Chapter Two: Salvage

David locked the door to the control room behind him, nimble fingers dancing over the panel. While it wouldn't block the entrance of the Engineer for long, he had taken the liberty of changing the code to open the door so it would at very least delay it. Once done, he swiftly turned on his heal and ran.

His foot falls were silent and swift. Efficient like all of his movements. A quick diagnostic scan revealed that he was only running at fifty three percent capacity. The number was unsatisfactory, but considering the circumstances it would have to do. Besides, he was sure that Doctor Shaw had been operating somewhere in the low twenties over the last few hours.

She would require medical attention of course, but that would have to wait. His primary directive, to obey Mister Weyland, had been deleted upon his death. His secondary directive, to follow the orders of Miss Vickers when they did not interfere with his first directive had also been forced into the status of obsolete. All that was left of any real substance was his tertiary directive.

Care for Doctor Elizabeth Shaw.

Sloppy word choice on the part of his creators. Too many meanings could be inferred from that one sentence. Regardless of the semantics, it was now his primary motivation.

So he ran. He ran through the halls of the alien craft, following the schematics he had looked up while Doctor Shaw had cried in his lap. He didn't know what he was going to meet on the way to the life raft, or even once he was there, but for the sake of Doctor Shaw he intended to be prepared for it.

Finally he reached the door he was looking for. It was a small and unassuming thing. Over shadowed by the statues and over done imagery that surrounded it. Almost as though the very craft was ashamed to house this room.

Another brief dance of digits and the door bowed to his command. Sliding open to allow his entrance. His eyes rapidly flicked around the room, not wasting any time on accessing the appropriate human reaction.

David was not an android built for war. His body had been built to be able to perform heavy duty manual labour and was considerably stronger than a humans. His reflexes sharper largely thanks to his processing power and his inability to miss detail. The human eye skimmed over much, but cameras saw everything. But above all that, David had been built to learn.

Observation could teach much, and over the years he had observed Mister Weyland's guard very closely while in training and in a few instances in actual combat. While that could hardly amount to actual training with a weapon he was more than equipped to learn by doing.

So when David's eyes were met by a large round room crammed with weaponry that mostly resembled the guns and, strangely, the spears that could be found on Earth he felt certain that he could at least give a mediocre performance with them. He moved to the rack that contained what looked like small arms. The information he had gleaned from the ship had been most useful on this. He knew where the safety was, that he wouldn't need to worry about ammunition, only about the gun overheating. It had also let him know about the different settings.

They looked like the pistols he had seen in movies like Treasure Island. The Flintlock, except they were black and with the twisted ridges that seemed to be the hall mark of this race. There was also something peculiarly biological about the look of it, though it felt undeniably metallic in his hand.

David took two just to be sure then left, locking the door behind him. They were peculiarly light, he noted as he ran back through the corridors and out of the ship to the sand cat.

No human would be able to drive the small easily flipped vehicle as fast as he drove then. Or as recklessly. He wasn't sure why, but the thought of leaving Doctor Shaw alone in the Engineer's craft any longer than strictly necessary sent an unpleasant wave of feedback through his systems, as though it conflicted with other aspects of his programming.

He slowed as he neared the life raft, spending the extra time granted by that decrease in speed to observe the craft for any signs of movement. He pulled over close by, still exorcising caution, and climbed out of the sand cat. One of the guns in his left hand in case he was met with hostility, David carefully and as silently as he could while maintaining a reasonable speed made his way to the not quite wreckage of the life raft.

Books and broken glass were scattered across the floor, the room seeming much smaller than it had when the hologram had been functional even though it's dimensions had remained unchanged. It didn't take him long to find body of the Engineer as well as- Oh dear.

His processing systems recoiled and crackled in protest as he tried to imagine Doctor Shaw having to surgically remove that without assistance or support. He froze in place as he realised the full extent of the horror he had accidentally inflicted upon her.

The thing lay slumped on the ground, long thick and squid like limbs splayed out around the still and prone form of the Engineer. No, not quite squid like, though there was a hint of cephalopod to it. This was more like a star fish, only huge enough to dwarf the Engineer and sickly smooth with a strange resemblance to female genitalia that humans would not doubt find uncomfortable.

Both creatures appeared to be dead while neither seemed to have suffered any actual injuries. The desire to properly investigate was quashed by a stronger want to not have to use this strange weapon in a confined space, or even at all. There was something uncomfortable about the thought of taking a life in such a way that he had no desire to explore.

Glancing to the two prone forms occasionally out of some irritatingly illogical worry that they may start to move once more, David began to gather what useful supplies he could. Medical equipment, tools, a small supply of painkiller and some bandages. Not to mention food and few changes of clothing. He loaded the sand cat to capacity with these and what other useful supplies he could fit, satisfied that for the moment Doctor Shaw was safe.

He was scanning the room one final time for something vital that he may have missed when he caught site of the mirror. Broken and slanted but still fundamentally useable.

Before he even started to process why, he found that he was walking towards it. While repairing him, David had noticed Doctor Shaw's attention fixing on the broken synthetic skin around his neck in a way that it had not on the even more inhuman aspects of his design. The small facial ticks that he had seen had indicated a level of disgust or discomfort.

His reflection was something he was more than used to seeing. He was familiar with the importance of his carefully maintained human appearance. It made other humans more likely to trust him and put them at ease when confronted with his other more obvious abnormalities.

The obvious synthetic nature of his skin became apparent when he saw his reflection. It had caught above his collar and with his sensors in that area damaged he had not noticed, but now he saw he understood what had made Doctor Shaw uncomfortable.

He looked human, but just different enough to be obviously inhuman.

He took a brief moment to push the artificial skin down beneath his collar, hiding the evidence of his true origin. Once satisfied with the results and after making a note to repair the damage as best he could once there was time, he picked up the lone surviving bottle of scotch and carried it with him out to the sand cat then drove back to the Engineer's space ship at a more sedate pace so as not to damage anything.

The return drive took considerably more time to complete and the moving of the supplies he had managed to salvage took him almost two hours due to the awkward shapes and the lack of anything to assist in their removal.

Doctor Shaw had remained sleeping in the chair, her chin resting against her chest. The position looked awkward and uncomfortable and there was a frown on her face. She would occasional whimper if he made too much noise, as though it had startled her even through her sleep.

Once he had finished and had stacked the salvaged items in appropriate piles, he walked over to crouch at her side. She had been sleeping for approximately four hours and thirty seven minutes. While she needed her rest, he was certain that he needed to examine her wounds. While the blow that one of Weyland's guards had delivered aptly demonstrated how to use the butt of a riffle as an offensive weapon, he was worried that it had reopened an already fresh wound. Added to the strain she had been under and he was convinced that she would need some serious care.

Leaving her for this long was probably ill advised, but he had had little choice. At least now he had what he needed to repair her. Yet as necessary as waking her was, he wanted to let her sleep for a little longer. It made no sense and part of his programming railed against it, but some small part of this complied with his new primary directive.

At least he now had the time allow his human facade to return.


A/N Thank you to MissCaityGrace, megumisakura, EmpireX, smithsbabe65, CosPalp, David 8 and SheHasNoFeet for reviewing the previous chapter. I am very grateful for the feedback and glad that you all enjoyed what I'm working on.

I'm hoping that I'll be able to keep updating this at a rate of about once a week, though I do have a strange work schedule and I might not be able to keep to it. I'll do my best to warn people though.

As always if I've missed a typo let me know I'll sort it out.