In memory of John Hurt and Bill Paxton, both a part of the cast that introduced me to the world I'd forever dearly love.

Ripley inhaled deeply, opening her eyes inside her hypersleep chamber. Her body wanting to jitter from the cold and sterile environment, she sat up and stretched her arms.

Around her, the rest of the crew began to rise too, slowly but surely.

Parker,

Brett,

Kane,

Lambert,

and Dallas.

Experiencing a strong sense of deja-vu, she yawned and began to get out of her chamber, right as Parker began to mouth off some banter to Brett.

"Cold enough for you in there? It's like the fuckin' arctic, man."

Brett lightly tapped him on the shoulder with his hands.

"You've never been to the arctic, how do you know what it feels like?"

And just like that, after years of sitting still, frozen in a tomb, the two were back at it, filling the air with noise that could slightly resemble meaningful discussion.

She looked at Dallas, who was trying to squint away his sleep fatigue. He rolled his eyes at the sound of the two going at it for the millionth time; how they had the energy to start back up right after a trip like that, he'd never know.

Ripley got up and stretched her legs, making her own way to the cabin area to shower, take a breather, and dress in the worn-out jumpsuit that had seen one cargo trip too many, if you went purely by looks.

Down the hall, in-between the banter, she could hear Lambert call out a question.

"Anyone have any strange dreams this time?"

"No," Dallas said, sighing in slight frustration at not having any coffee yet.

Lambert paused, and scrunched her face in thought.

"Me neither, weird," she said, after a moment.

"I had a good night's sleep, thank you. Nothing for the hypersleep journal under my name." Kane replied.

"You know, whenever I get a dream, it's always some stupid shit like running really slowly down a corridor, or having to fix something without any of my tools. I never end up getting anywhere with either of them, always waking up before I can make any real progress."

Brett stopped himself, confusion on his face. "Guess I didn't have anything either, this time, though."

"Brett, I'm not convinced you weren't born a middle-aged mechanic with a wrench in-hand and a cigar in your mouth."

Parker couldn't restrain himself from making a comment on what Brett said. Usually, the first twenty-four hours of these two were unbearable, until they calmed down.

"Hey, screw you, man! Where would you be without someone to give you a catch-up on what's happened in Juniper Monthly every time we manage to get a long-range signal?"

Parker gave Brett a short bear hug, and both made their way to the crew quarters with everyone else.

Ripley wouldn't know where she would be without a nice, hot shower after every long dark nap involved with the job. The Nostromo didn't have many luxuries, but if there was ever an easier sell than convincing Dallas to invest in an excess thruster heat boiler, she wouldn't know.

After getting the ages-old crew outfit on, making her way to the dining room for something to eat was the next choice of action. She wasn't hungry, but if you didn't eat soon after waking, you were ravenous before you were even halfway through your first waking shift.

There, everyone sat around the large table, chatting and munching on whatever was agreed on.

Dallas sat across from Parker and Brett, glaring at them in-between sipping his coffee and reading a delivery dossier.

Sitting down between him and Lambert, her sense of deja-vu intensified as Parker began to speak.

"Dallas, me and Brett want full shares. You know, everyone is always getting bigger shares than us. This thing wouldn't move if it wasn't for our hard work, busting our asses just to make it keep firing."

Setting his coffee on the table, Dallas prepared himself for another argument on this topic.

"Everyone earns what they deserve. If you don't like it, take it up with a company representative."

"Company representative? Dallas, you're the Captain for god's sake. Getting us a bigger share is as simple as sending a request up the line yourself."

Dallas sighed, looking back at the papers in front of him.

"Parker, you signed a contract stating you agree to be paid a certain amount. You're entitled to safe working conditions and proper access to tools, food, medical care, and all while you're on the job. If you didn't negotiate, it's not my concern."

He looked back up, at Brett this time.

"That goes for you too, Brett."

Ripley wasn't touching her food. She couldn't, not with this feeling overwhelming her.

Just as Lambert was about to say something, she interrupted.

"Does, does anyone else think this is weird?"

"What kind of a question is that? What do you mean?" Kane said, just as he finished his soup.

"I mean, this doesn't feel right. I feel, I feel like..." Her voice trailed, but she held the room in suspense.

Lambert seemed enthralled at what she was saying, eager to know.

"Is it the food? It can be kinda shit sometimes" Parker offered up.

"No, it's just…"

She looked around at everyone sitting at the table, letting her eyes land on the empty seat next to Kane.

"Are we missing someone?"

"You're joking right? This is everyone." Dallas finished off his coffee, and got up for more.

Ripley's mind was racing. Searching, searching for whatever it was that felt missing to her.

Shipment?

We left with the refinery for sure, we spent 12 hours carefully gliding it past the mine's gravity well.

Proper autopilot configuration?

Lambert pulled brand-new maps and routing information before we even detached from the loading port.

Medical supplies?

Last checked in inventory, everything was fully stocked and accounted for. Everything was ready and in order for the new Medical Offi-

"ASH!"

She sprung from her seat, suddenly panicking in fear and distress, as emotions and memories came flowing over her like a tsunami.

As she backed against the wall in sensory overload, the crew was momentarily in shock at what was transpiring before them, before Dallas jumped up and tried to comfort her.

"Oh my god, Ash! Where is Ash? He's a fucking android!"

Her speech was borderline incoherent babble, out of control as she started to cry as she remembered Newt, and Hicks, and the xenomorph, and everyone dying, and-

Dallas shot his head back towards the table, "Lambert! I need some help!"

She rushed to Ripley's side, trying to help her gather hold of herself as she slumped onto the ground against the wall, locking her arms and legs together.

She sobbed, remembering everything.

Dallas and Lambert consoled her, as she calmed down and was able to deal with everything just thrown at her mentally.

Able to think clearly, she focused on the imminent threat in her mind.

"Where is Ash? Dallas, we need to stop him, he's a synthetic, he's going to get us to land and we can't do that!"

Dallas looked at Lambert, who looked back at him.

"Ash? Ripley, I don't know who Ash is. Do you know, Lambert?"

"Not a clue."

As they comforted her, Brett, Parker, and Kane began to talk out of earshot, in low voices.

"Bad hypersleep dream, maybe?" Parker wondered, seemingly worried.

"I don't know man, I don't think anyone has ever reacted that strongly to a dream before."

"I'm going to go see if I can grab anything for her, those two seem pretty tied-up helping her calm down."

Kane stood up, and walked over to a recovering Ripley.

"Ripley, is there anything I can get you?"

Dallas helped her to her feet, and lead her back to sit down at the table, slowly but surely.

"What's a synthetic?" Brett poked Parker, asking him in a hushed voice.

"I don't know, sounds like it might be some sort of fake-person though."

"You mean like in those old Tyrell robot things?"

"I guess, I mean I've never seen one, ever."

Able to collect her thoughts, Ripley gladly took a glass of water from Kane and downed a nerve pill with it.

"Dallas, why are we stopped?"

He sighed, and looked around at everyone at the table.

"Well, as some of you may have figured out, we're not home yet. We're only halfway there."

She cut him off, a look of dread on her face.

"Dallas, we can't land. The emergency signal's fake, it's a fraud!"

His face portrayed bewilderment at what she had just said, catching him off guard. Stumbling over his words, he continued.

"We, uh, well, Mother found a distress signal on a nearby rock. I checked after we first woke up and weren't anywhere near the refinery drop-off."

"We're not a rescue team! We're a tow vessel!" Parker said indignantly, to Brett's approval.

Ripley couldn't believe she was hearing this all over again. She grabbed Dallas by the collar, pulling him close.

"Dallas, we are not landing on LV-426. It's a fake emergency beacon. It's not a distress call, it's a warning to anyone nearby. Now I'll ask you one more time."

Uncomfortably close to Ripley, he didn't have a choice to do anything than look her directly in her reddened, piercing eyes.

"Where. Is. Ash?"

He took a deep breath, and held it, unable to come up with anything in response.

She shoved him, and jumped up to run to her locker in her quarters down the hall. Using the key in her pockets, she scrambled the stainless steel lock open, and grabbed her utility belt.

As a warrant officer assigned to the Nostromo, she was permitted to carry one USMC-issued handgun. A 6-round, semi-automatic .357 revolver made by Spearhead Armory, was the only choice legally available to any officer or marshal wanting to pack a decisive punch at their side.

Strapping on the utility belt and holstering the revolver on it, she returned back to the dining room, everyone silencing themselves upon her entrance.

With everyone's eyes locked on her, Ripley had an abrupt realization sweep across her mind, as the steely gaze of the other crew members penetrated her deepest thoughts.

"Oh my god, you all think I'm crazy?"

Dallas glanced at his feet, and began to speak in a firm voice.

"Ripley, we're a bit concerned at-"

"You think I'm crazy? I'll tell you what you'll find once you land!"

He persisted, strengthening the resolve in his voice.

"We're a bit concerned at your state of affairs. If you-"

"You know what you're gonna find? You're gonna find something that kills everyone here! It's gonna kill Kane first, then it kills Brett, and then it kills YOU, then it kills Parker, and then it kills Lambert!" She yelled, pointing at everyone in succession.

"Ripley, if you need a mental quarantine, Parker and I will restrain you in your quarters until you calm down."

She walked towards him, getting within an inch of his face, hand on her holstered revolver.

"If you land on LV-426, you sentence everyone here to death," she said in a low voice, with bated breath.

With herself and Dallas caught in a stare-down of will, captain versus crew member, everyone else could only watch in silence.

That is, until Parker piped up to break the ice.

"This fucking corn bread, right? Can't be real, it's gotta be like, paper or something. Brett, what do you think?"

"I think this is really shitty corn bread, Parker."