Part II

Rachel Northway cradled her pounding head, elbows propped on her knees. The drone of the engines seemed to rattle everything with bone-jarring efficiency. It did not improve the headache. She leaned forward and spat onto the metal grating. Bright pink. The copper taste of blood clung to her mouth. But at least her nose had stopped bleeding.  

I think that prick broke my nose. She glared at the heavily armed soldier, his frame made imposing by the convoluted armor that covered his shoulders and chest. For its bulk it seemed impossibly lightweight. The troopers moved with impressive speed. For Rachel this had been a rather painful discovery the moment they boarded the marauder on her approach to the station.

She felt the other passengers watching her, but found she really did not care about her manners. Slowly she straightened and blearily looked at them. They stared back at her. One of them leaned to another, whispering, his eyes on Rachel the entire time.  

Techs. The big guys with the helmets threw the word around like the equivalent of a racial slur. She got the vague impression it probably wasn't the best thing to be a "tech". 

The craft gave a dizzying jolt. Rachel crashed back against the unpadded bulkhead. She saw a brilliance of white pain. 

"Fuck." She hissed. 

The marauder. If it weren't for the marauder… God knows where Korbyn boosted the thing in the first place. For the millionth time in what had become her painful existence for the past few minutes, Rachel Northway began to question her decision. Perhaps Elle and her pet Neanderthal could have helped.  

Maybe there was another way other than riding up to the front door of a well fortified military instillation manned by xenophobes, she thought with self-admonishing sarcasm. 

"Sure… hindsight's twenty-twenty." She said under her breath. This caused another stir in the "techs" sitting across from her. They chattered amongst themselves excitedly.  

"Quiet." Linebacker No. 1 said. Save for the lower portion of his face, the helmet obscured his features. He remained standing, balanced against the unsteady sway of the deck. His rifle was trained on Rachel. 

"Prick."

# 

"What is she? Some sort of primitive?" 

Cade Sevrin heard the whispered observation, but did not answer. She knew better. The troopers sometimes did not care if techs gossiped, but one could never be too careful. Instead, she watched the alien seated against the opposite wall in the runner's hold.  

She looked like a Sebacean. Her skin was dark like a B'Nai, but that was where the resemblance ended. There were oddities about this creature, that left Cade mesmerized. The strange clothes, the dark, closely cropped hair and her odd mannerisms. She addressed the troopers as if she held no fear for them, struggling against them as if they held no authority. 

The foremost was that the woman insisted on seeing "Doctor Knox." To the other technicians huddled nearby in the runner's hold this was a nonsense name. But to Cade it was not.  

Because of her Hech drive expertise, she had been pulled from Knox's retro engineering project to make up for a shortage of personnel. Techs were purposefully kept in the dark, each assigned one component of a larger project and none knowing what the other was doing. The speculation about the strange white ship in the Velka level of the station ran rampant. And Cade herself had become increasing aware of the oddities surrounding Consultant Knox. The bulk of her information came from the hushed exchanges with Rhen Purvis during their briefly shared down time. 

The woman leaned forward, cradling her head and muttering strange curses beneath her breath.  

"I wonder what they'll do with her," said the frail looking sub-tech at her side. 

Cade Sevrin had an idea and was not grateful for that knowledge. 

#

With a disgusted frown, Sela regarded the box like quarters assigned to Gelic Hassan. The room, like its owner, was a shambles. She stepped aside in the small doorway as the two troopers carried the unconscious officer in.  

They dumped him onto the narrow cot without ceremony, snickering to themselves. From their demeanor she guessed this was not the first time Hassan had to be carried from the officer's lounge. One of them looked at Sela and leaned to his friend in a conspiratorial whisper. The two men erupted in bawdy laughter.  

"Out! Now!" She snapped, feeling her rage build. 

"Yes, sir!" The smaller stocky one returned. But the mockery in his voice was evident.  

Giggling with like adolescent boys they left the room. Sela shut the door on their renewed laughter. She briefly leaned her forehead on the door and sighed. Behind her, on the cot, Hassan began to snore. 

She took a deep breath, stilling her revulsion for the drunken officer, and stood over him.  

"Hassan…" she said. "Can you hear me?" 

This was greeted by a muffled groan. 

She planted a hand on the wall along his bunk and leaned closer, inches from his face. "Hassan… you are a worthless piece of dren. I should do you a favor and smother you with your own pillow. What would you think of that?" 

More snoring. 

"Shall I take that as a 'yes'?" She sneered.  

Cautiously she undid the top two fasteners of his jacket. The officer's identchip was strung around his neck. He stirred, turning onto his side. Sela stopped, fingers frozen on the chip. 

His eyes opened. Hassan squinted up at her groggily. His face pulled into a philanderer's smile. He seized her wrist pulling her onto him. "Sela…" 

His mouth pressed against hers. His other hand slipped around her waist. Just as quickly he gracelessly he shoved her away. She stumbled back, keeping her balance.  

Wavering, he pushed up on his elbow. His hand went to his bloody bottom lip. He looked up at her, his face dimly lit with anger.  

"You tralk! You bit me!" He slurred.  

She made no effort to hide her venom. "Lucky it was just your lip, Hassan!" 

"You frelling…" 

"I'll let myself out." She backed to the doorway. 

Growling with indignant rage, he sat up. He reached to the low shelf near his bunk and grabbed the first object available. A battered combat boot missed her shoulder by a meter and bounced off the wall.  

Her last glimpse of Hassan was the officer drunkenly trying to stand only to land face first on the floor. The door shut. 

Sela spat onto the deck. The taste of his blood was sickening. A victorious smile slid over her mouth as she entered the habitation corridor. On one palm she bounced Gelic Hassan's identchip.  

# 

Cade leaned over the edge of the bunk and felt around on the darkness for her uniform. Beside her Rhen Purvis stirred. His warm hands wrapped around her waist and tried to pull her back deeper into the bed. "You have at least ten more microts before your shift." 

With a brief laugh she skillfully squirmed away from him. "It would take me that long to get dressed and return to my duty station." 

In truth she would stay for arns at a time with him if it were permitted. But to say such things aloud, could only bring misfortune. She did not wish to leave him. It was the room she detested. This tiny darkened room, meant for privacy and discretion. Yet this dank little place was dismal, like some sad secret filled with missed opportunity. She found it nearly claustrophobic to be in now. Her searching fingers found the heavy fabric of her jumpsuit. 

She rose, grated teeth of the deck plates jabbing at the soles of her bare feet. In the dimness, she dressed, feeling for the snaps and closures of her utilities. There were sounds as Rhen began to do the same.  

"I probably should not tell you this." Cade began. She sat back on the bed as she pulled on her heavy boots. "But there's another here. An alien female. She was on a marauder in restricted space. She asked for Knox." 

There was silence. Her heart crept into her throat. This was not wise. Would he inform on her? 

But at his answer she felt a warmth of relief. "You're certain, Cade?" 

"They placed her in the hold with us on the runner. She looks… different. Not Sebacean." 

A semicircle of white light bit into the darkness. Rhen was a silhouette in the doorway, back lit.  

"What is it? Where are you going?" 

He kissed her hurriedly before turning to the corridor beyond. "I have to talk to Knox." 

She remained inside the doorway, out of view from any curious on-lookers that might happen by. The nebulous dread frosted her heart again.  

"You did not hear that from me, Rhen!" Cade pled after his rapidly receding back. 

# 

That hurt. That hurt bad. 

Swallowing a painful yelp, DK rose sharply, dropping the portable welder to the floor. "Mother… puss bucket!" 

He placed his accosted finger in his mouth as he kicked the offending implement across the deck. Sheepishly he looked around the suite. As always, at least three of the techs had been watching him. His timing never failed to be impeccable. They looked away, their faces purposefully devoid of emotion.  

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." DK muttered. 

"Sir."  

He turned. "Hey, Rhen. You're early. Let's see what else we can blow up today, huh?" 

"Er…. Perhaps not." The tech regarded him with open astonishment.  

"Joke! It's a joke!" DK slapped the taller gangly tech on the arm. 

He shifted from foot to foot nervously. This was a very different Purvis that was poster child for terminal lack of enthusiasm. "I have… news for you, sir." 

"News?"

# 

The first thing Alejandra noticed was the mild look of astonishment on the junior officer's face. They had been discussing the thousands of daily tedium that plagued her days in command of the research station when Trinculo looked up suddenly from his transparencies. He focused on something over her shoulder in the corridor beyond. 

She frowned, "What--" 

Heavy hands crashed down on her shoulders. Alejandra felt herself forcibly turned around. 

"Where is she, Ally?" Douglas yelled into her face. He wore an expression of rage that she had never witnessed before. 

Trinculo moved to insert himself between the taller Douglas and his commander. "This is a restricted--"  

The rest of his warning was silenced as his face met with Douglas's palm. He stumbled back against the bulkhead more surprised than injured by this minor consultant's violence. 

"What the frell are you talking about?" She wrestled away from Douglas's grip. 

"Rachel Northway! I know she's here, Ally!"  

"Enough!" She snarled, shoving him back. Alejandra leveled a finger at him, very aware of Trinculo's scrutiny. "You do not dare touch a senior officer! Consultant Knox… you are in violation--" 

"Screw your rules, Ally. I want to see Rachel NOW!" 

She grabbed him by the lapels. Douglas fell toward her, she pivoted, bringing his back crashing into the wall. An incredulous Tinculo stood pressed along side them watching the unfolding dramatics, mouth agape. 

"Leave us!" She spat. 

He nodded and scampered away, throwing confused glances over his shoulder. 

The corridor for the moment was deserted. It would not remain that way. Trinculo would no doubt beckon the security detail. She withdrew from him, instantly regretful of the astonished and fearful look on Douglas's face. Why did he refuse to listen? Why did he test her so? 

She released her grip on his clothes. Her tone was hushed. "Douglas… There is very little I can do to protect you should they learn of your true nature. I cannot bear to think what would happen." 

"Oh, really?" He straightened, tugging his jacket straight. "Happen to me? Or to your career?" 

"There is so much more at stake here than me… a single soldier." 

"That's bullshit, Ally. I know you've been using me since day one. I've heard all the lies. There's only one thing that you care about and it's your own hide." 

"Perhaps that was true at one time, but not anymore, Douglas." She said. Softly she stroked the back of her hand against his face, but he turned away, expression stony.  

"No more lies. No more double-talk." Douglas grabbed her wrist. His eyes pinned her to the spot. "Where's Rachel, Ally?" 

"Alright, Douglas." She moved away, stepping into the middle of the corridor. A short distance away she could hear the heavy tread of the approaching security detail. A coldness settled beneath her heart. Douglas Knox had now become a risk.  

"I shall bring you to her." Her smile was brittle. 

# 

It was nearly over. So why did she hesitate?  

Sela licked her lips and spared a nervous glance over her shoulder at the doors to the communications locker. She knew they were sealed. The chance anyone would stumble upon her was remote at best. Hassan's identchip had allowed her access to the secure levels of the datacore. Placing the damning evidence against D'Soto had been exceeding easy, testament to the slipshod security on the station.  

D'Soto had cast the die on her own fate by her very conduct. Even if the evidence were false, the woman was in no way fit to command Neu-Tech. The falsified Scarran communiqués coupled with the true identity of D'Soto's lover would be enough to derail the entire Neu-Tech project, placing the wormhole weapon back into Scorpius's waiting hands. 

Sela looked back down at the patient pulse of the transmit sequence. The coded message would find its way back to the outcast command carrier and ultimately to Scorpius. 

Send this transmission and she could leave, rejoin the sanity of her own regiment. But a shadowed corner of her mind whispered warnings. There had been nothing of leverage in her part to ensure that Scorpius would hold true to his word.  

Even if she did survive this and obtain a post far from the Beast's clutches, she could no more see her crewies again any more than she would the Sebacean core systems. Would he even keep his bargain? How easy would it be to have one minor officer disappear under his command like Tristis, or Brin, or Corsair? Or like Jaryd Kess? 

Jaryd… If he saw her now… like this… waffling like an old woman… would he laugh at her? With this thought was the too familiar quiet ache resting just beneath her heart. It was the wound that never healed.  

Her future, what was once a vaguely imagined series of campaigns and minor glories, darkened under this nebulous brooding doubt. In the end there was only one choice. 

"Frell it." Sela hissed. She depressed the dimly lit panel and watched it grow dark. And it was done. 

# 

"Who sent you?" 

Rachel did not look up at him. She knew what she would have seen: The tiny metal room, dimly lit and her two interrogators circling like snarling pit bulls.  

It was not like on the cops shows. Not that these two might know what at cop show was for that matter. There had not even been the feigned sanctity of one of them, playing "good cop". On the cops shows they couldn't beat on the prisoner either. Apparently they didn't watch much NYPD Blue in the Uncharteds. For what seemed a small eternity the two Peacekeepers had yelled questions at her, ignoring her demands to see Douglas. She was fairly certain her ribs were cracked as well as the index finger of her right hand. 

"You are in possession of stolen property. That in itself is enough to ensure sentencing." The gangly, bitchy red-headed woman snapped. 

"Oh brother." Rachel muttered. 

"Look. I am here on my own. I came to see Doctor Douglas Knox." Her voice was low, flat. By now the response had become perfunctory. She leaned forward in the chair, seeking to relieve the ache of her muscles caused by the restraints that bound her wrists behind her back. 

"Again. What faction do you represent?" 

# 

Despite his own doubts, Tyron, that self-righteous bitch, had succeeded in her task. Word had come from the sources in High Command sympathetic to Ravstar's plight: D'Soto would be removed. NeuTech would belong to Scorpius now. 

He turned away from the scene in Scorpius's ready room, gorge rising. He never got used to the sight of it. No matter how often he watched. Secretly Braca had wished to never grow accustomed to the hybrid's medical rituals. It would mean that a portion of him at least remained a Peacekeeper, revolted and personally insulted by the prospect of contaminating the Sebacean race.  

He longed for the day when the endless line of nurses would end, when the Beast would simply succumb to whatever hideous metabolic ruin that threatened him. Then he would never again heed that needling, insistent voice… 

"Braca." 

He startled, mimicked by his reflection in the clear-plaz of the portal. Before he turned away from the sight of the Hecht-speed blur, he sought the buried dread in his core that accompanied every exchange with Scorpius. He clung to it like a life preserver in a choppy sea. When Scorpius had first boarded the carrier, Braca recalled confronting his then captain, Crais: "Is it true he can tell what you're thinking?" 

In time, he had learned the truth on his own. The dread in Braca would override the contempt. Of the two, that was the safer for Scorpius to sense with his abhorrent powers. 

"Sir?"

"NeuTech is unaware of High Command's decree. Or that we are underway to resume control of the wormhole project. Essentially, there are only three people that know of the true nature of D'Soto's defection…"  

He nodded.  

His attendant withdrew silently. Scorpius rose from the red upholstery of his chair and strode along the plush carpet of the suite. He paused, pretending to study the red standard embedded in the floor's design. "And two of those people are in this room." 

"Tyron. She knows." 

"In my experience, Braca, it is always best if bargains are left negotiable." 

"I understand, sir." Braca smiled, his own dread temporarily forgotten. 

#

There was an aching hum to her frayed nerves that roused her from the shallow doze. Rachel was reluctant to acknowledge it. It meant a return to the pain of the throbbing mass of her body. For one lulling moment she could not remember what had happened, then the full weight of her reality flooded in around her like a thick binding tide. The Peacekeepers. 

Just beyond the jangle of her nerves she became aware of voices in the room. They were sounds only, rising and falling in their exchange. Rachel sensed their owners around her, hovering. There were two… maybe more. Keeping her eyes shut, she did not move from the metal floor. She tried her best to ignore them and instead collect the jumble of her thoughts. Game plan. I need a game plan.  

A hand rested on her shoulder. Fingers prodded the swelling at her jaw clinically. It brought a startling swatch of pain. But she refused to flinch. Mechanically, one of her eyelids lifted. A baleful white light destroyed the calm black. She had a brief glance of a face in silhouette, a shoulder clad in a dark uniform. Then her other eye. Darkness again. 

Cold metal pressed at the crook of her jaw. Rachel pulled in a hissing breath between clenched teeth. This was it. They decided to kill her now. She stiffened. There was a tiny pinch. A warmth invaded her body from this spot. It sped through her arms and instantly drowning out the pain. Her heart trip hammered. Drugs. They'd given her something. 

The part of her mind that would always remain a physician was instantly intrigued. Systemic. But it worked so quickly. There was no sedation, no stilling of reflexes. In fact, she was feeling oddly, invigorated. 

Rachel opened her eyes. She clumsily reached for the man kneeling at her side. Her hands seized on his wrist. 

"Wazz that?" She blinked up at him. The very air had adopted the hum of her nerves. The drab colors of the room seemed to shimmer. "What'd you gimme?" 

The medico stared bleakly at her, his mouth pulled into a distasteful bow. But he said nothing. 

"Relax." Another set of hands rested on her shoulders. "Rach. It's ok. It's gonna help you get better. It can't hurt you. I had truckloads of it myself for my leg." 

She turned to look at the other speaker. Her breath caught in her throat. The image on the datachip had done little to prepare her for his appearance. He was quite pale. It made the shadows beneath his eyes that much more pronounced. She realized that the change in him was beyond appearances. That signature buoyancy that permeated his presence was missing, somehow subdued.  

"DK" 

"Ya… it's me." He grinned. There was hitch in his voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I'm here to rescue you, stupid. What's it look like?" Rachel rasped with a sad self depreciating smile.  

"Rachel." 

His hand clutched hers tightly. He leaned down to her, his forehead resting on shoulder. His frame shook with silent sobs. She placed a hand on the top of his head. His hair, that she recalled as an unruly mop of brown curls, had been cropped short. More PK. Less DK. 

"They told me you were dead." 

"They were exaggerating." 

"You shouldn't have come here, Rach." 

"Ya… tell me about it." 

# 

Sela squeezed her eyes shut and eased under the stream of icy water. She leaned her forehead against the gleaming black tiles of the wall. It pounded her scalp, running over her bare skin. For the moment this simple act distracted from the knowledge that the machine was in motion. Tyron was a tiny cog in it. She hated what she knew… what she had become. It was a bitter wisdom. Nothing would take away that taint.  

The semi private showers were one of the few luxuries junior officers were afforded, reminding her that perhaps her time in the higher ranks of Ravstar had turned her soft. Perhaps that was best… return to basics… first principles… she mused. As a grunt they were drilled on the merits of hardship. In the field they could go solar days without ration kits or the thought of personal indulgences. There was something liberating, purifying about being without these things…  

Sela barely had time to react to blur of movement glimpsed from the corner of her eye. 

Instinctively, she ducked. There was a splintering sound and rain of tile shards joined the streaming water. She whirled to face this surprise attack. Keeping low and her back against the wall, she made more distance between herself and her assailant. 

Gelic Hassan fully dressed in his utilities stood over in the shower house. His face pinched in indignant rage. "Frelling bitch!" 

"What the frell do you think you're doing?" Sela growled. There was no impulse for modesty. Raised in gender-mixed units since childhood, it was seldom a consideration. 

"I think you know." He plodded forward, boots sloshing over the wet floor. 

"I am flattered, Hassan. But I don’t think you're my type."  

She spared a glance over his shoulder to the entrance beyond. No one would come. The station was in the middle of a duty cycle. Even if they were not under Hassan's control, security would not be summoned. The common areas were under surveillance, but not the showers or recreation suites. 

"Don't play games with me, tralk. You'll lose." 

"That sounds like a dare to me." 

He moved with surprising speed. His hand was instantly at her throat. She backed against the wall, broken tile cutting into her bare feet, as she sought to loosen his hold.  

"My identchip was used while I was not on duty. How do you expect that happened?" He growled. There was fear beneath his rage. 

Realization came to her. He had nothing. Knew nothing. Otherwise there would be a full security team here with him. Hassan may have been a glorified grunt, but he was no fool. The repercussions would be even worse if it were public knowledge that his own ident chip had been stolen and used to violate security. It was also why he chose here and now to confront her. No witnesses. No record. He had no evidence against her… only assumptions and his own hurt pride. 

"I wouldn't know. You drink a great deal, Hassan. That's no secret. You should be more careful. It can make you forget things." 

"I don't…" He squeezed her throat for emphasis. "… forget things." 

"How would that look… the chief of security so drunk… he cannot remember using his own clearance commands?" She rasped. "Attacking a junior officer… under … compromising… circumstances…" 

He faltered. His gaze shifted. It was as if she could hear the click and whir of his insect brain coping with the possibilities… weighing options. At last, his grip loosened. He shoved her back into the cold tiles.  

"I'm watching you." 

"That won't be enough, Hassan." She called at his receding back. 

# 

"You shouldn't have told him anything." Cade said under her breath. She glanced up from her meal to take in a casual glance of the mess hall. But he knew she was looking for eavesdroppers. It was one of the things about Cade that, at times, frightened him… her outright paranoia. 

"Then why did you tell me?" Rhen leaned across the table to steal a food cube from her plate.  

She shoed him away. "That what I ask myself." 

"They are saying things about Consultant Knox, Rhen." Her voice lowered back into a conspiratorial tone. He doubted they bothered to monitor the surveillance in the technician's mess. They were hardly a security priority. 

"Such as?" 

She rolled her eyes. "You know… that he's… not Sebacean." 

Rhen chuckled. "Cade. He wouldn't have the clearance he does, if he weren't. Yes, he's… odd. But--" 

"You can be declared irreversibly contaminated." 

"Cade, you're being paranoid. There's no truth to that." He rose more quickly than he had intended. "I've got work to do."

He paused and looked down at her. "Will you be around... later."

"No. Not anymore, Rhen." She stood, but she remained looked at the table, gathering her empty tray.

"Why do you say that?" He grasped her elbow and she looked up at him.

"He's changed you, Rhen. And you can't even see it." Her eyes narrowed on him. "You're as good as contaminated." 

# 

A stillness permeated the station. Impossibly, the echo of the normally bustling hangar seemed hushed as well. Sela stood among the small assembly of commandos. Despite their rough and tumble appearance an air of tempered anxiety clung to them. Tyron had assumed their command that morning. Hassan, their superior, could not be found anywhere in the station. She estimated it would take weekens for them to find his body. By that time she intended to be as far away from NeuTech as possible. 

It was highly unorthodox for a carrier to visit the station. Troop movements were purposefully steered away from this sector to deter the attention of the Scarrans. 

"Scorpius." 

"Lieutenant Tyron."  

Sela bowed her head slightly as the hybrid passed. The expression on her face remained impassive. But the tiny hairs rose on the back of her neck and arms. The dread that had clamored along her spine reached a fevered frenzy. It was over. The deal was finished. But now… why did the dread remain? 

As she straightened, Braca, following at Scorpius's heels like a loyal hound, purposefully brushed past her. She turned to glower at the stiff spine of that hatefully proper special ops uniform. In profile she caught his expression, a knowing superior smirk. Reflexively she felt her hands tighten into fists.  

Braca paused, as if an afterthought, speaking over his shoulder. "Tyron…"  

She nearly choked on the word. "Sir." 

"There has been a change in our … arrangement." 

"What." 

His eyebrows drew up. He made no effort to hide his amusement in the face of her growing anguish. "Scorpius requires you to remain here… With us." 

He turned away, granting her his back. Rage and fear building she pursued him. Sela slapped a hand down on his shoulder.  

"That wasn't our bargain." 

Braca looked at her offending hand and turned a frown up at Sela. He shrugged away.  

"It is now." 

#

"Douglas… it's impossible." Alejandra said quietly. She leaned against the polished black edge of her desk along side of him. 

"No. It's not," Douglas leaned against her shoulder. "You're the station commander. You can make it happen." 

"No one will accept this alien--" 

"Oh? And what am I?" He arched an eyebrow at her.  

"You are different… special. Douglas…" Hesitantly, she touched his temple, recalling his earlier rebuff. But now he did not move away. What she wanted to say went much too far. 

"Let Rachel go. Give her amnesty on the station. I'll be responsible for her." He folded her hand within his. His voice softened.  

"What is she to you?" She pulled her hand away. Her spine stifled and she winced inwardly at the echo of jealousy in her voice.  

A portion of her knew this for what it was… his own blatant, yet awkward attempt at manipulation. For as much as she found herself longing to believe his affection was genuine, it was muted by the pervasive sadness that came with the knowledge that real or not, nothing could come of this. Even if he had been Sebacean or a Peacekeeper. That was the way. That was decca. And she hated it. 

"A friend." Douglas grinned, seeming to guess her motives. 

"And what… am I to you?" She looked up at him. 

His arms encircled her waist. She allowed him to pull her against him. His mouth found hers. Alejandra shut her eyes against this bitter joy and surrendered as she crumpled beneath him onto the cold surface of the desk.  

"I trust I'm interrupting…" 

Abruptly she sat up. Her heart lurched in the cage of her chest. Flushed she swiveled her head to see Scorpius stride confidently into her logistics room. 

"What the frell are you doing here? What is the meaning of this?" She spat. Her indignant and utter loathing for the monstrosity warred with the outright surprise.  

"Precisely my question, D'Soto." Behind him troopers, uniforms emblazoned with the trapping of Ravstar regiment filed into the room like a soundless threat. 

"What the hell is that!?" Douglas asked. 

"I... am Scorpius." Scorpius nodded, as if seeing him for the first time. 

"That… is an abomination! The product of irreversible contamination." Alejandra hissed. She strode toward the hybrid only to be intercepted by Braca. 

"How odd that you should mention irreversible contamination…" Scorpius returned, making no effort to hide his amusement. He looked at DK and then back to her. "considering your … apparent relationship with a non-Sebacean." 

DK moved to Alejandra's side. "Listen, Scorpio. I don't know what issue of X-Men you climbed out of, but--" 

"Braca, please see to it that Mr. Knox is moved to a safer location while I discuss matters with Commander D'Soto." 

"Yes, sir." Braca nodded two troopers to his aide. 

Before the door sealed she caught a brief glimpse of Douglas, confusion and fear warring on his face. 

"Ah. Formalities." Scorpius clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front of Alejandra as if she were a errant child. "Commander D'Soto… by the protocol of the decca that you so… selectively… defend, I am hereby assuming command of this installation. All with the consent of High Command of course. You've been remanded to my custody. As of this moment I am assuming command of NeuTech base."

Part 3

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