"Σοφία" (pronounced "Sofía") = Greek for "Sapience".
The main reason why I wanted to write this story is because I have found that the existing stories of this nature tend to be, generally, shoddy or shallow. You'll find that a lot of the great Aliens vs Predator stories seem to follow a very weird pattern. The human characters are way too trusting, the Xenos have little to no personality, and the Predators are always either bastards or big softies. I intend to fix all of that. And I'm going to do it while following all of the pre-established canon. Just as a preface, I'm pretty much a living encyclopedia on the Xenomorph and Predator species. Luckily for you guys, I will be explaining these things, as well as answering questions about the story that you guys post. I took some inspiration for this story from "The Guardian" by IluthraDanar, so don't be surprised if there are some references or inside jokes here and there.
In this chapter, we shall see how this whole buggering situation started, as well as getting an inside look at the thinking process of a Xenomorph.
Prologue
22nd century, year 2182.
Hidden deep within the records of the many Colonial Marine Corps "briefing" and "debriefing" reports, one will notice that many of these files are of conflicts that supposedly took place on the planet "Guardian-625", or "GD-625". This wouldn't have been considered odd, were it not for just two minor details. The first being, that Guardian-625 happens to be a planet sprawling with thousands of extremely large cities, the occasional lush, green forests, and - oh, yes - it also serves as a garrison for about half of the entire Colonial Marine army in all of explored space.
As such, there are about 300 major militaristic facilities and veritable "fortresses" pockmarked on Guardians' surface. One wouldn't think that terrorists, separatists, or pirates (a fairly common occurrence in these times) would go about their, less than reputable, business, let alone attack anything on such a heavily fortified planet. This is where things become even more strange. The alleged "hostiles" that were engaged by Colonial Marine forces were not any sort of "cabal", or unlawful source. In fact, the enemy was not human, at all!
According to the words of many soldiers involved in these conflicts, and according to the many documents written on this; the hostile presence on Guardian was actually a hive of the infamous creatures known as "Xenomorphs". Specifically, the species officially labeled as: "Xenomorph XX121". Yes, the same monstrous species that caused the incident on Acheron. This would certainly explain why the list of these conflicts is noticeably longer than that of any average wild animal attack. About 300 times longer. It would also explain the especially high mortality rate that would come to be reported throughout this infestation.
Because of the chaos of the Xenomorph infestation on Guardian, and many other (soon to be discovered) ones, the Xenomorph species has been readily compared to a form of plant life on Earth called "weeds". "Constantly popping up where they aren't wanted, and never going away". Additionally, the entire thing was believed to all begin with a report from a government-sanctioned Science Laboratory. It was a document detailing the discovery of a Xenomorph Egg in a launch bay used to receive and go through imports from other planets- "Cargo Bay 13", to be precise.
Apparently this "report" was never actually reported to anyone who could have done something about it, thus the Colonial Marine Corps was forced to rely on simple rumors, created by those who claimed to be involved in the find. It may have seemed extreme, but the CMCs' sudden pang of paranoia would turn out to be the correct call, in the end. And so, the "officials" had an evacuation and news warning be delivered to the public. To be broadcasted continuously until the issue could be resolved in some way.
Predictably, the massive colonies of GD-625 began to panic. After all, before now, these Xenomorphs were pure myth, and speculation- at least, in regards to Guardian's population. All anyone had to go on were the legends and "campfire stories" that were, quite frankly, largely inaccurate and sensationalist. No one really knew what to expect from this sudden threat. And thus, over 3/4 of the planets' population was ready to get the Hell out of dodge, and leave.
Almost immediately, the Colonial Marine leaders were making plans. The original course of action was to detonate and utterly destroy a very large portion of the particular city in question, Cargo Bay 13 included, using a tactical bomb. Apparently this was deemed the only appropriate response to the notion of a "rouge Xenomorph Egg". However, due to reasons that were, very conveniently, "stricken from the records", the CMC decided to postpone and/or put off their plans. We may not know the reason for this, but it is said that the multi-billion dollar corporation, "Weyland-Yutani", had a hand in the development.
It is most likely due to the fact that Weyland-Yutani funds an extremely large amount of the Colonial Marine Corps, and thus, practically owns the USCMC. To no one's surprise. Not to mention the fact that Wey-Yu also probably owned a lot of the various buildings and businesses in this particular area of Guardian. So, the CMC most likely didn't have much of a say in the matter. They could, however, file a petition to have Weyland-Yutani's concerns be nullified in the face of the situation. Which is what they did.
Unfortunately, by the time the Marines' leaders could recommence their plans, it was speculated that the Facehugger inside the rouge Xeno Egg had, probably, already found a Host by then. Then, before anyone could do anything about that, a Chestburster was running amuck. Thus, making the location of their target unpredictable. And then a full-grown Drone was reportedly kidnapping the few people that were still on Guardian… and then it molted into a Queen…
… so, basically, everyone was screwed.
It was several days before the USCM could decisively confirm that there was, indeed, a "Queen Xenomorph" on Guardian (the location of which unknowable). Apparently, the way they could tell was that squads of Marines had begun to report encountering and engaging large groups of "bugs". Proving that the Xenomorph Hive, and thus, the Infestation, was well underway.
In less than a week, through repeated deluges of black swarms, ebony death, and bursts of acidic sprays - amongst deafening screeches, and demonic hissing - the infestation spread to massive proportions; overwhelming opposition, and resulting in over 55 square kilometers of buildings, complexes, parks, schools, hospitals, civilian domiciles, and Colonial Marine facilities, being turned into the Xenomorph Hive's territory, and no one else's. Two and a half cities, "New Scena", "Dimidirupt", and "Tenvis", transformed into an inescapable domain of imminent danger, and toxicity. The kind of horror and despair that can neither be ignored, nor withstood by anyone, was rampant and very active within the Xenomorph's dominion.
At this point, the possibility of the Colonial Marine Corps utilizing nuclear weaponry and explosives to quell the infestation, was both a viable option, and a distinct likelihood. However, in what is one of the most debated, and controversial decisions to this day, plans were, inexplicably changed once again! By Weyland-Yutani, no less! Except now there was a legitimately explained reason.
Within the Xenomorph Hive Territory (XHT), there existed an excessively large stockpile of Colonial Marine weapons, armor, ammunition, explosives, munitions, and vehicle parts. This stockpile held a rather sizable amount of the Colonial Marines' arsenal and resources within the solar system. According to CMC leaders, this would not have mattered, or even played a factor, were it not for the technicality of 1/3 of this stockpile being made up of Weyland-Yutani produced munitions. Thus, making it Wey-Yus' property, and in turn, a decision that Weyland-Yutani had every right to play a part in.
And so, it was with a heavy amount of reluctance that the Colonial Marine officials signed a legal agreement with Weyland-Yuani called: "The Joint-Quarantine Protocol". This "treaty" stated that both Colonial Marine forces, as well as Weyland-Yutani funded mercenaries, would endeavor to set up a quarantine blockade circling the Xenomorph Hive. The amount of assets and resources poured into this effort is utterly staggering. All manner of military vehicles - anything from quad bikes to APCs', to Dropships were given patrol paths circumnavigating the Hive; every kind of heavy infantry soldier you could think of - Smartgunners, Wey-Yus' specialized Flamethrowers, weaponized power loaders, chain gun wielding Mech-Suits, SADAR Troopers - even Sentry Guns on wheels, for Christ's sake! - were posted to stand guard in regular patterns along the front lines. Every single available weapon barrel was being pointed straight at the Hive.
All of this, mind you, was set up after clearing away hundreds of buildings, public property, foliage, and streets for space- digging trenches, and pitching electric fences; not to mention building hundreds of camps for the foot soldiers to stay in along the outside of the blockade. And all of it was being accomplished while swarms of Xenomorph Warriors were hammering away at the Colonial Marines' and Weyland-Yutanis' "front door", so to speak.
The Joint-Quarantine Protocol, from then on, would remain in effect until the two organizations could retrieve the valuable property from within the Hive, without destroying it in the process. A nearly impossible task, mind you, considering the Xenomorph swarm was estimated to be over 70,000 strong in numbers; but if getting this over with meant that the CMC could go right ahead and nuke the Hive afterwards, then they were all for it.
Though, you can be certain that "we want our guns back" was definitely not going to be what was told to the public, as to why the quarantine had been set up. And they certainly weren't going to allow any information about The Joint-Quarantine Protocol be released to the public, either. One can only imagine the sheer extent of the Guardian citizenship's indignation! Although, they'd have had every right to be pissed off.
No, "there could be survivors of the infestation" and "we are doing our best to get loved ones out of there alive" were perfectly good explanations. And it was at least half the truth.
After the blockade was constructed, and the Colonial Marine Corps was confident in the strength of the quarantine's barrier, officials gave the "all clear" and said that the threat was under control. Naturally, due to some skepticism, multiple news channels were contracted to begin showing footage of how secure the quarantine was, and Guardians-625s' population began slowly returning to the planet.
A month later, most of Guardian could sleep easy, knowing that their loyal soldiers were holding the line. As expected, recruitment rates shot upwards as the Colonial Marine Corps advertised the fact that they would need more people to sign up. Now more than ever. After all, good Marines were dying everyday as they protected Guardians' people, and the Corps was in need of more brave souls for the job.
What no one bothered to mention, or think about, was the fact that, by locking the Xenomorphs inside their own Hive, and telling soldier after soldier to get out there and stop the "plague" from spreading… they were, ostensively, only providing the Hive with more food, more Hosts, and more time. Not only were the Colonial Marine/Wey-Yu alliance ordering their soldiers to stand against an enraged swarm of Xenos daily, but they were also staging missions to send entire platoons directly into the heart of the Hive itself. While they were doing this for multiple amenable reasons, including the rescue of survivors… it wasn't nessecarliy helping.
To face one Ebony Demon in combat is already a daunting task, but to fight an endless horde of them while inside their Hive, in their element, and on their terms is, well...
Just plain suicide.
The only thing the allied organizations were accomplishing was, at best, limiting the growth of the Hive… and, at worst, they were nurturing it. Xenomorph Warriors may not have been spreading across the face of Guardian-625 like a pestilence, right now, but the presence of a Hive was no less of a threat to life on Guardian, than it was while the quarantine hadn't been initiated.
In the many, many conflicts against the Aliens like these, there are a few, painful truths, that we, as humans, must understand.
The species, "Xenomorph XX121", is an unstoppable force of nature. Plain. And. Simple. Not just because of their physical and numerical strengths, but also the sheer purity of their motives. And how the Xenos' will tirelessly cut down anything that stands in their way.
A Xenomorph doesn't care about what humans are capable of, or how smart we are- it doesn't care how many people it or its' brethren kill- it doesn't care about who you are, what you've done, or what you hope to do- it doesn't care if its' very existence is the organic equivalent of a plague- it doesn't care if its' enemies are protecting other living things- it doesn't give a single, solitary shit how outnumbered or outgunned it supposedly is! The only thing a Xenomorph is ever concerned about, is that their Queen is safe; that the Hive grows; and that the prey dies! And a Xenomorph will willingly give it's life to accomplish those goals.
It is this sheer lack of concern, curiosity, or compassion for anything else beyond it's own kind; the utterly goal-oriented mindset; and their undiluted primal rage, that has revealed one frightening fact.
No matter how many of them you put down, no matter how many people you save from them, no matter whether or not you live to see another day, and not matter how disadvantaged of a situation the Xenos may be in...
…The Aliens. Always. Win.
Day One of Infestation
Mr. Aidan Orinko, a short, black-haired man, was strolling down one of the numerous hallways of New Scena City's Industrial District. The dim, yellow lighting, red painted vents, as well as the completely dark brown/bronze metal walls, floor, and ceiling made it abundantly clear that this place was a center for commerce, and production. The Industrial District in the city of New Scena was the hub for, essentially, any kind of manual labor, or general advancement. Technology, construction, industrial planning, that sort of thing. Making this the everyday workplace for around 50,000 men and women - half of that, from the neighboring cities of Dimidirupt, and Tenvis. Except, today was Sunday, and thus, most, if not all, of the businesses and corporations in the Industrial District, were closed. Allowing their workers a day off.
Aidan wasn't supposed to be here. Well, actually, there technically was no law about it, but traversing through the Industrial District on a Sunday was only freely permitted to a handful of people. Theft was a very large concern at the time.
He walked with a swift, yet calm pace, with a rather large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He wore a brown jacket, blue t-shirt, and jeans. Despite his rather average looking face, and attire, there was still an aura, or way about Aidan that would cause you to be guarded around him. Objectively, there wasn't very much to be intimated by when it came to Aidan, nothing that would immediately say "danger". Yet, people who saw him could always detect a certain… "thing"- a history behind the way Aidan's eyes would always meticulously scan everything in the room before he did anything.
Not to mention the fact that he rarely seemed to shave and had a tiny scar on the left side of his jaw. His skin was also significantly more tan than most residents of Guardian, and given his alleged occupation, one wouldn't think he would receive that much sunlight. You'd constantly have the feeling that, when it came to Mr. Orinko, it would be wise to be wary of him. And to place your trust in someone else, if the time came.
At the moment, as far as anyone cared to know, Aidan was on his way to the New Scena space-port to catch an inter-stellar flight to some, obscure, tropical planet for a vacation. Indeed, Aidan was intending to go abroad, yet, he didn't have to go anywhere near the Industrial District to get there. Well, you could, but not on a Sunday. In truth, Aidan wasn't concerned about not having a "hall pass" to this oil stained, flame blackened district, not while he was in a hurry; and besides, he would have a lot more to lose if he didn't trespass through here. The Industrial District was his shortcut, and he was going to take it.
As he walked past the entrance to a restaurant, embedded into the metal wall on his right - chairs stacked on tables with the lights off - one of the many nearby megaphones on the ceiling (used for daily/weekly announcements to the public) clicked on, and made a high-pitched, slightly deafening "keen". Indicating that the government of the province of Leprosum, consisting of the cities New Scena, Dimidirupt, Tenvis, Negal, and Aspernal, was about to make a Province-wide address. A single keen indicated this, whereas two or three keens in a certain rhythm would indicate something else, entirely.
Aidan's brow creased in confusion, as he stopped walking to look up at the ceiling-mounted device which was used to deliver communique. The "Morning" and "Noon Addresses" had already been made, there wasn't supposed to be anymore, today. Extra or unexpected announcements almost always meant trouble or some sort of an inconvenience. His hand fiddled with the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder. He sincerely hoped that none of the scheduled space-port flights would be delayed or canceled, for some reason. He'd be in the shitter, if his flight was.
He listened closely, as did everyone else in Leprosum, at that moment.
When the announcement began, the first thing Aidan noticed was that it wasn't the same person that was always heard on the "PSA-Phone"- the british-accented William Segal - but, instead it was a monotone-voiced "nobody". It was most certainly a middle-aged man with an extremely odd-sounding, almost computerized voice that resembled those from "crisis warnings" in the 20-21st century.
You could practically feel everyone in Leprosum hold their breath. Something was extremely wrong. William had been Leprosum's announcer for the better part of 20 years- somewhat of an icon, at this point. The only time anyone had ever replaced him was if an outbreak of a major disease had occurred. The kinds of diseases that are ancient - from more than a century ago - temperamental, and especially virulent. Well… either that or some sparsely-known generator in some obscurely located place was malfunctioning, and everyone had to vacate the immediate area before the thing exploded… which it never did, and always turned out to be a dud.
As the disturbingly bland-sounding voice drawled on… well… needless to say, the news came as a bit of a shock. Aidan's face contorted into one of utter bewilderment- he could have sworn that this announcer had just said that there was a Xenomorph Egg in New Scena...
...
…a Xenomorph Egg. Next thing Aidan knew within his mental stall of shock, the mystery-person continued on, recommending that everyone in Leprosum leave their homes and either utilize an emergency USCM "lifeboat" to get off planet, or to migrate to an out-of-province city.
Almost too soon, the announcement ended, and Aidan blinked, his expression troubled. He let out a breath through his nose, and gazed down at the metal, dark bronze colored floor. Like all other people on Guardian, Mr. Orinko had always believed that the concept of "Xenomorphs" was either the result of an exaggerated encounter with some other obscure alien creature; or that it was simply the rampant imagination of some feverishly insane pillock(s) that needed therapy. You would need therapy after coming up with something as reportedly nightmarish and disturbing as "Xenomorphs".
When someone said the word "Xenomorph", it was perfectly clear that they could very well be referring to any alien species that hadn't yet been fully described and documented by science. It was just a fancy way of saying "alien", and was used by science to assign a number and letter code to any alien specimen that had yet to be fully examined. But, in the modern world's zeitgeist and common vernacular, the word had become synonymous with the species known as "Xenomorph XX121". Admittedly, there was barely any publicly-available information on what XX121 was, only that it was "extremely dangerous"- but legends and stories had always been spread from colony to colony and over the internet.
Guardian's populace was not, and never had been, particularly privy to such, reportedly widespread, rumors of demonic monsters. But… now that an official source had, rather blatantly, made it known that "yes, Xenomorphs are real, and they're here"… Aidan was… stunned, really.
So… if Xenomorphs are real, and they're in New Scena… then that meant that people would be panicking. And if they're panicking, then a lot of people would be trying to leave. Aidan visibly stiffened. That meant that almost everyone in New Scena would be buying tickets to all off-world transportation. The space-ports will be packed, full of desperate people, and Aidan would most definitely miss his flight to Charge-3. Aidan began walking again, at a much quicker pace, almost jogging. He could not afford to be late. Not now.
You see, the people of Leprosum don't typically know Aidan by his true name. Most, including the local USCM authorities, recognize him as "Mathew Doberman". A pharmacist with a degree in chemistry. If Aidan had the choice, he'd have gone by his own name and his own profession. But, unfortunately for him, the decision was never his to make. In fact, he didn't have a say in a lot of things, as of late, not even where he could live or work.
For over a year, now, very big aspects of Aidan's life were being dictated by a narcotic-mongering crime lord, named "Felix". Felix, and his lackey's, had been dead-set on corrupting Guardian with the disease of debauchery and drug-use for 5 years, now. They had never been very successful, and when Aidan accidentally discovered Felix's gang, they couldn't miss out on the opportunity to take advantage of him, and use him as a puppet.
For 428 days, Aidan Orinko had been discreetly serving as a drug distributor, manufacturer, and, well, a general "tool" to Felix. If he refused to go through with the various "jobs" assigned to him, or made a mistake, his remaining family in Tenvis would pay the price. Even now, his "vacation" was actually a "business venture" to one of Guardian's 4 moons, Charge-3, to deliver the drugs he had in the duffel bag… which he was currently carrying to an "associate". The substance was a foul, orange powder called "Buzzz". Apparently, it gave the user a powerful hallucinogenic trip. A fairly recent invention. Aidan had never asked why Felix would want drugs taken to a moon, but then again, he didn't really care to know, nor find out.
He just wanted to get to Charge quickly, get this over with, then go back home to live in peace for the next week, or so. He needed to get to the space-ports. Fast. And that meant he would have to take an even quicker shortcut through one of the many government-sanctioned Science Labs of the Industrial District in order to expedite his… departure.
Though, now that he thought of it, would he even have a home by the time this was done? There was a Xenomorph outbreak going on, apparently, and if even half of the stories about XX121 were true, then Guardian would be a wasteland by the time three nights had passed. For a split-second, even as he continued to speed-walk down the hall, he considered that this may be his one and only opportunity to get out from under Felix's' thumb. Should he just run? Get back to his family in Tenvis and make a break for Aurore 510?
... though, knowing Felix, he'd probably insist that more work could still be done, despite the "infestation". Orinko chose to get this job done and see what else happened, afterwards.
Aidan approached the glass paneled door to the Laboratory. The door itself stuck out like a sore thumb at the end of the copper/brown hallway- being light gray, sterile-looking, and partly see-through; with a small, blue plaque on the wall beside it that read: "Science Laboratory B-4", in white letters. Aidan had only been to one of the 121 science labs of the Industrial District- twice. The first: to forge a few names and addresses into the ledger that one of the head scientists kept - one of Felix's' odd-jobs - and the second: to find a schematic of the general area, as well as to identify the vent that lead into a certain storage closet… so he could easily procure the "ingredients" he needed to manufacture more Buzzz.
Both of these occasions had been on illegal terms, and in a completely different laboratory than the one that Aidan needed to cut through, now. Aidan had never been in this one, but according to the same schematic he had stolen from 8 months before, this one had two entrances, was the largest lab in the Industrial District, and was the quickest path to the space-ports.
As Aidan reached for the handle on the door, it vaguely occurred to him that the entire lab was pitch black, and there appeared to be no one inside. This would be considered extremely abnormal. These science labs were sanctioned by Guardian's government, and thus received orders directly from head-secretaries and sometimes governors. The scientists and professors that worked in these "research facilities" (a fancy term for "college supplied, minimum wage, labor houses") took shifts that spanned across a 24/7 time-frame. This place is supposed to be at work and active at all times. Now, it was as lifeless as the south side of New New Jersey, on WF-832.
However, in his rush, Aidan didn't take this into account and strolled right in. He also didn't take into account the fact that he couldn't see a bloody thing, and (not even joking, here) ended up walking straight into the nearest, crotch-high, corner of a desk. Aidan grunted, and bit his tongue to stop from yelling as he stumbled backwards, and dropped to his knees. He idly dropped his duffel bag off to one side and spent the next 2 minutes breathing heavily through his gritted teeth.
He did not want to alert anyone to his presence with cries of pain. Despite the fact that the entire place seemed deserted. He didn't want to take risks, though. Going to prison for trespassing was not a very appetizing option, at the moment. Thus, these were the hardest 120 seconds of his life- trying to keep his mouth shut when all he wanted to do was scream.
It would have been lower on his over-all list of hardships, were it not for his impending doom- less than 5 more minutes from now.
As the crippling pain finally died down, Aidan got back up to his feet, and bent over to pick up his duffel bag. He was about to sling it over his shoulder, when it occurred to him that he still couldn't see anything. He dropped to one knee, lowered the bag to the floor, and began rummaging through it. He was fairly certain he had packed a flashlight in there, somewhere.
As Aidan was still struggling to find the flashlight - buried under about 30 bags of narcotics - he was completely unaware of what was skittering about in the dark corners of the room. Beneath tables and chairs- creeping around the legs of the furniture. Hiding. Waiting. Watching. A creature - small - beige-ish, off-white skin, eight, finger-like legs, and a segmented tail that flicked this way and that; as the tiny monster continued to observe its oblivious prey. Its soft, silicone skin pulsed and shifted around its brittle bones.
Yet, despite its un-impressive appearance, this unassuming organism still presented a credible threat. Not just to the lone, unaware, human it was stalking, but also, to every other living being on Guardian. This monster - "spawn of Satan" - "evil incarnate" - was the potential beginning of something terrible. Something horrific. This creature - barely any larger than a food platter - represented a future of utter chaos, bedlam, and unprecedented amounts of death and carnage. This parasite was the organic equivalent of a volcano - bursting and crackling with lava, and ash - just waiting to explode. To erupt in a flood of destruction and death. And all it would take... was for one person - for one living thing - to be in the wrong place... at the wrong time.
And Aidan had made the mistake of being that someone...
Aidan's attention was suddenly drawn to his left by the sound of a chair scraping noisily across the tile floor. It was sudden- quick. As he had just found it, and turned it on, his first impulse was to immediately wave the flashlight in the direction of the sound. The light cast long, erie shadows across the floor, straight to the other side of the room, and created an ominous "kaleidoscope effect" with the in-and-out flashings of table and chair-legs. Another noise - a hollow click - to his right, this time, met his ears. As Mr. Orinko continued frantically scanning left and right with his torch, his mind had been at work. These were the kinds of situations that people talk about when they mention "hairs standing on end". This is what true suspense felt like.
His breath was shallow, and loud as each inhale and exhale forced itself through his flared nostrils. It felt like his skin was literally crawling. Chills and shivers ran up and down his spine. His hands and feet suddenly felt ice cold. His knees - one of which he was kneeling on - were shaking, as he felt every urge to run. He was quickly beginning to sweat. His scalp and the back of his neck tingled. All the while, the primal, unreasonable parts of his mind had taken over, and were rapidly thinking of all the possibilities. Mentally grasping at an uncountable amount of straws- trying to make sense of what it didn't know. Constantly forcing Aidan to imagine everything from a drunk scientist, to a horrific abomination creeping out of the shadows. His thoughts and impulses felt like they were screaming at him. For the first time in his life Aidan was truly afraid.
He may not have known what had made the noise, and he knew it could have easily been something negligible. But that's the thing. He didn't know. The fact that he had no idea what lay beyond… utterly terrified him. The fact that anything could jump out and say "here I am!" was what was kicking his brain into overdrive. And as every second past, the fear only got worse and worse. Something had to have made that sound! It couldn't be "nothing"! Something was there! That was the only thing that could have made a chair move, or - what sounded like - something tapping against metal! He knew for a fact that there was something in the room with him! But he didn't know WHERE it was, or WHO it was, or WHAT it was! What could possibly be there!? - In the dark!? - Watching!?
A noise pierced the deafening silence. A stack of papers falling to the floor. He bodily convulsed, standing up with a small yelp.
A pathetic half-whimper, half-groan of terror escaped Aidan's throat. His thoughts screamed at him-
WHERE IS IT!? WHO IS IT!? WHAT IS IT!? WHAT'S IN THIS ROOM WITH ME!? I'M NOT ALONE IN HERE! THERE'S SOMETHING THERE!
Anxiety. Suspense. Fear. Tension.
It is widely believed, that there are three kinds of fear. There's Horror; the fear associated with watching something frightening take place; something painfully slow; when someone you know is killed or hurt, and your care for them - whatever the degree - forces you to empathize with that person, and your mind makes you imagine yourself in that position. Horror also encompasses the concepts of disgust, morbidness, and repulsion.
There's Terror; the fear that happens when you're the victim, when you're literally a "deer caught in the headlights"; the kind of fear that forces your limbs to lock up, and your breath to hitch- when everything seems to slow down, and you feel like you can only watch as the danger to your life gets closer to you.
And then… there's Ambiguity. Ambiguity goes hand in hand with "creepiness" and illusion; when something seems to defy physics itself. It is the fear of the unknown; when a person wearing a mask stands outside your house; when something clacks against the window, and you force yourself to listen carefully for minutes on-end, waiting for something to happen. Being "creeped out" has always been an instinctive reaction. Take a look at the nearest "creepy-looking" picture, and stare at it for a bit. Do you feel on edge? Uncomfortable? As if whatever's in the picture will barge into your home? Do you feel like you have no idea what the "thing" will do?
Exactly. It's that unpredictability- when your mind can't quite discern what kind of a threat something will pose, if any. When you and your brain are just plain unsure about what the "thing" is going to do. When something looks odd enough, and when its appearance blurs the lines of dichotomy that you associate with everything- when it can be placed in the "Uncanny Valley"- when it looks sort of human… but not quite. Clowns, toy dolls, zombies, mummies, a dead corpse… Xenomorphs… these are things that people are creeped out by. Not because these things present a clear danger (well, a Xenomorph probably will)- but because you don't know if it's dangerous, because you're unsure. Ambiguity is the unknown, the weird, the odd, the suspenseful and the skin-crawling, hair-raising uncertainties.
Fear has been an evolutionary benefit for mankind. Being afraid of things that are poisonous, things that are dangerous… and things that are "creepy" looking, has kept humans from putting themselves in danger. It's kept us from venturing out into the unknown. But, just because fear is meant to keep us away - to ward us off - doesn't mean we shouldn't try to overcome it. Being brave isn't about "not feeling fear"- it's about being able to push past that fear, and do what needs to be done.
Aidan's case of "Ambiguity"… was not so easily shaken…
After 2 minutes of utter, deafening silence, the sound of something scrambling across a table, and glass shattering against the floor, were the last things that Aidan's mind processed. Just as his flashlight locked onto where the ruckus had originated, the final image his eyes saw, was of the underside of a Face-Hugger leaping towards him.
The creature had been slightly off its mark. Instead of Aidan's face, the blur of beige struck him in the neck and upper torso. Aidan was shoved backward from the force of the creature's pounce, and fell onto his back with a yelp. His flashlight went sailing out of his hand, and hit the wall behind him; breaking. Before Aidan could even think about what was happening, the Face-Hugger jumped onto his head, like a mask, blinding and silencing him. It was not long before he fell into suffocation-induced unconsciousness. All was left eerily silent, apart from the small chirps and tiny growls from the Xenomorph parasite… as it set to work on its life's purpose.
Day Four of Infestation
The Worker was alone. Alone. No Queen to speak of. No Hive-Mates either. No one. She was alone. A condition that no Newborn should experience. Her immediate thoughts upon emerging from her Host were to ask the Queen for guidance. When she couldn't sense one, she probed for the presence of any Hive-Mates. To ask where the Queen was, if any. Her mind stalled as she realized there was no Hive-mind link. No line of communication, at all. No… Hive… She was suddenly caught in a state of pure disbelief. No Queen? No family? No Hive? N-no, that is not… how… how is there no Hive?. When it became apparent to her that she was completely on her own, she began to panic.
She couldn't be completely alone - that's just… no, this couldn't be happening. She was just a Worker - born for the maintenance and efficiency of the Hive - she was no Soldier or Ranger or Sentry- there was a reason that her caste was rarely sent into battle! Without others to support her she was very likely to be killed! She… she was going to die in this place!
This train of thought did not last long, and was put a stop to almost immediately, by a specific set of impulses, and desires, along with an uncontrollable urge to oblige them. Find Hosts. Capture Hosts. Create Hive. Molt. Create Hive. Molt. Capture Hosts. Hive. Spread. Build. Molt. Hive. Hive… hive, hive, hive… She would build a new Hive- she would have to molt into a Queen… she will molt into a Queen.
This Worker would gather Hosts, in secrecy, for eggs. Something about this oddly shaped metal "hive" she had been born in told her that there would be many Hosts to be found, nearby. She, having no other ideas on what to do, willingly entered a trance-like state in order to help her get started.
After a full day, and after the fifteenth Host had been found, subdued, and restrained, she'd gotten the hang of the pattern. Workers like her typically needed some sort of regime to follow. Guidelines. A pattern of living. Which was why Workers like herself depended on the Queen so heavily. At this point, a very noticeable decrease in the number of Hosts, in the area, had been apparent to her. It was as if all of the prey, everywhere, inexplicably knew of her presence. Which was impossible.
By the time the fourth day had come around, she had estimated that she would need one more Host in order to get the Hive started, effectively. And the Ancestral half of her psyche seemed to have no argument.
Yes, this one will do, she now thought. Not in English, though. No words or phrasing. Just... pure thought. Pure instinct. Impulse.
She was currently hiding in a small tunnel, concealed in the ceiling above the head of a human. The last human she would have to capture. Her prey was simply standing in the middle of the chamber, in front of a strange object that produced a similar glow to the one found in the human's heart. Its arms were moving this way and that in an odd, continuous sequence. The Worker had no idea what the human could have been doing, but then again, she really didn't care. All that mattered, was that this human needed to be captured and subdued.
And that she was painfully close to completing her task… and one step closer to creating her Hive. She had been waiting for a human to come by this chamber. It had become obvious that, sooner or later, a human always crosses paths with these kinds of chambers- all uniform and spaced equal distances apart. Seeing as though her wait for prey had come to an end, and she wouldn't find a better opportunity to strike, she carefully undid herself from the ball she had curled into. She could feel the instinctual, primal side of her mind suddenly spring and buck- demanding she charge the human and tear apart all obstacles. The idea of the prey being captured excited it.
Obviously, that would not work well, seeing as though humans had a tendency to run when they encounter danger, and it always made it so much more tedious to chase the things down. The first five times this happened had been proof of it enough. The Worker knew that stealth would always be the most efficient and quick course of action- efficiency being paramount, especially with the possibility of a future Hive at stake. And stealth, she knew, was something her kind was brilliant at. She quickly and silently shifted her weight to lower her hands to the flooring of her hiding spot to be ready to move. Her lip curled upwards in an equivalent of a cringe when the entire metal tunnel creaked and groaned loudly, yet briefly, from the change of position.
It seems that the structure of this tunnel had… "gotten used" to her being there and had been… "surprised" when she suddenly moved. As she had always focussed her vision on her human prey, she immediately noticed that the Host was alerted by the sound. It had heard something. It wasn't moving in its odd fashion and instead was solely focused on the ceiling that concealed her. The glow of its heart intensified in its flashing. The sound of its heartbeat became slightly audible through the thick structure of the human's dwelling. Despite that the Ancestral instincts, granted to her at birth - a source of all-knowing guidance - were thrashing about within her mental walls and demanding she take action (what exact action is unclear), she knew it would have to wait.
Again, stealth was her best option to get as close as possible and take the human by surprise. The Worker held perfectly still, waiting for what felt like ages. Finally, the Host seemingly calmed down and started moving its arms in its usual robotic motions. She huffed through her dorsal tubes in relief and satisfaction that she and not been "caught".
The Worker then quickly (but more carefully) made her way to her right and downwards to the entrance of the tunnels that served as her entry point into the human's dwelling. As always an odd metal obstacle blocked it off- a grid of metallic bars, stretched across a square frame. She saw no way to remove the blockage quietly and head butted the obstacle out onto the floor of her prey's chamber, causing the odd square of alloy to clang loudly. Unfortunate, that her idea of surprise would be undermined by a simple object, but, no matter. Her newfound entrance had lead her to a small, separate chamber than the one the human was in.
The Worker unknowingly emitted a low growl of anticipation as the Host yelped from the noise of the metal grating hitting the ground- the sweet smell of alarm, uncertainty, and dread flowed into her dorsal tubes. Egging her on. Just daring her to come charging toward the human, screeching a war cry. She took a moment to calm down a bit, as a familiar, gradual burn began to surface at the back of her head. A sudden attack may surprise the human just as well as stealth could, but the Host was already on alert and could possibly be triggered to sprint at the sight of the Worker. She needed clear thoughts… for the moment. The burn remained, however, as it always did when the target was close.
The Worker took the moment to crawl out of the child-sized tunnel, beginning to silently creep towards the open doorway off to her left. Where the path to her quarry lay. A hiss escaped her throat as a scent of anger suddenly drifted to her, from her prey. It must have been under the impression that it stood a chance. Even if the human couldn't possibly know that it was the Worker stalking it.
Arrogant little morsel!, she might have thought. The burning in the back of her skull increased into a scorch at the concept of the prey fighting back. The Ancestral part of her was now chomping at the bit to capture the human. She ignored it, for the moment, and continued crawling silently to the doorway separating her from the Host. Her arms and legs splayed out to both sides to distribute her weight evenly and to avoid the floor creaking. Though the urge to charge the prey became steadily stronger, she resisted it. She would give in when she was sure the human wouldn't get the chance to run and escape.
Despite her intentions, a guttural growl forced itself out of her maw as she began to drool. The pungent stench of fear, yet again, met her dorsal tubes. The prey had heard her. She was but an arms-length away from reaching the doorway. The glow of its heart became brighter than the sun, as it flashed every time the muscle pumped blood - faster than before - and the rest of the prey's body locked up in terror. This is what sent the Worker over the edge, and what threw her self-control out of a hypothetical window.
FEAR!
Her instinct took over, urging her to go forward and perpetuate the species. And she was all too happy to oblige.
HOST: AFRAID! PREY: AFRAID! HOST MUST BE CAPTURED! HOST MUST BE HIVED! HUNT! CHARGE! ENGAGE! These thoughts, which weren't entirely her own, repeated again and again, faster and faster. Making the burn in her head turn to fiery magma, and her skull to ring in painful fury. Practically screaming for the young Worker to do what she was born for. Adrenaline flowed freely in rivers inside of her veins.
She jumped up, leaped to her right, and ran through the doorway she had been approaching, entering the chamber her prey was in. Talons raised, tail lashing behind her. Her black lips folded backward as her jaws opened fully- her inner jaw extending slowly, snapping. Drool pouring from her maw like a fountain- the thrill of the hunt being so strong. A shrill shriek that dripped with power, dominance, and bloodlust erupted from within. Her legs and back tensed as she leaned backward, shoulders hunching. It had begun, and she was air born in an instant, leaping at the terrified Host-
But, then… everything seemed to stop as the Host's eyes rolled back into its head, and it collapsed to the ground. Leaving the Worker to fly straight over her prey, resulting in her smashing head-first into a wall. The wooden supports of the wall splintered and cracked as the Worker yanked her elongated skull from the plaster. Her adrenaline surge quickly died down, drool stopped flowing, and the Ancestral became pacified as she shook her head, sending flakes of plaster and wood here and there. Well, that was odd. The previous Hosts at least put up some sort of fight, or fled. Instead this one… fell asleep? She dismissed the thought immediately; she didn't need to know why it happened. After all, her kind weren't ones to skip on an opportunity.
As the Worker finished strapping the most recent Host to the wall of her future Hive, she stepped back to observe the soon-to-be Egg Chamber. About 42 Hosts were all either sleeping or screaming for help that wouldn't come. All of them restrained in Hive Resin. The Worker didn't think she would need much more to get her Hive started. Her Hive… it felt weird to think about. Soon she would be 20 arm-lengths tall, and commanding the Soldiers of her Nest. Laying eggs and conducting the various processes of the Hive. Again, it felt weird, yet… exciting and… it left a warm sensation in her mind at the thought of her Hive growing, spreading, and prospering.
She growled slightly at the thought that she would have to crouch over her ovipositor when she molted into a Queen. It would most certainly be uncomfortable. But she couldn't do anything about that until a few Workers were born. She suddenly felt tired. Something that her kind rarely became. It must have meant that her body was beginning the molting process. And so she half-mindedly walked to a corner of her future Hive. The ceiling was just about high enough for a Queen to stand up straight. Little did she know, this was where her Egg had been found by human laborers and scientists.
"Cargo Bay 13".
She sat down on the metal plated corner, curling in on herself, arms and tail around her knees and shins. Her breathing steadied as she drifted willingly off to sleep.
Never once did she ask herself, "do I want a Hive?". No, that decision was made for her. The moment she realized that she was the only one of her kind on this planet. No alternative. No other conceivable option. No other way. No other choice.
For the next 10 days, the USCM began frantically fumbling about to search for a Face-Hugger or adult Xenomorph they would never find. By the seventh day, Xenomorph Warriors were already up and about, and wreaking havoc. Within the next weeks, the Infestation had exploded and spread at an alarming rate, taking over three cities. At this point the quarantine was being constructed and brought up into fully operational status. The Xenomorphs, despite the humans' efforts, had grown into the thousands, and put a massive strain on the CMC's defenses.
For the next six and a half months, it was complete warfare between the two species. Neither opponent willing to back down, or buckle. This put Guardian-625 in a very precarious position. This time period in GD-625's history would come to be known as the Xeno Wars. Very original, we know. Thousands died, either in combat or by Chestburster. Some say you can still smell the odor of acid and ammunition when you walk the utterly charred and destroyed halls of of New Scena, Dimidirupt, and Tenvis. The smell of death.
The genocidal war continued. Alien vs. human. Xenomorph vs. Marine. Internicivus raptus. vs. Homo Sapien. The monsters vs. the best of the best.
And it was only a matter of time until a third species would get involved.
"Worker"= what Xenomorphs would call Drones, if they spoke English.
"Soldier"= what Xenomorphs would call Warriors.
"Ranger"= what Xenomorphs would call Spitters.
"Sentry" - what Xenomorphs would call Lurkers.
"The Aliens always win", has been a point that the Alien movies have strived to prove time and again. Especially with Alien 3 delivering that message like the blow of a sledgehammer. The series has ultimately always been about loss. Ripley has lost her friends, her family, Newt, Hicks, and we eventually see her lose her own life. So the least she could have done was take the Aliens down with her for once (The baby Queen in Alien 3), a truly beautiful story...
…until Resurrection went and cocked-up, both, the synergy and the entire point by bringing Ripley back for literally no good reason… and by using really shittily explained "science".
The "glow" mentioned in the experiences of the Xenomorph Drone (Worker) is the electric energy that is given off by the human heart. Xenomorphs have a sixth sense called Electroreception- it is commonly found in sharks, electric eels, and catfish. The sense comes from these invisible pores in the skin that detect the electricity made when a living thing moves it's muscles.
Given the domed and elongated shape of a Xenomorphs head, it would stand to reason for the dome to be layered with these pores. And as for the Xeno being able to hear the humans heart beat through the ceiling without ears: the shape of a Xenos head would be ideal for sound waves to pass through it, like the echo inside a trombone, making a Xenos' sense of hearing impeccable.
A Xenomorph breathes and smells through it's dorsal tubes, and also releases pheromones through these tubes in order to distinguish itself to the rest of its Hive-mates. It also wouldn't be insane to think that Xenomorphs emit a low frequency infrasound, for echolocation. After all without being able to determine the position and shape of objects and obstacles in reference to the Electroreception, a Xenomorphs vision would just be a bunch of glowing shapes.
By my own hand, Archo.