(Please note that this story takes place after the events of Alien 3, but otherwise exists in a universe of my creation. I will not tip-toe around what is "canon" so do not point out incosistancies between this story and comics, or the orgins of the Aliens that are explored in the new movie Prometheus.)
Six months. Dawson leaned back in his chair lost in thought, six months was way too long to be stuck this far out on the outer rim. Dawson was never the luckiest guy in the galaxy but he had hoped to be home for Christmas this year. Every time he missed it Darcy was forced to be alone and Dawson didn't know how much more she could take. Hell, he didn't know how much he could take. It took four years of technical training, one year of flight training, and the basic first aid training just to get stuck out on the outer rim. Often Dawson found himself waiting for the excitement he was promised. The coast guard was everything but exciting. In the six years Dawson had been in the coast guard he had assisted in the attempted rescue of twelve ships, with only one crew of seven surviving. If tragedy happens in space the chances of survival are were never favorable. All it took was a hull breach in the wrong spot or a technical failure and its bye bye oxygen. Many times the team found an empty ship with cold, lifeless bodies. Most never even get out the cryotubes, killed in a long sleepless dream. Dawson never looked at the ice boxes the same way. He stared at the blank monitor in front of him and yawned. It was reminiscent of an early old school computer monitor but also stored memory and had other features which resulted in what would have otherwise been unnecessary bulk. It's hard plastic covering reflecting the reliability and efficiency that was the norm for space equipment. However after years of use the monitor had paint peeling of the side giving it a weathered look. Dawson then turned to the next monitor that was equally worn down but only showed several circles to gauge distance but was otherwise blank. Six months, Dawson was told that he would never be stationed longer than five months not including the three or so months that it took to get to the station and to get back. Yet he never stayed on the station for less than eight months. Yet the team was rarely needed, six months.
Suddenly a small red circle appeared on second monitor not far from the first circle. Dawson jumped into action sounding alarm to alert the other crew. He began to interact with the first monitor while simultaneously getting a fix on the location of the distressed ship. The first monitor began to flicker with static, barely audible words were rendered completely useless by some form of interference. Captain Anderson raced into the room stopping immediately the frenzied technician. Computer commands and segments of code began opening and closing so fast that the captain could barely read any of it. His voice boomed with authority "I need a status report Dawson." He began to stare at the second monitor cautiously optimistic that there was only a technical error on a nearby ship. As much as the excessive waiting had bothered the crew the sight of a crew dead still did more damage to the psyche. "It's a mining ship sir, and somebody hit the panic button." Dawson said without looking directly at the Captain. More commands flashed across the screen, still going too fast for Anderson to read. "If it is only a few systems away than why can't we get a steady transmission from them?" His voice sounded cold and utterly emotionless, betraying the fear rising from within. Dawson worked away trying to get a clear signal as static still filled the screen where the damage report should be. "I think they are too close to a sun and that is the source of the interference." The static faded away revealing the frightened face of a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. The image was surprisingly clear but the audio was still cutting in and out. "Emerg….every…cid….trick…." Than the image feed was interrupted by static and Dawson openly swore. Anderson's fist clenched, if they didn't know the situation than a rescue mission would be very difficult. Finally a few words came in completely audible. "..just stay away from the…" and the transmission stopped completely. Anderson stood still pondering what had just happened. What could the woman have wanted them to stay away from, but more importantly why? Dawson continued to establish a connection but soon he stopped. "Captain the transmission stopped, sir." Anderson was barely fazed by the comment because it was just stating the obvious. Instead he turned to the second monitor and read out the coordinates. "Why is the SOS still transmitting and not the emergency feed?" the words were important but Anderson was barely even heard Dawson's response. Instead he continued to focus on the woman's last words. Something really didn't feel right here. Finally Anderson's instincts kicked in, he immediately flipped the switch on the wall nearby and spoke into the broadcasting system that was right beneath it. His voice boomed with an authority that rivaled the best drill sergeants. "Alright boys and girls, we got a mining vessel that is in distress. Briefing will take place en route as per usual. If you're not on the ship in T-minus 15 minutes than you're going to be left behind." Then Anderson flipped the switch to the off position. He turned to the chuckling Dawson who only said "I don't think you're going to have that much help on this one Captain." Anderson's cold eyes met his and Dawson repressed his chuckle, his face was stern and revealed only his anger at the insolence of the comment. "Dawson, one day you're going to let out a comment like that and I am going to ram this size twelve boot up your ass."
Inside the loading bay of the Hamilton-class cutter spaceship, Anderson looked over his crew. The expression on his face showed that clearly impressed by how they operated. For the first time in years the crew operated like a well-oiled machine. Anderson had expected the unusually long delay in between rescues to leave the crew sluggish and uncoordinated. Instead what he saw before him was a rejuvenated crew who were determined to save as many lives as they could. The marines and the inner colonies coast guard may get all the attention and recruits, but it took a special kind of balls to join the coast guard where any help or media were at least four weeks away. As soon as all the equipment was secured for the flight the team stood in a line. Anderson's eyes went from the far right all the way to the last man on the left, sizing up his crew. First there was Heath Jackson; he was Caucasian stood at average height with an athletic build that resembled that of an Olympic swimmer. He was the most dedicated rescuer of the entire crew. Next to Heath was Janet Fox, who was the head paramedic. She was also Caucasian and rather short but nonetheless had an average build, although chunky by media standards. Originally she showed an outstanding dedication to her field but in the recent years the repetitiveness of being stationed with nothing to do and the horror of their missions had worn down on her. Yet she seemed somehow rejuvenated, this made Anderson curious but at the same time relieved. Next to Janet was Quinton Daley, the second paramedic. He was the tallest member of the crew at 6'8 yet was so skinny that it appeared to be unhealthy. Daley was always good to lighten up the mood on the station, but his lack of experience made him an unknown. Daley didn't show any of the telltale signs of nervousness which eased Anderson slightly, but he couldn't help but to wonder how Daley would handle the pressure. Next to Daley stood Esmeralda Herrera, she was rather average in height and build but stood out because she was the only Hispanic on the crew. She was the same rank as Heath but always stood separate from him. Anderson never liked the uneasiness between the two and had no idea where it began. Both had different stories on how it started and the rest of the crew was divided on the issue. However, they had never confronted each other and it had not harmed their performance. Still, Anderson had hoped by now that they would have resolved the issue. Next to Esmeralda stood both engineers Jayden Brown and Jordan Smith, who were also known as the twins. They were not real twins by any means but earned the nickname another way. They always talked to each other, shared similar opinions, and even looked alike. Although whenever another member of the crew openly called them the twins, they were dismissed by the twins as racist. This was because the twins were both African-American, and the only African-American members of the crew to boot. Next to Jordan stood Dawson, he was the technical support. As much as Anderson hated to admit it Dawson was the most valuable member of the crew. He intercepted the transmissions, hacked the struggling ship and took control of their systems, and he kept them in constant contact with the main station in case of a large scale medical emergency. Yet Dawson did have a habit of rubbing people the wrong way. One of the reasons may be that despite working as technical support, Dawson looked like he was born for war. Being above average height and built like a brick shithouse he would have fit right in pillaging a village alongside other Vikings, smashing an axe into some poor peasant. Yet he was also undoubtedly the smartest member of the crew, and didn't mind bragging about it. This combined with the physical intimidation that naturally emanated from him made Dawson look arrogant. Next to Dawson was the last of the lineup, pilot George Benoit, who was a relative question mark amongst the group. All the other members of the crew knew for certain about Benoit was that he was a short stocky Frenchman who cared little for movies. Other than occasionally letting his opinion known Benoit kept to himself, usually reading large hard cover novels in French. Although he did have a clear grasp of English, due to English being one of the main trade languages in both the inner and outer colonies. Benoit's co-pilot Jack Simpson was not in the lineup because he was making sure all the gear in the cockpit was secured. His life was a mystery, like Benoit's but for a much different reason. What made it hard to learn about Simpsons past was that he changed his story every time. When Anderson first asked Simpson said that he was an outer colony orphan who grew up with nothing but dreams of starships and becoming a hero. On the other hand, the last time Anderson asked Simpson where he came from he claimed that he was born in the United States, and that he was an unwanted love child of a high ranking businessman who gave him what he wanted to keep quiet. Then there were other stories that he told Anderson that ranged from completely normal to the upmost bizarre. All the crew knew for certain was that Jack loved to tell stories, and that he was a mediocre pilot.
The crew had begun to grow impatient as Anderson eyed them all up. As soon as Simpson entered the lineup Anderson explained the situation and had Dawson explain the technical details of the transmission, the SOS, and the reason for the disturbance in the transmission. Being distracted earlier, Anderson listened intently when Dawson explained the reason for the interference. Apparently, the ship was transmitting too close to a star for the transmission to get through. Dawson also explained that the transmission ended likely due because the star's orbit had finally blocked the transmission completely. However, Dawson had no explanation for the SOS still transmitting. Dawson also explained that the most likely scenario where the distressed ship was near a star was if it had landed on a planet, he also explained that the mining vessel was not a cargo ship, but a transport for the mining crew. When Dawson was finished Anderson only had a few short sentences to add, because they were already tempting fate by waiting as long as they did. "So what we know for sure is that there is a ship in distress near a star, time is precious people. I can't stress this enough, but when we finally come into contact with the vessel there will be no attempts to help until we are fully aware of the situation. Understood?" The crew voiced their agreement, then they strapped in preparing for the thrust of the engines and the ensuing g-force to pin them to their seats. When Anderson strapped in next to Dawson they young computer whiz looked to the captain and said in what was almost a whisper "Captain, there is something you should know. I didn't want to tell the crew because I am not sure but I found a problem with the SOS." Anderson looked to Dawson and responded in an equally silent tone. "What about the SOS?" Dawson paused for just a second a whispered to the Captain with a certain strange gleam in his eyes. "The SOS did not come from the same ship that sent the emergency transmission, in fact the SOS came from a different ship entirely…." Impatiently Anderson raised his voice, attracting the attention of the rest of the crew. "Your bumbling Dawson, what are you trying to tell me?" Dawson's face flushed red with embarrassment, causing Janet to snicker. Dawson looked Anderson straight in the eyes in an attempt to show Anderson how serious he was trying to be. "Captain Anderson sir, the computer and I are under the opinion, that the SOS is not coming from the same ship that the transmission came from. In fact, I have never seen an SOS like this from any ship I have ever encountered or heard about." Anderson stared back into Dawson's eyes, seeing the truth of his words. The crew was paying close attention to their conversation so subtlety went out the window; although Dawson was still trying to be quiet, Anderson was not. With a deep commanding voice Anderson asked plainly "Where is the SOS coming from then Dawson?" The computer technician warily eyed the rest of the crew, feeling all their eyes looking upon him he said "The SOS is not from a human ship sir."