Alien V: LV426

by Sonic Sculpture

Nearly a century after the destruction of the atmosphere processor, a team of researchers is sent to LV-426 to salvage what they can from the derelict spaceship. But what they find is almost beyond imagining.

1. Chapters 1 through 3

For any returning readers; I've done some troubleshooting to fix errors, smoothed out the punctuation for a slicker read, and given Stanford a few more colorful lines. For any newcomers: I should probably tell you up front that this story isn't based on body count. It's intended instead to return to the type of suspenseful sci-fi that made Alien both so cerebral and so successful. It is classed as an Alien/Predator novel because there are Predators in it. In fact, it does much to explain their relationship. But they are not treated as main characters since this isn't a standard Alien versus Predator effort. Instead, it is...

Alien V

LV - 426

(Sequel to Alien 3 and prequel to Alien Resurrection)

(Based on the stories by Dan O'Bannon, Ronald Shusett, James Cameron, Jim and John Thomas, Joel Silver, Lawrence Gordon, John McTiernan, and Paul Anderson)

Preface

The Prehistoric Sky

Ancient orbs cascade

across horizons I once knew

I've watched them cross the twilight

where the sky is no longer blue

But the sky, I'm told, is eons old

and we're without a clue

regarding what's now really there

as time erodes our view

Above us seem to stretch bright vistas

beautiful and vast

But all we see are nonexistent

days of heaven's past

We do not even know which stars

no longer join the cast

Contrasted with the speed of light

our years fly by so fast

The further out the object is

the more pronounced will be

the parallax effect of time

between that light and me

We look into the void of space

but time is all we see

And caught between the fossil sky

and fossil rocks are we

Our telescopes are useless

where the wings of time do fly

Today a star explodes

but our descendants will watch it die

Relic interstellar light

unfolds before my eye

What does it mean that I have seen

the prehistoric sky?

Chapter 1

Derelict Dreams

There should be a dictionary that defines insanity as the distance between the stars. It is a distance we believe ourselves to have overcome through one of the most extreme applications of medical technology. But I've come to question that conclusion. I've found it disconcerting enough to board a jet aircraft and find myself only a couple of hours later in a place that was over a thousand kilometers from my departure point. But to simply go to sleep and awaken in orbit around another world is absolutely surreal. I am convinced that it is not something to which anybody can truly become accustomed, no matter what assurances science extends. But to suddenly find myself here, circling the very cradle of catastrophe, passes far beyond the realm of drug-induced dreams and decidedly enters the nadir of nightmares.

This is where my great-grandmother's death really started. You could argue that she lived for more than half a century after initially escaping this place, but I'd insist it actually took over half a century for it to finally kill her. She just didn't know it. I didn't expect such an appalling opportunity to arise within my lifetime. I guess she must have passed along her proclivity for misplaced optimism. I admittedly owe my choice of career specialization to my ancestry, having lost someone to something so altogether alien and hoping to one day perhaps prevent some further misfortune. I was however thinking strictly in terms of microbiology. I honestly never thought I'd be called upon to dance with this specific devil. I not only question the wisdom of returning here, but even the sanity of such a decision.

In our quest to understand the alien, is it possible that we're actually becoming alien ourselves? Having basically abandoned our original biosphere, can we be so certain that our development as a species is not compromised? Can we really trust our assumptions when fashioned in the unfamiliar reaches of space? How can we quantify our convictions when almost all forms of measurement are based on planetary dimensions, yet we now seem to consider ourselves cosmic?

I have spent a couple of decades examining extraterrestrial organisms. But the most extreme form of exobiology may actually be represented by encapsulated human beings in hypersleep, enforcing an entirely unnatural state of unconsciousness and enduring the delusion-drenched dreams which it inexplicably entails. The process artificially lengthens our lives, sometimes very substantially, and it certainly conserves our supplies. But does it preserve our souls?

Emilio Esperanza, the Director of the Bio-Weapons Division for the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, turned from the elongated viewing portal and faced the room of assembled scientists. A wide range of scarcely suppressed emotions greeted his gaze. Some were openly anxious to hear what he would say, having waited many years for the opportunity that now suddenly, and somewhat surprisingly, had presented itself. Some had just been brought aboard and had no foreknowledge of the industry in which the others considered themselves as already engaged. Emilio patiently waited until everybody was seated.

"In case this courtesy has yet to be extended," he genially began, "let me be the first to welcome you to the Centaur."

He noticed a slight movement to his right. Even though she was painfully well aware of her location in terms of stellar cartography, Eleanor Ripley winced as she realized that the ship within which they were assembled was named after something only half human. Although he was quite acquainted with her ancestry, Emilio was not certain why she had reacted in such a way. He knew Ellen Ripley, Eleanor's great-grandmother, had become the sole survivor of the Nostromo. He also knew that, because of being in hypersleep for decades, Ellen had outlived her only child, a daughter. The daughter died without having ever married. But contrary to what was reported to Ellen Ripley, her daughter had a child that had been conceived in vitro. That child had also been a girl. Because of spending so much of her young adulthood in hypersleep, the unavoidable result of an occupation that required extensive space travel, her daughter, Eleanor, was still in the prime of her life. It was a wicked twist of fate that had restored her last name.

Perhaps because her travels didn't allow for much intimacy, Eleanor's mother made a terrible mistake in the matter of marriage. Eleanor's father was a deceitful criminal. He was eventually caught, convicted, and then executed for acts of space piracy. Eleanor's mother retook her maiden name. To protect Eleanor from possibly being associated with her father's infamy, she successfully petitioned the courts to allow the change of her last name as well. Emilio knew this assignment would probably be difficult for Eleanor. It was her own fault however that she was the most qualified consultant in the company.

"We are now in orbit around LV-426, a planetoid that is itself in orbit around Livinum, a gas giant in the Zeta 2 Reticuli system. About a hundred and fifty years ago, one of our commercial towing vehicles, the Nostromo, set down here after detecting a transmission that indicated a possibly intelligent origin. Homing in on its beacon, they found a derelict spaceship – altogether alien. The freighter's captain and two other members of the crew entered the derelict. They had accomplished only the briefest reconnaissance of the ship when an alien organism attached itself to one of their team. They immediately evacuated back to their craft. Because the alien organism was somehow able to block their medical scanners, they didn't initially realize that the comatose crewman was actually being used as a host. The creature, which finally tore its way out of his chest, succeeded in killing all but one member of the crew. That flight officer set the ship for self-destruct and escaped in a shuttle," Emilio recounted as emotionlessly as he could.

Someone coughed. He could not be certain whether it was from anxiety at the sheer terror of his story, or if it represented impatience because so many of those aboard were already aware of the planetoid's history.

He continued, "Back then, Zeta 2 Reticuli was still beyond the outer rim of occupied space. Over time, as programmed, the shuttle's CPU automatically began shutting down non-essential systems, so it could continue to support its only occupant in hypersleep. It thereby escaped the attention of anybody's scanners until it was finally chanced upon by a deep space salvage team on the other side of the core systems. During the more than half-century that had elapsed, a terraforming colony, Hadley's Hope, was established on LV-426. In fact, it had been there for something like twenty years by the time the shuttle was recovered."

"Were they warned?" Eleanor interrupted as Emilio paused for breath.

"We must take into consideration that the sole survivor told the examining panel an unacceptable story about an alien creature that gestated inside a living human host and had concentrated acid for blood," Emilio carefully countered, reassured by the effect this explanation had on most of the recipients. "Please remember that at that time there had already been a colony on LV-426 for a couple of decades. Initially, though unfortunately, the report was not taken seriously."

"But were the colonists ever warned?" Eleanor asked again, enunciating each word.

"A transmission was sent," Emilio shrewdly replied, trying to be evasive concerning the specifics. When he saw that Eleanor was obviously not going to be satisfied with his answer, he continued, "Its exact nature has never been determined, though it obviously didn't go through the proper channels. While it's possible that it didn't really constitute a warning, let us not be too quick to judge the people of the past. One thing that probably has not changed in over a century, and might never, is the fact that terraformers tend to be roughnecks, opportunistic in the extreme. The most stringent possible warning would probably not have kept them from trying to find something of value on that derelict ship."

"Point taken," Eleanor answered, suggesting submission.

"When contact with Hadley's Hope was suddenly lost, the survivor of the Nostromo was contracted as a consultant, and a military ship was sent to determine the disposition of the colony on LV-426," Emilio continued. "We actually have their consultant's account that was dictated to help them prepare for what they might face. Unfortunately, it was not enough. Only one colonist was actually rescued, a child at that, and she did not even live long enough to make it back to Earth. Whether the result of a firefight that erupted inside it, or due to their original drop-ship crashing into it, the atmosphere processing plant was damaged and its core eventually went supercritical. Only three persons and one Artificial ultimately escaped before it blew up. Their ship, the Sulaco, later crashed on Fiorina 161 and even the consultant finally died. She had however transmitted the entire account of what transpired on LV-426 before leaving orbit. Since that transmission was sent directly to the military, this planetoid has been under their jurisdiction ever since – up until now."

Knowing this was going to surprise most of the scientists in the room, Emilio paused and allowed them their startled response before continuing, "Fallout from the destruction of the atmosphere processor left the better part of this planetoid radioactive for almost a century. We tried to get the military to let us send in a survey team of Artificials. But even Artificials have rights, and they would've been so contaminated that they would've been unable to have any interactions with anyone or anything else for decades. While it's true there are suits that would've protected human explorers, they're so bulky that movement in them is nearly impossible. Certainly, they would've complicated the reconnaissance of anything as constrictive as a spaceship. So, we've waited."

"And now?" asked Eleanor, speaking for the group.

"The news I have for you is a bit of a mixed bag," Emilio admitted. "This isn't the first time a thermonuclear explosion has happened on a habitable world, as I am sure you all know. The military now has the technology for speeding up the reclamation process, but it involves evacuating most of the contamination into outer space. Essentially, everything that our atmosphere processor achieved has basically been undone. Since you will need spacesuits anyway, to protect you from the residual radiation, this may not be so serious a concern. The derelict now exists in several segments, courtesy of the shockwave from the annihilation of the atmosphere processor. Military probes have certified the absence of any cellular activity whatsoever in the alien remains, all of which are in various stages of decomposition. We may still be able to learn much from their structure, and of course we will attempt to understand their genetics, but the real prize is the ship itself."

When several of the scientists aimed questioning expressions in his direction, Emilio explained, "The things we really hoped to learn from the alien organisms require them to be alive. The infected member of the Nostromo described a layer of seemingly luminous mist that covered the eggs and reacted when broken. And the perfect predator that later leaped out of his chest apparently was able to project an electromagnetic image of itself that fooled a scanner and kept its intended prey from understanding where it really was. I can only assume that this layer of reactive mist was still functioning when the colonists came aboard. Since the power source for the beacon, which the Nostromo had followed, had apparently been exhausted by that time, it is almost unthinkable that something still had enough organic energy to generate such a field. The ship could've easily been there for hundreds, or even thousands, of years. What we're really hoping to understand is the technology of the craft itself. Its propulsion system in particular could be many light years ahead of ours. Excuse the pun."

"As much as I don't want to question such an obviously unprecedented opportunity," Eleanor carefully began, "it seems to me that many of the people in this room are quite surprised by how suddenly this situation has developed. We didn't know that the military was so close to giving us the go-ahead?"

"Understandably, there are others who are interested in what can be learned here," Emilio easily answered, visibly undisturbed by her question. "But the Colonial Marines understand just how invested we are here. We've been fiscally taken to the cleaners by this planetoid. The release date we were initially given, along with everyone else, is still decades away. They've undoubtedly known for years that they were ahead of schedule. But they waited until they were ready to release it; and then, they told us first. Consider how many military contracts we have. They know on which side their bread is buttered."

"I see," Eleanor softly responded, while wondering just how much butter had actually been spread in order to edge out the competition. But then, she added, "Fiscally taken to the cleaners?"

"The Nostromo was an M-class star freighter worth forty-two million adjusted dollars, minus payload of course. The atmosphere processor was actually even more expensive than that," Emilio explained. And then, noticing the wary way she was regarding him, he quickly added, "And of course that's not even mentioning the crew of the Nostromo, the colonists or the soldiers and the incalculable loss of life."

Seated immediately across from Eleanor, Colin Endicott, Departmental Head of the Space Engineering Section, suggested, "The power requirements of that ship's systems may very well be exotic in the extreme. We might have to extract entire control consoles and set them up in a laboratory situation where we can determine those requirements."

"That's why we're on the Centaur," Emilio proudly replied. "This is nearly our newest ship and it has extremely spacious bays that should easily accommodate the enterprise."

Taking advantage of the lapse in Emilio's presentation, Eleanor asked, "Do we enjoy access to the scans made by the military probes?"

"Yes, but we've rather moved beyond that now. What we really need now is a direct examination," answered Emilio, seeming somewhat confused by the question. "The main thing they give us is the certainty of our safety."

"As the leading exobiologist onboard, I need to agree with their findings. It's a simple matter of empirical science," Eleanor softly explained, correctly predicting the approval of every other researcher in the room. "I'd really appreciate the opportunity to inspect those scans before anybody gets deployed on that planetoid."

"Do you have a cause to question the accuracy of their assessment," Emilio asked, demonstrating the intuition that had facilitated his rise through the ranks of the company.

"Perhaps," Eleanor reluctantly admitted. "There's one aspect about this site that has always caused me concern. Since I never expected anybody to gain access to it in my lifetime, I had planned to simply file my recommendation to the company with regards to it when I retired."

Emilio actually took the time to seat himself in the chair at the head of the long table before receptively saying, "Talk to me."

"Kane, the crewmember from the Nostromo who was first infected, described seeing thousands of eggs in the belly of that ship. As you mentioned, he and his shipmates had accomplished only the briefest possible reconnaissance before his infection. During that, they had already found the fossilized remains of one member of the derelict's crew, and it had obviously served as host to the thing that killed it – although at the time this wasn't understood. It was the Colonial Marines from the Sulaco who discovered that these eggs are all laid by an Alien Queen," she patiently explained. And then, meeting his gaze with surprising steel, she insistently said, "We need to account for the following possibilities."

"Go ahead," he agreed.

"Possibility one: the fossilized crewmember they found was the ship's only occupant and we are able to at least identify the remains of the Alien Queen that gestated inside it and then laid all those eggs. Possibility two: we find other infected crewmembers but are able to account for each of the alien organisms that erupted from them. Possibility three: we find a discrepancy in either of those numbers," she summarized.

"What would that mean?" Emilio asked with barely suppressed excitement.

"That we need to determine if there're natural caves anywhere on LV-426 and, if so, whether they're deep enough to have possibly protected anything from a thermonuclear shockwave and its residual radiation," Eleanor evenly answered. "I'm afraid it's possible that the infestation was never actually restricted to the ship."

"Whoa," Colin involuntarily uttered. "You think there might really be something alive down there, even after a holocaust and an ensuing century."

"We just need to make certain that there isn't," Eleanor defensively answered. "Had it not been for that shock wave, the eggs on that derelict might even be viable. The Alien Queen may have laid them and then crawled off to die. Such behavior is not unknown in the animal kingdom. But these things are exotic in the extreme. It is just as possible that, after filling the belly of a ship that might have initially been full of foodstuffs, she went out looking for another lair. And if there was a second Alien Queen; that guarantees at least the probability of an additional brood."

"The site itself is secure, and we can easily erect a boundary around it that would be impossible to breach," Emilio confidently declared. "Our presence on the surface is what will really confirm the company's claim to this location. You're insisting that we postpone such a vital deployment because of a purely theoretical underground alien presence?"

"What if the suspected cave system is situated directly below the derelict?" Eleanor pointedly inquired. "If you want to go in with a team of Artificials and make sure that isn't the case, you'll get no argument from me. But make sure you have your affairs in order."

"I'll see that you get immediate access to those scans," Emilio bitterly replied, clearly crestfallen. However, seizing the moment like a true company man, he then added, "I will in fact see that everybody gets access to those scans in addition to both the reports from the Nostromo's flight officer, regarding which I had already made such arrangements. I'd advise each of you to take advantage of the opportunity to familiarize yourselves with the information. I will need your recommendations concerning the equipment that you'll need at the site. Meanwhile, I'll work on the drop-ship assignments and the rotation schedule."

Colin, ever the consummate observer, did not fail to notice how Emilio had turned a possible setback into an opportunity. He was also very aware of Eleanor's inclination for repeating a person's words back to them. She had in fact done this to the director more than once. While in those instances she seemed to merely be qualifying her comments, the approach was apparently punitive when applied to him. Being the head engineer, he was exceedingly excited about examining the artifacts of an advanced alien technology. Disappointment at any delay had caused him to question her concerns, an outburst that had earned her ire. As senior exobiologist, she bore ultimate responsibility for the safety of the researchers. Knowing that a series of failures in the past had claimed the lives of over two-hundred people, she could tolerate no rebuttal.

He earnestly regretted the turn of events. She was extremely intelligent and had the slender shape of somebody whose metabolism had been regulated by hypersleep more than once. Her piercing eyes set in such a beautiful face and surrounded by raven-black hair completed a very pleasing picture. Deciding to take a chance on attempting to make amends, as everyone got up from the table, he sidled around the obstacle and moved to within easy earshot.

"I was wondering if you'd mind if we examined those scans together," he graciously suggested. "With your background in exobiology and my knowledge of engineering, we might be able to take an almost ergonomic approach to the endeavor."

Flashing a conspiratorial smile at him and giving no indication whatsoever that she actually understood the duplicity of his purpose, she replied, "That's an interesting idea. Your place or mine?"

"Didn't you just come aboard? Have they already assigned your quarters?" he asked in reply, obviously befuddled.

"I know where my workspace is," she slyly answered. "I guess I probably should've asked whether you meant your lab or mine."

"Oh," he stammered, momentarily taken aback.

"Whatever did you think I meant?" she playfully pressed.

"I must admit that I was somewhat confused," he shamefacedly answered, pausing to bite his lip. "I apologize."

"Not necessary," she laughed. "It takes some people awhile to get used to my sense of humor."

Glancing out the viewing portal beyond the head of the table, at the rim of the barren orb around which they were in orbit, he acutely answered, "Your sense of humor may be our only saving grace in this situation."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she teasingly suggested. "But I think we could at least find a room with a better view."

Exiting the conference room, Colin turned and led the way to his lab. It seemed less than fair to force her to try to familiarize herself with the interface in her workspace while he waited. He had been onboard the Centaur long enough to know where to look for the scans to which they were all now being given access, and it took mere moments for him to find them.

From orbit, the Sulaco had verified the position of the derelict. The photos had been included in her great-grandmother's transmission to the military. They were now the only ones that showed the ship in about the same condition it had been when encountered by the Nostromo's crew. Being on an urgent errand to an endangered outpost, the Colonial Marines had headed directly for Hadley's Hope. Having defeated the Alien Queen, Ellen Ripley discovered that the derelict had not been beyond the shockwave of the explosion. Had she been familiar with the targeting systems of the Sulaco, she might have elected to add some additional incineration to the site. But she was not, and there had been no possible assistance from the other survivors.

As the recordings from the probes began playback, they were on initial approach to their target. The ship was severely segmented. It had been basically strewn into a series of splintered sections by the shockwave. The uppermost half of the enormous U-shaped center section had been sheered off by the atomic storm. It scarcely resembled the ship in the orbital photos. The probes separated from each other as their controllers chose to expedite their inspection. The debris was now scattered across an immense area. Colin quickly assigned the scans to separate screens and then paused the playback on all but one. Eleanor watched with interest as her associate's fingers danced quickly across the keyboard. Not surprisingly, he selected the probe that was headed towards the center of the wreckage.

"We could each follow a probe and use our own monitor," he suggested, "but I think we'd be far less likely to miss something if we double up."

"Agreed," she said. "We can certainly take the time to review each one individually."

The remnants of egg sacks were everywhere, with their ejected contents littering the landscape for what seemed like kilometers. The spider-like cadavers and been first fried and then frozen by the abrupt absence of atmosphere. She wondered if they could have possibly been more gruesome if they were alive. She hoped to never find out. The probe moved toward the remnants of some of the sheered-off upper section. Colin and Eleanor could see color changes as the probe's operator brought various imaging filters into play.

Initially, Colin believed that the otherworldly appearance of the wreckage was purely the byproduct of the functioning of the filters; but as the probe closed in on the closest of the colossal shards, he quickly realized he was wrong.

"What in the world?" he involuntarily whispered. He then incredulously exclaimed, "It looks like the ripped open remains of a desiccated cadaver, not at all like a spaceship!"

"Perhaps I should have prepared you," Eleanor apologetically offered. As he paused the playback and turned to her, she explained, "Being an exobiologist, I am already quite acquainted with the testimony of the Nostromo's sole survivor and the orbital shots taken by the Sulaco. The team from the Nostromo that went into the derelict actually described its interior as having an almost organic appearance. They even went so far as to say that the fossilized crewmember they found looked like it had been grown right out of the chair in which it was reclining."

Breathlessly glancing back in understandable disbelief at the impossible image that was now frozen on the monitor, Colin reluctantly replied, "It seems my participation in the project may be pointless."

"What do you mean?" Eleanor anxiously inquired.

"I'll have no chance of understanding that ship's propulsion system if it was actually grown instead of constructed," he patiently replied. "I think we may be in over our heads here."

"If only you knew how many years I've been saying exactly the same thing," Eleanor agreed, smiling dryly.

"And to think that Emilio is going to be expecting answers from us," Colin concluded.

"Shall we continue then?" she asked, ceremoniously indicating the frozen image.

"I guess we really have no choice," he answered with distinct consternation. "If we're going to keep spreading out into space, unless these parasitical predators succeeded in eliminating them altogether, we will eventually run into whatever it was that designed this astonishing ship. And if these spider-like monstrosities did drive so superior a civilization into extinction, it makes the needfulness of our understanding even more compelling."

"That about sums it up," she quietly agreed as he toggled a control on his keyboard and caused the playback to resume.

With his eyes still fastidiously fastened to the screen, Colin suggested, "Considering how obviously advanced they were in terms of genetic engineering, is it possible that the creatures who overcame the crew were actually some kind of weapon? I mean: maybe it was supposed to be used against an enemy but it somehow got loose on their ship?"

"If it's really some sort of bio-weapon, it has to be of the doomsday variety," Eleanor emotionally answered. "I doubt if their involvement in such an industry is truly consistent with our original assumption about their civilization being advanced. I'd prefer to believe that the one is the opposite of the other."

"While I'd prefer not to contradict that conjecture," he amiably answered, "I still have to question how something so insidious managed to stowaway on their ship. Since it has the ability to block a medical scanner, it's almost like it was designed to defeat detection. What if it was a weapon, but not theirs? If it was engineered to be used against them, I'd have to say that it certainly succeeded."

"That still puts us up against something that's equally as advanced," she caustically complained.

"Not if your idea about a doomsday weapon is right," he carefully countered. "In that case, the weapon might be all that still remains. We just need to find all the places where it was deployed and place them under irrevocable quarantine."

"The fault is in the finding," she softly insisted, quietly correcting him. "Their ability to avoid detection is what makes them so dangerous. Keep in mind that an entire colony of over fifty families shared a puny planetoid with thousands of them for some twenty years before anybody was the wiser. If this had happened on a habitable planet, the loss of life could've been in the millions, or more. And I suppose our highly advanced society would simply sacrifice all of them to ensure that the contamination was contained. There has to be a better answer."

"Navigation," he muttered, only half aloud.

"What?" she sympathetically pressed. She could see that he appeared to have just experienced an epiphany.

"Emilio was thinking just in terms of possible profit," he began, trying to work his way back to his insight, "which is why he mentioned the propulsion system. However, he was putting the priority in the wrong place. The opportunity we have here isn't about income; it's about survival. The ability to go faster will only hasten our inevitable rendezvous with danger. But if we can possibly salvage their navigational system, then we may be able to tell where they've been. We'd be able to anticipate the places where the predator may've been released. And we could use that information to avoid them."

"Okay," she replied, impressed, "now that we know everything for which we need to be looking, let's try our best to find them."

Only a few minutes later, they found the fossilized remains of a crewmember with a ruptured chest cavity. The corpse's posture clearly did not indicate that it had ever been attached to a seat.

"We now know that at least two embryos succeeded in gestating," she summarized. "And at least one of them was an Alien Queen. We need to the body count to match up."

"So far the only dead predators I've seen are the hatchlings," he replied, not trying to hide his revulsion. "And there certainly are too many of them."

Over the next several hours they succeeded in finding a total of fifteen cadavers that all seemed to have been members of the original crew. Each had a ruptured chest cavity and appeared to be approximately part of the same species. There were odd differences in their body structures that suggested the possibility of genetic modifications. It seemed to Eleanor that the alterations may have related to the onboard duties of each individual, but she considered it too incredible to make the observation out loud.

"I had really started considering the possibility of the alien representing some kind of biological weapon some time ago," she grudgingly admitted. "I'd even hope the fossilized crewmember was actually the mad scientist that created it and that it got loose and killed its creator before it could be used for its intended purpose, causing the crash of the ship. That would have made LV-426 the only place in the galaxy where the thing ever existed. However, unless there were over a dozen coconspirators in the plot, the presence of the other corpses makes such a premise appear progressively more hopeless. This looks to me like the scene of a terrible tragedy, not an instance of unspeakable poetic justice."

"If any of the shards of this spaceship are supposed to represent its technology," he replied, avoiding her observation, "I'm unable to recognize anything. However the largest single remaining section of the ship is directly ahead. Perhaps we'll find something more promising in there."

In the playback, the military probe maneuvered its meticulous way into the uncanny confines of the bizarre behemoth. Although the curious compartment around it was now only partially encapsulated, they encountered the fossilized remains of the crewmember that had first been found by the unfortunate trio from the Nostromo. As the probe circled around the alien artifact, Colin paused the playback and made careful notes concerning the control panel before which the corpse was positioned. Eleanor could tell by the way her companion pensively pursed his lips that he was challenged in the extreme by what he was seeing. She carefully elected not to ask any questions about his observations.

The next compartment, perhaps because it was even more centrally located and not quite as spacious, was actually intact. It had the telltale characteristics of a control room. As the probe carried out its circuit of the enclosure, Colin paused the playback numerous times to take notes. He also attached a digital marker to those clips of the recording so it would be a simple matter to return to them.

Before the probe had completed its reconnaissance of that largest remaining section of the ship, they found the fossilized remains of two final crewmembers, bringing the tally to eighteen. They also finally started finding the remnants of the monsters for which all of those unlucky crewmembers had unwittingly acted as incubators. To Eleanor, this part of their activity was the single most important. She and Colin now needed to account for all eighteen alien eruptions. At that point, they had only discovered half the needed number.

Fighting fatigue and slowing the search to compensate, they completed their review of the recordings. Though they did finally find the shriveled remains of one Alien Queen, sickeningly horrendous even in death, they were unable to account for all eighteen of the aliens. The count was one short.

"Not good," Eleanor concluded, leaning tiredly back in her seat and placing her arms across her forehead. "Could we have missed something?"

"We didn't," Colin concluded. He then hesitantly suggested, "But perhaps the probes did. All we can see is what they recorded. We need to dispatch probes of our own to the surface and look at the outlying areas. Maybe the one we're missing was merely thrown completely clear of the wreckage by the shockwave. Why don't you get some rest while I go present our findings and our request to Emilio? I'll take care of getting us eyes on the ground. It's going to take a little while to get them launched and on site."

"Thank you," she gratefully replied, gently touching his arm as he arose to depart.

After he left she retreated to the crash couch at the back of the lab in which they had been working where, after stretching out and finally falling asleep, she then had the most disturbing dreams of her adult life. She was literally relieved when Colin came back, only about an hour later, and awakened her.

Handing her a steaming cup of coffee and gesturing back over his shoulder towards the colleague who had followed him into the lab, he said, "This is Stanford Preston. He's a telemetry specialist. He's going to be controlling the probe for us."

"I've already dropped it on the planetoid and stationed it next to the site," he politely added. "We can start whenever you're ready."

Rolling from the crash couch, and making use of a colloquialism that had somehow survived for centuries, she offhandedly answered, "I was born ready."

With her attention focused on the cup of coffee, she missed the amused expression that was exchanged between the two men. They then shadowed her back to the console where, with only a few quick keystrokes, Stanford transferred control of the probe to their station.

"I took some orbital shots of the site," he volunteered, "and I think I understand what you want me to do. You want to look further downrange of the explosion, right?"

"Yes," Eleanor readily agreed, pausing between sips of her coffee. "We're somehow missing the remains of an alien organism. We're hoping it was simply thrown outside the search radius by the shockwave."

"Okay. If it's out there, I'm sure I can find it for you," Stanford reassuringly answered.

Nearly an hour later, when the search had failed to find the intended target, he said, "Let me pull up the shots taken by the Sulaco and put them beside the scans I just took."

The discrepancy between the sets of pictures was immediately apparent to all three observers. The Sulaco had photographed the derelict in exactly the same location where the team from the Nostromo had first found it, sitting on top of a wide rocky ridge. But the shockwave had apparently pushed it over the edge, while shredding it. The debris began on the down slope and spewed into the valley below.

"We still haven't examined the site where the shockwave first struck the ship!" Colin exclaimed. "Maybe something dislodged during the initial impact. We need to search the top of that plateau."

When another half hour of exploration still failed to produce the expected discovery, Stanford surprised his colleagues by concluding, "When all other possibilities have been eliminated then whatever is left, however unlikely, must be the answer."

Without further explanation, he then directed the probe further back in the direction from which the shockwave had come, sending it across the other side of the ridge. This obviously seemed altogether outrageous to his associates who, seated on either side of him, questioned his decision in stereo. But they quickly recanted their criticism when the unexpected landscape rolled into range and revealed the very type of frightening feature that Eleanor had initially suggested.

"Are those caves?" she anxiously asked, unconsciously recoiling from the screen.

"Yes, and quite a concentration of them it seems," Stanford answered with scientific detachment as he scrutinized the screen. Abruptly understanding that the discovery had produced an emotional response, he then asked, "Why does that worry you?"

She slipped a sidelong glance at Colin, who took it upon himself to answer, "We will need to carefully catalog every entrance; and then, we'll need to explore each enclosure. It is possible that our worst expectations were just realized. The infestation here may not have been entirely neutralized."

"What?" Stanford demanded. "I thought we were just searching for remains! Are you saying one of those things might actually still be alive down there somewhere?"

"Let's hope not," Colin countered. And then, turning back to Eleanor, he added, "You were right; except they weren't exactly under the ship, unless the caves extend back that far, they were just on the other side of it."

"I hate being right all the time," she sighed with honest exasperation.

"If we're going to be at this a lot longer than previously projected, I'll need to contact Director Esperanza," Stanford unexpectedly objected. "We thought you only needed me to help you find some missing remains. After that, I was supposed to locate the very best specimens of each kind of creature and use the probe to bring them aboard. Which type of alien is it that you're looking for in these caves?"

"That's the hell of it," Eleanor emotionally answered. "We don't really know for sure."

Seeing the disbelieving expression on Stanford's face and anticipating the possibility of a very unprofessional confrontation, Colin quickly interjected, "Although we accounted for one Alien Queen, probably the one that laid all those eggs in the ship, we really have no idea concerning the percentage of hatchlings that come out as Queens. If it's one out of a hundred, we might be okay. If it's one out of a couple of dozen, we're probably not."

Carefully composing herself before offering an observation that was almost certainly going to startle both her associates, Eleanor quietly stated, "There are some organisms with ovipositors that are capable of choosing the kind of egg they lay. And if the survival of their colony is in question, they'll instinctively create queens. The odds of the escapee being anything else simply don't merit mentioning. In all honesty, I just didn't want to own up to the obvious."

There were several seconds of stunned silence, before Stanford finally thumbed the switch on the intercom and shakily said, "Director Esperanza, would you please report to the engineering lab at once?"

It took several minutes for them to explain the situation to Emilio after he arrived. His excitement was easy to see. He offered to send out a second probe, but Eleanor insisted that one was as much as she could effectively keep track of at a time. She was happy to have her associates assisting her, but she didn't want to dump the burden of observation on anyone else. Emilio seemed disappointed, but said he understood. He then instructed Stanford to continue assisting with the search for as long as such help was needed. The last thing Emilio did before he left was have the telemetry specialist arrange for the feed from the probe to also display on the screen in his office.

Returning to their initial effort, they resumed their reconnaissance of the perforated and exceptionally alien landscape. The hillside was almost a honeycomb. None of them had ever before beheld a region so profusely riddled with pits. Using the orbital pictures, they established a grid overlay and proceeded to map the multitudinous apertures. The process was as tiring as it was time-consuming. It took three hours just to identify all the locations into which they would then need to look. They tried to assign some priorities to these places, basing them on the length of the respective rocky conduits as revealed by the radar returns. At long last, they concluded their cataloging.

"Now its time for some serious spelunking," Stanford announced, not quite capturing the adventurous spirit he was struggling to suggest.

"Thank God it's really just a probe that's at risk," Eleanor tiredly countered.

"Amen to that," Colin concurred.

After eliminating all the openings that seemed to extend the furthest, some of which dove deep beneath the rocky ridge, the team then turned their attention to the ones that suggested the most distinct curvature. However, after what seemed like unending hours of exhaustive exploration, their extremely systematic search had still yielded no positive results. And they were now only left with what seemed like the least likely of locations.

"Could they have blown one out of an airlock before they were finally forced to land here?" Colin angrily asked. "How could we have been so wrong? What are we missing?"

"I truly appreciate your probe's impressive imaging systems, so don't get me wrong," Eleanor said, speaking to Stanford. "But is it equipped with anything as old-fashioned as flares? Do we have any way to illuminate the entire area?"

"Yes, I can do that," Stanford answered. "Just let me put it in hover over the base of the hillside and I'll fire one above each quadrant of our search grid."

"Look sharp, boys," she encouragingly instructed. "We're exhausted. And if we don't figure this out in the next few minutes, we'll have to get some sleep. I'm certain neither of you need me to tell you how unspeakably pleased Director Esperanza is going to be with all of us if that's the case."

The probe could not only fire flares, but it could even synchronize their ignition. Light was soon spilling all across the desolate hillside. Eleanor overlaid the search grid on her screen and looked for anything that might represent and oversight. As something caught her attention; she nudged Stanford, indicated her screen, and asked, "What's that?"

"It's just a shallow depression, a sinkhole of some type," he offhandedly answered.

Unconvinced, she asked in reply, "Would you please take the probe in closer and let me get a good look at it?"

"Whatever, no problem," he said shrugging, slightly slurring his words in his fatigue.

As the probe began to move closer to the selected location, Eleanor noticed that the diameter of the depression was equal to that of any of the actual caves they had already examined. More proximate inspection suggested a strange geometry to the arrangement of the boulders comprising the bowl. At close range, it appeared to have been built.

"Do we have any way of determining whether the ground is solid on the other side?" she asked, uncharacteristically squinting at the screen.

"I could put the probe right on it and hit it with a pulse of ground-penetrating radar," Stanford sleepily answered.

"Do it," she quietly requested.

Moments later, the probe touched down in the base of the bowl and transmitted the penetrating signal. Stanford had been sitting with his head tilted back, looking across his cheeks at the screen. He suddenly straightened and leaned forwards as the radar return resulted in construction of an unexpected image.

"Oh my giggly God, there's a deep tunnel below the blockage," he rasped. Colin had been nodding but quickly came to complete alertness as the telemetry specialist, leaning even further forward, asked, "What's the stuff between the boulders? What is that?"

"Resin," Eleanor simply said.

"Resin?" Colin echoed, unable to follow the inference. "Where did resin come from?"

"From the Alien Queen hiding on the other side of the obstruction," Emilio answered as he strode into the room at that moment. "Good work team. You've hit the mother load, if you'll excuse the pun. Now we just need to go in there and get her."

"We?" asked Eleanor, demonstrably startled by the suggestion.

"Well, not all of us," Emilio laughed. "After all, that's your field of expertise. I suppose you'll want to get some rest first, which I perfectly understand. But you might not have to be satisfied with dissecting fossilized cadavers. We could soon have a live specimen for you to study."

"First, it's very doubtful that we're going to discover anything alive in there. Exposure to radiation has probably already been fatal to whatever we may find," Eleanor resolutely replied. "And secondly, capturing dangerous organisms alive is not in my job description. I'm an exobiologist."

"Right, you're an exobiologist," Emilio agreed. "So how isn't it in your job description to capture alien organisms?"

"What you're after probably won't fit on a microscope slide," she said. "Exobiologists tend to be strictly researchers. A live capture of this kind requires an exo-zoologist."

"What's the difference," Emilio insistently asked.

"Exo-zoologists are in it mostly for the thrill of the hunt. They tend to be roughnecks, opportunistic in the extreme. They probably marry terraformers," she impishly answered.

Emilio could not help but laugh out loud at her parody of his earlier description. Colin and Stanford had both been in attendance at the director's presentation and immediately recognized the way in which she was repeating his earlier description back to him. Being exhausted and completely appreciating her attempt to introduce humor into the situation, they added their amused outbursts to his.

"I don't suppose you'd happen to know of any that you might even recommend," the director queried, after allowing the hilarity to die down.

"I know that some of the core systems have extensive zoological exhibits which they employ such people to maintain, but it would take some time to get someone all the way out here," she answered.

"I am certain it would, and I know how much you would hate to delay our operations here," Emilio said with the slightest suggestion of sarcasm. "After all; the longer we wait, the greater the chances of someone else jumping our claim. So I guess the question that I really must ask you is this: would you actually be satisfied with trusting the safety of this operation to anyone else?"

Colin found himself hoping that Eleanor would never regard him with the disdain that she aimed at the director in the next moment. The tension between the two was painfully perceptible even to her exhausted associates. The stalemate lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an extended nightmare in hypersleep.

"Damn you," Eleanor eventually answered, to which Director Esperanza surprisingly failed to flinch. "Do you absolutely swear to implement my recommendations, even in the event that we recover a live creature and I ultimately recommend its termination?"

"I do so solemnly swear," Emilio evenly replied, adding, "and I do so in front of these assembled witnesses."

"Then I accept the assignment," she condescendingly concluded.

Neither of her associates understood the inference as Emilio then rhetorically asked, "All things considered, Eleanor, how in the world did you ever doubt it would come down to this?"

Without a further word the director arose and headed for the exit as Eleanor turned to Colin and Stanford and said, "We'd better go and get some rest. We're going to need it. In the interest of preserving our species, we absolutely cannot allow any mistakes this time."

Chapter 2

Queen for a Day

Maybe if I stepped outside this ship into the vacuum of space I'd be able to wake up from this nightmare. It would have to be about as safe as what they're wanting me to do. I've visualized so many scenarios over the years, but none where I was calling the shots. How did I let myself get put in a position where I could bear primary responsibility for the extermination of my race? How can I hope to proceed? Even with all the most advanced equipment at my disposal, can I actually expect to gain any appreciable advantage over an Alien Queen in the midst of her den? Why did she have to go and close herself inside that tunnel? Wait a minute. Many animals hibernate. Some even seal themselves inside their burrows. If we can avoid disturbing her dormancy, it might give us an advantage.

Eleanor stirred from her supine position upon the bed in her frugal lodging, rolling to the side as she reached for the intercom switch. She had only located and made herself comfortable in her almost monastic accommodations a few moments before; hence, she doubted that she would catch Colin already asleep. Since it took several seconds for him to respond, she hoped he was merely in the midst of getting ready to retire. He sounded quite disheveled when he eventually answered though.

"I've got something I'd like you to sleep on," she said, trying to suggest that she had no intention of interrupting his rest.

"I'm not trading pillows with you. And I don't' care what you're offering in exchange," he replied, surprising her with a jest.

"Oh come on," she crooned, playing along. "I'm sure we can work something out."

There was a substantial pause before he finally replied, "Under other circumstances maybe, but I'm honestly way too tired. What's on your mind?"

"A little engineering enigma," she answered. "I need some way to remove that rocky obstruction while causing a minimum amount of disturbance. If the occupant happens to be hibernating, it extremely simplifies matters for us if we can reach her without arousing her."

"And here I thought you had no compunctions whatsoever about waking somebody up," he quietly chortled. "Where did I get such a silly idea?"

"I'm really sorry," she honestly admitted. "I was hoping you hadn't nodded off. Since you won't accept my pillow, I hope you'll at least accept my apology."

"If I can solve your little puzzle, you might consider making that pillow offer on some other occasion," he suggested.

"I just might," she playfully replied, smiling invisibly. "Have productive dreams. Good night, Colin."

"Good night, Eleanor," he hoarsely answered. She realized that she could hear him rolling back over as he switched off. She squeezed her pillow and wondered if his would really be worth the trade. She was surprised to find herself thinking in such adventurous terms, especially about somebody to whom she had only just been introduced. She had to remind herself that she was fatigued and that she could not afford to let the danger of their situation induce her into making desperate decisions. She and Colin both deserved better.

Her dreams were inhabited only by strangely lit statues. In them, she seemed to be engaged in attempting to understand something about these stationary subjects. But the elements of the dreams were too disjointed for her to make any sense of them when she awoke. She was startled into wakefulness, although she was not immediately able to tell by what. She discovered with disappointment that she had neglected to set the alarm on the clock in her quarters as she realized at the same time that she had actually slept for a full eight hours.

Gathering her wits she discerned the sound of commotion in the corridor just outside her quarters. This, she rightly reasoned, was what had awakened her. But she wondered why everybody would be so busy in the outermost extremities of the ship. There were no critical systems whatsoever in the residential section of the spacecraft. Correctly leaping to the unacceptable conclusion, she figured out that these researchers were preparing to disembark. Evidently, and without her recommendation, Director Esperanza had already started sending shuttles down to the surface.

She doubted that she would be able to employ courtesy with him over the intercom, so she bathed and dressed as quickly as she possibly could. Brusquely sidestepping the corridor's exceptionally energetic traffic, she made her way directly to the bridge. Barely restraining her outrage, she located Emilio and purposefully approached him.

"Please tell me you're not already sending people to the surface," she tensely said.

"Whatever remains of the infestation has now been isolated, thanks to you and your team," Emilio easily answered. "The wreckage is on the other side of the rock ridge from that position. We used remotes to set up protective perimeters before we sent anyone in, just in case. But you must understand that until moments ago we couldn't even establish our legal claim to this site. As I'm sure you know; it takes company feet on the ground for that. I'd be a useless director if I got you to accept this assignment and then let someone steal it out from under us."

"If that Alien Queen is in hibernation, it could represent a unique and unprecedented advantage," she responded with quiet force. "But we have no way of estimating just how sensitive to vibrations she might be. If she's awake and waiting for us when we open her burrow, it will completely change the dynamic of this operation. It could in fact completely compromise our capacity for capturing a surviving specimen. I'm recommending that you reconsider."

"I waited until the wreckage was downwind of the ridge, just in case she could smell us coming," Emilio defensively countered. "And I'm making all the researchers walk quite a considerable distance from the landing site. I won't bring in any of the big machinery to start extracting the sections of the ship until you've completed your capture. I understand your concerns. I even appreciate how circumspect you're being regarding the details; but I have a responsibility here as well, and I simply cannot allow yours to supercede mine."

Even though yours deals exclusively with company profits and my only concern has to do with the survival of our species?

She managed not to say it aloud, but she dearly wanted to; and after giving careful consideration to rephrasing her sentiment, she finally said instead, "I am only concerned with keeping everyone alive. That includes you. Be sure you don't let your responsibility supercede your survival. The thing that got loose on the Nostromo left only one survivor. The thing that got loose at Hadley's Hope left only one survivor. The thing that got loose on the Sulaco left only one survivor among the non-Artificial Marines. And if one of those things gets loose on this ship, don't count on being the only one left alive; because I will make sure this ship self-destructs if it's the last thing I do. If the only way to contain this thing is by killing everybody aboard, that is what my responsibility will require."

Eleanor was uncomfortably aware of how completely quiet it had suddenly become on the bridge as Director Esperanza paused before ultimately answering, "Of course."

Even though there was nothing overt in the director's tone or expression to suggest it, she could not help feeling as if she were being patronized. Emilio's true priorities were not being represented. Without any sensor array to substantiate her suspicions, she was just as certain of his deception as she was of the existence of the derelict and the hidden hazard on the planetoid below. And she was beginning to wonder which was actually the more dangerous.

As she disengaged from her distressing dialogue with the director, Colin caught her attention. He was working at a console in an alcove of the control room. His gesture was that of someone with something exciting to share, not that of a colleague trying to rescue her from a difficult confrontation. But she was relieved anyway to find him redirecting her away from Emilio, and she was overjoyed at an opportunity to interact yet again with the endearing engineer. She discovered with surprise that she had to concentrate in order to approach him like a professional, and not as someone toward whom she had an intimate interest.

"So, you're a morning person," she smilingly said, unable to resist the temptation to make the jest. "I'll have to remember that."

"You've no idea," he teasingly responded, lowering his voice and shaking his head. "I hope you won't be too disappointed to discover that I really wanted to talk to you about your engineering challenge though. I've been studying our scans and I have an idea."

"Impress me," she said.

"And here I was hoping I already had," he jokingly rejoined.

"I don't recall saying you could quit," she lightheartedly replied, shaking her head at him.

"Very well, I guess it's back to business then," he pouted, playing up the pretense of disappointment. Indicating a screen where he had some scans from the probe displayed, he said, "We need to get a sample of the resin that's holding these rocks together. If only the resin is strong enough, there's a chance we could dissolve what's spread around the opening's perimeter, insert an expandable spine through a hole drilled in the center, and lift the entire obstruction out as a single piece."

"I'll bet you'd have made one heck of a safecracker," she offhandedly observed. "So we need to send the probe back down?"

"Stanford is already on it," he replied. "He's down in Telemetry Control. Considering that we don't want to wake the occupant, and it's an exceptionally delicate operation, he didn't want to be distracted by all the commotion up here."

"That was probably a wise decision," she said. Glancing all around, she then asked "But it doesn't bother you?"

"I seem to have this inborn ability to tune out everybody and everything around me," he answered. He then amusingly added, "It might be why I never managed to marry."

She laughed at his levity, asking, "Do you suppose we'd disturb Stanford if we went down there?"

"We can always try," he curiously countered. "You are however assuming that he's not already as disturbed as the rest of us, are you not?"

"Calling you a morning person may have been a serious underestimation," she said as he led them both in the suggested direction.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he grinningly agreed, looking back over his shoulder to wink at her.

Telemetry Control was aptly titled. The cavernous compartment was crammed full of some of the most advanced technology Eleanor had ever seen. It was instantly apparent to her that Weyland-Yutani had spared absolutely no expense in equipping the ship that was supposed to secure the most dangerous site in all of explored space. She had quite consciously been avoiding the exobiology lab, although Director Esperanza had seemed eager to acquaint her with her workspace; however, she knew she was only delaying the inevitable. Other less senior professionals in her field were already working with the inert specimens that had been recovered from the wreckage of the derelict. Because she had accepted responsibility for capturing the other Alien Queen, if that proved to be possible, it was her sole assignment.

Responding to the sound of their entrance, Stanford spoke over his shoulder saying, "I was able to obtain a sample. The probe is on its way back to the ship right now. It'll be going to the chemists as soon as it's brought aboard. Eleanor, we might want to take the opportunity to visit your lab and see if it's already equipped to contain a live specimen."

It did not escape Eleanor's attention that Stanford seemed to somehow be aware of the fact that she had yet to report to her own lab. When considering how comfortable he obviously was with the director, it made her wonder if he was fast-tracked on his way up through the company. Somehow he had almost immediately managed to embed himself in an association between two of the most senior researchers in the project, almost as if that alliance had been anticipated. She told herself that she needed to remember to ask Colin just how Stanford had been selected to assist them. She wanted to know if Emilio had been involved in making that recommendation.

It left her feeling extremely troubled to think that their triumvirate might have already been infiltrated by somebody whose motives could not truly be trusted.

Nevertheless, at least for the foreseeable future, his participation was of paramount importance. The first incursion into the cave needed to be accomplished with a probe. It was not the kind of industry she preferred to apportion to someone whose motives were not necessarily known; but at this point, even if there was somebody more qualified, she would still be running the risk of seeming to reward Stanford's dedication with dismissal. If this represents some kind of corporate trap, it's incredibly well conceived.

"I suppose that would be the most expeditious use of our time right now," she finally answered when it became clear that both men were expecting a response. "You've both seen the specimens through the probe's scanners, so I suppose you can both be trusted not to lose it in the lab."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence!" Colin laughed as he began moving towards the doorway through which they had entered.

"Just for the sake of argument," Stanford teasingly asked, "what would happen if we were to lose it in the lab?"

"That's why God gave me assistants," Eleanor mischievously chortled. "Biology can be a messy business. But when you're a senior researcher, sanitation is a simple matter of delegation."

"And I am sure your assistants are all unspeakably appreciative your attitude," Colin finally found the breath to amusingly observe.

"They always say they are," Eleanor answered in a singsong voice as she moved to the front of the group, leading the way around a corner and gesturing towards her lab.

"I think that's their job," Stanford said.

"You don't think they really mean it?" Eleanor affectedly demanded, feigning shock.

Before anyone could phrase an answer, they realized that they were walking beside an elongated window that looked into the exobiology lab. The sight of all the splayed out specimens brought them to a sudden stop and silenced all conversation. The immediacy of the menace was abruptly brought home. In the harsh light of their clinical situation, the remains were abhorrent in the extreme.

"What happens if I'm actually the one who loses it in the lab," Eleanor asked, barely breathing.

"Just warn us first so we can all freak out together," Coin absently responded.

At the end of the lab by which they were standing were several spread specimens of the spider-like form of the alien. To their right, toward the center of the elongated lab and its entrance, were examples of the drones or workers. Some of the fossilized remains of the derelict's crewmembers were being studied there as well. At the extreme other end was all that could be recovered of the Alien Queen's carcass. That particular trophy was in deplorable condition. To Eleanor, its state of decomposition seemed to somehow only make it that much more horrible.

As one of the scientists looked up at her through the faceplate of a biohazard mask, she recognized the most senior of her assistants. Shedding her protective headgear, the woman, Suki Suzuki, motioned them towards the doorway and indicated that it was safe for them to go in. They cautiously complied.

As the trio timidly entered, Eleanor made the inquiry that was foremost on the minds of her two companions, asking, "Why are wearing biohazard suits if you don't really need them?"

"Looking at these monstrosities through glass is marginally more manageable," Suki honestly admitted.

"Okay," Eleanor answered, not knowing how else to address such openness as she glanced anxiously around. But she finally found the professional poise to also ask, "Have you confirmed what the Sulaco said concerning the colonists' findings about the acid?"

"Yes, it oxidizes at death," Suki said. "And we verified the lack of all cellular activity."

"Good," Eleanor replied, trying to sound reassured. "Anything else?"

"Most of the samples were frozen and fossilized, then scorched and irradiated, and then left for a century," Suki illustratively answered. "This is true for the Alien Queen, the drones, and all the members of the derelict's crew. As a consequence, our scans haven't been particularly revealing. So far we've only succeeded in making some determinations about structure and internal anatomy. But we're about to begin taking cross-sections, so we may be on the verge of some breakthroughs with these older samples. We do have a few of the spider-like forms that we believe were still viable at the time of the Nostromo's encounter. We hope to extract an embryo from one of them, but I cannot account for the condition of anything we recover. All I know is that the only way we'll ever sequence any of their genetics is with a comparatively uncontaminated specimen. Prolonged exposure to radiation has clearly wrought havoc with the cellular structures of every specimen I've examined."

As carefully as she could, Eleanor hesitantly asked, "In your estimation, are we truly equipped to incarcerate an Alien Queen?"

Suki smiled at her superior's reticence and then replied, "Not in here. But there's a specially built bay beyond the bulkhead of the back wall, completely compartmentalized. If she tried to use her acid to escape, it would expose the first encapsulating shell to the vacuum of space. The acid would simply be sucked away into space and she would find herself in an absolutely airless environment; at least, until we sealed off and pressurized the next in the series of shells. And there are several successive shells. Since we know they're able to learn, we'd probably only have to do this once or twice before she got the message."

"But what if she's just ridiculously stupid and doesn't relent?" Eleanor asked before either of her companions could pose the question.

"The bay is surrounded by space," Suki soberly responded. "We simply jettison that compartment."

"Discard such a specimen?" Eleanor affectedly asked, pretending surprise.

"All we really need is a sample of her tissue," Suki stated very matter-of-factly. "But of course, her ovipositor would be the real trophy."

Not really wanting to get involved in such a scientific discussion in front of Colin and Stanford, Eleanor changed the subject by asking, "So, have you managed to answer any of the biggest questions?"

"My two biggest questions can't be answered by anything in this lab," Suki said with complete candor.

"And those are?" Stanford entered the conversation by asking.

"There were thousands of the spider-like forms of the alien, but only a few hundred were still in their egg sacks," Suki observed. "Either they emerge and aggressively seek a host when they're unable to hibernate anymore or there were a lot more than eighteen crewmembers on the derelict. In that case, there's no way of knowing how many remain unaccounted for. Let's just hope you're not going to open that aperture on an alien army. We're not that desperate for live specimens."

"You said you had two questions," Colin interjected, steering the conversation away from such unsolicited speculation. "What was the other?"

"I'd like to know why the military so easily abandoned this prime piece of real estate and the exceptional opportunity it represented," Suki replied. "Were they so unspeakably disappointed when their probes didn't discover any viable alien organisms that they then chose to discard the derelict and all the revolutionary breakthroughs its technology could represent?"

"Being a telemetry specialist, I occasionally intercept sensitive information," Stanford almost inaudibly said, prefacing his diffusion of the facts she had tempted him to expose.

"What have you heard?" Suki conspiratorially whispered.

"Their sole interest here was apparently the alien," he cautiously answered. "Having determined, or so they believed, the absence of any surviving example, they've returned to some plan they were apparently already pursuing. I'm sorry but I don't know what that relates to, except that it involves a vessel called the Auriga. I'm not sure if I got the name right though, since I couldn't find any registry for such a ship. But whatever they're doing clearly hasn't been going very well. That much at least was quite clear."

"I can't even imagine," said Suki. "To the best of my knowledge this is the only place in all of explored space where such a specimen could possibly have been recovered."

"I completely concur," Eleanor agreed. "A couple regrettably managed to stow away aboard the Sulaco, but after it crashed on Fury that infestation was eliminated."

"Has anyone here eaten anything recently?" Colin abruptly asked. "I awoke with an epiphany and skipped breakfast to get right to work on it. But I'm not going to be able to institute my scheme without some sustenance. We can't do very much until we have the results of the chemical analysis."

"Let's make sure our chemistry technician knows where to find us and get down to the mess hall. Someone," said Stanford as he jokingly jostled Colin, "got me out of bed to take our probe back down to the planetoid."

Director Esperanza joined them not very long after they sat down and began eating. He pulled a chair over for the purpose. Eleanor noted that he sat down next to Stanford.

"How's it going," he amiably inquired, aiming his question at her.

"We're waiting for Chemistry to finish their analysis of the resin and tell us if they've devised a way to dissolve it," Eleanor answered. She was somewhat startled that there were no indications of residual tension from their confrontation on the bridge. Since she doubted that he had indeed dismissed the incident, she could only surmise that he was exceptionally skilled at disguising his true emotions. This was a disquieting discovery.

Whether Emilio had somehow anticipated the arrival of the report and wanted to be present or it was a completely unplanned coincidence, she could not hope to determine; but the analysis and recommendation from Chemistry came through only scant seconds after his intriguingly timely arrival.

After regarding the report, Eleanor announced, "Since they already suspected that it was organic, they were able to break the compound down pretty quickly despite it having some highly unusual properties. It took one of their metallurgists to finally figure a way to dissolve it. Right now they're synthesizing a corrosive spray. It should be ready in about an hour."

"Colin and I talked extensively about his plan," Emilio casually said. "Once the spray is applied to the rocks around the border of the blockage, the probe might be able to pull it straight up out of the entrance. But the place where the probe has to pierce it and send through its expanding spike may not be exactly in the middle. If our purpose is to prevent vibration, we need it to come out clean. Someone is going to have to guide the edges as it comes out. To take care of that, I've assembled a team of Artificials. They are stronger, faster, and not at risk of being used as hosts. They will have energy weapons with which to defend themselves. They'll also make sure that our researchers are all afforded ample time to evacuate if an army of aliens comes pouring out of that pit. Since we've got time, would you like to meet them?"

In the interest of not continuing to appear adversarial, Eleanor fought the temptation to ask if the Artificials had indeed volunteered for the assignment and instead answered, "Absolutely. Let's go meet them."

Emilio led the team to the nearest of the massive spaceship's landing ports. Due to the rotation of scientists to the surface, the bay was bustling. But in one assembly area there was a craft and crew that seemed dissimilar to the rest. Emilio led them that way.

Naming first Eleanor, Colin, Stanford, and Suki; the director then turned towards the assembled Artificials and said, "This is Poole, Deacon, Terrance, Sangria, Vladimir, Duff, Lentz, and Chalice. They'll help the probe carefully extract the rock obstruction, and then they'll keep the area secured while it makes its reconnaissance and hopefully carries out a capture."

"What? No top-secret designation for a team with so important an assignment," Suki jokingly asked.

"I suggested that we call ourselves the Church Mice, but it clearly didn't go over very well," Deacon amiably admitted.

"Church mice don't carry energy weapons," Sangria matter-of-factly stated.

Eleanor found it interesting that there were two female models among the Artificials, considering that they were anticipating the prospect of combat. But she also understood that they would get along at least as well as the most highly trained female Marines. She elected not to incur criticism by questioning the decision.

Instead, she said, "I hope you realize that your inability to serve as hosts only makes you more expendable to any aliens you encounter. Don't take any chances."

"Thanks," Poole replied. "We've all been fully briefed but it still makes more sense to send us. It increases both the odds of success and of the survival of the assisting team."

To Eleanor his response certainly made it sound as if the group's cooperation had in no way been coerced. And their situation unfortunately did not allow for the acquisition of any additional assurances. She merely nodded once in mock agreement; saddened that, like at least one other member of the group, she found it necessary to misrepresent how she truly felt. It bothered her to be emulating Emilio.

The director explained that a solution for dissolving the resin was being synthesized and that the effort would be underway within the hour. Because entry into the remains of the planetoid's atmosphere would not be as problematic for the probe, it seemed wisest to the Artificials to go ahead and start their descent to the surface. In the absence of any dissenting opinions, they politely took their leave and swiftly disappeared into their ship.

Backing away from the assembly area in compliance with instructions that were also spoken by automation, the organic individuals wordlessly watched as the spaceship that contained their constructed counterparts sped from the Centaur and dropped toward the ominous orb below. It seemed suddenly insubstantial as it entered the atmosphere, as if it were an ember that would simply disappear when its flame was extinguished. Eleanor found that she had to turn away from the unsettling impression, thus continuing with her clandestine countenance. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to be honest with anyone around her when she felt in her heart that they were all in the midst of making an immense mistake.

"The people in Space Technologies are adapting our probe to spray the solvent, so that's where the chemists will have it sent. We could go wait there," Stanford suggested.

"Excellent idea," Emilio approvingly replied.

"As much as I'd like to hang out and see what happens, I should be getting back to the exobiology lab," Suki remorsefully said. "Tan Kolinsky, our resident genetics expert, is still hoping we'll be able to extract useful samples from some of the remains."

"We'll keep you advised," Eleanor consolingly said.

As the rest of the team turned and let Stanford lead the way, Suki split off and went in a different direction, momentarily reminding Eleanor of the missing-man formation she had recently seen at an air show on Earth. Considering how many months of hypersleep she had actually experienced between, she decided that it was not nearly as recent as it seemed. So many trusted perceptions are in reality completely prejudiced.

Having never seen it close at hand, the probe was far more impressive than she had imagined; not just in terms of its technology, but also the scale of its substantial size.

"Are you certain you will be able to get it through the aperture after it's opened?" she asked, turning to Stanford.

"No problem," he confidently countered.

"How are you going to capture the Alien Queen?" Emilio asked.

"Our plan is pretty much the same whether she's hibernating or not," he indifferently answered. "In fact, the probe has already been equipped with tanks of the cryospray that I'll use to freeze her, and the expandable spine that our ingenious engineer designed."

"Just don't accidentally spray her with the solvent instead," Colin joked, "unless you want to really piss her off."

"Couldn't it be fatal to freeze her like that?" Emilio apprehensively inquired, not quite concealing his concern for the well-being of their boon.

"According to our information, these things can even survive in the vacuum of space for brief durations," Eleanor took the opportunity to answer. "In addition to immobilizing it, the cryospray will create a protective casing around the creature, keeping it secure while it's transported to the Centaur. Reviving it shouldn't present a problem. The only difficulty will be keeping it under control until we're ready to release it in the holding bay. Freezing it is the only solution that addresses all the issues. If you have any other ideas, this is the time to talk about them."

"I can't come up with any alternatives," Emilio admitted.

"Neither could any of the rest of us," said Stanford.

Only a short time later, one of the technicians from the chemistry lab hand delivered the canisters of resin-eating solvent. They were swiftly fastened into place on the probe. After a few short tests to certify that everything was in operational order, the servicemen unplugged the probe from its diagnostic station and transferred control back to Stanford.

"Let's get this show on the road," Emilio instructed. "I am counting on you people to make me proud."

You're counting on us to pad your profits.

Eleanor was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her tongue under control. Such a lack of skill concerning something so primary made her wonder how she could expect to command an organism that was not only entirely outside herself but also more fearsome than anything ever encountered by humankind. But if complete self-control were actually a prerequisite for interfacing with the alien, is there even anyone who could measure up to such a standard?

The trio followed Stanford as he retreated to his workstation in Telemetry Control. It had seemed reasonable to her to at least allow him to attempt the unattainable from the comfort of his cubicle. She tried to derive reassurance from the overwhelming amount of technology by which they were soon surrounded. Having finally seen the probe up close, she could appreciate how incredibly advanced was the instrumentality by which the Alien Queen would soon find herself confronted. She reminded herself that science was fully a century more sophisticated than it had been during the previous encounter. She hoped it would be enough.

The screens soon displayed the surrealistic panorama of planetfall as the probe fell into the planetoid's atmosphere. As it descended toward the ridge, they could all see that the Artificials were already in position around the obstruction. Four members of the team stood ready to help direct the blockage up and out of the entrance. The others had taken up supporting positions behind and slightly to the sides of their exposed associates, with their energy weapons already leveled at the area of operation.

Stanford maneuvered the probe into position and started systematically spraying the solvent all around the edge of the obstruction. It was necessary to repeat the application, making several circuits around the circumference. Finally, he was satisfied that the resin had been removed from the outer edges of each boulder that held the blockage in place.

He then cautiously located the approximate middle of the stone stopper, selecting a place between the boulders to dissolve a tiny opening for the probe's expanding spine. It was mercilessly slow going, since he only wanted to insert enough of the solvent to open an adequate conduit for the armature but not enough to result in any resonating splatters in the passageway beyond. At last, he was able to successfully insert the probe's spindle into the puncture. The Artificials stepped forward to assist with the extraction.

After expanding the backstop at the end of the probe's inserted spire, as carefully as he could, Stanford started pulling the rock plug up out of the channel's entrance. Artificial hands guided the amalgamated obstruction, keeping it from scraping against the sides of the shaft. Emilio reached out and switched one of the screens to show the view from the shuttle, which the Artificials had succeeded in silently situating a short distance from the site.

As the blackness beneath the obstruction became visible, Eleanor clinched her jaw so tightly that she almost injured herself. However, nothing nightmarish erupted from the ominous shadows. Consequently, Stanford was afforded enough time to quietly discard the capstone some distance away. The Artificials fell back and took up positions around the entrance, warily watching down the burnished barrels of their raised weapons.

"This is why I make the big bucks," Stanford acerbically said as he gently eased the probe in the direction of the darkness.

"Just take it nice and easy," Eleanor encouragingly instructed, not even noticing that she had spoken these words through clinched teeth in very much the same manner as a veteran ventriloquist.

As the tunnel stretched obscurely into the distance, Stanford said, "Ambient radar is not going to be enough, and the information we have insists that these things don't show up at all with infra red. I'm going to try very low levels of ultraviolet and hope that doesn't give us away. Assuming we still have the advantage of surprise, I'd sure hate to waste it; but it takes next to nothing for the probe to scan its surroundings."

The display on the screen brightened appreciably. The contours of the tunnel could now be seen. It was an expansive conduit, one that would easily accommodate an Alien Queen. And it was deceptively deep.

"Do you think this goes down far enough that she might've been protected from the radiation?" Emilio asked, barely suppressing his excitement.

"We won't know for sure until we find the level of the lair," Stanford distractedly said.

After a number of nerve-racking turns, they finally recognized the telltale bend at the bottom of the tunnel and they knew that they were on the very outskirts of their objective. Leveling out, the probe almost immediately encountered the kinds of artificial formations, completely composed of secreted resin, which announced the entrance to the nest.

"Come into my parlor," Stanford hesitantly said.

"What are those things scattered across the cave floor?" Emilio abruptly asked. But as Stanford in response increased the intensity of the scans, the director then answered his own question, saying, "They're face-huggers."

It had been awhile since Eleanor encountered the colloquialism, inspired by a rather disgustingly graphic description of the alien's attack strategy. Because Emilio noticed her sidelong look of disapproval, she patiently explained, "What we're seeing is the arachnid stage of the xenomorphic parasitoid."

"Then in your expert opinion," countered the director, not amused, "why exactly are they all over the floor?"

As the probe continued to move forwards, it was apparent that the egg sacks within the range of its scanners had all been opened. Their previous occupants were crumpled grotesquely on the ground. The nightmarish forms were fossilized. In fact, it looked as if they had been in that solidified condition for just as long as the crew of the derelict.

Speaking to Eleanor, Colin speculated, "I guess you were right. They automatically hatch and hunt for a host if they're near death."

"So that guy from the Nostromo stumbled into a nest that was probably about to die. And if they'd only come a little later, he might've lived and they might've recovered some remains that could still have yielded a viable DNA sample?" Stanford asked, shaking his head.

"But what about the reactive field he described?" the director demanded.

"This is only theoretical," Eleanor softly responded. "It might be that they only set up such a field when they're in hibernation. While none was encountered at Hadley's Hope, it's also true that the eggs were freshly laid. Had the Sulaco come later, they might very well have found such fields. But the presence of the live adults might have played a part as well. I think we can surmise that there are no survivors down here."

"What about the Alien Queen?" Emilio asked, unmistakably disappointed.

"I'll be screamingly screwed, I think I just found her," Stanford announced, switching the probe to normal illumination.

Glistening in the condensation of centuries, she stood in the center of the chamber like a statue of carved onyx. Not only was her ovipositor still attached, but it looked as if she had actually died while in the midst of giving birth.

Indicating one of the digital gauges, Emilio plaintively protested, "But there's hardly any radiation down here! Why are they all dead?"

"These weren't killed by radiation," Stanford said, restating the obvious. "It looks like they've been dead a lot longer than that."

"Life support," Colin mysteriously mused aloud, his voice scarcely a whisper.

"What?" Emilio impatiently asked.

"She didn't seal off the tunnel and come down here in order to hide," Colin continued enigmatically.

"We're not following you," Eleanor admitted. "What have figured out?"

"Something's been bothering me ever since I saw those orbital photos taken by the Sulaco," Colin replied, visibly trying to collect his thoughts. "The place where the derelict came down didn't have the aspect of a crash site. The crew might've already been dead, but their incredibly advanced ship simply landed itself. Without understanding what they were, or that they'd killed the crew, it might've been able to tell that there was something still alive onboard. For as long as it could, it maintained life support. When it finally failed, the Alien Queen must've realized that her hive was in an insufferable situation. She sent her successor out to establish a second nest somewhere else. But the atmosphere was inadequate, so she tried to use depth to compensate for the lack of pressure. She even sealed the passageway in an attempt to control her underground environment. However, it wasn't enough."

"So we discovered a second site only to finally find that even it is perfectly useless?" Emilio incredulously asked.

"I wouldn't say that," Eleanor encouragingly countered. "The Alien Queen is entirely intact, along with her ovipositor. In fact, none of these specimens have been ripped apart and irradiated like their counterparts topside. We might get some very valuable insights from examining them. We might even get some viable genetic samples."

"Then I suppose I'd better have the Artificials started bringing them aboard," Emilio said, voicing his assumption.

"No!" Eleanor unintentionally exclaimed.

"What? Why the hell not?" demanded the director, darkening.

Gathering herself, Eleanor answered, "I have to go down there. We've never found a complete nest before. Taking scans just simply isn't enough. There are things that can be learned only by direct observation. As much as I hate to say it, I have to go inspect it."

"You had better let me finish my sweep and make sure there really isn't any cellular activity at all," Stanford suggested.

"Please do," Eleanor replied, sighing.

"I need to get down there and be on hand to supervise the extraction of the consoles from the derelict anyway," Colin conversationally said, turning and smiling at Eleanor. He then conspiratorially asked, "Do you think you could use an engineer's perspective down there in that hellhole?"

"You're a prince," she replied, very evidently comforted by his offer.

"I can stay on station with the probe," Stanford suggested. "Between the three of us, maybe we'll make this pay off in a big way yet."

Eleanor noticed how Emilio appreciably brightened at the possibility of a payoff. He hovered over Stanford's shoulder while the telemetry expert carefully certified the utterly deceased condition of every parasitoid in the pit, arachnid or otherwise.

The director had the Artificials stand by so they could escort the incursion and then remove the most promising specimens; the selection of which would, of course, be up to Eleanor. Once Stanford had completed his sweep with the probe and was assured of the safety of the site, she and Colin exited Telemetry Control together. In the interim, no one could help noticing how quiet she had become. Her consort wisely waited until they were out in the corridor before he tried to initiate any kind of discussion.

"I know the place sure looks scary on the screen," he understandingly said. "But you saw the results of the scans. Those things have all been dead for centuries, maybe even millennia. If you want to pass the examination of the remains to Suki for awhile after that, I'm sure I could use your help at the derelict. I still believe that spacecraft represents our greatest opportunity for discovery. I think it's reasonable to expect that we will eventually encounter its architects; so, since you are the senior exobiologist, I also believe that your primary responsibility should be to help us prepare for that."

"LV-426 is no longer beyond the outer rim," Eleanor observed. "The derelict was first discovered a hundred and fifty years ago. In all that time and despite the way humankind has spread itself across space, we've had no contact with its creators. Is it unreasonable to think they may have been driven into extinction by the very catastrophe with which we continue to flirt?"

"Since we haven't even found any trace of their civilization, I'd have to conclude that we simply haven't crossed into their region of space," Colin countered. "That ship may've been way off course. I suppose it could've even been from another galaxy. And if there's an intergalactic drive to be recovered here, I cannot overstate the importance of this site. Nor can I overstate how honored we should feel to be representing our race in so critical a project."

"You sound like you're starting to drift away from the importance of the navigational system," Eleanor disapprovingly observed, reminding him of their earlier discussion. "I'd like to think the derelict and the parasitoids were both from some distant galaxy, since it would limit the contamination of the Milky Way to this solitary site. But I do not think they were off course. And I'm basing that on what you said in Telemetry Control. The derelict made a deliberate landing. It could just as easily have taken them home instead, unless they realized what was happening to them and had only enough time to reprogram their destination. Consider that the ship sat down on an uninhabitable planetoid orbiting a gas giant in an unremarkable solar system. They didn't want to be rescued. They were trying to quarantine the thing that killed them."

"If that's the case, then why didn't they just destroy their ship?" he carefully inquired.

"I can't conceive of how such a thing should be possible, but it seems that their ship was actually some kind of organism," she answered. "Perhaps they could not cause it to destroy itself, so their only option was to swiftly scuttle it and set up the warning beacon."

"What if you're right? Where does that leave us? Don't you think we should still try to discover everything we can about what happened here?" he asked as they arrived at the hatchway to the shuttle bay.

"That depends on how the information is going to be used," she carefully answered. "If we're going to use the navigational data to avoid any regions of space were we might encounter the parasitoid, then I would agree. But if we're going to use it to go looking for an organism that was able to easily overcome the members of a race whose knowledge of genetics is approximately incomprehensible, then the answer is definitely not."

Entering the shuttle, which had already been programmed by a flight coordinator to take them to the tunnel's opening, Colin waited until they were securely sealed inside to say, "I know Director Esperanza is trying to turn a profit on this place, but he is just doing his job. I appreciate just how suicidal it would be for us to try to exploit these parasitoids, but any possibility of that happening has all but been eliminated at this point. The way to make sure it remains a dead subject is by focusing on the advancements we could make by understanding the alien ship's systems. I know you're just concerned about the threat these things could represent but, honestly, it's like you're suspecting something insidious from the same administration that gave us this opportunity. I'm not sure I can concur with you there."

"It was not by chance that the Nostromo picked up the alien transmission. In fact, it'd already been decoded before they were even rerouted toward LV-426," Eleanor fearfully revealed. "The company wanted it checked out cheaply. They even replaced the science officer with a reprogrammed Artificial. This android was supposed to ensure the return of the organism, as in all other considerations suspended and crew expendable."

"What?" Colin exclaimed, outraged. "I just finished reviewing all the information they gave us regarding what happened here! There was nothing about any of this! How come you know all this?"

"I'm the great-granddaughter of Ellen Ripley, the sole survivor of the Nostromo," she reluctantly admitted. "I litigiously went after the transcripts of her hearing and, because of being a direct descendent, I succeeded. Perhaps now in the utter absence of their actual objective they will accept it as a substitute but, make no mistake, the company has never been interested in the derelict. And neither now apparently is the military. I think it's clear why. We examined all the wreckage. Did you see anything even remotely reminiscent of a propulsion system?"

"No, I can't say I did," he disappointedly replied. "And excuse me for doubling back to the bombshell you just dropped, but is Emilio aware of who you are and all the things you know?"

"I'm starting to feel like I made a deal with the devil," she sadly said, "but we settled out of court. I agreed to conditionally keep quiet about what I'd discovered; but if I were to die under suspicious circumstances, as well they know, a law firm will make sure the facts come out. In exchange for my silence, I have complete job security and automatic assignment to anything the company does relevant to what happened here. And Emilio can't disclose my personal relationship to the project without my consent any more than he can fire me. But there've been some very underhanded dealings behind the scenes for over a century, and the company's agenda here may not be anything like what they are representing. Don't let them fool you."

"Whoa," he simply said. And then, he asked, "So what made you decide to tell me?"

"It was starting to feel like I was being dishonest with you, and I didn't like it. I didn't want to take a chance on it somehow compromising our friendship," she honestly said.

"It won't. I deeply appreciate your decision to be so upfront with me," he said with a smile. "And don't worry. You're secret is safe with me. But I was wondering – do I talk to Director Esperanza about a raise, or could I maybe just have that discussion with you?"

"I'll see what I can do," she teasingly answered, grinning broadly and reassured that she had indeed made the right decision by confiding in him. Maybe everything's going to work out after all.

Chapter 3

Identity Crisis

The descent to the barren and forbidding ball of LV-426 was the stuff of nightmares. It seemed to Eleanor that she had finally stopped dreaming about it only just in time for it to actually happen. It was a tragic commentary on how little humanity had accomplished there that it bore no resemblance whatsoever to the partially terraformed planetoid in the photos taken by the Sulaco. It appeared altogether inhospitable and totally devoid of any evidence of human habitation. The carbon footprint had been conclusively eradicated by that most odious of humankind's implements – the thermonuclear maelstrom.

Although she was quite uncomfortably conscious of the geographic coordinates that had once identified Hadley's Hope, the distance to the detonation site suddenly seemed utterly insignificant. The torrent of terrifying force that flung the defenseless derelict from the rock ridge had devastatingly struck the upslope before doing so. She speculated that the scorched surface would doubtlessly not have seemed more decimated if it had been struck by a solar flare instead.

Having seen just how perilously precipitous were some of the sections of the tunnel, Eleanor was wondering how she and Colin would be expected to accomplish their transit into the wickedest of warrens. But as they circled around to land, she could see that the Artificials had been preparing to help them. They had already lowered lines into the hole. The probe was standing by to assist and could even provide transportation in a pinch. Nothing like a guided tour directly into the devil's den.

Donning their biohazard suits and disembarking from the comparative security of the shuttle, they manufactured as much courage as they possibly could and doggedly strode out to muster with the elements of their artificial escort. Eleanor, in particular, was hoping that not even Stanford, watching by remote, would be able to estimate how much veneer there was to their valor. She felt like anything except an intrepid explorer. The face of her companion was inscrutable however as she guardedly glanced through the corner of her faceplate at Colin. She found that she derived a certain measure of encouragement from his determined demeanor. She responded by adopting the deportment of somebody who was about to undergo a surgical procedure – resigned to the knowledge that there would be some traumatic moments but also expecting to sleep through the worst of it. I wonder how Colin would feel if he knew I was casting him as my anesthesiologist.

With a cheerfulness that was probably only possible for Artificials in such a situation, the eight engineered individuals pleasantly approached the pair of senior researchers. It took Poole mere moments to explain the rappelling procedure with which they were to all descend into the darkling depths, while also reassuring them of ongoing observation and assistance by the other members of the group. Having never before undertaken such an endeavor, Eleanor and Colin tried to prepare themselves for the plummet into the pit.

As they accomplished the descent, the two researchers were essentially surrounded by eight Artificials. Possessing perceptions, strength, speed, and reflexes which were far superior to that of humans, Poole and his team could have kept them from falling to their deaths even if Colin and Eleanor had both deliberately let go of the lines simultaneously. With improbable impunity they slipped into the depths of the planetoid.

Arriving at the entrance to the nest, they took time to secure the equipment they had used during the descent. Having spent that entire time trying to maintain her composure, it now occurred to Eleanor to wonder how they could be extracted. She remembered that it was possible for them to ride the probe, as it swept past them and aimed its impressive illumination into the horrific chamber that stretched before them.

As she considered one of her previous conversations with Colin, the one where they had speculated about the possibly engineered origin of the alien, she found that she had to question the kind of mental illness or drug overdose that would result in such revolting visions. Gazing upon the grotesquely disgorged and terrifying features that assaulted her eyes, she found that she had to forcefully suppress her flight instinct. It would have been as embarrassing as it would have been useless to turn and attempt to scramble back up the sheer sides of rocky conduit. She waited until everyone else started moving forward; and then, at a somewhat retarded rate, she diffidently followed.

Almost at once, she regretted having to wear a helmet. Some of the strands of resin looked almost like intestines. Knowing only too well the carnage that could be caused by the kind of creature responsible, it seemed to her almost like a cautionary advertisement. Unbidden, images of the ruptured chest cavities of the derelict's crewmembers formed in her mind. She shut her eyes and swallowed hard, willing the contents of her stomach not to return to the waking world. She wanted to try and make some kind of joke about being in the bowels of the earth, but she was afraid of what might really happen if she dared to open her mouth.

Somehow, I have to find a way to disconnect myself from my revulsion and achieve an impassive state of scientific observation.

"Poole, would you see if we can somehow split open one of these eggs sacks?" she asked.

As much as she did not intend to provide Director Esperanza with any viable genetic material, she knew he was watching and that she was expected to make an attempt. But she also needed to decisively demonstrate to her diminishing equanimity that there were no unknowns, that there was now nothing except solidified tissue inside the relinquished receptacles, that they were in fact as lifeless as their previous residents.

It took some experimentation before they were able to determine which piece of the equipment on hand was best suited to slice through the fossilized ellipses. Since the top of the sack was already open and its uppermost section was empty, they at least had an advantageous situation for starting the cut. But just as she expected, the base turned out to be as completely congealed as everything else in the enclosure. Their forcefully made cross-section exposed nothing at all except fossilized tissue, and the discovery helped to reinforce her resolve.

Even with the assurance of additional scanner sweeps, it was very difficult for her to force herself to approach the Alien Queen. She had to keep reminding herself that Ellen Ripley, her great-grandmother, had managed to defeat one such monster in mechanized combat. But understanding the Alien Queen's perspective was essential, so she needed to view the nest from that position. And she needed to do so with the most malevolent of matriarchs still situated at its center.

Much to the discontent of the director, but Eleanor's silent elation, the Alien Queen's ovipositor turned out to also be devoid of any cellular activity. It would take a very careful cross-sectioning to certify the absence of anything suitable for genetic sampling. Eleanor considered asking the Artificials to go ahead and perform the procedure, since she knew that the sample could be compromised by simple exposure. But there was the chance of Emilio realizing what she was trying to do, countermanding her instructions, and placing strict restrictions on her further participation in the project. He could still choose to violate the rules of their settlement if he believed the benefits to the company would be worth it.

After spending the next few hours recording many measurements and observations with her dicta-screen, she finally informed the Artificials that they could begin to prepare the selected samples for transport to the Centaur. Although he had given little indication of being ill at ease, Colin definitely looked relieved by her announcement. The pair made their way to the probe where Poole double-checked the attachment of their tethers. After he was satisfied that they were safely secured, he released them into Stanford's care. It took much less time to accomplish the ascent in this way than it had taken to rappel into the macabre museum. Emerging from the darkling depths, they experienced the strange sensation of finding implausible comfort in the decimated landscape of LV-426.

After uncoupling themselves from the probe, and as it was returning to help with the extraction of the samples, Colin said, "The equipment should just about be in place near the wreckage. I'd really like to have you with me when I see the derelict in person for the first time. Your impressions might be even more important than mine."

"I rather doubt that," she honestly admitted. "But I'm happy to accept your invitation."

Rather than walk all the way around or across the ridge, they climbed back onboard the shuttle and waited for the few moments it took for a flight coordinator on the Centaur to program the little craft for a flight to the worksite. Within minutes, they were skimming over the rocky ridge and heading towards the wreckage of the alien spacecraft. Looking back through the rear portal in the direction from which they had just come, Eleanor was uncomfortably aware that she was experiencing what may have been the last thing ever seen by the crew of that ill-fated ship. It made her even more determined to understand what they had been like while they were alive.

Coming down the other side of the ridge, the scene of devastation was striking. The wreckage of the derelict was spread over square kilometers of the planetoid's forbidding surface. The probe's imaging scanners had somehow made it seem more concentrated and not quite as chaotic. The actual extent of the fragmentation startled both spectators. It was also disturbingly obvious that some of the pieces were of far more substantial size than either of them had realized. In order to conduct a thorough search for any remnants of the derelict's technology, they would have to be able to get to the undersides of these ponderous pieces. There was now machinery at the site that could be employed for such purposes, but relying on it to lift all such obstacles out of the way would be tremendously time-consuming.

Using the shuttle's com system to contact the Centaur, Colin politely said, "Director Esperanza, this is Colin Endicott. As soon as Poole and his team finish with sending up the samples, would you please deploy them to assist us? We could really use their help dealing with all this debris."

"They should join you within the hour," Emilio answered.

As the shuttle touched down, he and Eleanor unfastened their flight harnesses and headed for the hatch. After double-checking their environmental suits, they disembarked. Stepping out of the airlock, they instantly noticed that the terrain on the downwind side of ridge from the shockwave had a different texture. It lacked the crystallized slipperiness of the ridge's other side. It was easier to find safe footing. They hoped this would help them maneuver between the bits of debris which seemed strewn in every direction.

"Wow," Colin anticlimactically observed. "After seeing this through the spectral filters of the probe, now it's like we're looking at it all in black and white."

"Or black and gray," Eleanor agreed. "It's hard to believe anyone ever thought about living here."

"I doubt if that's ever going to happen again now," he somberly responded as he led the way toward a small stack of debris.

After nosing around for awhile beneath one of the smaller mounds of rubbish, they were interrupted by the sound of the approaching Artificials. Their ship landed close by.

Vladimir was the first to emerge. Lentz leapt down directly behind him. Both looked up at Colin and Eleanor at about the same time and then, strangely, they simultaneously paused. Before either researcher could question their weird reaction, Poole appeared in hatchway and jumped down beside them. Looking up, he also came to a sudden stop.

"What's wrong?" Colin finally found the voice to ask.

"It looks like the insides of a disemboweled organism," Terrance answered from his position in the hatchway.

"Yeah," Eleanor uneasily agreed. "It does have that aspect. I guess we were starting to get used to it."

Purposefully striding towards something that was clearly a torn-out section from the side of the ship; Poole turned to his associates and asked, "Do you see what I see?"

"I most certainly do," Sangria responded as she moved to examine the outstretched artifact. "But how can we account for fibers like that in the skin of a spaceship?"

Suddenly understanding that they had no knowledge of the subject being discussed, and almost in unison, Colin and Eleanor asked, "What fibers?"

"That's probably not the best technical description, but they're just similar enough to something with which we are familiar that it cannot be coincidental," Terrance explained. "As Synthetics, our central nervous systems use a kind of conductive material that's very similar to what we're seeing here. It's the artificial equivalent of nerve tissue, only I'm not sure this is artificial."

"Marco Pirelli is the head of the Synthetics Department on the Centaur," said Poole. "I'd strongly suggest that we get him down here to look at this. I'd also recommend that we go see if there's more of this material in the derelict's control room."

The request for the addition to the team was quickly communicated to the Centaur. While they waited for his arrival, they carefully made their way into all that was left of the superstructure of the decimated ship. Arriving within its peculiar confines, the impression of being inside arteries was almost overpowering – much more so that it had been by the surrealistic light of Stanford's remote. Terrance waited outside to receive Marco while all the others went in.

The compartment that contained the control room opened under a domed ceiling. It appeared to be relatively undisturbed, in sharp contrast to the rest of the shattered craft. The nine explorers all quietly crept around the enclosure as they meticulously examined the curious consoles at its outskirts. Its central feature was a raised dais whose function was as open to speculation as the other anonymous instruments situated all around it.

"You didn't find an engine room?" Sangria asked.

"With only one noticeable exception, this equipment represents the only technology we were able to identify," Colin replied. "What we originally believed to be some kind of weapons platform we now think may actually have been a communications device. The crew of the Nostromo found it first, along with an attached operator. It might've been the beacon they homed in on. They were led right to it. But we have no idea what propelled this ship or even what it used as an energy source."

"Because of the orbital photos taken by the Sulaco, we know exactly what this ship looked like before the shockwave hit it," Eleanor added. "We digitally imaged every one of its fragments and, using a computerized simulation, we combined them back together. But it looks like this colossal spacecraft consisted almost entirely of nothing but massive storage compartments and some crew quarters. It apparently landed here under power, but we can find no evidence of the engines with which that landing was accomplished."

"That's just weird," Sangria suspiciously responded.

"We think it's the reason why the military released the site ahead of schedule," Colin volunteered. "When they couldn't solve the mystery, they decided they were just wasting time; but as scientists, we can't let ourselves stop short of anything but understanding."

"The fibers I mentioned before seem to run through the entire mass of this vessel," Poole quietly observed. "Every single place this ship was ripped open, we've seen them exposed. Considering that its compartments look like rib cages and its corridors look like arteries, I have to wonder if this spaceship might be beyond our ability to comprehend."

"Its occupants were humanoid and they used technology," Colin heatedly countered, sounding defensive as with a sweeping gesture he indicated the consoles. "It might take the entire lifetimes of every researcher on the Centaur to understand this, and it certainly won't produce the kind of weapons application that the military would've wanted, but we will get to the bottom of this."

Terrance entered with Marco at that point, and the synthetics expert said, "You have quite the conundrum here. Before I get lost in my own exploration, is there some specific task you'd like me to help you accomplish?"

"As long as it's probably going to take for us to understand what we've found here," Colin replied, "it would be best if we could transport at least these control consoles to the Centaur. Assuming they haven't already been damaged by rolling down the ridge and all the radiation to which they were exposed, I need to be sure we extract them safely. This presents a serious problem since we have no idea how they're connected to the ship."

In response, Marco methodically circulated around the cavernous compartment and carefully examined each of the consoles in question. Looking up from a stooping position beside the last of which, he motioned for Colin and Eleanor to see what he had found.

"The roll down the ridge seems to have broken this connection," he said. "On one of our ships, I would've expected to find fiber-optic cable at such a junction. If I couldn't see that this was coming out of the back of a console, I might've called it spinal tissue. Since we're going to need some way to interface with their technology, I'd recommend that we duplicate the damage seen here. The injury might give us an access for supplying power and it might even make it possible for one of the Synthetics to hook in and communicate with it. But I can see no other way to remove them."

"What about the dais in the middle?" Colin asked.

"It appears to have multiple connection points around its base," Marco replied. "We'll need to laser through each of them as close to the floor as possible to conserve as much of the connective tissue as we can."

Turning to Poole, Eleanor asked, "Do you think there'd be any point in you or one of your team attempting to interface with the connection that's already open."

After aiming a questioning look at Marco, who simply shrugged, Poole finally replied, "Without supplying power, I don't if there'll be any response. But I'm willing to try."

Although disappointment was expected, since the ship certainly seemed dead, they were all let down nevertheless when the attempt was altogether ineffective. Without any other options, but just as carefully as they could, the Artificials used lasers to surgically separate the consoles and the dais from their locations in the control room. By the time they were ready to take all the alien equipment up to the Centaur, night was beginning to fall on the disemboweled derelict. Even the Artificials seemed relieved to be abandoning, however briefly, the bleakness of LV-426.

It had been a very eventful day. With the understandable exception of the Artificials, everyone agreed that they needed a complete sleep-cycle before beginning to work with the commandeered consoles. Suki had been excited to receive the samples from the lair of the Alien Queen and was quite competent to conduct all the required tests without any oversight from her section's senior researcher. But Eleanor contacted Tan Kolinsky to let him know that she would appreciate his appraisal of the recovered consoles.

Colin had originally wondered how Eleanor managed to spend so much time outside her assigned work area. Now that he understood her arrangement with the company, he was simply happy for the opportunity to work together that it coincidentally facilitated.

Despite how frightfully fatigued they both were, the pair lingered in the lounge of the Centaur long after their meals were consumed and their associates had departed to their assigned berths. Comprehending the unspoken desire for privacy, the Artificials headed off to set up and calibrate the necessary testing equipment in the spacious bay that now contained the derelict's consoles.

"How's that pillow holding up?" Colin jokingly asked.

Smiling wanly, Eleanor replied, "It seems like it's been so long since I've seen it that I don't even remember what it looks like."

"You're here for the long haul, aren't you?" he then inquired with accidental intensity, unable to keep from sidestepping into a much more serious subject. It felt like something was happening between them, and he wanted to make certain that she would be around long enough for it to finish developing.

"This is my only assignment in the foreseeable future," she said, grinning generously as she understood what he was really asking. To show her appreciation of his sentiment, she then added, "Not only does this probably represent the single greatest opportunity in human history to actually understand exobiology, but it also nicely compliments my new-found interest in engineering."

After completing their sleep-cycles and in accordance with an arrangement they had already made, the entire team of scientists assembled for another meal before beginning work on the consoles. With such nervous excitement about the discoveries that might be made that day, these normally eloquent people were practically prattling. Tan and Marco arrived with Emilio but, as far as he could tell, these additional researchers did nothing to restore a sense of sobriety. He felt like the straight-man at a party for adrenaline junkies, which was at least in part because he did not share their optimistic expectations. He had already resigned himself to the possibility that their expensive enterprise was about to be proved pointless.

Like children coming downstairs on Christmas morning, the researchers reported to work. Poole and his team of Artificials were waiting, and they had already assembled all the equipment requested by Colin. Everyone's attention was first turned to Tan.

"There are no cellular structures present in the fibers," he announced, leaning back from his equipment. "But that doesn't prove the absence of organic life. I frankly can't tell if this is an organism mimicking a machine or a mechanism approximating an animal. I'm inclined to suggest that we're looking at what happens when such a boundary is blurred. It may've actually started as one and somehow become the other."

"It's not that I don't appreciate your input, but I'm not sure I see how that helps us," Emilio said without inflection. And then, turning to Colin and Marco, he asked, "Have the two of you figured out how to power-up this equipment so it can be tested?"

"As advanced as this technology obviously is," Marco speculated, "we may not have to be overly concerned about its power requirements. It may be able to adapt to anything that's available, provided of course that it's still functional to begin with. I think we should start with the type of power required by the Synthetics. If that doesn't work, we can try to compensate according to the difference in its relative mass and work up from there if we need to. And I'd suggest that we start with the dais."

"Sounds good to me," Colin gratefully agreed as Marco paused and glanced at him for confirmation.

"Okay then," Emilio summarized. "Let's put some juice to this contraption and see if we can make it do something besides sit there."

With a nod from the synthetics expert, Poole wheeled one of the recharging stations used by members his kind into place beside the dais. Using several provided extensions, he then gently attached the leads to fibers in each of the exposed connections. Once he had accomplished this, he activated the charging station. While they awaited a response of any kind, he located a cluster of fibers that were clearly separated from those to which he had connected the power. He then attached an interface lead from somewhere inside his own body to that point.

After several long seconds of inactivity, he looked at Lentz, who was standing close to the recharging station, and said, "Increase the power."

Although the sides of the rectangular dais were seemingly smooth and had revealed no features, lighted strips at irregular intervals appeared and began to glow as the power level slowly increased. The deception of dormancy was swiftly transmuted into luminous animation. Most of the startled spectators took an involuntary step backwards. However, none of the Artificials reacted in this way.

"I think I'm getting something," Poole whispered into the silence that resulted as the organic individuals all held their breath.

It was several more moments before he said, "It's almost incomprehensibly exotic. I can understand almost nothing of the things to which I've now seemingly gained access. Give me another few minutes please."

Some of the bystanders began to shift around nervously as they aimed questioning looks at their companions. It seemed like the suspense of a lifetime was being crammed into what was really nothing more than a short series of seconds. But at last Poole spoke again.

"This is actually no more than an educated guess, but I think I've isolated something that may represent a default value. Since this system is apparently awaiting a command, I may be able to use this routine to boot it up," Poole explain. "Do you want me to try?"

"Yes," Emilio instantly answered. His was the only countenance that still seemed as composed as those of the Artificials.

As Poole dutifully complied, an image began to take shape in the cubic space above the dais. Almost immediately, they recognized it as a star field. But even to the Artificials, the represented section of space was utterly unfamiliar. Glances between the assembled individuals quickly confirmed that the puzzlement was unanimous. Not one person in the room could recognize the constellations.

"We need somebody from stellar cartography in here," Eleanor offered, restating the obvious.

With one fluid motion, Emilio extracted and opened his flip-phone and said, "Get me Jamul Ngutu in stellar cartography."

In an almost unbelievably brief amount of time, Jamul had joined them in the bay. In his hand he carried a laptop, which he unintentionally used one of the derelict's consoles to support. Everyone carefully elected not to comment on his choice of computer stands. As it pulled up its programs, he peered at the projected image. Everybody saw the frown that slowly crept across his ebony face and the sidelong look that he flashed at Emilio.

"I'm afraid this is going to take awhile," he disappointedly said. Pausing to look over at Poole, he asked, "Is this the only image you've been able to recover?"

"There does seem to be some other function associated with the default setting," the android leader replied. "Do you want me to try it?"

"Absolutely," Emilio impatiently answered, upset by the tardiness of the suggestion.

The image altered only slightly. But some of the systems within the depicted area of space were now highlighted. There were also areas that had the appearance of shipping lanes. One star system had a designation that made it seem preeminent to all the rest.

"That must be their homeworld," Jamul said as he pointed and spoke for the group.

"Don't keep us in the dark about what you're doing in there," Emilio incisively said to Poole. "Are there any other developments?"

"I'm still collating," Poole temperamental replied.

Knowing that it might be some time before Jamul would be able to identify the stars in the image, Eleanor and Colin headed for the exobiology lab. She needed to check up on Suki and see how she was doing with the new samples. She doubted if the ovipositor had tested positive for any viable genetic material since she was sure she would already have heard about it from either Emilio or Tan. But as far as she was concerned, the only thing they needed to understand about the parasitoids was that they were to be avoided at all costs. The architects of the derelict were however of immense interest, particularly now that inroads were being established with their technology.

The star map could quite conceivably be used to facilitate contact, assuming that so advanced a civilization had not itself been eradicated by the thing that killed the derelict's crew. Therefore it was absolutely essential to garner whatever could be understood from their remains. As soon as she could possibly justify to the director such instructions, she intended to turn her team's attention away from the petrified parasitoids and get them to focus entirely on the architects.

Suki seemed excited to see her supervisor, as Eleanor and Colin sashayed into the brightly illuminated lab. With a sweeping gesture of her latex-gloved hand, she indicated the dissected ovipositor. The solidified condition of its entire interior was apparent, even from across the room. Eleanor breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sight.

"Tan already knows we couldn't extract anything for him to test," Suki said. "I should be sorry, I suppose. But I wasn't really thrilled at the prospect of trying to determine their nutritional requirements if we actually succeeded in cloning one. I'm ever so much more interested in their victims. The degree to which these beings can apparently manipulate their genetic structure is extraordinary. I've been by the bay where you're keeping those consoles and I've reviewed the recordings from the wreckage site. I have to tell you that I'm honestly starting to wonder whether they grew the ship or the ship grew them."

"Poole is still trying to hack his way into their technology," Eleanor informed her. "So far however, he's already managed to pull up a star chart that shows the location of their homeworld. Jamul is in there trying to identify it right now. It may only be a matter of time before we know where they came from. I don't see all the samples in here."

"The ones we're saving have been moved into cold storage," Suki explained. "Since we had so many to choose from, we've kept the best examples of the arachnids and the eggs. We also had over a dozen candidates for the drones. Of course, that Alien Queen you recovered was in faultless condition for a fossil. We drilled some holes in her to look for any viable genetic material, but she still makes for quite a pristine conversation piece. None of the crewmembers from the derelict were in particularly good condition; but since we're trying to comprehend their morphology, we've saved them all. Do you have time to take a look at them?"

"Absolutely," Eleanor answered. And then, she asked, "I do want to be certain that I understand though. Have you now eliminated every possible source of genetic sampling from the parasitoids?"

"Almost," Suki answered. "There was one egg still actually inside the ovipositor, and it's the only one that wasn't evacuated. As I'm sure you're aware, the other eggs were all abandoned by their occupants. There's an embryo still inside this last one, and I'm afraid it probably represents the best shot at recovering any genetic material. Our next and last procedure with regards to the parasitoids will be an attempt at its extraction. I really hope to disappoint our darling director one last time and, unless I miss my guess, I think we're in agreement about why we feel that way; however, he may have reason to be optimistic this time."

"Is there any way for you to tell what kind of embryo might be inside it?" Colin asked with concern.

"Only if we can sample tissue that hasn't been fossilized," Suki patiently replied. "We can't even tell what types of embryos were carried by the arachnids that abandoned their eggs. But the Alien Queen may have understood that she was dying. If she had not done so already and was capable of making such a choice consciously, then it's very likely the last embryo is that of another Alien Queen."

With that, they arrived in the airlock to the storage compartment where all the frozen samples were kept. Taking the time to first slip into environmental suits, they entered the most macabre of possible menageries. Even a wax museum filled with the imaginings of a madman would not have been as morbid as they were instantly surrounded by images of monsters and the most dreadful kinds of death. Taking stock of his repulsive environs, Colin thought he detected a discrepancy in Suki's earlier explanation.

"I thought you had selected only one out of over a dozen candidates for the drones," he said.

"No, sorry about the confusion," Suki apologetically offered. And then she explained, "We actually kept a dozen of the drones. These predators aren't true parasitoids; at least they have no counterparts, terrestrial or otherwise. This is why they are displayed beside the architects from which they seem to have emerged. While the crewmembers all share some similarities, you'll also notice distinct differences between some of them. Whatever morphology we find in the host seems to have been copied at least to a certain extent by the embryo that emerged. This unusual behavior separates the parasitoids from all other organisms that employ such a reproductive process."

"They adapt to new environments by mimicking their hosts?" Colin asked, obviously aghast.

"The one that smuggled aboard the Sulaco and got loose on Fury used a dog as the host for its embryo," Eleanor reluctantly admitted. "It copied the dog's characteristics."

"This suggests another possibly engineered aspect of their physiology," Suki replied. "I don't believe there's any process in all of nature that would give an organism the ability to incorporate alien genetics into its offspring. I read your report and I have to agree with your conclusion. The evidence suggests that these things are someone's extremely sick idea of a biological weapon. The architects were seemingly the targets; and despite how advanced they are, they were unable to defend themselves. I'm therefore left wondering just how horrible and frighteningly formidable is the species that unleashed this weapon. If we imprudently push this investigation too far, we might find ourselves in the middle of someone else's interstellar war."

"That's certainly a comforting thought," Colin sarcastically said.

"If the parasitoids were designed, but not by members of the race we've found here, then I'm afraid there's no other answer," Suki calmly countered. "There's got to be a third party involved, and it has to be something we haven't seen yet."

"And doubtlessly don't want to," Eleanor interjected. "Discovering that star chart may have been a monumental mistake."

"Then in order for Esperanza's assignment here to be successful, we either end up cloning the most dangerous organism ever encountered or discovering its origin?" Colin incredulously asked.

"I'm afraid that's about the size of it," Suki sorrowfully said.

"Is it too early to blow up the ship?" Eleanor exasperatedly inquired.

"Maybe not," Suki slyly answered. "But if you decide to do it, don't tell me first!"

"You wouldn't want a chance to get away in an escape pod?" Colin jokingly pressed.

"And go where?" Suki asked in reply. "There isn't a world in this star system that can support life, including the one we're orbiting. And you can call me pessimistic, but I really don't think Weyland-Yutani will send a ship out here to look for survivors. So, I'd prefer to go quickly if it comes down to such a terrible choice."

"I always feel so much better after our little talks," Colin teasingly said. "If we're done with all the motivational speeches, can we please get out of here? I'm starting to feel like I'm part of this collection, or about to be."

"Yes, but I'd like to ask something of both of you first," Eleanor replied. When both of her companions looked at her inquisitively, she said, "Please don't repeat any part of this conversation to Stanford. I think he's much tighter with the director than his station would seem to suggest."

"Point taken," Suki said as Colin nodded in concurrence.

Emerging from the storage area, Suki quietly said, "As uneasy as I admittedly am by what success could entail, there's one question that can only be answered if we are able to effectively extract some genetic material and use it to create one of these creatures. If we have to introduce it into host cells, as in cloning, it will probably copy at least to some extent the organism whose cells we used. But if we can get the cells to replicate on their own, will the embryo continue to mimic characteristics of the architects or will we maybe get a chance to see the organism as it was originally engineered? Could we possibly get a pure specimen and identify its indigenous characteristics?"

"What would that tell us?" Colin inquired, sounding slightly intrigued.

"There's no way to know unless it actually happens," Eleanor interjected before Suki could respond.

"If we end up encountering it again," Suki carefully added. "There's a chance that we would have a tactical advantage if we'd already studied it in its most fundamental form."

"And then again, we might not," Eleanor quickly countered. "The question is: would it really be worth the risk to find out?"

"Without foreknowing the results," Suki remorsefully admitted, "there is no way I can hope to answer that. One thing that's never been determined is whether the Alien Queen also mimics characteristics of the host. If so, then Tan's hope of getting a pure specimen can never be realized. But without the ability to deliberately gestate the fearsome female of their species, I can't begin to calculate the risk involved in trying to find out."

"Precisely," Eleanor agreed. "It can't be called a calculated risk when there's nothing to calculate."

"Nevertheless, we're obligated to try," Suki sadly said as she turned to face Eleanor. "Do you want me to assist you, or do you want to supervise?"

Before Eleanor could answer, her com-link began to chime. When Colin's went off at the same time, there could be little doubt as to what had transpired. And not surprisingly, they were both summoned back to the bay.

After arriving in the cavernous compartment, they were quickly joined by Marco and Tan. Jamul was already there, as were Director Esperanza and the artificials. The stellar cartographer had the countenance of somebody with something of supreme importance to impart. He patiently waited until everyone was assembled. Stanford was the last in.

"Some of you may know that our position in this spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy actually occludes our view of some of its other sections," he began. "For this reason, we sent deep-space probes beyond the plane of its ecliptic on both sides. They've sent back images of places in our galaxy that were altogether unknown to us. But being situated at the very edge of intergalactic space, they have also given us some of the most incredibly detailed images of formations in our local group."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Emilio impatiently said, "but will you please get to the point?"

Pursing his lips, Jamul replied, "I have some good news and some bad news."

Eleanor was amused at the way some expressions never seem to die, but Director Esperanza definitely was not as he irritably asked, "And?"

"I have identified the star field in question," Jamul ceremoniously said. "However, it's in Leo 1."

"What's Leo 1?" Stanford involuntarily asked.

"A galactic cloud approximately eight-hundred and eighty thousand light years from us," Jamul replied, relishing the impact.

"The derelict came from another galaxy?" Colin incredulously asked.

"How?" Emilio angrily demanded. "How could a spaceship without any engines have possibly gotten here from some other galaxy?"

"It must've jettisoned the engines," Jamul suggested.

"But it landed under power," Stanford disagreed.

"Then the engines must've subsequently been destroyed," Tan theorized.

"The landing site in the photos taken by the Sulaco is pristine," Colin countered. "An explosion would've left evidence."

"The engines have to be there somewhere!" Emilio heatedly stated. "I've surrounded myself at great expense with the brightest minds known to mankind and none of you can solve this mystery? Eleanor was at least able to figure out that there was a second nest! How come the rest of you are so clueless? Can't anyone tell me what the hell happened to the engines?"

"Either the force of the landing caused them to detach," Marco speculated, "or they were deliberately released and are now somewhere else on the planetoid."

"The military mapped every square centimeter of that rock," Stanford objected. "But they didn't find even a trace of any other alien technology."

"How do you know that?" Eleanor asked.

"The Centaur has been stationed here for some time," Stanford answered. "And I've been here since the beginning."

It abruptly occurred to Colin that this was the connection explaining the association between Stanford and the director. The telemetry expert's employment had been for the purpose of espionage, intercepting the military's messages. The conspiracy had created an inappropriate opportunity for Stanford's advancement. And he had dishonestly seized it, thus proving himself pliable to the power of Director Esperanza. That such an alliance should exist in the midst of so serious a situation, dealing with a creature that could drive humankind into extinction, was unthinkable. But now that Colin understood its nature, he would exercise wisdom and know better than to compromise his concerns by expressing them in an electronic communication. He would also warn Eleanor and Suki.

As the debate momentarily ebbed, Poole announced, "I think I'm able to recover the last image they accessed before their system went down. Do you want me to try and pull it up?"

"I'm not sure what good it'll do any of us at this point," Emilio admitted, accidentally undermining all the android's hard work. "But sure, why not? Let's see what they looked at in their last moments of life."

The image of the far-flung galaxy above the dais was swiftly replaced with one that was ridiculously easy to identify. Everyone in the room immediately recognized the Zeta 2 Reticuli system with Livinum and its satellites. Despite the Centaur's position within the projected star system, it seemed strange in the extreme to see it suspended above such an alien artifact. It was a moment before anyone spoke.

"They certainly didn't land here by accident," Vladimir finally ventured.

"They definitely knew exactly where they were," Sangria agreed.

"But why here? Why did they choose this place? And how did their ship bring them here to begin with?" Emilio insistently asked.

"Poole, is there any way you can possibly select and zoom in on part of the image?" Colin asked.

"Maybe," Poole replied. "There seem to be functions associated with the image. But I was waiting for Jamul to finish with his identification before I took a chance on possibly compromising the picture. What do you want me to try and magnify?"

"Livinum and the area immediately around it," Colin replied. "If the drive section was really separated from the ship, perhaps it will appear somewhere on this readout."

"Now you're talking," Emilio enthusiastically agreed.

Poole had some problems complying with the request. But eventually he was able to magnify the specified region of space. Although nothing of importance resolved on either Livinum or LV-426, a small white dot could suddenly be seen in orbit around the latter. It startled several of the spectators to realize that the system not only understood where it had been; it also somehow knew precisely where it was.

"That's scary," Chalice whispered. "What's it referencing to get its position?"

"This is useless," said Emilio, shaking his head. "I don't care how exactly it's able to locate itself. All I care about is how it got here. And this isn't getting us any closer to that answer!"

"But as advanced as this system is," Colin objected, thinking out loud, "why would it matter where it was if it lacked the ability to alter its position?"

"I'm not following you," Emilio admitted.

"It's like you said, Stanford," Colin curiously continued. "When all other possibilities have been eliminated then whatever is left, however unlikely, must be the answer."

"I'm glad you agree," answered Stanford, stupefied. "But I'm not sure where you're going with this."

Colin was looking with renewed incredulity at the consoles scattered about the bay. He then lowered his face to the floor, shaking his head, as his eyes moved rapidly back and forth. Having seen him in such a state before, Eleanor realized that he was having some sort of epiphany. She was about to say something intended to encourage him to share his insight, but he suddenly spoke.

"Director," he said, addressing Emilio by his official title.

"Yeah?" Esperanza uneasily asked in reply.

"What does an intergalactic drive look like?" the engineer asked.

Emilio paused for a moment before finally saying, "I have no idea."

"Precisely," Colin concluded. "We've been making assumptions about appearance when we actually know next to nothing about the technology we're trying to identify."

"What are you trying to tell us?" Eleanor asked, fearing Emilio's impatience.

"I don't pretend to know how it accomplishes such a feat, whether it somehow folds space or what," Colin finally said, attempting to articulate his insight. "All I can tell you is that every single piece of the derelict's technology has been brought into this bay. There can be no other answer. The intergalactic drive is in this room."

"What?" Emilio incredulously asked. "Are you serious?"

"He's serious," Marco suddenly said, "but slightly mistaken. Not every piece of their technology has actually been brought in here yet."

"The fibers," Duff suddenly interjected. "They run all through the skin of that ship."

"Precisely," Marco agreed. "They must somehow be part of the drive system. Since they most closely resemble synaptic tissue, it's like the ship thinks its way from one point in space to another – travel without actual movement."

"That's just insane," Emilio finally said.

"No, the distance between the stars is insane," Eleanor objected. "And the distance between galaxies must be like the equivalent of stark raving madness. But the architects of the derelict have discovered how to think their way around all that. They've perfected a form of space flight that is truly instantaneous. If we can master their technique, it'd be the single greatest breakthrough in the entire history of humankind."

"That it most certainly would," Jamul agreed. "It's like they've connected their minds to the consciousness of the continuum itself. There'd be no region in the entire universe that would be beyond our reach."

"I'm afraid it's really up to Poole and his team to try and comprehend how this thing works," Emilio summarized, looking at the Artificials.

Meeting his gaze, Poole replied, "There's something we'll need if you really hope to see us succeed."

"Whatever you want," Emilio magnanimously answered. "Just name it."

"We're going to need the entire rest of the derelict," Poole evenly said. When he saw how Emilio's eyes widened in startled response, he added, "If we can't figure out how to replicate their fibers, we'll need the ones from their ship. If we use most of the Centaur's bays, I think we can just squeeze it in."

Eleanor and Colin were both getting immense enjoyment out of seeing the director in such a compromised situation. This to them was the best of possible situations. They had redefined the Centaur's mission, replacing its potentially genocidal agenda with one that could be of benefit to all humankind, turning it away from a fixation on the finding of a means of possible mass extermination and adopting instead an attitude of exploration. They exchanged a secretive smile. At that moment, Emilio's com-link chimed. He looked so relieved at the interruption that it was very difficult for certain members of the group to conceal their amusement.

"This is Emilio," he answered as he flipped open the device. "Go ahead."

"Director Esperanza, this is Suki in Exobiology," the voice said, echoing through the nearly absent bay. "I thought you'd want to know that we succeeded in extracting genetic material from the egg in the ovipositor. If you'd please send Tan over, we can get started with the replication procedure."