Chapter 5

"We have a subject in danger, repeat, we have a subject in danger. Alpha strike team, assemble. Retriever is unable to assist."

Don hurried toward the bridge, wanting to know what would happen. On the bridge Alpha was barking commands. Don went to stand in the corner to keep out of the way.

"We're going to need to burn through about a K9 force of baddies. That means we're going to have to be fast. I want the entire Alpha strike team. The subject is in danger from factors other than his antagonists; he is on a timed death trap and is also under the effects of a serious disease; we've contacted Potion he gave us the cure; we'll give it as soon as the subject is secured."

Alpha continued barking orders, and Don felt something stab deep in his chest. 'Oh, Hank.' He thought helplessly. 'Would it hurt you so much to say my name?' When everyone was prepared to go, Don walked up to Data.

"Data, can I watch what them while they… uh, work?" Data gave a sharp nod, only managing a quick glance at Don's face before doing something on the control panel, giving Don a view of each of the Hanks in their current position on the ship.

"How do we have all those views?" Don questioned, simultaneously trying to understand the ship and this Hank.

Data's answer was quiet; nearly a whisper, and it broke Don's heart. "Micro cameras are implanted around each of our members; they're too small to see but they move around their designated persons and provide us with constant upkeep on their surroundings and actions." He glanced down quickly, as though expecting some rebuff, some harsh word.

"They're brilliant." Don murmured gently. "Who put them together?"

"I did." Data offered hesitantly.

"That's incredible." Don whispered with a smile.

"It's nothing." Data disparaged.

"It's not nothing. It's amazing. Congratulations." Don smiled at Data as gently as he could, treating the

older alien as though he was made of glass. Data smiled back at him, when Alpha interrupted.

"Ready for teleportation, Data."

"Roger that, Alpha." Data's nimble fingers flew over the control panel, and the Hawks were gone. The monitors showed each counterpart on their own screen, as they leaped into action, attacking some aliens Don had never seen before. Don couldn't help but feel his heat skip the way it always did when Hank ran into something dangerous.

He watched as Alpha took to the sky, soaring over the aliens, who seemed to lack sophisticated technology and ways to hit flying people. Not to say they weren't dangerous in hand to hand combat, and they had serious numbers. Alpha flew ahead, probably to rescue Don, while the others stayed behind and fought.

Fireblaze hit hard and without mercy, save to keep his victims from death and mutilation. He seemed to be able to manipulate his flame as a weapon that didn't burn, but that didn't mean he cared to save his victims from getting all degrees of burns. He also seemed a very impressive hand to hand fighter, moving quickly, and striking with perfect precision.

Cannon seemed to charge through everything and everyone; smashing them with superhuman strength. He also seemed good at hand to hand combat, though he used a different style, and less precision, more of a constant smashing approach, though he seemed trained.

Dagger seemed to take a flipping out of reach approach, opting to stay away from his actual opponents, hurling his daggers from his hands, along with his energy blasts (or whatever they were). His daggers seemed to render unconscious instead of kill, and dissipate into perhaps energy after leaving him a certain amount of time.

Quicksand was right in the thick of things, knocking aliens left and right, never stopping, never giving anyone time to hit him. Don couldn't tell much of his fighting style, due to his speed, but judging by his victims and what little of him Dove could see, he didn't seem especially trained beyond some of the basics.

There were some others; not on the Alpha team, but Don turned his attention to Data.

"Hey."

"I… hey."

"You don't seem much like the others. Not so much of a fighter."

"My race aren't very good fighters, not like that. I can fight, but I'm really more… tech."

Don gave a smile. "Sounds like my kind of place."

"It was. Right up until the day you died."