A/N: Sorry this chapter is so long. I could split it into two smaller ones, but it works better this way.
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, only the power over their life or death and the right to do with them what I want. Which, in my opinion, is enough.
3:
Dr. Marcus Hamilton finished filling out a form, signed the dotted line, and tucked it neatly into its file. He was sliding it, along with the rest of the files on his desk, into a filing cabinet on the adjacent wall of his office, when the phone on the table began to ring loudly. Hamilton settled himself in his swivel chair before answering.
"Yes?" he said as he picked up the handset and held it to his ear.
"Marcus?" he recognised the voice of his best friend Bart Bauser, who worked at the landing dock. "I've just got a report of a ship approaching us. It's slowing down, but at its current speed it should arrive within the hour."
"What's the ship look like?"
"Hard to tell at this distance. It's small. Could be a shuttle." Could be them, he added silently.
"Thanks, Bart. I'll be right up."
"Okay. See you soon." he killed the connection.
Marcus sat still for a few seconds, mulling it over in his head. His old friend Hicks hadn't been too specific; he could easily have abandoned ship and be arriving via shuttle. Marcus's hand automatically clenched, causing the pencil he had used to fill in the form to snap. After three years wait, had they finally arrived?
He was looking forward to seeing his old friend again, of course – and from what he had heard in Hicks's message, he now had a daughter. Hamilton would believe that when he saw it. But the real reason for his impatience was the condition of the…girlfriend? Wife? Hicks hadn't said; but surely she was the mother of the child? Whoever she was, the parasite attached to her face and the "thing growing inside of her" – as Hicks had put it – fascinated him. Hamilton couldn't wait to examine them, for it would take his medical knowledge a huge leap forwards.
Hamilton got up from the desk and picked his way across his office. He was a tidy man and a good doctor, but not very far up on the hospital's managerial chain of command, so the office he had been given was tiny. Whatever folders and papers wouldn't fit into the single filing cabinet had to be stacked and placed on the floor, making the room difficult to navigate around.
When he finally reached the window on the far wall, Hamilton pushed it open, leaned on the windowsill and breathed deeply and contentedly. This was the best part of his office. The window was large – he could easily see through it from his chair – but somehow the clutter of his office jarred with the clean simplicity of outside and made him feel uncomfortable.
The view soothed him; it really was a beautiful community. From above, the hospital looked like a large rectangle, split into two L-shaped sections. Hamilton's office was situated on the outside of one of the L-shaped wings, and from it he could see across the paved path that encircled the hospital, and over the hedge that lined it to the five apartment blocks beyond, where the doctors and families of patients lived. There were fifteen blocks in all, five on three of the four sides of the central square; the remaining side had a few shops for food, clothes and entertainment. There was even a school where the doctors' children, and children of the long-term patients went to learn; Hamilton's son attended.
Everything was bright and clean; the mayor, who also ran the hospital, had the androids clean everything once a month, from washing the buildings top to bottom, inside and out, to trimming the hedges and flowerbeds. Everything you would ever need was available right at your doorstep. As Hamilton's seniors put it, there was no reason for anyone to ever want to leave.
To Hamilton, it was paradise.
Suddenly, the clock face on the side of the apartment block facing him caught his eye. With a start, Hamilton realised that almost twenty minutes had passed since his conversation with Bart. The shuttle might arrive at any moment. Studying his reflection in the window, Hamilton straightened his tie, smoothed his unruly red hair and pushed his glasses further up his nose. Not that it mattered what he looked like; Hicks would undoubtedly look worse. He shrugged on his lab coat, clipped his ID card to the breast pocket, and left the office.
The shuttle pad was located on top of the hospital, for lack of space as much as convenience. By the time Hamilton arrived, Bart was already waiting for him, dressed in his grey, oil-stained jumpsuit. They didn't get many non-patient visitors, so when he wasn't overseeing the landing of ships, Bart doubled as a mechanic and handyman, fixing the two ambulance ships that they sent out to collect patients, and anything else that needed mending.
"Marc!" Bart exclaimed, and Hamilton allowed his friend to clap him violently on the back, knocking his glasses off, but Hamilton was used to Bart forgetting his size. Everything about Bart Bauser was larger than life; he was nearly a foot taller than skinny Hamilton, with bushy black hair, thick eyebrows overshadowing piercing blue eyes, a prominent prow of a nose and a deep, booming voice.
"Hello, Bart. Any news on the shuttle?" Hamilton replied, picking up his glasses, cleaning them with a handkerchief and carefully sliding them onto his nose. Bart's smile flickered, but stayed in place.
"Not as such. We can't seem to get through, but –"
"Hey, boss!" a boy of about fifteen ran up to them. His grey jumpsuit marked him as Bart's apprentice, but for the life of him Hamilton couldn't remember what his name was. "Look!"
Hamilton and Bart followed the boy's eager finger. He was pointing into the sky, but Hamilton couldn't see what he was pointing at. Bart, however, clapped the lad's shoulder enthusiastically.
"Nice job, Vincent ma boy. Sharp eyes you got there."
"Thank you, sir!" the boy blushed to the roots of his dirty blonde hair. Hamilton squinted and shielded his eyes, and sure enough, there was a dark shape moving towards them through the cloud.
"Is that…" he began, before realising that whatever it was, it was going way too fast. It had already cleared the bank of cloud and was hurtling towards the roof at an alarming speed.
"Shit," Bart rumbled. "If that thing doesn't stop there's not going to be a hospital left!"
The shuttle – for that was what it was – suddenly seemed to put on its brakes. It slowed drastically, until it was hovering less than a hundred feet above the roof, and then descended, not quite as slowly as Hamilton would have liked. Bart barely had time to grab both of his companions by their collars and drag them backwards out of the way, before the shuttle crashed down in front of them. As it landed, dust exploded from beneath it, and the whole hospital seemed to shudder.
"Shit," Bart repeated, letting go of Hamilton's lab coat and the back of Vin's overalls. The three of them stared as the door of the shuttle hissed and slowly opened. Two figures developed amongst the settling dust.
"Hicks?" Hamilton wondered, and then breathed a sigh of relief as his old friend came into view. Hicks came forward to grasp Hamilton's hand, and then laid a hand on the shoulder of the person standing beside him. It was a girl of about twelve, with long blonde hair that was in need of a wash, and clothes that looked much too big for her.
"It's so good to see you, Marcus. It's been too long." Hicks smiled warmly at him. They had said goodbye when Hicks left to go on his mission with the Marines and Hamilton joined the rest of the doctors heading to SL621, and Hamilton couldn't believe how much his friend had changed. Hicks had aged in that time; lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes, and he held himself differently. He was taller, but at the same time stopped slightly as if he'd hurt his back. His hair was a few inches longer, and he also had a beard, which didn't really suit him. Hamilton didn't have much time to dwell on it, however; he was too busy being hugged by his old buddy.
"You must be Dwayne." Bart held out his hand and Hicks shook it. "Name's Bart Bauser. Marcus has told me…almost nothing about you. How the hell did you guys like you end up friends?"
"Not much to tell, really. We met in High School. He went to College and I joined the Marines, but we kept in touch. I used to go to his house every year for Thanksgiving." Hicks explained, then remembered something. "Hey, I heard you got married. How's that working out?"
"Oh," Hamilton grunted, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Um, Sarah died a couple of years ago. Cancer."
"Shit." Hicks's face fell for the first time. He put a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. "Sorry, man."
"Yeah," Hamilton nodded. Talking about his wife still caused his heart to squeeze painfully; he usually avoided the subject. Bart came to his rescue.
"So, you're married too?"
They all looked at the girl. She hadn't said anything during their interaction, and even now was just standing quietly at Hicks's shoulder, staring at her shabby trainers.
"Um, not exactly." Hicks looked a little embarrassed, and shoved a hand through his overgrown hair.
"But the kid's yours?"
"Yeah. This is Newt, my pride and joy." Hicks grinned, squeezing her shoulder. Of course, they had no way of knowing that he was lying. Bart whooped and thumped Hicks's shoulder as if they'd been friends for years. Hamilton congratulated him in a more refined manner. The child said nothing, but smiled for the first time.
"So where's the patient?" asked Hamilton, when the celebrations were over. He had been so caught up in seeing his friend, he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. Hicks chewed on his thumbnail – a nervous habit he had picked up since their last meeting, Hamilton noted.
"Inside." Hicks led him into the dark interior of the shuttle and over to the hyper sleep pods. Bart followed, and the child trailed after them, still silent. The rest of the ship was dark – presumably an effect of their eccentric landing – but the single occupied pod was glowing. They peered in.
"Ripley." Newt explained, speaking for the first time.
The inhabitant of the pod – Ripley – was a woman; Hamilton would place her at late thirties, but still looking good. Her features were strong, and she looked to be sleeping peacefully, but Hicks quickly filled them in on her condition. He had waited for the creature to drop off her face and die, and then sealed her in stasis until she could be treated. She was dressed in only a singlet and undershorts, and Bart whistled softly, but Hamilton had eyes only for her face. Even in slumber, her expression seemed to emanate a resigned determination, as if she'd seen things in this world that nobody should have to face. Hamilton glanced up at Hicks, and saw him staring at the woman with the exact same look, though his eyes were softer.
"Hicks –" Hamilton started, but suddenly his old friend winced, and then hunched over in pain, moaning through gritted teeth. Hamilton leapt forwards, but the girl was at his side already. She dug in one of her father's pockets and produced a bottle of pills. She held it up to the light of the pod and hurriedly unscrewed the lid. Hicks's hand shot out to grab it, but misjudged the distance; the jar was knocked to the floor. It shattered, and small white tablets scattered everywhere. Newt fell to her knees and scrabbled at them, cutting her fingers on the glass, but Hamilton was quicker. He reached into his lab coat and produced an all-purpose tranquilliser/painkiller inject. He crouched next to Hicks, jabbed it into his neck and pressed the button. The contents immediately dissolved into Hicks's bloodstream; the effect was instantaneous.
Hicks crumpled, and Bart caught and easily lifted him.
"Take him to scan. Quickly!" Hamilton ordered. Bart vanished, and Newt went to follow, but Hamilton grabbed her.
"What were you giving him? What pills was he taking?"
"Just…heartburn pills. To stop the acid." Stomach acid, he thought she meant. Not that it mattered now.
"How many?" he said frantically. "Newt, how many did he take?"
"One a day since we set of. Sometimes more."
"Shit!" Hamilton didn't usually curse; but this was a special occasion, after all. "He's overdosed on sodium. He's gone into cardiac arrest."
Newt looked nonplussed, but Hamilton didn't pause to explain. He grabbed a cell phone from the pocket of his black pants. "Sandra, call the OR. We need immediate surgery on a male, approximately thirty-three years old. Thanks. And tell them to hurry. Oh, and send a team to fetch the third passenger in the ship that just arrived, but whatever you do, don't wake her up. That's an order."
He swept out of the shuttle, blinking in the sudden light, punching another button into his cell. "Max? It's Dad. Sorry, but I can't make it to your Karate presentation. Something's happened, but I'll make it up to you, I promise...Love you too. 'Bye."
Newt hurried to keep pace with the man as he hastened inside the hospital.
"What's going on?" she gasped. "Is Hicks going to be OK?"
"I'll do everything I can," he said automatically, then halted, remembering who he was talking to, the daughter of his best friend. He stopped and crouched down in front of the child, putting a hand on her shoulder, staring intently into her face. "Newt. I will do everything in my power to help your Dad. He'll be fine, and that's a promise."
Then he was back on his feet, once more in a hurry.
"Thank God he got here in time, it's a miracle he lasted this long." Hamilton added under his breath, talking more to himself than to Newt. He grabbed a stethoscope from a passing resident and smoothly tossed it around his own neck, ignoring the young man's indignant shout.
Yes, thank God they made it here, he thought, unaware that in no time at all, he would be saying exactly the opposite.