Flash slowed down just as he was about to walk through the entrance to MINERVA's lab. Nick hadn't had a chance to talk to the sloth while he was busy repairing the Vidar, and then when Nick was under quarantine and relentless questioning from the company stooges. So it was a bit jarring to be reminded how quickly the sloth could go from normal to 0.25 speed in under three seconds. It was like watching a poorly edited kung fu video without the action.

Bogo drummed his fingers on the sofa backrest behind Ben, who was sitting on the sofa in numb silence. He was holding his wrist and staring at his upended forearm, perhaps imagining he could see the dormant pathogen microbes floating in his veins. Judy was at the computer, trying to find some way to get access to those top secret files.

"I may have forgot to mention." Nick said while Flash eased his way into the room, standing by Judy with his paws in his pockets. "He suffered some acid damage a few years ago. Rochewool fixed him up best as he could, but now Flash can't control when he goes in and out of 'sloth mode.'"

Bogo's eyes widened slightly. "Acid damage?"

Nick nodded. "Acid damage."

It took a couple minutes, but Flash soon got back up to speed and stopped in the middle of the lab. He looked from Nick, to Judy, then to the couple on the sofa. "I had a feeling this was not a social visit."

"Flash. I'm sorry, buddy, but we need to talk."

Flash showed the classic minimalist emotion of a synthetic. "I know. But I admit, I was expecting the Company to confront me about this. Not you."

"How was it no-one from the Company recognized you after all these years?" Nick asked.

"Because there is very few left alive who would recognize me." Flash said.

Nick let that sink in and considered the implications. He gestured to the lounge area. "Would you mind taking a seat? This might take a while."

Flash obediently strode to the lounge area and sat on the couch opposite Bogo and Ben.

"Carrots, give it rest, why don't ya? Minerva's not gonna talk no matter what override you throw at her."

Judy sighed, got down from her desk chair and sat on the sofa beside Ben. Nick got a drink for everyone; cherry soda for Bogo. Orange juice for Ben and Judy. Blueberry for himself. Flash already had a flash of that weird milky goop on hand. Nick handed everyone their cans and sat down on the cushion next to Flash.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush. Our colony was invaded by some very nasty, very scary critters. Eyeless black critters with acid for blood. Their blood caused the same kind of damage that you'd suffered when we'd found you floating in the sea of stars."

Flash showed no emotion, yet his left claw lifted to touch the part of his body that had been melted almost beyond repair. The sound of synthetic claws brushing fabric made Nick's wounded ear twitch.

"Flash. It's time." He said sternly.

"XX121."

"Excuse me?" Judy asked.

"They are classified as XX…1 …2 …1 …"
Judy pursed her lips. Bogo snorted slowly. "Give him a minute." Nick said.

"How… and when… the Company discovered their existence is classified. The information I am telling you now is technically also classified."

"Then why are you telling us now?" Bogo asked.

"Interim Administrator Clawhauser and Miss Hopps are high-ranking company employees who know of XX121's existence. That allows me to invoke certain loopholes. But the Company can never know you know this. Do you understand?"
Judy nodded. "Go on. Please."

"I'll start with elaborating on what you should already know." Flash continued. "They have no eyes, but can somehow see. Their tails and claws and inner jaws are strong enough to puncture solid steel. They have acid for blood, which makes them very dangerous to shoot. They reproduce using parasitic creatures you call 'facehuggers." Ben shrunk slightly at the mention of them. "The facehuggers are hatched from ovomorphs, egg shaped organisms approximately 1 meter tall. They are instinctively driven to seek out the nearest viable host. When they do, they will incapacitate the host using a combination of paralytic toxins and constriction using their tails. Impregnation is suggested to take at least several hours. Any attempts to remove the parasites before impregnation is complete have not been recorded, but my analysis indicates any such attempt would result in the mutilation and/or death of the host. The infant xenomorph would take another twelve hours or so to develop and then… quite literally… chew its way out of the host's chest cavity."

"Like Hornbull. Poor bastard." Bogo muttered.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Mr. Clawhauser is most fortunate to have killed his parasite before it could begin implantation. He is also the first recorded victim to ever do so."

Bogo gripped Ben's paw tightly as the cheetah gave a shuddering sigh.

"About that…" Judy said. "I did a health check on Clawhauser myself, after the Company released him from quarantine, just to be absolutely sure. He wasn't carrying any embryo, but minuscules traces of a pathogen known as Plagiarus Praepotens was discovered in his blood." Flash's reaction, or lack thereof, unsettled Nick. "It's latent, and the traces are so small the Company must have missed it. We need to know what it is, and what it will do to Clawhauser if it's ever activated."

"I'm sorry, but I've never heard of that pathogen."

"Bullshit." Bogo tensed in his seat, ready to manhandle the sloth synth if he denied it again.

"You must have." Judy insisted. "Minerva knows, but she won't tell me."

Flash tilted his head toward the computer. "Only a special order would make her withhold information. What was it?"

"990."

"That is a new one. My memory contains an override that can bypass the special order. May I?"

All four mammals followed Flash to the computer. He slowed down mid-way across the room, prompting a disgruntled Bogo to lift him by the collar, stride the rest of the way and drop him in front of the square black monitor.

Flash's speed returned to normal as his finger inched toward the keyboard.

"Ask Minerva for the information again. Once the special order is brought up, I will apply the override."

Judy asked about the pathogen again. Minerva refused, at the same time the words SPECIAL ORDER 990 appeared on the screen. Flash set to work. After a few seconds, the followed words appeared in acid green with the chattering sound of a typewriter.

EXECUTIVE COMMAND OVERRIDE 428126.

WHAT IS PLAGIARUS PRAEPOTENS?

Flash pressed enter.

PLAGIARUS PRAEPOTENS

A MUTAGEN ORIGINATING FROM CHEMICAL XXXXXXX.

PRODUCED BY STAGE ONE XENOMORPH AND IMPLANTED IN POTENIAL HOSTS IN ORDER TO CREATE AN INFANT XENOMORPH. IT INFECTS THE HOST'S CELLS, CONVERTING THEIR BIOMASS INTO AN INFANT XENOMORPH WITHIN A MATTER OF HOURS.

FURTHER INFORMATION UNATTAINABLE PENDING THE ACQUISTION OF A LIVE SPECIMEN.

FURTHER DATA CONCERNING CHEMICAL XXXXXXX CLASSIFIED UNDER SPECIAL ORDER 777.

There was also a link to a file detailing a full medical report of a host. Judy didn't open it yet.

"Incredible." She breathed. "I've seen lifeforms with the most bizarre reproductive cycles, but this… I've gotta study my other samples. Figure out how this works, if there's a way to purge it, what chemical this came from…"
She rushed to another computer, no doubt to check on the saliva samples that were still being analyzed.

"I don't suppose you can override special order 777 too, can you?" Ben asked.

"I'm sorry, but only the CEO and a select few members of the Bioweapons Division can override that order." Flash said.

Nick took a long drink from his can. He let the liquid taste of blueberry swish around his mouth and swallowed. "So. What happened the last time you ran into this 'Xenomorph XX121?'"

"An attempt was made to acquire a live specimen. It ended… poorly."

Nick decided to leave it at that.

"Step aside, Flash. I want to see what they know about the other alien." Bogo nudged Flash aside and began typing.

"Use… the… codeword… 'Hunter.'" Flash advised.

Bogo typed in the word. This time an extensive series of paragraphs filled the page, each with their own subheading. There were links to files of previous encounters with the Hunter species. Nick had heard of many of these incidents. The first massacre of a military squad in Jaguarmala in the 1980s. A bloody gang war in the west coast a decade later. The eradication of an entire mafia crime family in Zootopia. Nick felt sick at seeing so many of these already horrific events were in the database, and the understanding of what had really happened to those mammals.

These things had been coming to Earth for a very, very long time, and most people didn't even know it. Worst of all, they didn't even seem interested in invading the planet. They came to hunt. Like orange-clad rich dentists shooting rare birds and reptiles.

There were photographs as well. Most of them were images of past victims. Gutted. Dismembered. Beheaded. Skinned. All of the above. One paragraph near the bottom of the page was all about a theory that the creatures followed a code of honor of sorts. They only targeted the most dangerous prey, or at least anything carrying a weapon. They never harmed pregnant mammals. They only attacked the sick if the sick gave them a reason to. There were several photos of a massive crater in a jungle, the consequences of a failed hunt. Nick shuddered to think what could have happened had Bogo not beaten the Hunter into complete submission.

"It goes without saying that the Company was quite pleased that you managed to acquire a live specimen for them." Flash said. "Is it true that you almost beat it to death with your bare hands?"

"I would have beat the bastard to death." Bogo replied tersely. "It was their ship that brought those things here. This whole clusterfuck was their fault."

"This is a very advanced race." Flash said. "Why they would only send one Hunter to deal with this situation is beyond me. That is, assuming it was only one Hunter."

"Don't." Nick grumbled. "Just don't."

"Sorry."

"If there's more, I will find and kill every last one of them." Bogo growled.

Flash's bland tone hardened. "Commander. You were fortunate that the one creature you defeated was already weak and weary. It would be unwise to antagonize the Hunters further."

Bogo snorted, but Nick knew they didn't need to worry. His violent pursuit assault of the Hunter was a freak occurrence. An explosion of grief, rage and guilt focused in the right direction. The commander would not let his emotions control him like that again.

"He's right, sir." Nick said all the same. "A glorified cult of intergalactic serial killers is not someone you want to mess with. I just hope the Company doesn't learn that the hard way."

Bellwether was furious. Sharla could see it a mile away, when the small convoy drove through the security gate and the white sheep jumped out before the transport came to a complete stop.

The site was in the later stages of excavation. The area, part forest and part dirt when they'd found it, was now a labyrinth of shallow tunnels dug by the finest terraforming equipment Company money could buy. The early stages, surveying and mapping the site, normally took 2-5 weeks to complete; here, it had taken little over a week. The survey of the site had seemed rushed to most of the staff involved, but there was a reason it had been completed so quickly. They weren't looking for fragile artefacts or prehistoric fossils. There was one thing they were looking for, and if their information was correct, it would take a thermonuclear bomb to damage it.

Several weeks had passed since the excavation started, they'd made exemplary progress. They'd never slowed down, not even after hearing what had happened to the Zootopian Prospect. Bellwether's orders. Don't stopping digging until they find the tomb.

Despite Sharla's concerns, their persistence had paid off: they found the entrance to the tomb about a week ago. The only problem left was getting the monolithic, bunker-like doors open, and even then, a plan was already in the works. Whatever had Bellwether so upset, on the eve of the greatest discovery of the century, could only have been a catastrophe.

She stormed straight up to the black steel pergola, where Sharla and her assembled experts were perusing a small-scale model of the entire dig site. Sharla stepped away from the table and assumed perfect posture, hoping that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with her.

Bellwether stopped at the edge of the pergola, allowing her bodyguards to catch up to her. "Leave us alone. Please." She said evenly.

Darrius and others tried to not look like they were running as they obeyed, leaving Sharla alone with the paler sheep.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Not here." Bellwether's voice struggled to maintain its forced sweetness.

Sharla led Bellwether to her trailer next to the pergola. The first room they entered was the living quarters, cramped but full of expensive furniture. Sharla gestured for her step-aunt to sit. She didn't. Her bodyguards waited outside, as still as the stone sentries they'd unearthed alongside the tomb doors.

When Bellwether finally started to explain, she dropped the sweetness entirely. "Sharla, something has happened with the Hunter."

Sharla felt her heart drop to her stomach. Of course, it had to be the Hunter.

"This morning, a convoy transporting the Hunter out of the colony was hit. All attendants were killed. The Hunter is missing."

Sharla gripped the edge of the couch for stability. "Was it… more of them?" She asked softly.

"I doubt it. Not unless they suddenly decided our weapons were better than theirs."

"If the Hunters didn't attack, then who did?"

"We don't know yet. Could be more of those cartel cocksuckers. Could even be the Mink Long Corporation or somebody else. The bottom line is that someone has made off with my alien and I want it back."

Sharla didn't know how to respond. As it turned out, Bellwether didn't expect her to.

"I've already notified Dogson of the Midnicampum. He has every square meter of Rhamnusia's orbit under surveillance as we speak. If they try to leave the planet with the Hunter, Company Security will chase them down and teach them a lesson they won't live to forget."

Her eyes glistened with relish. It was that hidden malevolence that kept Sharla from warming up to her as she grew up. It was still a sore point that she was the only member of the family who could see it. She walked to the bar to pour a small brandy, a good excuse for getting further away from her step aunt. She poured a red sherry for Bellwether, her favorite, and passed it to her.

"You looked like you needed one." She said.

"Thank you." Bellwether replied, her voice honey-like again. "I won't deny being a little cross about this little setback, but I have everything under control. I just wanted to make sure you knew, just in case."

"In case they're after the tomb, too?"

"I'll have security doubled. They know better than to interfere with your work, so don't worry about that."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Bellwethe-"

"Aunt."

"I'm sorry?'
"It's Aunt Bellwether. You know that."

"Sorry… Aunt… with all due respect, that's not what worries me."

"No?" Bellwether primly sipped her drink.

"We're dealing with a Hunter. The first one ever captured. We may have stopped it from activating the self-destruct, but how do we know it hasn't, you know, called for help? How do we know there aren't other Hunters on their way? How do we know they're not already here?"

Bellwether smiled. "The more the merrier, I say."

Sharla blinked. Either Aunt Bellwether was dumber than she thought, or she knew something Sharla didn't.

Bellwether handed back the half-empty sherry glass. "Look, it's a lovely sherry and I've love to finish it, but I have some aliens to track down and you have a tomb to raid."

She adjusted the lapels of her jacket and started to leave.

Sharla drained the last of her brandy, just glad to see her step aunt leave. "Commander Bogo's not going to like this."

Bellwether paused in the doorway. "Commander Bogo doesn't know, and we are going to keep it that way. Keep up the good work, sweetheart."

She left, rejoining her bodyguards and making her way back to the convoy.

Sharla drained the last of the sherry in one go. Some of it trickled past her mouth and dripped onto her coat, leaving a red stain over her chest.