"If the present were not so horrible and grim, and the future not so mysterious and enigmatic, one could go mad with joy."

Konstantin Kavelin

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Ah, Christ. Had it been payday already? Adrian groaned as he slowly woke, trying to stretch but struggled to. How much had he had to drink this time?

His head was pounding, and he wanted to do anything but get up. But man, the longer he tried to ignore it, the worse it got, and now everything ached.

He reached up to put a hand on his head only to wince and draw it back. Then it started to come back to him, and his eyes shot open with a gasp.

From what he could see in his blurred and spinning vision, he was still in the seat, if just barely, and there was a bright light flickering not too far to the right of his periphery. He squeezed his eyes shut again at the bout of nausea that opening them had caused and swallowed his stomach back down his throat.

It took him a moment to open his eyes again, but the resounding ache that ran throughout and pounded fiercely with every heartbeat, helped to speed the process. That, and the light to the side of him was also getting brighter and warmer.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he squinted his eyes open and looked toward the source of the light. The cockpit, or the remains of it that hadn't been torn away from the ship, was engulfed in flames, standing bright amidst the otherwise dim light outside.

The rear of the ship had also seen better days, with it being mostly crushed and deformed. One of the only areas that hadn't been annihilated—or at least somewhat—was the chair Adrian was still stuck in.

The source of his confinement was also the reason he wasn't a dangling and mangled corpse. But, in that effort, his constraints had been pushed to their limit to save him as it was already almost broken off. Although, it still wouldn't move more than a few inches when nudged.

After taking firm hold of it and taking a few deep preparatory breaths, Adrian struggled to push it away with a tremendous and painful effort despite it being nothing more than a thin and already half-broken piece of metal by this point. The retainer groaned in protest as it slowly creaked upwards and then snapped clean off with a loud clang as it hit the roof.

Everything ached and hurt, and he'd used more effort than he'd have liked, but he hadn't the luxury of time to catch his breath after that stint. The rest of the cockpit had been consumed by the growing flames, and it groaned and popped from the immense and suffocating heat.

He only hoped the two up there had died on impact. Even if they were ferrying him to his doom, no one should go out like that. But... if they hadn't and had somehow made it out of there and left him behind as a sacrifice, then screw them. He would hope they were in that blaze.

Adrian stopped, suddenly conscious and disgusted with what he'd just been thinking, and mentally slapped himself for getting so worked up over a scenario he had just made up in his head over two people who were likely dead and ash.

Sorry, Fellas. He thought and shook his head in shame.

Uneasily, Adrian forced himself up, gritting his teeth as he did, with his legs shaking and nearly buckling in the process. Once he was up and had regained enough of his balance, he began sliding his way out. Slowly, he guided himself from the burning wreck using the warped walls of the ship to keep himself upright. When what was once the exit of the now warped rear of the craft stood in front of him, he stepped out with the grace of the lamed and fell onto tough, damp dirt.

Groaning, he pushed himself up off his fists and took a few deep breaths of the fresh air to steady his still-spinning head. While it was leagues better out here compared to the furnace he'd been in, that still wasn't saying much. Now, it just felt like he was being slow-cooked instead of seared with how hot and humid it was out here. It was like the sauna of a depressed Finn who was already a 12-pack deep and showed no signs of stopping. What was worse was that he was already at the tail end of this humid hell if the dim light of daylight's end that swept across the horizon was anything to go by.

Looking around, they had crashed into a small grassy field and cut a deep ditch through the middle of it all the way to the dense wall of jungle that had finally stopped the ship. The front of the craft sat crushed and still blazing away, with several splintered and split trees having been felled around it. This wall of jungle surrounded the field. Not one inch of light was able to make it through the several layers of dense foliage that formed that barrier of green. Had they landed anywhere else, the endless sea of trees would have torn their ship into dozens of unrecognizable pieces. It seems his luck, or perhaps even some vestiges of mercy, had finally made itself present and known. Maybe as a form of divine apology, or more likely, it was for Elena's sake such as he had pleaded. Adrian didn't have a problem with either.

He was about to give a rare, thankful prayer that such a deus ex machina had been bestowed upon a reprobate like him, but a noise within the jungle managed to catch his ear amidst the crackling fire and countless creatures that were giving their final calls at day's end. Pushing off his knee with what seemed the umpteenth labored grunt so far, he wiped his knuckles off and held his ear to the jungle when the creatures that hid in its leaves abruptly went silent.

There was an engine, or engines from what he could tell. Adrian would have had to give it to the ship's manufacturer had the engine still been alive and were the source of the noise after a crash like that. This obviously wasn't the case. These were piston combustion engines, nothing that any space-faring craft currently has, has ever had, or hopefully ever will have. And they were getting louder.

A gun would've been nice, but when he turned around, any chance of that had become fuel for the flames. He guessed he was just lucky to woken up when he had. It was still really fucking annoying, though. But God taketh as God giveth.

With an initial stumble, Adrian climbed out of the ditch and began towards the nearest dense brush as fast as he could without tripping. He wasn't going to let this chance slip.

Still not fully recovered, he stopped once behind a few layers of brush and took a knee. He moved a few leaves out of his way and peeked between them at the wreckage as it blazed away in the dusk's dimming light.

There had been almost no time to spare as just after concealing himself, three vehicles emerged from a small clearing at the other end of the field, one after the other. They weren't Wey-Yu. He could tell that much. They all looked like commercial or civilian rough-terrain transports. They were low, rugged, and sharply utilitarian. The strangest part was what looked like added armor that protected the engine, doors, and a few other areas of their choosing. One of them even seemed to have gun ports sticking out from around what used to be the cargo hold. What they all held in common were a series of phrases and slogans painted in shades of red. All of them were unique to one another but generally revolved around "revolution," "progress," or a very vivid and general hate for Weyland-Yutani. Of these, there was one that all three shared without deviation. Stars, all painted yellow.

Raging red slogans and bright yellow stars? This confused and worried Adrian more than had it been Weyland. Wasn't this a Three World Empire planet? He knew damn well they were too far out in the outer territories for this to be a United Americas colony and definitely not an Independent Core System. If he was going to be honest with himself, though, the 3WE was only here de jure; de facto, it was almost unilaterally controlled by and for Wey-Yu.

He hissed when the occupants began to dismount from their vehicles. They had UPP-backed partisan written all over them.

'The Union of Progressive Peoples.' Adrian sighed at the thought; of course, this was what he had to deal with now. It wasn't enough that they controlled nearly all of Eurasia and stood in a two-way cold war with the 3WE and United Americas. Where there were even whispers of unrest or partisan activities somewhere in the galaxy, the UPP would always come running to save the day with a bucket of fuel.

The actual fighting in this Cold War had mostly stayed off Earth. No side wanted to risk reducing their base of power, population, and influence to ash. Yet, here he was, smack dab in the middle of the newest 'revolt of the month'.

Adrian couldn't really hold it against them. He was pretty sure he'd be doing just the same if he'd been born, raised, and practically stuck on a planet that wanted him to live and die for the company. But he also knew that they would not hold any such sympathies for him.

He looked at where they came from and began further into the jungle in that direction. If they found him, a damn corporate commando of all things, he wasn't so sure if there'd be any more miracles to save him from being drawn and quartered. He'd have to work his way around to the other side and try to follow where they'd come from. There wasn't much of a choice; he'd either have to delve into the heart of this mess or die of dysentery while lost in the expanses of the jungle.

He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore, he reminded himself. He wasn't fighting to get paid or simply fighting to fight. He was fighting for the two of them now, for Elena. This surge of determination pushed him forward. Even if somewhere, somehow, he couldn't or wouldn't even fight for himself anymore, he would for her.

He continued forward, pushing and tearing his way through the ceaseless bushes, branches, and vines that cut, stabbed and poked from every angle.

The jungle was reluctant to give way. Possibly in warning, but more likely, it wanted him dead like everything else. Neither would stop him. Not so long as he held breath in his lungs.

The trees had eyes, the proggies had guns, but he had her—or at least the memory of her—and that was more than enough. Even if it hurt that, for now, it was just a memory, that very fact drove him on, and it was still more than anything he or anyone on this planet could ever hope to have.

Let come hell or high water.

/|\

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Not even in sleep was she able to gain respite from her woes.

Before, when she had been growing safely and so blissfully next to the comforting rhythm of Adrian's heart, dreams and lucidity had blended together. When she had finally emerged into the living world, the two realms had mostly separated into their own domains.

Now, as she slept, her worries and regretful loathings plagued these dreams. Despite having more control over this realm than she'd found Adrian had, she was still a being of the living world and little more than a spectator here—a spectator to the dreams of them being torn from each other that replayed over and over again. Sometimes, they were worse, sometimes better.

It hurt more when they were better.

The worst of it was that she was still psychically caged. Or so they thought she was.

While this device and their untold distance from one another had blinded her to her link with Adrian, she could still reach out beyond the bars they'd wrapped around her mind. Slowly, she'd managed to reach further and further beyond her immaterial constraints. Her feel and control of this medium was getting stronger, but she was still too unfamiliar with it to put it to good use.

Her energy was suddenly renewed. She wasn't alone. She had reached something. Someone. It was another presence, one that held a link like she. It could not have been one of those wicked beasts that Adrian held species in common with. How these vile creatures could be of the same species as her Adrian, she didn't quite understand. None who had not been host to her kind had any agency or even conscious presence of such links.

But could it have been him? Her Adrian? She began to rouse, filling with new hope, but she worried her joy would only hurt her and was cautious with it.

It didn't feel like him. After some more observation, her excitement dimmed, and her excited, rapidly beating heart slowed again to the melancholic rhythm it had been before. No, it wasn't, but the fact that she could still feel them meant something.

There was no response when she reached out to them. She tried again, but much to the same effect.

They were aware of her by now. She could feel that much from their reaction to her prodding, but just barely. Then she could tell who it was. It was one of her sisters, and she'd given up.

With no effort on their end to reciprocate her attempts, Elena reluctantly left her alone and–proverbially speaking–opened her eyes to her surroundings.

She felt different, almost new or fresh. She knew she had been close to molting when she fell asleep. It seemed she had been closer than she'd thought. She wasn't in the small glass cage anymore. Instead, now she was standingupright but was still restrained.

From her long head all the way to the sharp tip of her new tail, she had changed and grown, but her situation hadn't. Now, she was in stiff metal restraints that kept her from moving much more than a few inches in any direction, and something on the side of her head itched terribly. Worst, just behind their partly effective psychic containment, she was physically alone—stuck in a small room with nothing and no one but metal walls to stare at.

But how had she grown without her knowing? The idea concerned her and made her lip twitch.

From hereditary memories and an innate feeling that she should have, she thought it would've at least been a somewhat conscious process. Except, she hadn't noticed it happen at all. How had they managed that? What had they been doing?

These questions swam around her, joining her already overbearing worry and threatening to overwhelm her again.

She wasn't in this alone. She reigned herself back in. Her sister was still there, and Elena wasn't going to cower in her solitude. She was stronger now, and she was going to prove it.

There was just one issue, though. She wasn't entirely sure how to speak like Adrian did, and she wasn't sure if her sisters would entirely understand her if she couldn't. This wasn't in the sense that she would try to form words in the air like his kind did. She knew she couldn't and found the concept itself alien. Instead, she wasn't quite sure how to form and send words like them through the links. What she was sure of was that if she'd had more time with him, he would have guided and helped her, and it would have come with ease.

The thought sent a pang of grief through her that made her wince. Every thought of him was double-edged. They reminded her she was without him just as much as they served as a source of joy and light in the dark. She couldn't let the pain drag her to inaction. With what she knew instinctually, she tried to call out to her sisters, her reach having now grown beyond and revealing more than just this one.

This time, she was met with a mixture of reactions. A few were apathetic like the first, others were confused, and some were just happy to feel the presence of another again. She noticed one thing in common among them: Their links were all cut off from one another, just like they'd tried to make it so with her. It seemed like Elena was the only one able to see beyond it.

She reached out again. More reactions. There had to be at least a dozen or so.

Then, she could feel some of them trying to reach out back to her, mentally stumbling around blindly in the darkness of their solitude with their vision of this immaterial web having been blinded.

They grew closer every time she cast her light into that darkness. Some even tried to call out, to speak to her in the same language Adrian had, but there was little she could do to answer. But there was solace to be found in the fact that others of her kind had been able to learn his language, and she hoped they could eventually help her.

This spotlight of attention was now on her from all sides. With her being the sole attention of many of her sisters that she'd never even met before, it began to make her fingers twitch with anxiety.

There wasn't much else she could do for them right now, she didn't know how to. This was the most of what she could. To act as a fire in the dark with which they could warm themselves away from the frigid cold of their loneliness. She could feel all of their presences huddled near hers now, but it was a one-way mirror, and they could only feel her.

There was still a warming comfort that she found in their company, but it wasn't the same. All of her sisters here were used to a world without ever having known or met their host, and it had also left many of them cold or vindictive.

Be among them all she might, it still didn't complete her. This didn't make her any less thankful for them, though—for how they stemmed the tide of her grief simply by being with her, even if it was that they had nowhere else to go.

They gathered around her in spirit, most in solemn silence, some a bit more hopeful. They were all alone with her, but Elena could only feel alone without him.

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How had he not heard about this? How had no one heard about this? Had this entire insurrection popped up and kicked Weyland-Yutani off the planet before any word of it could have been sent? Adrian didn't see much other explanation for it.

He'd trekked deep into the night, wading through the unforgiving jungle that hid a set of eyes watching him on every side, just daring him to slip up, to make a mistake and drop his guard. It had been like that the entire way to this colonial city that now sat about a klick away.

From what he could see, they seemed to have effectively wiped away any corporate influence or symbols that it had harbored not long ago with those of their own standing in their place. The populace were still celebrating this fact well into the night.

Adrian rolled his jaw as he stared down at the settlement. He listened with disinterest to the whoops and cheers that persisted to this late hour, accompanied by the occasional echoing celebratory gunfire. He'd been there for some time now and still didn't know what to do. He was still in armor that screamed, "Shoot me!" with a uniform underneath that wasn't any better.

No matter how stupid it sounded or how unlikely it was to work, every plan other than the one he was trying to avoid could have enough holes picked into it to the point it could be confused with Swiss cheese. Everything else he tried to come up with would eventually loop back to the same conclusion he had started with. He was going to have to ruin someone's night.

Oh well, Adrian thought as he furrowed his brow, Better them than me.

He stood up, circling the treeline until he was sure his approach wouldn't be noticed, and hurried to close the distance.

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Maybe they were right; maybe he should have stopped a few drinks ago, Terry thought as he stumbled out of the bar, only hitting the door frame twice as he did. No, not just maybe, they were right.

They'd just kicked those bloodletters off the planet, though! He could afford himself this tonight, even if he was going to pay for it in the morning. Actually, he was going to pay for it right now. He sped up his trek to the alley as much he could without making a surprise face-first trip to the ground. His stomach was more than willing to make that trip for him the second he made it around the corner.

This was bad, he heaved again. He hadn't been this bad in a long time. Then again, he could hardly afford to get this shit faced with the outrageous mark-ups on near everything here. Just another measure to keep their money circulating in Weyland's sphere. His grin was wiped away with another gag.

"Fuck." He struggled for breath but heard someone coming to check on him, probably Thai… hopefully Thai. He didn't trust the others worth a damn.

"That you, Thai?" He mumble-slurred out, not looking behind. "Shit's kicking my ass, man."

"Sure looks like it." An unfamiliar voice replied apathetically.

Great, it was one of the other fucks. Probably here to talk some shit, too. He pushed himself upright to face them but soon found himself falling backwards instead. Wait, no. He'd been yanked back.

His inebriated mind had put two-and-two together too late when a tight constriction around his throat stopped his yell.

What the fuck were they doing? He smacked at their arm. This might've been funny for a second if it didn't hurt like a bitch and he wasn't already struggling for his life.

They weren't letting up, and the pressure on his throat only grew tighter. Oh fuck, what were they doing? He was kicking, squirming, and trying just about anything his impaired motor functions would allow to struggle in this choking grip, but couldn't manage much in his current state. To make matters worse, he slipped on his own puke, gravity yanking him into the chokehold to the point where he felt his eyes were bugging out of his head.

He was going to kill this fuck if he survived. If he survived... the thought scared him terribly, and he redoubled his efforts. He desperately hoped he would, he had to! This had to be just some shitty drunken prank, he couldn't go out like this. Not when they were finally free!

His attempts grew weaker, the ringing in his ears was deafening, and finally, his fight stopped, and he went limp.

For him, the struggle had felt like a lifetime. For Adrian, just a few annoying moments.

"Good job, man. You splattered that shit all over the place." Adrian muttered as he dragged the incapacitated man deeper into the shadows.

"You better hope you didn't get any of it on me... For both our sakes." He grit his teeth.

He dropped him deep in the dark recesses of the alley and began to relieve him of some of his pieces of armor. Especially the ones with prominent proggie markings.

"You had a hell of a night. Be glad it's over." Adrian studied his new look; it would have to do. "I don't have that luxury."

It was time to keep moving, but how long had it been already? He'd been in and out of sleep all day, but none of it was any good. It had to have been close to fifteen, maybe sixteen hours since his day had started. There was a long way to go still, and he wasn't stopping now. Adrian took the man's pistol as a final, much appreciated, parting gift. He gave the man a final look, studying his unconscious form half-hidden behind a dumpster.

"Sleep tight, comrade." Adrian chuckled.

Their fight for this planet wasn't completely over from the looks of it. The logistics they'd gathered and loose lips he'd listened in on as he'd crept his way through town pointed towards the fact that there were some enclaves of remaining planetary forces. The one that interested him the most and seemed to be the only one of any significance was the System Traffic Control Center. The only place where he had a chance of finding out where they'd gone, where they'd taken Elena.

His chest welled with the hope it brought. It didn't matter how important or black ops the ship's jump was, it was all logged there. Unless it gets wiped, which is why time was of the essence.

Normally, such centers would be paired with or close to the colonial administration buildings or headquarters. This planet, thanks to its geography, was a special case.

Instead, both buildings were quite a distance from each other. The planetary administration building had been captured almost the moment the revolt had begun. Traffic control, on the other hand, had been built in one of the only areas within a few hundred miles of administration that would allow it to be above the jungles and surrounding mountain ranges. That was to say, it was on top of one of those mountains and most likely the primary cause for it still being in Weyland's hands.

Considering the immense importance said structures held, and there being only this one in the system, it wasn't a surprise that it had a security detachment of its own that had held any attempts to take it at bay. Or it had posed enough of a threat to keep them at bay so far. Something the insurrectionists sought to rectify as soon as tomorrow morning, at the spark of dawn.

While Adrian had already put himself on the clock, he hadn't realized it was already a few minutes from midnight. He had to get there. He should have been there yesterday, but he couldn't just waltz up in his armor, and he doubted this new getup would get him very far under more scrutinizing eyes, either. He'd get shredded, or probably detained until the insurrectionists took the building and strung him from it.

There was no other choice. He had to get there before they did. That was priority one. Once he got there, then he'd figure out what to do. He was in the pit, and all he could do was crawl.

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If there was another thing their victory had done in Adrian's favor besides granting him this new grand chance at a life with Elena, it had made the revolutionaries careless—a carelessness he was currently hotwiring. He could hardly remember how to after years away from his youthful delinquency, and he didn't want to risk an alarm.

With the finishing touch applied, Adrian braced for the loud and blaring horn to begin its wails of theft. It never came, and Adrian let slip a lengthy sigh as the engine turned over. He hadn't settled into the seat long before it proved that the lack of a car alarm meant little when another did sound in its place. One in the form of a woman shouting at the fact someone was in her car—their car, as it turned out—when the rest of her compadres rounded the corner from across the street ahead of him.

With time being worth more than gold and some of these less-than-happy rebels still having their weapons with them, Adrian decided it was high time to make like a jet and scram.

After lifting the brakes and dropping the pedal, the group began to shout and scramble out of his way as he sped towards them. Most of them got out of the way in time, but Adrian gave a wincing laugh when one of them was sent tumbling off the corner of the hood.

Booking it past the disoriented group, at least one or two still managed to make sure their indignation reached him in the form of speeding lead after they'd scrambled to get their guns on target. A few rounds slammed into the back, but most had whizzed off their mark by the time he veered out of their sight.

Now, should the arrogance of their victory persist into the countryside, it should be a straight shot to traffic control.

He had to hope none of those landed rounds had been lucky, or in his case, unlucky. But no point in worrying about it now. He'd drive as he must, and drive he did well into the night far beyond the city. Hopefully, he would fly up and far away from this planet soon.

Strife would not let him go so easily. As long as there were no physical struggles to kill the sound in his mind, the time he had alone with his thoughts would be well on its way to becoming the worse fight.

But this wasn't about him. It didn't matter how much effort it took or how much it cost. A scorching void that was growing in his soul kept him moving.

It was a faint whisper, a distant echo that pulled him forward and drove him ever forward. Yet, this small light that invigorated him with such fervor was the very same source of the maelstrom growing within. The ever-looming threat that this already distressing dim light might go dark filled him with dread indescribable and bore heavy on him. He must keep moving, and he would.

For Elena. His heart proclaimed with a will of fire. For her young, bright soul, so that it may continue to rage against the dark.

Adrian squeezed the wheel and narrowed his eyes as he pressed further down on the gas. The engine cried a yell to match the one inside, and he was off into the night.