Can I face down this horror? I do not know. It has taken my friends. They're dead, all of them. Every time I come across their mutilated, bloody bodies, I heave in sickness. For there is not anyway I can help them. And there is not likely any way I can avenge their deaths. All I know is that my fear is consuming me, and there is no way out. The escape pods don't work, and the ship is too large for me to take care of alone. I don't really know where the thing is either. All I know is that it is somewhere. Lurking. Waiting. Readying itself to pounce. I wish I had the strength and the courage to face this thing. But I know that I will likely have the same fate as anyone else who has faced down one of these things. One of these, what do they call them? Xenomorphs.

Is there a future for me? Not likely. Do I have a past? Not any more. I doubt I will ever see my family again. I wish I could say goodbye to them. My wife. Beautiful. Graceful. Everything I could have asked for in a woman. My son. Young. Brash. Strong. Ready to take on the challenges of the universe. So ready that he left on bad terms with me. Oh how I wish I could have made things right before I left. And then there are my daughters. Twins. I will miss them growing up together. So young. So naïve. They have no idea what lurks in the darkness. Waiting to pounce on their daddy. Daddy. That's a name I'll never be called again.

All I can do is make one last fight. I have a weapon, at least. Maybe if I'm quick enough, I can kill it before it kills me. But such thoughts are foolhardy. This thing is fast. Much too fast for my reflexes. And I was the star athlete when I was in school.

School. How I miss it. I miss my friends. I even miss my teachers. Even now, as I look back on those times, I know there is no way I can see those people again.

Even now, I can see movement in the darkness. A long, black, sleek body. A barbed tail. Clawed hands and feet. And those jaws. Oh, those jaws. And now it comes for me. Wanting me. Am I its food? Probably. Am I for some other purpose? Likely not. And now as I raise my weapon and move my finger towards the trigger, I know this will likely be the end. This is it.