Behind me feet land heavily upon the floor as Wheeler steps from a transportation tube. My senses are quicker than before. He steps toward me, Reed and I have said nothing to each other on this long walk.

"The others are on their way..we just have to truss up Brice first," the Sub-man smiles wickedly at the very thought.

Wheeler is a big guy. His artificial arm moves in conjunction with every step, as though it was part of his body. Usually the U.F limbs are good and can enable a soldier to return to battle; to conduct his life as before. Yet from veterans I've seen, there is still a mechanicalness about them. Even the Sub-man's arm must have been tampered with by those aliens, in the same way they messed with our heads.

He scratches his nose with a metal digit, noticing me regarding his appendage, "good job eh? I should have asked for one in a different colour."

We walk to the conference room. It hadn't existed before- the computer has fashioned it to our requirements. This vessel, apparently, is like a massive tube of clay, inside the spaces can be filled or extended, outer hull unaffected.

Eventually we reach a single door. None of us speak. A light blue set back in the curved white wall. It opens before us, shirking back like the action of a sea creature. Wheeler offers me to enter first (Reed isn't bothered). The Sub-man acts like a gentleman, completely out of character for his kind.
*
"Gentlemen...gentlemen..GENTLEMEN!" The hubbub pauses for a moment.

Irons starts speaking again, "I don' t see the point of having to retreat when we've got more fire power than the whole United Forces put together! I mean, come on..'

He goes on and on about his disapproval of my decision to withdraw, whilst at the same time (same flow) Dobrovowski argues the point that we should have stayed closer and worked it out from there. The Slyth sleeps, letting out the occasional bizarre sighing noise. Lieutenant Chee tries to get one person talking at a time, failing miserably.

I sit back and watch the scene before me. Reed whispers in my ear, "this lot couldn't get themselves organized to fight a school outing, let alone take on the fucking U.F."

I nod in agreement finding my mind forming a plan, regardless of their driveling patter; most of it a knee-jerk reaction anyway. For the moment it is logical to not allow myself to be pulled into their anxieties, I am somewhat separated from the group in a way- I would like to account it to arrogance, I do not feel superior, and some of them are more adequate to lead than I; also better soldiers, it is sheer luck that I alone can communicate with the vessel.

Someone addresses me, demanding to know why we orbit Pulsar II. I remain blank faced, closing my eyes. The plan rises to my mind again, based upon information I have gained from this unique vessel- more data is needed to make it sink into these men, the fact that this ship can do more than our imaginations could possibly ever allow. I must assess properly, digest that which I have been put into.

"We can't just leave..Christ we've all got families there? You have as well....what the fuck's the matter with you?!" Irons voice is aggressive and with due reasons, some of them are beginning to get locked within his ranting.

"And what are you going to do? You're the captain now?" Dobrovowski chirps up, mutterings of 'yeah' and 'that's right!' chorus about the room.

"SILENCE!!" I open my eyes and bellow, waking the slumbering Slyth. He blinks at me sat at a forty-five degree angle, his long tongue lashes about its upper lip, then across small triangles of pointed teeth. Everyone is quiet.

I stand up surveying the faces looking at me, allowing a long deliberate pause to settle them, to prepare my words.
"Many unusual and unexplainable events have taken us all off guard. We have lost three years of our lives through drifting and being manipulated by the void that Man foolishly first wished to subdue, to conquer; yet as always never managing to control it, like everything humans have ever been involved in- some stupidly thinking themselves more powerful. We are small beings, a blip on the grand scale of everything.

"Through the experiences we have all been in with those....aliens; the mind games they played, the hallucinatory nature of their probing into us. The ease with which they performed those experiments, the complete control they had over us…..doesn't that tell you all something about the frailty of our weak and mortal selves?

"I know the United Forces are flesh and bone as we, but it is their number, their sheer magnitude to consider. It is impossible to go against such an organization, especially being so keyed to war activity. Their response, the vessels alone defending Earth, do not suggest some peacetime situ' but a state of war. They left us out there to die with the others. We were all U.F but now…we are the enemy.

"We cannot go into such a force who are prepared for attack. Even though we have advanced technology at our fingertips. Why not learn to use that fully? With accomplished deliberation? With forethought?

"Your families may be in danger. They may even already be dead..one cannot tell until more data has been gathered. We have the ability to locate every one of them. We have the ability to rescue them or to make contact. But first it is imperative to assess and gather in all that we know and...most importantly of all....for us to work as a team and too find out everything possible about this vessel. From the information given to us by the computer, it is evident the U.F are no longer the same- you have all had an opportunity to examine the data. They are fascistic force, a totalitarian doctrine.

"This is yet again a situation in which once more we will have to do battle. To war with what were once comrades. Perhaps we should not? Remember..we are all officially dead."

My last appeal falls on dumbfounded faces- the possibility of retreat unwelcome. I know this is not what they want but at least I now have their attention. Individually I pan around and single out each person/alien to my sentences;
Reed is to the left of me. Experience wise etched, even in his hands. A short bloke but with strength which probably far outweighs the guise which he holds- an unlikely ally for me as he supports my thinking.

Private Irons listens and I can see him gradually calming, coming to my line of thought which is only logic, my proposal is to retreat but only under the assumption to gather our resources, plan, not go in half-cocked, think tactically about the enemy. My words continue and I watch his face as he takes it in.

Private Lee brings his slender hands together in a praying like motion as I turn to him. A thoughtful man.

Lieutenant Chee, well built frame. His gait obviously betrays power that has been gained through some martial arts training. A quiet person, calculative. Possibly too much seriousness in the oriental descendant.

I talk on, now asking them to list their credits in battle, their skills: both martial and anything which may contribute to our situation. I start first and deliberately 'play down' my own record, making a point to show how 'green' I am. My new language comes from sources in me that I never knew I had.

Private Dobrovowski is a tall ragged man. He has a thick mop top of curly hair and a large nose but a certain gangly wariness. Chris could be useful, especially since he has sniper training.

The Slyth is like any other in appearance. He seems to be on our side for the moment but for how long? Trust does not enter here, necessity demands we stick together, even the he knows that.

They ask me questions. I can think and answer their queries at the same time. This ability is yet another new talent that I have not been aware of until the situation presented itself for me to use it. It is odd, not disturbing.

"So what if I were to have you killed by this vessel?" I direct my question at Dobrovowski.

"It doesn't rnatter. How do we know you won't?" His answer is deliberately antagonistic.

"You will have to trust me Mr. Dobrovowski. I do not wish to kill anyone, you know what the U.F are now."

His scoffs at this, though I have begun to win over the group, the facts out-weighing emotions: are beloved Untied Forces akin to some Nazi war machine.