Pen darted up the flight of stairs and when she heard a couple of pairs of footsteps behind her, she was surprised. She didn't think anyone would [i]actually[/i] take her seriously but she couldn't fail them now so she carried on. The stairs curved around a narrow bend and the light from the reception room was soon left behind, in favour of a stretch of shadows. It was cooler up here and cracks were slightly more obvious than in the flawless, polished entrance; paint was peeling at the bottom of the walls and a couple of wisps of cobwebs floated around.

Pen's grin dropped a fraction as she reached a large, imposing door, blocking the top step. Although the shadowed wood of the door itself seemed quite old, the handle was made from gleaming stainless steel and evidently new. She put her hand on it and almost cried out when the cool metal gave under it, swinging the door open. Someone's a little lax on security.

She slipped through it, leaving the door wide open for the others - if they actually follow her - and stepped out into the plain, white hallway, lit by buzzing fluorescents. Her shoes squeaked slightly on the tiled floor. She felt very out of place and a loud remark died on her lips. The corridor seemed empty but she could hear the faint whirring of machines operating. It didn't seem very light or friendly for a rock research centre - it reminded her more of a top-security prison. She walked forward, glancing back to see who was following her but not slowing her pace.

----------------------

"Is he telling the truth?" Wesley stuttered as Pilot responded as promptly as ever, his vacant gaze unwavering. 

Dr Good studied him for a few moments; he had worked with Pilot for nearly a year, now, and he had catalogued each and every one of Pilot's responses, studied them, analysed them. And he never tired of viewing his creation.

"No."

Dr Goode tried to stop the smile from tainting his thin lips - from softening the edges of his commands, which was not something he wished to make a habit of - but he couldn't help it. Grinning, he turned to Pilot, making no move to make the being more comfortable on the table.

"No. Correct. You didn't miss any."

He dragged a chair from a nearby desk and seated himself. He dropped his eyes to his clipboard and scribbled a few notes on Pilot's physique - all ticks. Wesley watched nervously, hovering at the edge of Dr Goode's vision.

"Rather than bother me, get the training equipment set up for Pilot. Pull some of the scientists from level 2 - no one's going to be doing anything in that department today and the kids probably don't even know how to climb the stairs - no, I expect today will be fairly quiet" he scoffed. 

Wesley scurried off.

"Now, then Pilot; tell me a little about yourself. Let's start with...your age?"