On the<strong>hibernation deck</strong>, the pods stand in glassy silence.  The panels register no disturbance to their systems.  Their sleep is immaculate.<br/><br/>Outside, hysteria still stains the air with its many stinks: Nitrogen from the extinguisher.  Earthy reeks from Kat's violated body.  And the sour, cloying smell of the alien's lubrication, spattering the chamber around.  Bren detects no danger.<br/><br/>Danger is here all the same.<strong>Cross </strong>senses no minds in the elevator that waits on this floor, its doors still shut.  Both the men who went up it are no longer there - at least, their thoughts aren't.<br/><br/>And inside<strong>Kat</strong>, the danger is still very much alive.  The worm caresses the nerves inside the lower chambers of her body - the stuffed tunnel of her ass and the empty flex of her vagina - with its rugged movements.  Its severed end pokes questingly about her rectum.  In places it carved, low slung in her bulging belly, it writhes, tenting her skin visibly.<br/><br/>The pain of it is beginning to fade.  The sensation of fullness only seems to grow.  Movement licks around within her, nuzzling nerves born virginal by the invasion, now flickering with feeling.<br/>