I don't own Alien, yada yada yada... this is a short work that I was inspired to write about one of my favourite character ideas. No cameos from all the old favourites in the Hades Chronicles, but it's still the same universe... and there are one or two hints of things to come from that quarter.
"Still no response to hails, sir. Just the distress beacon."
Lieutenant Kadr glared through the forward porthole as though the drifting ship visible there had personally offended him. "Anything more on scanners?"
"It's in perfect order, sir. All systems seem OK, power is running fine... they're just not responding."
Kadr looked over at the distinguished-looking elderly man standing at the rear of the bridge. "Well, Professor, here's your runaway. What are your orders?"
Professor Avermann cleared his throat gently, as though just reminding everyone that he was, indeed, in charge. "Dock with it and find out what happened," he said in a dry, wheezy voice. "After all, that is why we're here. The Cottonmouth is highly valuable to Mortech Industries. Or rather, the research aboard it is."
Kadr shrugged vaguely. He didn't give a damn what was valuable to Mortech Industries, so long as they paid well. In the aftermath of the infestation of Earth and the mysterious way that hives kept materialising on colonies, mercenary work was far better than simply enlisting in the military. If it meant associating with some shady types, who cared? "Do as the man says," he ordered. "And get teams one through three ready in the airlock, full combat gear." He glanced around at Avermann. "Professor, I wouldn't recommend joining the expedition until we're sure that it's safe."
Avermann glanced at him haughtily before returning his gaze to the derelict form of the Cottonmouth. "I am, of course, too valuable an officer to be risked in this case, yes. My assistants will, however, be joining you to ensure that you don't miss anything important."
Kadr left the bridge, and gave the scientist the finger to his back. Avermann ground his nerves. The lower ranking Mortech officials on the Morphite Seeker weren't much better, generally looking down their noses at the mercs. So be it. At least he didn't have Doctor Ryekamann on board; most Mortech personnel irritated him, but Ryekamann was scary. He knew for a fact that one of his fellow mercs, a rock solid son of a bitch with a mean streak a mile wide and a temperament that allowed him to shoot babies quite happily, had been found blubbing in his cell after a lone meeting with Ryekamann after a botched op.
Kadr sighed. Mortech paid well, they knew when mercs could solve the situation, and they had a pristine record compared to some of the other supercompanies out there. What more could a soldier ask for?
The Morphite Seeker juddered slightly as it connected with the Cottonmouth. Kadr rounded the corner and came upon the airlocks, where fifteen assorted psychos, rednecks and dropouts with large weapons and aggressive postures were waiting. To one side, two somewhat more refined figures were standing and looking at the mercenaries with faintly nervous expressions.
"Mr. Tybrin, Miss Vandros," said Kadr with a faint smile. Two of the more bearable Mortech representatives as chaperones, and the prospect of possible action to get away from the stuffiness of the Mortech cruiser. The day was looking up. He raised his voice. "All right, scumbags! Do I see combat formation? No, I do not see combat formation. Get in position!"
There was an excited roar of acknowledgements, and the men and women split into the three five-man teams.
"Now, you know the drill! Our wonderful employers have had one of their ships fucked up, and now we've got to find out what did the fucking up. But, our wonderful employers also want the ship intact, so if I see anyone so much as look funny at a picture you don't like, I'm putting you on report! Got it?"
"YES, SIR!"
Kadr gestured at Tybrin and Vandros. "These two upstanding citizens will be joining us, so if they get munched by some space monster while you're having a light-up in a quiet corner, then I won't be happy! Clear?"
"YES, SIR!"
Kadr tapped a command code into the wall-mounted armoury next to the airlock, and pulled out a snub-nosed carbine. "Well? What you waiting for, ya lazy fuckers? Get in there! Team two, you've been slacking on training, you have point! Team one, cover the rear. Three, you lucky sods get guard duty on the airlock! Move out, soldiers!" He leaned over to the two Mortech personnel. "Just stay in the middle, and if you see something moving where nothing should move, yell. Got it?"
Vandros nodded. "Got it, lieutenant. What do you think did this?"
Kadr rolled his eyes. "How the hell should I know? I haven't even seen inside yet." Shouldering the carbine, he strode into the Cottonmouth, Tybrin and Vandros close behind.
"Whatever it was could be shot at, sir," called a merc. He gestured at the ceiling.
Kadr looked up. Numerous holes were visible in the metal and through the lights, creating an oddly threatening atmosphere, with regions of bright light and twilight alternating along the corridor in both directions from the Cottonmouth's airlock.
"Acid marks?" Tybrin asked.
The merc, all business now, shook his head. "Not here, anyway. If it was a bug, then it must have been fast to avoid getting hit in this confined area."
Kadr looked piercingly at Tybrin. "You know something we don't? What were they researching on this boat?"
Tybrin shrugged. "I honestly don't know, lieutenant. Cottonmouth spent a couple of weeks beyond charted space, looking at the ecology of a planet that seemed to have had a xenomorph population there for some time. That's all I know. I just thought that they might have brought specimens back..."
A large man carrying a hefty smartgun spat. "You and your specimens," he sneered. "You're real good at making work for us."
Kadr barked at him to shut up, and the merc obeyed. Tybrin glanced at Kadr ruefully. "I fear he might have a point, though. If there's one thing we've learned about xenomorphs in the decades that we've known of the species, it's that they're damned hard to contain."
Kadr shrugged as though the comment meant nothing, though it was refreshing to have that kind of opinion expressed by someone from Mortech. "You heard the man. Keep a careful eye out, we might have bugs."
It was the same pattern everywhere. Bullet holes, broken lights. But no acid spills, no bodies, no blood.
Kadr called a halt, and pulled out the datapad carrying a schematic of the ship. "We've covered the corridors and secondary systems. We should head for the bridge next, see if we can get any answers from the computer records."
"May I suggest a small detour?" said Vandros. She pointed at a small side-area marked 'holding cells'. "If they were carrying any live specimens, that's where they would have been kept."
Kadr checked the route, and nodded. It wasn't far off course. "Stay on your toes, mercs..."
They rounded a corner, and someone swore colourfully. The hatchway that led to the high-security holding area had been pockmarked with unmistakeable acid damage and bullet holes. On the other side of the corridor, in a perfect firing position at the hatchway, two eviscerated bodies lay in massive patches of dried blood and gore.
Tybrin went slightly green, and hurriedly looked away from the bodies. One of the mercs moved over to check the corpses, and looked up with a grim expression. "If the acid ain't enough, these wounds prove it. We're in bug central."
Kadr checked the carbine, and clicked the safety off. "Anything on motion trackers?" Someone grunted a negative. "Then let's go in. Miss Vandros, if you'll do the honours with the access panel?"
Vandros delicately stepped over to the imposing control panel, and tapped in an override. The hatchway ground half-open, then stopped, jammed by a section melted out of shape by acid.
Kadr ducked through, weapon scanning the area. He froze as he saw his surroundings.
The holding room was long and quite thin, with transparent cells lining it on either side. They extended for quite a way, with at least thirty cells in total. The angles blocked him from seeing all the way to the end, but in every cell that he could see, the burned corpse of a xenomorph drone lay. Scattered along the room were dead human forms, torn apart.
Tybrin followed him, and his jaw dropped.
"Guess they did have specimens," Kadr commented dryly. The Alien corpses were all contorted in their last death throes, some still clawing at the transparent entrances to their cells, others on their backs as though they had been on the ceiling.
"Standard termination procedure," said Vandros coolly, surveying the slaughter as the rest of the mercenaries filed inside. "The Cottonmouth had incinerator units installed in all the cells, to be activated in case of potential escape of dangerous subjects."
"Sir!" barked one of the mercs. "Movement, from one of the cells. At the end."
Kadr checked the carbine, and advanced cautiously down the row of cells. All of them had the same burned, dead drone.
Except the last three.
Two were empty, the transparent doors opened wide.
The last one contained the hunched form of a drone. A live one.
Kadr raised the carbine to aim at the drone, but made no move to fire. Tybrin moved over to his side.
"Wonder why this one was left alive?" Tybrin commented.
The drone flinched, and unfolded. Kadr noted that the propotions were slightly odd, slightly different from those he was used to in a xenomorph... and then its head turned.
Its eyes opened.
Kadr stared. Xenomorphs didn't have eyes – it was a simple fact! God knew how they saw without them, or if they saw at all, but bugs didn't have eyes. Yet here was one with eyes... oddly human eyes...
A quiet, scared female voice echoed into their minds. Are you here to rescue me? Please, I think everyone else is dead... the drones killed them all...
Kadr jumped, and stared even harder at the apparition. "Was that you?"
Yes! Put that gun down, I'm no threat to you. It was the others... all the others... the normal ones... they killed all the men. I've been so scared... poor little Splinter, left in her cell, flinching at every noise... the drones hate me just as much as they hate you! Please say that you're here to rescue me...