Though Stars May Fall - Chapter Five: End of the Line

By CMK 2004

Launch Deck, Sa'is Da'ar Spaceport
Two minutes have passed

"Okay, here's our situation." Tim McDalen spoke in terse tones, reflecting the uneasiness that they all seemed to feel. It was late afternoon and the Star Shard was due to appear in two hours. According to McDalen, after eight hours it would be directly overhead. All four soldiers kept a long distance away from the launch tube, still open, and any of the hangars. "Ammunition, good. Location, bad. Hope of evacuation, slim to none. Backup, nonexistent. Rations, good. Short range communications, excellent. Long range communications, none. Equipment, satisfactory. So to sum it all up, prospects of survival: slim."

"Aren't you a bucket of cheer?" Owen Custer observed sarcastically.

"I call it as I see it," McDalen replied. "Now that the transports are gone, there's no use staying here and being picked off one by one. Therefore, we have two options: we can try to find a safe place and barricade it until reinforcements come, or we can try to locate the hive mind of this monster and kill it. Personally, I'm leaning towards the second choice. Federation command is eventually going to send somebody down here and we can at least pave the way for them. It'll also improve our chances of surviving. I'm not asking anyone to come with me - I'll do this myself if necessary."

"Now hold on a moment," John cut in. "Tim, you're not thinking straight. Remember our original mission? Why can't we just get all the power reactors started again and send off a communication to the Star Shard from the primary communications array? And even if we couldn't, going alone would be sheer suicide. We all stick together, else we'll be picked off one by one."

McDalen sighed. "Escape is impossible now. I scanned the communications array before the battle that we had here. It's been wrecked. I doubt that the equipment is still functioning. And even if we could repair the array, the power lines from the power plants have been cut. I know, I checked them myself on the way up. Just rewiring the whole system would take a month." He paused for a moment. "Find a side room and barricade yourselves in if you wish, but be warned, prior experience shows that these tentacles can get past almost any obstacle. As for me, I'm going."

"If you go, I'll go too," John said.

"And me," Samus added.

After a brief silence, Owen nodded. "Fine. Safety in numbers, so they say. Which way?"

McDalen looked around. "Eh ... good question ... tentacles came out of all four hangars. Let's go to the south hangar, seeing as how it's the closest one anyway." With that, the praetor sheathed his pulse blade and strode off at a rapid pace. The other three fell into step with him, on the lookout for any signs of danger. John set his vision filter to thermal imaging, but received a black screen. Frowning, he tried the x-ray filter and got the same result. Banging the eyepiece produced a number of crispy plastic collision sounds; John swore profusely and tore the eyepiece off his helmet, exposing both eyes. "Piece of junk got broken in that last scrap!" He flung the visor away.

"Equipment problems, Ronin?" Samus inquired coolly.

"Shut up."

"Will you two knock it off?" McDalen demanded, annoyance heavy in his voice. "We're hard pressed enough as it is without having to deal with civil war in our ranks." They passed under the overhang of the hangar bay and emerged back into the shadows of the interior. The lights had already been knocked out. From an unseen source, McDalen produced an illuminator and switched it on, its soft fluorescent light shining off various metallic surfaces. There was a good deal of blood inside, too, none of which looked human. McDalen consulted with the group. "How many decks did we pass when we came up?"

Owen said twenty; Samus had counted eighteen, not including the ground deck. McDalen sighed. "Okay, we didn't see any signs of infestation coming up except on the seventh deck. We'll go there, spread out, and look around."

"There's a possibility that the hive mind isn't in this building," Owen pointed out.

"True," McDalen conceded. "But let's be certain of that."

"There's also a possibility that there isn't a hive mind at all."

"That's what I'm afraid of. If there isn't, cleaning out this city is going to be a mess." McDalen reached a stairwell and thought for a moment. "Not likely, though; these tentacles behave too intelligently not to be controlled by a higher power. It's up to us to find out exactly what this higher power is. And when we do ..." Here McDalen made an angry slicing motion across his throat. "... I'll be sure to greet it - personally. Samus, how many Power Bombs do you have left?"

"Enough energy to generate ... five, maybe." Samus paused. "But that's a dangerous level of power expenditure. Even my suit can't hold back the energy of five power bombs if they all go off at once. Will that be necessary?"

"Let's hope not," McDalen replied simply. They walked together in tense silence until reaching what they thought was the seventh deck from the ground up. It was clearly infested; flesh hung everywhere, covering all of the bulkheads, the floor, and the ceiling. John's boots made a soft squish with every step; consulting his memory, he didn't recall the floor being so far overgrown the last time they'd been here. "Let's look around," McDalen ordered in a loud whisper. "But stick close and keep your weapons ready. There's no telling what might be lurking around here."

"Yes, master, I hear and I obey," Owen drawled, tipping his ten gallon hat to the side for effect. John snorted cynically. He rechecked his two magazines for the second time; satisfied with their condition, he followed McDalen into the darkness. As each corridor was lit by the illuminator, they saw that many of the passageways had been blocked off by walls of flesh. McDalen led them through what passages were available. After a considerable trek in which they had found nothing, Owen noticed an escalator that had not yet been overgrown. John guessed that they were on the north side of the spaceport by now - his compass said that they'd been walking north since entering the deck. "Eh, this deck isn't entirely infested. Shall we look?"

"Maybe later," McDalen replied. "I'd like to check out the maintenance bay first." He indicated a sealed side door for maintenance bay personnel. "The maintenance bay of a spaceport is always enormous. There's a good chance we'll find something in the bay. Let's go." He swept around, but in that turn the illuminator shone for a fraction of a second down the escalator ramp and Owen called the praetor back. McDalen stopped, paused, and strode to Owen's position. "What is it?"

"I saw a flash of white down there," Owen declared. "Bring that lantern over, will you?" The praetor considered the request for a moment, gave in, and illuminated the lower room. When he did, all four squad members instantly wished that he hadn't.

"Oh my ... what is that!" Owen gasped; John suddenly found his legs unsteady. The escalator led to a medium-sized room below, apparently once a passenger boarding area. It was free of infestation so far as they could see - light glinted off the metallic deck and bulkheads - but the room was full of something else. In the middle of the room, an enormous pile of human skeletons had been bunched together in a cone of agony reaching up to the ceiling. Crushed bits of bone lay scattered everywhere; even from his distance, John could easily distinguish skulls and other distinct skeletal parts. Even more eerily, many of the skeletons were intact, structurally complete. There was no trace of meat on any of the bones; they had been stripped clean, and when John experimentally lifted his gas mask, there was no smell of decaying flesh. The entire scene presented a uniformly grisly spectacle.

"So ... no survivors," McDalen said sadly, pulling away the illuminator. They observed a moment of respectful silence, then McDalen added, "But this raises more questions than it answers. Why are all of these skeletons here? It looks like a graveyard."

No one answered; John was still too shocked by what he had seen, Owen was trembling, and even Samus seemed affected by the scene. When he felt himself sufficiently recovered after half a minute, John and McDalen walked to the maintenance door. It was locked; the praetor studied it for a few moments and tried the brute force approach, slicing clean through the sealing device with one blow from his pulse blade. He pushed the door open and held up the illuminator.

"You'll never take me alive!" a voice screamed from within. A moment later, a shape lunged out of the darkness at them, wielding a pipe too large to swing quickly. Then, as the figure came close ... "Argh, the light, the light, the ... light? Wait a minute, you're not with them!"

Having instinctively unshouldered his rifle when the cry was first heard, it was only then that John had a good look and observed the figure. It was a balding man, perhaps in his mid-fifties, holding aloft an oversized pipe and looking both crazed and terrified. He blinked stupidly, and while McDalen had made no move, John saw that he had tensed up for a fight. Owen and Samus, drawn by the commotion, raced over to the maintenance door. The man was dressed in a stained laboratory coat and had long, dirty hair bound by a silver ring behind his head. Poor guy - must be blinded after all the time he spent in the dark. Still, a survivor is a survivor. As the man's eyes adjusted to the light, he asked, slowly and cautiously, "Who ... are ... you?"

"Tim McDalen, Federation Praetor. With me are three bounty hunters - John St.-Varda, Owen Custer, Samus Aran."

"Oh, a rescue team!" The man nearly collapsed with relief and Tim had to steady him. "It's about time you arrived! I was afraid that they would be coming for me at any moment now."

"Uh, actually, we were part of a rescue team, yes, but ... we're all that's left, actually." McDalen said this with some regret.

The scientist instantly deflated. "What! You mean ...?" When McDalen nodded, the man banged his hand against a bulkhead in frustration. They waited until he had composed himself; the man swallowed and continued. "My apologies, it's just that ... well ... eh, so the Federation soldiers, too, huh? Looks like they stole a march on you. Well, come inside. We don't want to attract their attention, do we?" He laughed a little at his own joke; somewhat uneasily, John followed him into the room.

It looked like a small food storage space. There were ration cans scattered about, stacks of foodstuffs piled against the bulkheads (a few of which had already been opened), and an illuminator, its batteries recently dead, propped up on a cardboard box. A small door in the side of the room was marked "privy." The man sat down in the middle of the room. "My name is Bill Proctor. I used to be a natural biologist studying the wildlife of Noriath. Can I offer you some C-rations, or do you prefer slices of beef that were sealed two years ago?"

"I think I'll pass," Owen replied. The others voiced their collective agreement.

Bill shrugged. "Fine by me. Welcome to the Lair, as I call it. I've a feeling that it won't be long before they come for me. Of course, it's not like I can tell time down here. What day is it?" McDalen informed him. "Oh, that makes it - uh, nearly a month since I've started holing down here. The battery for that illuminator died some time ago. Makes it better, really; I like to be surprised when I open a new can of rations." Bill chuckled; he must be at least partially deranged, John thought to himself. Can't say I blame him, though.

"So Bill, what exactly is going on here?" McDalen asked.

The scientist shrugged. "You probably know more than I do. All I know is that I came to the spaceport - I was supposed to leave Noriath bringing a number of samples to some laboratory in who knows where. I got my ticket, took the stairs for the exercise, and next thing I know they appear out of absolutely nowhere and start grabbing everyone. So I ran like hell and ended up here - built myself a little fortress where they don't know where I am. I suppose you bunch have a similar story?" He stood up, propped his hands on the pipe, and rested his chin on it.

"We were part of a rescue mission that went awry," McDalen replied. "There were almost two hundred soldiers to begin with - now, there's only the four of us still accounted for. Don't know where the others are - the tentacles took them."

A shudder ran up Bill's spine. "Yes ... I have a feeling that they're watching us."

"What do you know about them?" McDalen inquired.

"Well, in my crazier moments, I used to come out of the Lair looking around." Owen and John traded glances with each other, both of them arching eyebrows. "Back when that illuminator was still worth something. Never ran into them, if you know what I mean. But I did see plenty else." He leaned forward. "You know what they do to people that they catch? Those people aren't eaten right off. No, the people - they're bred like animals. They choose a healthy young male and a healthy young female. Then they put them together in a small, isolated sac, release an aphrodisiac gas, and wham! Afterwards they separate them again, isolate the mother - or should I say, the soon-to-be mother. For every person they eat, another poor girl is impregnated."

Sickened by the tale, John thought to himself, The tentacles breed humans? For FOOD?! Owen's face had also turned a disquieting shade of green. McDalen, trying to remain stoic, was rapidly losing his battle to keep an impassive face.

"I've studied them as much as I could without getting caught," Bill continued. "They seem to be related to the Archoela plant order, but at the same time, different. Archoela plants usually grow no more than a meter in size, though. But now I've figured it out! They started off as Archoela order plants, but they have animal characteristics too. Genetically altered, no doubt of that. Photosynthesis - that's the mark of a plant, you learn that in Biology 101 - they undergo photosynthesis, yes, but not for themselves. The energy that comes from photosynthesis, they use that to feed the prisoners, whom they in turn use to feed themselves. That's how they keep the prisoners alive until they're ready to be eaten. And I figured all of this out myself!"

"Stars above," McDalen swore, "I've seen strange things in my years, but this can't be true!"

"Believe it, alright!" Bill proclaimed. "I've gotten pretty far a few times without getting caught. I saw their heart myself, three decks below ground level, one gigantic muscle that fills up a good deal of that level. And I found the seeds! They keep the seeds at the bottom of that long cylinder built into the spaceport. I deciphered the purpose of those seeds, too. Aren't I a genius? Anyway, those seeds. When the seeds are mature - and I saw this happen myself, once - they load a bunch of hibernating prisoners into the seed, about fifty give or take, and shoot them out into space, where the seed will drift until the gravity of a nearby planet pulls it in, and then it takes root in that planet's soil, and begins eating the prisoners to fuel its growth, and finally matures into more of them! Repeat a few times and soon everyone in the galaxy will be their slaves!"

"This guy is crazy," Owen said, trying to sound dismissive but faltering.

"Oh, you think I'm crazy?" Bill said, chuckling a little. "Why don't you go and see for yourself?" The mad scientist grinned; it made him look like one of Ridley's merrier henchmen. "You won't like this - no, not one bit. Open that door on the other side - the one you didn't bust - and you'll see for yourself. The maintainence deck apparently has a small backup generator, enough to light up the room. I just hope it hasn't gone out yet. I'll stay right here; I'd rather not look. Gives me nightmares, you see."

McDalen was on his feet before the mad scientist had finished, leaving the functional illuminator on the deck of the supply room. Unbolting the door opposite the one they had entered from, he swung open the hatch and stepped into the big room of the maintenance deck. John followed a moment later, as did the other two bounty hunters. The main room of the maintenance deck spanned about three stories worth of height. It was an immense space, well-lit by the floodlights built into the ceiling. Apparently that backup generator was still good. Equipment had been scattered around the deck, but was mostly shoved to one side and piled together, useless. A catwalk overhead went around the whole room and was heavily stacked full of equipment. John barely noticed all of that.

For in the center of the room was an image that chilled him to the core. Almost the whole room, all the way up to the ceiling, was filled with a thick, clear, gel-like material that let light seep through. And people hung suspended in that gel, each person with a fleshy appendage connected to his or her nose and midriff. These appendages hung from the ceiling; John instantly guessed their purpose, to provide the captives with air and nourishment. Bred like animals ... that crazy scientist was dead right. The entire mass of gel was full of people thus held; a distant corner of John's mind put in a cold estimate of about four hundred prisoners in this room alone. He realized that he recognized some of them; a few soldiers from the teams, technical leader from his squad. When the people suspended in the gel caught sight of the four soldiers, there was a collective movement, arms and legs flailing slowly through the thick mass in a vain effort to reach them. The living cords held on fast.

"I don't believe this," Owen whispered, blanching. "It's a flaming meat preserver for humans!"

"Uh, what's that?" McDalen pointed. John's gaze was drawn to the bottom of the stack, where a long, fleshy tentacle, bright red, had just appeared out of the deck. It was about as thick as the average human and pushed easily enough through the gel. The moment it appeared, panic seemed to break loose as each person redoubled his or her efforts to escape, squirming violently in the confining prison. The tentacle reached for a sexy young lady close to the soldiers and then opened in the middle, splitting into two halves and clamping around the woman's waist, leaving the upper half of her body still visible. The thin tentacles hanging from the ceiling detached themselves from her mouth and waist. She opened her mouth; even through the gel, John dimly heard her desperate screams and shrieks of utter terror. The other prisoners shut their eyes and would not look, but morbid horror fixed the eyes of the soldiers to the scene. The tentacle - a tongue, John realized - suddenly contracted and the woman was pulled into it, a big bulge marking her passage through the tongue and into the deck, where John could now just barely distinguish a hideous mouth three meters in diameter. The woman screamed one last time; she disappeared, the tongue closed, and the shriek abruptly cut off.

Pale and trembling, Owen fell to his knees. John himself felt none too well, staring in shock at where the woman had been. McDalen, also shaking, drew in a deep breath, unsheathed his pulse blade, and stalked towards the gel intent on cutting out all of the prisoners.

"It's them!" The cry came from behind, from Bill. John's head whipped around to look and in doing so he caught sight of a number of tentacles emerging from every hole and crevice in the room. He swore profusely, unshouldered his rifle, and fired at the nearest tentacle. "Praetor, get back here! Now!" John yelled. The situation had rapidly devolved into chaotic. Owen swore, fired a huge blast of lasers into the mass of tentacles on their right, and Samus followed suit by firing a steady stream of missiles left. A swarm of tentacles converged on McDalen; he disappeared for an instant as John pumped a storm of bullets in his general direction, then McDalen emerged bloody and swinging the pulse blade for all he was worth. Behind them, Bill was screaming incoherently.

"I say we get out of here," Samus commented. Owen yelled his agreement; the swarming masses of tentacles had grown thicker than ever. McDalen stumbled across the deck, still fighting off tentacles, as they began to edge back into the supply room. John ran out of ammunition, switched to his other magazine, and fired off a pair of concussion missiles to his right. Then Owen yelled for him to duck; John dropped to the ground, rolled away, and cleared a space for the energy cannon. As he jumped back up, John caught sight of a number of tentacles above them. "Look out!"

The warning came too late. The tentacles descended in a split second, seizing the scientist Bill and knocking Owen down. The shot from the energy cannon went wide, impacting on a nearby tentacle, and the resulting explosion stunned John for a moment. He snapped his eyes back into focus, pulled his rifle around for an upward shot - and saw Owen Custer being dragged away by a number of tentacles, his energy cannon lying far out of reach some ten meters away. "Owen!"

"Samus!" Owen screamed. "The catwalk! Blow it up, now!" He disappeared into the mass of roiling tentacles, as did the screaming mad scientist. John fired off one last missile into the nest of flesh, quickly discarded that magazine and slipped another in, but an overhead explosion nearly deafened him. Before he could gather his wits, Samus and McDalen were dragging him backward, one on each arm, and together they yanked him through the hatch. Seeing Owen caught by the tentacles, John had just enough breath to scream out one last "NO!" before an entire avalanche of heavy equipment rained down and blocked off the supply room from the larger room. Samus slammed the door shut and McDalen bolted it. Outside, the tentacles banged in vain.

Inside the room, the illuminator threw off ghostly shadows. Wild with fury, John rammed his left fist into Samus' armor and nearly took off McDalen's face with a swing parried at the last moment. "Damn you both! Why did we leave him?! Why! I could've saved Owen ... could've saved him ..." Frustrated, John banged his fists against the unforgiving bulkheads, his rage slowly seeping out of him and turning into despair.

"You would've been captured yourself in the attempt," McDalen said softly.

"What would be the point of losing you too, John?" Samus inquired.

John ground his teeth, hatred flashing out of his eyes at Samus. "You're one to talk, Samus! First Wraith, and now Owen - you just, just - abandoned - both of them! How many more people have you stabbed in the back?!"

"John ..." McDalen interrupted, a hint of warning in his voice.

"Shut up, Praetor! It's not my fault that Samus doesn't understand the bond between friends. Samus, you piece of trash - I'm going to shoot you right here!" John's arm snapped up in an instant, bringing his rifle on a straight beeline for Samus. Just before he pressed the trigger, Samus slid out of the way; a moment later, a sharp kick from the Praetor sent the rifle flying upwards, the shot ricocheting off the ceiling. John's rifle hit him squarely in the face. Then McDalen doubled him over with a fast solar plexus kick and in the next instant had him securely pinned to the deck. "Will you gather your wits, John?" McDalen shouted. "Do you think any of us wanted to leave Owen or Bill behind? Do you? But we did, and there was no help for it! Owen realized that, and that's why he had us blow that catwalk into shreds! Wake up and use your brain, John, if you still have one!"

"Now, listen, Praetor -"

"No, you listen to me! I don't know what's between you and Samus, but we're in this together and we either work as a team or we all die. You saw what happened back there, those tentacles eat people. If you still want to save Owen, then come help us find the heart of this creature and stop it for good. Or do I have to tie you up here and come back for you later?" When John said nothing, McDalen nodded. "So you understand. Good. Try not to kill either one of us until the mission is over." He released his grip on John's shoulders.

Sullenly, John retrieved his rifle, replaced the spent magazine stocks, and glanced uneasily at the entrance where the tentacles were still banging on the doors. He sighed deeply. "Poor Owen. He had so many dreams for the future, so much to live for, and now - gone. He got along well with everyone, especially Justine ... Justine ... she's going to be heartbroken when she hears of his death."

"Rest in peace, Owen Custer," Samus intoned. "You've earned it."

They filed out of the room, McDalen holding the illuminator and going first. John followed behind, both of them checking around warily, but there were no signs of the tentacles. "Now Bill said that the heart of the creature was three floors below ground deck - that's ten floors south of here. Let's go take a look." John and Samus nodded silently; when McDalen wasn't looking, John shot Samus a dirty look. He quickly snapped his head back to the front again when Samus' arm cannon began to emit a dangerous glow.

All the way to the ground floor, the silent trio encountered no more enemy resistance. John found himself replaying the images - Bill cackling madly, the unnamed woman being eaten by the creature, Owen's last stand - again and again in his head, despite his best efforts to think of something, anything, else. His wish abruptly came true when they entered the first subdeck. Like the seventh floor, this deck was cleared infested, though not as heavily as the one they had passed. McDalen motioned for silence and the three of them, each with his or her own thoughts, crept down another two floors. Bill was right. Here the floor housed the heart of evil.

McDalen held up the illuminator. Many of the separate bulkheads had been battered down long ago, leaving this floor surprisingly open-spaced. It was infested beyond belief, every available surface covered in thick layers of flesh. McDalen's eyes narrowed. "Samus, please scan this floor. I want to know exactly where the heart of the creature is."

After half a minute, Samus reported, "Nestled up against the northwest side. It takes up about a quarter of this deck's space. Part of it is squeezed up right against the launch tube. If we could plant enough explosives in this thing, it'll pop like a balloon."

"Good." McDalen led the way; five minutes later, they were standing in front of what had to be the heart. It was one large red muscle covered with pores and glistening fat. It contracted and expanded at a steady, predictable rate, sending blood to every last tentacle in the whole city. McDalen smiled hellishly. "Well, things are looking up for once. Okay, here's how I'll do things. I'll cut my way into a vein and let it carry me into the heart. Once I'm there, I'll plant the explosives, let myself be carried into an artery, and cut my way back out. Then boom!"

"I think I'd be better suited for this task," Samus said. "There's a possibility that you'll be carried away by the current, whereas I have a Gravity upgrade. Besides, how are you going to breathe in there?"

McDalen tapped his breath mask. "This'll filter out enough oxygen to keep me going. I can anchor myself with the pulse blade, cut out a space for the explosives. And besides, only I can arm the detonator, it's keyed to my fingerprint. I'll be in and out before you know it."

"If you say so," Samus replied doubtfully.

"I need all the power bombs you can give me."

Samus morphed into ball form, laid down four power bombs, and resumed her normal shape. "That's all I have, and I had to drain my power suit's energies for that. My protection's down to a dangerously low level, so I hope this works."

"It will, trust me." McDalen strung the bombs together. "The trick is to wire together the bombs so that all four of them explode at the same time. Fortunately, I have a detonator just for that. Let's find a suitable entry point." After some searching, they located a good-sized vein, almost as wide as a man was tall, followed it back to the heart, and McDalen nodded his approval. He paused only to strap a pair of goggles over his eyes. "This will do. Now, when I cut my way in, both of you have to pull back the flesh. It's going to get messy." Setting the illuminator down, McDalen planted the pulse blade all the way up to the hilt on the top of the vein. Then, nodding and gritting his teeth, he pulled the pulse blade down to the floor with one mighty effort. Blood began seeping out of the wound.

John placed both hands into the cut, as did Samus from another side. McDalen studied the opening he had made. "When I go in, I want John to return to the seventh level immediately. We won't have much time to save Owen and the others before their oxygen supply is cut off. Samus, you stay here and direct me to the center of the heart. I won't have any light in there, so I'll need you to guide me in. And try not to kill each other when I'm gone, understand? That's an order." John and Samus glanced at each other before nodding. Then both of them pulled back, hard; blood rushed out in a huge stream of liquid. Bracing himself, McDalen forced one leg into the vein, then the other, then his torso. He disappeared in an instant, carried down the blood vessel. John and Samus let go and the flesh snapped back together, leaking blood.

"I'm going, Samus." John shouldered his rifle, picked up the illuminator, and began to walk towards the stairflight they had come by. He paused to switch on the comlink. "Can you hear me, Praetor?"

A much distorted voice replied after a moment. "I hear you, John. I'm still fine, but this current's strong. Where am I, Samus?"

"Just entering the heart," she replied. "I'm tracking you on the X-ray scope; so far, the current seems to be working to your advantage. You're moving really fast, though. Just a little further and you'll be almost at the center of the heart. Okay, ETA, five, four, three, two, one ... now!" There was a brief pause, but whatever McDalen did obviously satisfied her. "Good. Set the explosives and get out of there."

John reached the stairwell, but the instant that he did, he swore and yelled into the comlink, "We got company! Above us!" The tentacles sensed him a moment later and raced down; John whipped his rifle out and fired off a pair of concussion missiles, bringing down a blast door from out of nowhere between himself and the tentacles. "This exit's cut, we'll have to find another way up."

"I hear you," Samus chipped in, "I'm having a few problems of my own here." Puzzled, John held the illuminator up high; a moment later, Samus emerged from the darkness pursued by a swarm of tentacles. Somehow she managed to run and fire backwards at the same time. John added his firepower to the mix and together they squeezed into a narrow passageway, holding off the tentacles. "Praetor, get out of there!" John called.

"Go on without me, I can't help you now. I'm about to blow this joint apart."

"But you haven't moved!" Samus objected, firing off a missile in the same breath.

"Of course not!" McDalen called back through the comlink. "I have to make sure that all four power bombs detonate at the same time; otherwise, there won't be enough firepower to finish off this monster for good. If I don't hold down the explosives, they'll be swept away in a heartbeat. Plus, this detonator can only be activated manually; somebody had to stay behind and it was me."

Horrified by the revelation, John felt his arms automatically fire the rifle while he tried to process all of what McDalen said. "You mean you knew that this would happen?!"

Within the heart of the monster, anchored to his position only by his pulse blade, Tim McDalen felt a tear slip out of his eye and collect on the goggles. "Yes ... I knew. But how could I have sent either of you? Please understand why I did this and know ... here I die, a Federation soldier to the end. Now go!" McDalen ended his talk and the communication fizzled out despite John's repeated shouts; a moment later, the entire floor was rocked by the force of the explosion and nearly threw John off his feet.

"Let's get out of here!" Samus urged.

"We have to wait for Tim!" John insisted, switching out a depleted magazine. But just then the ceiling rumbled ominously. In front of them the tentacles seemed angrier than ever. Aren't they supposed to die? John wondered. What's going on here?

"Are you kidding? He ordered us to go!"

"... Aw, blast it! McDalen, you showoff!" Pausing only to pick up the illuminator, John and Samus fired a last volley, then raced down the corridor. The tentacles swarmed behind them, bits of flesh and blood on each one. And worse, the whole deck was shaking badly. Just how many tentacles were present? "They sure are persistent. Maybe we can lose them down here." Suiting his own words, John raced down a stopped and overgrown escalator, somehow managing not to lose the illuminator at the same time. Samus followed right behind him. Unfortunately, the tentacles came after them, too. This lower deck hadn't been infested, but the tentacles showed no sign of giving up the pursuit. Earsplitting crashes announced that the deck directly above them had collapsed on itself. As John and Samus raced blindly into the floor, new tentacles emerged from various places and took up the chase.

"I thought they were supposed to be dead by now!" Samus shouted. Getting no response, she tried again. "So now what do we do?"

John thought for a moment, heading left into a passageway. "Feed them."

"Feed them?! With what?"

John answered by turning around in midstride and firing a bullet. It hit just above Samus' kneeplate and she collapsed to the ground, blood beginning to seep out of her armor. "With your body, of course!" John called back, racing onwards. "You may think you left Owen behind, but you'll be seeing him soon! Consider that payback!" He disappeared around a corner and left Samus in the darkness with the tentacles reaching out for her. He ignored Samus' angry reply; it abruptly cut off after a moment.

When it seemed that the pursuit had given up - John thought about why the tentacles had abandoned the chase with grim satisfaction - he slowed down to catch his breath, checking his rifle as he did so. Great. Nearly out of ammunition, with only one spare clip of bullets left. At the same time, there was the sobering realization that he was effectively stuck underground, for McDalen's heroic actions had collapsed the entire deck directly above him. Not entirely reassured, John made his way two decks lower. They, too, seemed free of infestation and this time no more tentacles appeared. Finding a small supply shed, John replaced the batteries of the illuminator. It seemed that weapons were not kept deep underground.

John sat down against a bulkhead, reflecting upon the hot action of the last few minutes. His chronometer indicated that nearly four hours had passed since he had left the launch deck of the spaceport. Come to think of it, he hadn't had any sleep since they landed outside Sa'is Da'ar. What a wild ride - it would make a good story for Justine, if he lived to tell it. Justine ... well, I wanted to see you one last time ... but it looks like I'm going to die here sooner or later. I hope you fall in love with someone else and live happily ever after. He thought for a transient moment about the other woman who had made an impact on his life. Samus ... this is disappointing. I wanted to defeat you in personal combat, just us two. Leaving you to die is a poor substitute for personal vengeance. Perhaps I'll be seeing you and Owen and Tim soon. Sighing to himself, John rose to his feet. Might as well look around and see what I can find lying here.

Another hour of exploration brought John two floors deeper underground. No food supplies, most unfortunately, and no tentacles either. He turned around another passageway, spied an open door - what's a door doing opened? - and decided to check it. Coming around, John held up the illuminator, lit up the small room within. It was a medical station, with all sorts of medical supplies. And on one side of the room ... "You."

Samus glanced up, expression unreadable behind the helmet. She had just finished bandaging her injured knee and John's bloody bullet lay on the deck beside her. In one motion, honed by years of responding to surprises, John's rifle flowed from his back into his hands. Samus, reaction slower due to injury and fatigue, fired a beam at him, but John dodged to the side and then fired back. His first shot went wide; the second, however, hit Samus' breast armor but failed to penetrate it. The impact stunned Samus and in a moment John had a boot planted firmly on the arm cannon. The fight instantly went out of her. "I don't know how you survived earlier," John growled, "but this is the end of the line for you, Samus. Now you'll pay for your sins - for Wraith, and Owen, and everybody else whom you betrayed. Repent in the afterlife!" With those words, John leveled his rifle at Samus' face and aimed directly for the killing shot ...