. As she approached she asked wryly, "Done already? Afraid someone was going to burst in on you?"
You have no idea, I wanted to say, but instead flashed a quick smile. "Are you ready to meet Reed?" She asked me then.
"Sure," I said with a confidence I didn't feel. Nervousness had taken up residence within me, and my stomach roiled. What on earth was I going to tell them? I had a few abstract ideas, but what if they didn't believe me? What if they'd found something during the salvage operation? How could I make them believe that it had been an accidental explosion that had killed everyone rather than the predators or their prey?
"This way," Ana said, and so I followed her. She led me through the residential deck and up a staircase, and then down several long halls. Like the duration of my previous excursion, there was hardly anyone loitering about to be encountered. We halted in front of a set of metal double doors. Looking to the left I could see we were outside the bridge of the Piper Maru. Ana cast me a brief, supportive glance before pushing the door open, and with a deep breath I followed her in.
The room was, I discovered, some sort of briefing area. There was a large oval table in the center with many chairs on either side. The floor was carpeted, and the walls were an unadorned white wash; a large window, overlooking the ice-capped ocean that glowed even in the night, was situated to the left of the entrance. As Ana stepped aside, saying my name, I found myself facing a person who could only be Reed Weyland seated at the head of the table.
I saw the family resemblance almost immediately – close-set dark eyes that were both piercing and hooded regarded me as he leaned back totally at ease in his chair. His hair was black, grown long in the style that was popular for younger men and framing his face in thin layers. His features were angular, sharp, but intuition told me it wasn't just his appearance that lent him the predatory air. My suspicion proved to be correct when he stood and approached with a languid yet determined stride.
"Ms. Woods," He said, and his voice was utterly devoid of emotion. He'd halted only a few inches from me, and when he continued the ghost of a mirthless smile flickered about his mouth. "Glad to see you're well enough to finally meet with me."
Nothing veiled about his opinion of me; it was blatant in his tone. This was a man, I sensed, well suited to running such a monstrous company like Weyland Industries: ruthless, cunning, and determined. Bristling, I said with a perfunctory nod, "Mr. Weyland."
"Reed, please," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He returned to his chair and sank down into it, steepling his fingers together over his chest. With a falsely solicitous tone, he said, "I hope you don't mind that I have some questions about just what happened down there."
"Not at all," I replied a trifle coolly. Relax, Lex, I told myself. It's only going to get worse. Ana discreetly indicated a chair, and with a small nod in her direction I stepped forward and took a seat. She remained standing, a silent guardian behind me, and I was suddenly distinctly grateful for her presence.
He glanced down at a sheaf of papers on his desk—a medical report, it looked like—and back up at me. "It seems you took a beating. Broken bones, dozens of flesh wounds, scrapes, cuts ..." he trailed off and flipped idly through a few pages. "Mostly the kinds of injuries that one might sustain from a cave-in." His gaze flickered to my face, to the side where Scar had marked me. "Though I'm curious. How, exactly, does one acquire an acid burn in a place like this?"
"The biochemical expert—Graeme Miller—requested certain chemicals be brought along. He was going to use different acids to try and determine the age of the stone the pyramid was made from." I paused here, frantically thinking. To this point, what I'd said was absolutely true. Graeme had indeed made such a request our first night on board the Piper Maru. I continued, meeting Reed's eyes directly and willing him silently to believe me, "When the drilling equipment caught fire, I was running for the sled. All the equipment brought down was sitting there … and then everything exploded. I remembered the pain on my back …" I trailed off, frowning as though in concentration.
He didn't seem to completely buy my story, eyes still on my mark, but he moved on. "And you seem to have found some interesting relics down there."
It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement, and I knew then he'd seen the spear that had been given to me by the predator elder. "Yes," I said, nodding. "Max found it inside the cavern, not far from where the ice tunnel ended. He gave it to me to examine."
"Interesting. It looks almost new." Closing the file with a sigh, he sat back again and rubbed his eyes. "Ms. Woods, honestly, what happened down there? You went down with a team of thirteen people and came back alone. You were down there for quite a while; what did you find? What happened to my father?"
The last question wasn't spoken in any different manner than the previous ones; it was only one of many things he wanted to know. Did he care about his own father's death, or was it merely a cipher, another piece of the puzzle he wanted to solve? He knew I was the final piece, or at least could provide it, and if the result was anything he could exploit, then exploit it he would. I had no doubt that he would.
"Your father died in the explosion." I said bluntly. "Just like everyone else." I may not have liked Charles Bishop Weyland, but he deserved more than this cold and clinical curiosity. Reed's eyebrows rose into his hairline, but I continued, my voice hard. I was still apprehensive, yes, but I was starting to get angry because this was nothing more than an interrogation, as if I was some sort of criminal. "It took us fifteen hours to drill to the cavern, and another five to get all the equipment down there. The rest of the time was spent exploring the exterior of the pyramid and setting up base camp. I can't pretend to know what went wrong with the drilling equipment, but I'm not going to lie and say I'm not grateful for the fact that I survived. Sad that I'm the only one to have done so, yes, but I can't change that. Why does it seem you're implying that I've done something wrong?"
Without realizing it, we both had risen as I spoke. My voice had increased in volume, and I tore my eyes from his, focusing instead on the lacquered surface of the table and making a forcible effort to calm myself. A moment later I returned my gaze to his own; we now faced each other over his desk, both of our hands flat on the surface. I had fought aliens, been burned and sliced and shot at. No way could I let one man walk on me. I hadn't fought my ass off to get out with my life only to be intimidated by someone to whom I owed nothing. We ignored Ana's small sound of warning behind us, neither of us willing to retreat. Then he did something that made me almost wish I'd never looked back up at him.
His lips twisted into a terrible, knowing smile, and he lightly touched the mark on my cheek. "This interview is over, Ms. Woods, but I look forward to speaking with you again. Later," he added, and I knew he knew more than he'd let on. Damn.
As his fingers left my face, slowly and meaningfully, a low rumbling filled the room. Over Reed's shoulder I saw the air shimmer, saw the outline of something large moving with a predatory stealth in front of the window. The scenery revealed by the glass was distorted momentarily, rippling as though underwater. The growling, low, continuous and distinctly threatening, prompted Ana to step forward, looking about curiously. With great force of will I wrenched my eyes from the lurking hunter and dragged them back to Reed.
He hadn't turned to see the source of the sound. Instead his gaze was on me, and there was a fiercely speculative gleam in the dark depths of his eyes. Schooling my face into what I hoped was an impassionate mask, I straightened away from Reed. The growling noise died as I did so, but I didn't look back to see what my invisible guardian was doing. Instead I nodded briefly at Reed and turned to Ana. The glare she was currently unleashing on Reed was ferocious. I turned and made my way to the door, and she trailed after me. I paused with my fingers around the door handle, half turning.
"Did you know," I asked softly, "that your father was dying? That his cancer had progressed to the point he had to breathe air from a bottle every hour just to walk around?"
The blood drained very suddenly from Reed's face and he reared back as though he'd been struck. He'd had no idea, then, hadn't even known his father was sick. Vindictive satisfaction filled me at the sight of his obvious shock, and I turned and let myself out of the room. As Ana followed Reed's strained voice rang out, "Benson! I have something to discuss with you."
Ana sighed audibly before looking at me. "I'll meet you at the infirmary when I'm done here." She whirled to re-enter the room but paused before glancing back at me and saying in a whisper, "Listen, I'm sorry about him … he's such an asshole."
"It's alright," I said, with a brief smile. She nodded and disappeared inside the room, leaving me alone in the hallway. I wasted no time in leaving; my quick limp carried me down the hall. Whichever hunter was in the briefing room—intuition told me it was Scar—was going to have to remain there until Reed and Ana left because I'd seen no other exit. That meant that the more distance I put between me and that room, the better. I reached the stairs and made my way down them, clutching the railing for support; I'd just stepped off the last one when again, a chittering growl reached my ears.
I froze, hand dropping slowly away from the railing. I'd just begun my search for the concealed hunter when he abruptly appeared before me, shaping himself out of the air. To my credit, I didn't leap backwards, but I wanted to when I realized it wasn't Scar. This was one of the others I'd seen the day previous, but that didn't make me any less nervous. In fact, it made me more so. His mask, like Celtic's had been, was distinctly unique. It was more linear than Scar's, more angular, and there were three deep grooves that bisected the face—claw marks? As I began to edge back up the stairs, the predator held both hands out, palm up, and said in a tinny male voice that obviously wasn't his own, "Wait."
I halted, balling my hands into fists in apprehension. The hunter took one step forward. Standing as I was on the third stair, we were now at an even height. He tilted his head slightly and his hair, shorter than Scar's, rattled with the movement. When he lifted one clawed hand towards my face, however, I retreated back up another two stairs.
"Wait," said the hunter again, and then continued in the same voice, "Curious."
Oh. Feeling somewhat sheepish, I descended again, and when his hand rose again I didn't flinch. He ran his thumb over my facial scar just once before fisting said hand and thumping himself on the chest. By now familiar with that gesture, I nodded my head and knew he had just acknowledged me as a warrior, that this was a sign of respect. I found this to be slightly odd; Celtic had, after all, hated me. The predator elder, however, hadn't seemed to despise my existence …
I was mulling this over in my mind when the hunter before me chittered, pulling at my attention. He picked up the tooth that lay against my collarbone between two fingers, twisting it back and forth and peering at it. Aware of how incongruous this scene would appear to anyone passing by, I smothered a quick grin and studied my newfound "friend" in turn. His armor, upon inspection, was different from that of Scar's—it was shaped in the form of scales upon scales, like the skin of a dragon from myth. And just like that, I had a name for him: Scale. Unoriginal, yes, but it was a defining characteristic of his person and as such would serve the purpose it was meant for.
Scale let the tooth fall and stepped back, grumbling all the while. I made my way down the last two steps, eyeing him carefully. He seemed friendly—as friendly as his race could be—but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and crush my skull or something. He didn't, and as I reached his side he bowed his head to me once more before turning his back to me and cloaking again. I watched as his watery clear form made its way down the corridor on the left, pondering what had just happened and frowning absently while doing it.
It was too soon to be certain, but it seemed as though I'd just gained myself an ally.
.x.
