The Nightmare.

Trista took a seat in the back corner of the café, overlooking the rest of the seated customers. She stole a look to a man half hidden behind a news panel. The computer's flat rectangular shape obscured the lower half of his face; the upper portion housed brittle blue eyes that conveyed a look of disgust when he looked at Trista. She had encountered this many times before. With the vertical scar travelling down her neck to her collarbone and the mottled slash of skin colour from a semi-healed burn running down the right side of her face, her appearance wasn't one that instilled comfort in the gawkers, only a look that said she shouldn't be here and they were probably right. It was the knowing looks that irked the most.

The worst offender in the eyes of the vanity brigade was the alloy metal prosthetic that inhabited a place where her fleshy, normal arm used to be. Kids pointed and their guardians sneered before shuffling their spawn onwards. She pursed her lips and turned her head to gaze directly at the man. She gave him a smile – the kind of genial grin that allowed them to know their stares were being noted. The gawker quickly turned his attention back to the news panel.

'Haven't you ever thought about using Folli-Color to cover up the white streaks?' asked a sandy haired man approaching the table. He was thick set and had deep set pale blue eyes. A gentle smile spread across his strong jaw as he took Trista's left hand and shook vigorously, his eyes glancing at the white peeking out through Trista's brown hair.

'Do you like having the use of your tongue, Max?'

'How are you?'

'Older, aching and still pissed off that you contacted me. You?'

'I'm a father of a three month old boy'

'Alice dropped another one? That woman has a pain threshold higher than any other being in the system.'

'You're a grouch' said Max, wagging his finger.

'I'm just concerned that there's more of you running around is all. Does Alice realise what she's let loose on the unsuspecting public? Is she well?'

'She's fine. She hates me going off like this though.'

'Can't say I blame her.'

'Don't lecture, please, I get enough of that from Alice.'

Max turned to the table dispenser and tapped in a set of numbers. Two decaffeinated coffees appeared a moment later in paper cups. Trista grabbed the cup and stared at the liquid contained within. Her sigh carried across the room.

'So have I been assigned yet?

'The Commander is sorting it out'

'And what is your Commander like?'

'I've known of some people describe her as the ultimate bitch. She gets the job done though.'

'I like her already. What do you think of her?'

'Haha, no comment.'

'Spoken like a true politician.'

'Ouch! Anyway departure is at Oh eight hundred tomorrow.'

'Now you're just flirting' Trista purred and batted her eyelids. As she did so she caught the man across the room staring again.

'If you're refused assignment the Commander will let you know tonight.'

'So if I hear nothing, I turn up tomorrow and that's it?'

'Pretty much. Very little red tape with this one. Here's a list of items you can take with you. Notice it doesn't include weapons.'

Trista quickly scanned the small screen and snorted.

'Xeno's have no exterior genitalia to kick that I've found. I'll be bringing weapons with me.'

'You'll be issued a pulse-…'

'The bog-standard crap. Fine, fine. I'm assuming this won't be a problem?' Trista manoeuvred her arm to the side in the direction of the suited man who was staring over his console. She lifted up the metal attachment and with a flick of her shoulder a twelve inch blade rocketed out from the metallic forearm. To Max, it looked like an extremely threatening rude gesture to the man behind the console. He thought so too and quickly hid his face behind the panel.

'Still got a short fuse I see' said Max pointing at the prosthetic.

'It's one of my better qualities.' Trista flicked her shoulder back and the blade sheathed itself with a rusty snap.

'You never did tell me how you lost your arm' said Max staring at the appendage.

'No I didn't' replied Trista with a grin.

Max waited for a few seconds and gave a brief, resigned nod when it was clear Trista wasn't going to speak anymore about it.

For the next couple of hours a few sparse details about the mission were exchanged. Trista clenched her jaw when Max described Atlantic's personnel as family units – mostly scientists and their kids. She had heard of the Atlantic Space Station but had forgotten that it had families there.

A few milky coffees later, a brief smack on the back ended the meeting. Trista watched as her old friend exited the café. She collected the empty paper cups, threw them in recyclables and strolled toward the exit, giving a little wave to the suited man behind the panel as she did so.

….

Trista made sure she got an early night. There was no call and that meant tomorrow she would leap into the fire pit. She needed a good night's rest. She stared at the foil sealed container in her hand and sighed. One of the better things about the painkillers she was prescribed for the ache in her shoulder was the drowsiness that accompanied them. With her prosthetic lying carelessly on the bedside cabinet and her head burrowed in the pillow, Trista swiftly fell into unconsciousness.

Her dreams took her back fifteen years – back on the Saturn, back in the military. She remembered chasing down a Xenomorph. Her dreams were inconsistent though…in every corner she could see the shiny black tip of the head, then the blackness seemed to split apart to reveal a white grin. The Xeno's jaw opened revealing the hidden horror: a new set of teeth accompanied with a resounding hiss that she could feel ripple along her flesh. Kill them at distance; don't let them bleed on you. She kicked out hard, sending her attacker sliding across the blood-slick corridor. Trista had the tools and the creature quickly fell with one burst of light. Limping toward the body, she knelt beside her dead foe and prised its jaws open. With a deft flick of her hip blade, she separated the inner mouth from its host. She had learned with experience that after a time, the acidic blood of the creature neutralized but even in her dreams she knew that there was no discernable reason to take a part of it but of course, there was always revenge. They had taken her team one by one and she wanted to do the same to them. She held up her trophy and regarded it in the dull light.

Suddenly it was there. She hadn't even seen it coming till it was too late. She swung the gun around and aimed. She heard the sound of a blade slicing through the air and a smack of pressure on her shoulder. Then she felt the massive clawed hand grabbing her neck and lifting her till she could barely touch the ground with her toes. Her watery vision could make out a solid grey coloured mask, grooved and pocked, hiding a face she knew she would not want to see, the mask had blood splatter on it which became unfocused as her eyesight dimmed - she was being choked to death. Growling and clicking rang in her ears until it became so excruciating it felt as though her ear drums would burst. She couldn't breathe. Trista tried hitting out, smacking her trophy against her new attacker. The dizziness stopped and she slumped to the floor. It took a moment to realise the armoured monolith had grabbed the trophy from her hand. With blurry eyes, Trista watched as the creature stared at the Alien's inner mouth. Her attacker tilted its head and swung the macabre object with full force against the grey walls. There was a sickening crack and in her hazy memories, heightened with vibrancy in the dream, Trista felt the fingers on her left hand being prised open and then closed again. The warm and sharp touch of the new threat left her hand and the creature bolted upward and turned quickly. In a moment it was gone, and Trista was left with a ringing in her ears and a handful of alien teeth. She heard voices in the distance and forced her head around to see who it was. She felt her head swimming and an overwhelming ringing in her ears.

Trista woke to the sound of the clock alarm, feeling wretched. With her remaining arm she shut off the irritating noise and sat up. Her shirt was doused in sweat and every muscle hurt. Instinctively she reached for the tooth necklace, running her finger over the sharp points.

She dragged herself into the bathroom and looked at the pale reflection staring back at her in the mirror. With one hard slap across her cheek, she was fully awake and angry at herself. What the hell had she agreed to?