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Stryger jerked back from the controls and looked down the short set of stairs leading up to where he stood. Gilliam stood at the bottom, leaning heavily on the wall beside the entrance.

His useless plasma rifle dangled from its shoulder strap, but Gilliam clutched his oversized pistol in one hand. It was pointed at the floor, but Gilliam's eyes glared up at Stryger.

"You enjoyin' yourself?" he asked. His voice wasn't exactly weak, but it was far from his usual bravado. Words were woven between short, huffing breaths.

"I am conducting an experiment," Stryger answered smoothly. He returned his attention to then being caught in the cargo loader's grasp.

"I see," said Gilliam. "Would this experiment have anything to do with... oh, I dunno... me trapped under a barrel like a bug under somebody's boot?"

"You were in no danger. This machinery was the only way to free you. I had to get to it before IT-" Stryger nodded at the soldier. "-got to you. I barely made it in time."

"Guess I'll never know how true that is."

"You... doubt me?"

"I know you. That big brain of yours don't handle frustration too well. It makes some of the... old urges... come to the surface. Gets hard to control sometimes, don't it."

Stryger's expressionless face watched Gilliam from behind the visor.

"Are you finished?"

"You coulda clued me in what you were doin." Gilliam started up the stairs. He made slow, deliberate movements. A wince accompanied each step, regardless of which foot had taken it. "Maybe left me with a gun that worked, maybe. By the way, you seem to be carrying mine."

"The weapons are identical-"

"To you, they are."

"I am under no obligation to explain myself, Gilliam. Besides, you seem unharmed."

"Wouldn't go that far. They call these things 'impact suits' for a reason, but this thing may just be all that's holdin' my guts inside. Hard to tell. Sure feels like it."

"You're very talkative for a walking corpse," Stryger mused as Gilliam joined him before the control panel.

The soldier had watched their exchange with no sign of struggle.

"Got that thing trapped?"

"Yes. But only because it wants to be. It could free it self at any time... yet doing so would break the self-imposed limitations of its human form."

"Uh-huh," Gilliam grunted with feigned interest.

"I was going to explore its reaction to graduated physical damage... discover how much damage forces it to abandon this form. And whether it feels pain during the process."

"Did you pull wings off flies when you were a kid, Stryger?"

"I was raised in a sterile environment, and I fail to see the relevance of the question."

"Just curious."

"As am I." Stryger reached for the control, but Gilliam grabbed his arm. The grip was weak, but insistent.

"Last thing I wanna do is interfere with a genius at work," he said. "But I think I've got a better idea."

"Do you."

Gilliam pointed to an area of the screen where a cluster of cargo containers were arranged in miniature towers. These particular containers were empty.

"How big do you think one of those things is? On the inside, I mean."