I've always wanted to write my own version of what happened after Aliens (negating Alien 3 and Resurrection). One week ago, after throwing the Aliens dvd into the player during an 80's movie night, I got in the mood to go ahead and try. Never written this kind of thing before, so decided to do some research and play around first.

After reading the novelization of Aliens that same night, I was extremely disappointed. Apart from slightly more dialogue and a little bit more description, it felt to me as if I was reading a movie script. The reason, IMHO, is that the novelization of a film should add loads more to a story you already love, otherwise what's the point?

Any I started writing some character expositions and rewriting some of the scenes, adding what many will consider pure fan service, to help me feel more comfortable about writing for these amazing characters, and provide a more complete character history. Then stopped after three days of no sleep to realise I'd rewritten half the movie.

Admittedly, most of it is garbage but I'm hoping some people might help me out – pointing out anything that might be okay and give constructive advice on everything they think sucks. The hardest part has been trying to remain true to character. I have rewritten the same scenes and dialogue sometimes five times over. This has to be one of the more challenging things I've done and I still ain't close.

PS: In creating a more thorough character history, I did take a creative licence.

PPS: I don't know anything about anyone's military - Aust, US, British, none. So please don't take offence, 'cause no offence intended.

0000

The private who escorted her through the military wing of Gateway Station was the chatty type. Ripley didn't overly warm to chatty people.

This one was the same as any of the dozens of soldiers walking around them, going about their duties whatever that may be. Neat, cut, and proud.

But this one didn't seem to need to breathe. In the few minutes since ordered to escort Ripley to Sulaco's airlock, he had not once paused for her to respond. The private told her of United States Colonial Marines' long standing history with the Gateway Station Command, the number of military personnel posted to Gateway, the history of the USS Sulaco -

At least with his unwillingness to draw breath, there was no need for her to answer.

Or really listen.

"Ma'am?"

Ripley stopped and found the private was standing behind her. Her inattention had caused her to completely miss their turn down the last corridor.

"Sorry, private, guess I'm not on Gateways' time," she lied.

"Perfectly understandable, ma'am. Please, this way, ma'am," he said with the usual military overabundance of politeness, gesturing down the corridor.

Ripley reset her bag on her shoulder and followed. They walked along the corridor then around the sweeping bend and it suddenly occurred to Ripley they moved in silence.

The private must have realised she wasn't listening to him, despite what she'd said about not being on the Station's clock. She felt small twinge of guilt and opened her mouth to say something-

"Here," he pointed and stopped at the airlock just to the right.

"Right, ma'am," he keyed the pad and the door opened, "just through here is the Sulaco." He waved her through first.

Ripley smiled in polite response, then moved through the airlock door and into the retractable sleeve connecting the ship to the station.

Immediately Ripley felt eyes on her and not the private's.

Looking down the sleeve towards the second airlock, Ripley came across the most intense eyes she had ever seen. Their owner was a marine, a very handsome marine, standing at the Sulaco's airlock in marine fatigues and a cigarette in his fingers.

He was obviously waiting for them, standing all rigid and unmoving; the only thing that moved was his hand, bringing his cigarette up to his lips. This was undoubtedly the next escort and she wondered if Burke had to go through the same treatment. Military didn't like civilians wandering around their bases unescorted.

Ripley found being escorted somewhat belittling but was nothing compared to the unease of being under such scrutiny. The intensity of this one's gaze alone was intimidating enough to put her on edge.

Nor did she revel in the stares of beautiful men. Alex, Ripley's husband, had been beautiful and experience had shown they all the same; flashy with little or no substance, talking big delivering small. Fickle, undependable, untrustworthy.

"Identification?" the beautiful marine asked crisply.

Ripley held out her brand new Company ID, clearly identifying her as LTFC Ripley.

Those iridescent eyes scanned it, handed it back then looked to her escort, "That'll be all, private."

"Yes, corporal."

He stepped back to allow her through the lock and into the USS Sulaco, "Please follow me."

Not one more word was spoken and Ripley followed the marine corporal through the length of the old but well maintained ship. The Nostromo, her old ship, had been so much older, dank, and dark in comparison to the Sulaco. Ripley amused herself thinking how exciting it would be to take the helm of such a craft.

Upon delivering her to Lieutenant Gorman, the marine left without further word.

"Ah Ripley, there you are," Gorman greeted her, "welcome to the Sulaco."

A while later, the marines gathered in front of the stasis pods, many of them loud, laughing, joking. Each man was half naked, wearing only military issue shorts and the women the same but with the addition of a tank-top in preparation for hypersleep.

Gorman chose that moment to quieten them down and introduce them to their civilian counterparts for the mission.

"This is Mr Burke, he is with the Company. And this is Ms Ripley, who is here as consultant for the mission. Apone?"

Sergeant Apone nodded, not even a bit awkward appearing half naked in front of strangers.

He gave her and Burke their rank and name as he pointed to them. None of them nodded or offered any greeting; each of them staring at her and Burke with a cold detachment.

She could imagine how often their tight knit unit was invaded by company reps, interfering in their jobs with concerns about company assets. They had no reason to like her and that was okay. She had only to complete this mission and she would have her life back.

She didn't need them to like her for that.

However, she did try to take the time and imprint their faces, their names. After all, it was to be these marines who would stand between her and any possible xenomorphs. Knowing their names was the least she could do.

Like Apone, none of them were shy being introduced, and each of them looked bored. When Apone pointed to the corporal from the airlock, he was as rigid and unmoving as he had been earlier. He looked from Burke to her with no reaction, just the same cold detachment. Apone told them: He was their senior corporal, second NCO and leader of the second squad. His name was Hicks.

Apone finished the rest of their names and then ordered them into their pods. His order was met with more raucous behaviour as they fell out, and Ripley couldn't fail to notice that Corporal Hicks didn't move away towards the pods with the others. He stood still, his eyes not moving from the civilians standing with his CO.

Quietly, he waited for others to move away then walked over. For a moment she was sure he was coming to her, but instead he went to Apone and the both of them started talking quietly.

"Well, I guess we'll need to get ready for bed too," Burke said from her side. "Ah, Lieutenant, I assume we have one of those pods too?"

"Ah, yes," Gorman confirmed, then raised his voice, "Apone!"

Apone and Hicks immediately stopped talking, snapping around to face their Lieutenant. "Yes, sir?" Apone asked crisply.

"You have pods set up for our guests?"

Apone seemed blink, only for the briefest moment and Ripley got the impression Gorman had asked an unnecessary question. "Yes, sir." He looked to Hicks, "Which pods?"

"Thirteen and fourteen, sir," Hicks answered to the lieutenant, his voice low but clear.

"Very well," Gorman clipped, "Well, what are you waiting for? Report to your pods. We've got a mission to complete."

Both Apone and Hicks didn't blink. "Yes, Lieutenant," Apone replied automatically and both men departed without pause.

Gorman must have seen the question on Ripley's face as she watched both of them go, and answered with a definite touch of contempt, "They'll have plenty of opportunity for a chit-chat upon arrival. Even the NCO's need a reminder in discipline every so often, Ripley."

Ripley would've normally agreed, but neither Apone nor Hicks seemed to be lacking in discipline. But then again, she wasn't a soldier. What would she know?

She headed towards the lockers and when she had changed she found many of the marines had already been sealed in their pods. She saw Apone laid out in his already frozen. Next to him was Hicks' pod, with the much younger man sliding in lithely.

He saw her walking passed and held her gaze for a moment then laid down, the pod closing quickly behind him.

Ripley met Burke at end of the line of pods with the Company man looking a little bit lost.

"I sure hope you know how to program these things, Ripley. I assumed someone was going to come over to help."

"They've already been programmed for us. You just get in," Ripley told him, gesturing for him to get in. She didn't wait for Burke and slid into her pod, watching the arm lowering to seal her in, wishing she was anywhere but going back to LV-426. "Sleep well, Burke."