Anything previously copywritten or trademarked by the Alien, Predator, or related franchises is, obviously, not mine. OCs (which make up most, if not all of this story) are the intellectual property of Kliban Katz.
NOTE: For the record, apart from the Predators' terminology as found in the Perry novels, only the movies (Alien franchise, Predator franchise, and AvP franchise) will be regarded as cannon. All Yautjan culture and unknown biology will be speculated. In addition, though contradicted in the movies, let's say Predators have a visual spectrum similar to humans when not wearing their bios. Everyone else throws known information to the wayside, so it's my turn!
The narrator is in the 3rd person omniscient; however it centers on Aline and her thoughts. Italics represent a current thought. The point in the universe's timeline where this story begins is… let's say, unclear. In any case, it's not all that important to the plot as far as I'm concerned.
*** This is a story pilot. I'm curious about its reception and if there is incentive for me to continue this. Please review with your comments and suggestions. It will not continue otherwise, sorry! ***
"I can't possibly understand how I'm supposed to get through all of this paperwork before lunch. That only leaves me another two hours. Goddamnit," Aline muttered to herself, hand pressed against her face, eyeing a page of dense and unruly notes. She glanced at the two large stacks of similar papers waiting next to her keyboard. She would need at least an additional three hours to complete the stacks, especially since she had to first decipher what these "technicians" had scribbled. Aline replaced the paper she had in her hand into the larger stack and exchanged it for one from the smaller one. "Okay, at least Musashi writes neatly. I'll start here…" Leaning the limp paper up between her keyboard and monitor screen, Aline began to pound away at the keys with excellent precision.
The contract would only last another few months and then it would be back to Earth and to hell with all of the raw data compiling and monthly reports to the ethics department. 'Subject exhibits little change. Subject exhibits a minor alteration in sleeping pattern,' it was all garbage to her. What her "highly educated" and "well-seasoned" superiors on the ship sought to accomplish mattered little to her. It was all dictated by The Company and was always sterile and unchanging. Her only concern was their choice for a means to this end. She was conscripted to be an ethics advisor and an advisor only. However, in space, no one can hear your job description, Aline thought ruefully.
Having an ethics advisor on board was a rather new position to her understanding. The Company had experienced quite a few "incidents" in the past in which crew members had been "insubordinate regarding expedition and study criteria" rumored to often result in death and the mandatory new addition to the crew was a gesture of good faith in the words of The Company.
Aline admitted that she was a bit wet-behind-the-ears and technically she wasn't even supposed to have been signed to an expedition quite yet. Musashi had pushed for it, though, and the Weyland-Yutani Corporation was only posting advisors for aesthetic reasons. She was inexperienced, not naïve.
The reports had begun as being rather interesting, but quickly became the same regurgitated technical talk that shouted "no new developments." The facility had about four Xenomorph subjects that were confined to different areas of the lab. It was impressive, having a good deal of the creature's life-cycle stages frozen in time in stabilizing fluid, as well as one or two of the mobile full-sized slathering beasts, but the reports still grew stale. Over so many ears of studying these things and they still know nothing of use. The only risk with these beasts was a jailbreak, which would only happen if someone facilitated it, like in the past. Technically, this was the whole reason for her signing—to make sure this didn't occur. Aline sighed. I guess it's good that I get to review all of their damned notes this way then.
"So, how goes the transcribing?" Musashi leaned over the back of her stool and eyed the computer screen expectantly.
"It's slow, hon. You really ought to tell your crew to be more concise and neat, if it's not too much to ask." Her eyes darted up and down from the page to the screen, fingers pounding away. A small smile escaped her lips.
"Glad to see we're all hard at work." He patted her on the shoulder absently and shuffled away.
Aline sighed.
She found it hard enough to get Musashi to step away from his studies long enough to have any real conversation anymore, but it seemed to actually be worsening as time went on. She adjusted her glasses. Even up until a month ago, he still managed to make time for the "needful things" of couple life, but now everything had come to a screeching halt, except for his need to research. From the outside looking in, she felt it was impossible to tell that they were even engaged anymore. She hoped there would still be something left in one another to want to marry when their contract was up in four months. Aline was grateful to have been assigned to his ship for her first run, though. She had little to worry about as she had complete faith in her fiancée and those he presided over as far as doing things by the book. She realized that she had stopped typing. Quickly, she resumed, picking up the pace.