The Old Gods and the New

"Liz, Charlie…wherever you are…Merry Christmas."

"Hear hear!"

Rowan Woods knew it wasn't the greatest epitaph in the world. Knew that it was partly redundant due to the memorial service that had been held for their colleagues only a few months back. But up here in the Scottish highlands, Christmas, 2094, there was only so much you could do anyway. Say a few words, get drunk, get up on Boxing Day and do the same thing. Only with work involved.

And hopefully with radiators that actually work…Rowan reflected, stepping outside the tent to the faulty heating unit mounted at the base camp. If the lack of funding doesn't kill us, the weather will…

"Rowan? What are you doing outside?"

Or something else…

That being said, Richard wasn't going to kill him, or cause him to get killed. But Rowan didn't like being around him. Didn't like it because of the old team, the one that had existed before Liz and Charlie went God-knew where, the pair of them were the only ones left. The only ones still around on this lonely dig, working in a field that was drying up as most scientific research went where the money was-extra-terrestrial bodies and the resources and terraforming that followed. Didn't like it because Richard was a reminder that he'd become leader of the expedition by default, filling in a void, rather than rising to the position on his own merits.

"Rowan? You listening?"

Rowan shivered, managing to nod his head as he did so. "Yeah…yeah I'm fine. Bit noisy in there, that's all."

Richard nodded. "Fair enough…fair enough…"

Rowan hoped Richard would go back in. Join in the carols. Perhaps even play the bagpipes or something. But he stayed beside him. Stayed in the cold he'd just complained about.

"You think they're still out there?"

Rowan sighed. "Not again Richard."

"What?" the archaeologist snapped back. "You just gave a memorial-…"

"I mentioned them as an afterthought, Rich. I mentioned them because I don't want my colleagues thinking I'm some madman who took over things as soon as Weyland's bloody starship didn't phone home."

"Phone home? I-…"

"E.T., Rich. A relic. Like them."

Rowan immediately regretted his choice of words. Seeing the look on his friend's face, it was a choice that he regretted even more.

"Rich, I-…"

"Forget it," he grunted. "I know what you mean…and yeah, I miss 'em too."

The regret began to alleviate.

Taking a sip of his beer, Rowan supposed it was harder on Rich than it was on him. He'd barely known Doctor Shaw or Holloway…but on the other hand, he'd just graduated from uni into a field that was shrivelling up even five years ago and probably wouldn't have found work even now had Rowan's old colleagues not agreed to give him a chance. Rowan privately suspected that part of it was due to a lack of applications for a pair of crazies with…interesting, theories, but…

"You think they found their aliens?"

"Shut up Rich."

"What?" the kid asked. "You know what they were after, I know what they were after-…"

"And no-one else does," Rowan snarled. "That's their legacy, Rich. Let the world remember them for what they did, not some half-baked theory that got them killed, along with whoever was on the ship Weyland gave them. The ship that pretty much killed the company, remember."

"Killed isn't really the right word…"

"Whatever. It's Weyland-Yutani now. And I don't think many people from the Weyland side of the family will kindly remember a space-ride funded by an old man with a pair of crazies onboard."

"Crazies…" Rich snorted. "What kind of scientist are you? What if they were right? What makes them crazy for believing in something you don't?"

"I don't have an issue with them believing in something I don't. I take issue with that belief sending them out into space and leaving me to pick up the pieces."

An uneasy silence developed between the two. Rowan supposed it could have been an age thing. On one hand, Rich was out of uni, ready to take on the world, ready to believe anything. On the other was a man in his late thirties, having worked on every continent bar Antarctica. He'd seen the paintings, had appreciated the similarities…but it could mean anything. And certainly not something he'd stake his life and the lives of others on when the so-called star maps were open to interpretation. And after his grandmother…

Gran…you would have loved them…hmm…

"Say Rich?" Rowan asked. "Did I ever tell you about my grandmother?"

"Um…no?" Richard asked. "Should you have?"

"No…not really. Still, I do keep her name…adopted a son in her later years and he took her name as well."

"Oh yeah, your dad. South American, wasn't he?"

"Yeah…Pierro Woods. Adopted son of Alex Woods. Nice people."

Nice people indeed, Rowan reflected. He hadn't known his father long, having been killed in a car accident, and his mother working as best as a single mother could. His grandmother had been far more of a mother to him than his biological one.

"Anyway, I bring this up," Rowan said. "Because there was this story she once told me in her later years. Some story about a trip to Antarctica with Charles Weyland. Dragons, aliens, said aliens influencing human civilization…"

Rich's face was lighting up, and Rowan regretted it. He needed him here, in Scotland. Not in some forsaken dig on the arse end of the world.

"Did you go?" Rich asked. "Did you-…"

"Please. You think anyone would believe me? Believe her when she was getting my name wrong half the time? Nah…it was your typical conspiracist cock and bull. And besides, why tell me only then?"

"Maybe there was a gag order. Maybe she told you at the end of your life so that...wait, aliens influencing humans?" Rich's face lit up even further. "Maybe…maybe those aliens were the same as Doctor Shaw's and…and…"

Rowan sighed. He'd kicked the hornet's nest. And he didn't know if he could reverse the situation.

"Alright," the scientist said. "Let's suppose aliens did influence humanity. Let's suppose that one, or two species did it. Let's suppose that why we're here is a question worth of being asked in the first place, and our old colleagues did meet our makers or something? What then?"

"I-…"

"And what if they didn't? Or what if they did, but they simply made us because they could?"

"I…I don't know…"

"And that's the point," Rowan said. "Gods, aliens…you think they define us? You think we have to base our lives based on what extra-terrestrials wanted us to be? No…we're here. We're human beings, with all the good and bad that entails. We're here, and whether there's a reason behind that or not, we have to make the most of our own existence. Here and now."

The here and now…maybe Rich understood. Maybe he disagreed, and if so, Rowan conceded that was his right. But while he hoped Liz and Charlie got some closure in the end, he wasn't too worried about whether their god aliens existed. If they were right, if his mother was right, those beings were long gone. Humanity was coming into its own. Life on Earth was improving. The galaxy was opening up. As Peter Weyland had once said sixty years ago, humanity was the gods now. Masters of their own destiny. Makers of it. To be human for humanity's own sake.

Stepping back inside the tent, Rowan decided to be part of his group as well.

A/N

So, I've seen Prometheus. I...meh, I've vented my spleen elsewhere, so I'll spare you a rant. Still, as much as I dislike the film itself, I like the accompanying lore around it, hence why I'm still willing to write oneshots based on its context.

Update (21/06/12): Made some adjustments to punctuation.

Update (09/02/13): Made corrections to writing errors.