Chapter Nine: Three Shadows

"Go wild." Said Oz proudly. "Lunch is on me."

Elizabeth feigned excitement, enjoying the humour of it. "I can have anything on the menu?" She was surprised at how quickly she'd recovered emotionally from the episode with the Engineers. She wanted to make hay while the sun shone. "Sir, you spoil me." She fluttered a hand at her face to give her air.

"It's the best place within..." He tried to work out what it would be, "twenty light years."

"Ooh." She was impressed.

"No, fifteen- thirteen light-years." He corrected himself.

"Okay, don't ruin it." Despite his anal tendencies, she enjoyed his company. Though he was tortured and taciturn at times, he made her smile.

Life felt good.

They entered the dining hall to find Janet Russo sat alone on a table in the corner. She kept her head down, not seeming to care who had come in.

Elizabeth found this quite sad, that the woman was so lonely and so inured by her own unpopularity that she didn't find it necessary to make eye contact. Whoever it was that had come through the door would not want to join her, Elizabeth thought. It tugged at her.

Oz waited to see where Elizabeth wanted to sit. It would be her decision.

She gestured for them to go sit with her. "Come on."

Oz gave no indication whether or not he agreed or disagreed with her choice.

Elizabeth pulled the chair out slightly and waited for Janet's permission. "Mind?"

"I'm only on break." Said Janet, almost surprised by their approach.

Elizabeth felt real empathy for her. Such loneliness must be terrible with such a long time out in space. "Thanks."

She sat opposite Janet and Oz sat down next to her.

"Willy: Two menus." Requested Oz.

The dining table illuminated in front of the two new diners and the menu appeared with a visual representation next to it of what the dish looked like in the real world. What would appear on the plate would look far less appetising.

It was now that Elizabeth took a better look at what Janet was eating. It was a disconsolate, light green mound. It looked like the stodgy, discoloured custard that was typical of the ship's cuisine. She pushed it round her plate from side to side like the worlds least accomplished ice-hockey player preparing to shoot the puck.

Oz drew his gaze away from Janet's culinary doodling and put on his most Frenchiest of French maître d' accents for Elizabeth. "What would madam desire?"

She was impressed. Another good imitation. She attempted her own: "Ooh, some-sing French zen, monsieur, wiz a wat wan."

Oz was shocked, "Wat wan?! Hey, you ees pregnent, remembehr?"

Elizabeth screwed up her nose and furrowed her brow. "But is only wat wan." She pleaded playfully.

"But Cherie, we ees not allowed zee alcohol on board zee sheep." Oz informed her.

Janet shook her head, "You should try Italian. The wine is bland. Alcohol not allowed on ship." It seemed comedy hour was over.

Oz raised his shoulders in the stereotypical French style of explanation. "Zat eez what I said, Shanett." He cleared his throat and returned to his normal voice and tone. "Yeah, that's what I said."

Elizabeth said goodbye to her accent too, "Sank you, Oss." And became English once more, speaking to the older woman. "I had Italian yesterday. Polpettina, pasta, a tomato and basil sauce. It was-" She kissed her finger tips miming a taste explosion in the tradition way to express culinary perfection, "- completely flavourless!" She said unenthusiastically. "And I don't think the baby liked it either. It was kicking all night."

"That may be because it's growing a month a day." Janet reminded her. "Shouldn't blame the food."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Maybe." She perused the illuminated list below her while Oz grabbed the cutlery. "Okay, sod it: I'll have vegetarian carbonara." She waited for Janet to enlighten her on what she already knew.

"It's all vegetarian." Said Janet. "We're basically eating our own waste. It's recycled human that's on your plate." She added casually.

"Please." Said Oz. "We all know what we're eating, but I'd rather not... you know..."

It was true. Janet was just providing her with the facts. It was her way.

Elizabeth could tell she was trying to say it light-heartedly, but there was a harshness to her voice that could be easily mistaken for superiority.

"It's more like cannibal carbonara." Janet finished.

Her delivery of the joke was terrible, but Elizabeth laughed anyway. She was just thankful she had a strong stomach.

Janet didn't mind toilet humour. She had got used to spending extended periods in restrooms away from mocking crowds. "You off-duty, Mister Bates?" She always found a way of bringing conversation around to work.

"Servicing the droids later." He said. "A few hours in between."

Elizabeth wanted the conversation to be livelier. She spoke excitedly, "Oz took me to the Observation Room on deck four."

Janet continued to eat, seemingly unmoved by her revelation.

Elizabeth continued nevertheless. "It was quite moving to see the planet below."

"It's quite a sight, but it's a satellite- a moon- of a planet, not a planet in its own right." Corrected Janet.

"Either way." Said Elizabeth. It was all good.

"The alien ship is docked?" Janet asked Oz.

Oz nodded. "Droids docking the shuttles."

"Right." There was no warmth in her.

Elizabeth could see how it would be a struggle for her to attract people to her; to make friends. It was frustrating how seamlessly Janet sucked the marrow from the bone of the conversation. She spoke loudly up into the air. "Cannibal Carbonara, please Willy!"

Janet found her attempt at wit foolish, but she smiled nevertheless. It was an unusual feeling to be drawn into a chat than repelled out of it. "He won't understand." She said, her tone matronly, but cheery.

"Please restate." Said Willy, confirming Janet's words. "Cannibal Carbonara not available."

This amused Elizabeth. "Not available. The Captain's been in already."

She was surprised to see Janet found this funny, having to fight back the smile. She was getting through to her. Maybe she'd manage to burrow deeply by the end of the mission.

There was a chuckle in Oz's voice, "Two carbonaras, Willy. And two coffees- black." He winked at Elizabeth and spoke in an Italian accent. "They got coffee here... signorina."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him. It was funny how much this felt like a late night soiree, rather than a mid-morning snack. "Yes, I'll have mine black, thanks for asking. And it's not signorina, it's erm-" she was unsure of the next word, "doctor-ina?" She shrugged.

Janet felt like a gooseberry. Their flirting was plain to see. "I'm due back on the bridge, so-" She saw the dining hall door open. "Shit..."

Natasha walked in and looked over at them. "Don't get up, Russo." She called over. Her face was stony. "How long you having for your break? Should we expect you back?"

The fun was over. Janet looked over at the clock on the wall. She still had ten minutes. It was only a five minute walk back to the bridge. "On my way back in a-"

"Rhetorical question, Janet." She said derisorily. "No need to answer."

If there was one thing Janet hated more than company, it was company and the Captain. She felt uncomfortable with company around. They never got her. But when Natasha was there, she would always find a way to humiliate her; make her feel like a child.

She didn't want the ground to open up under her; she wanted the ground to open up under the Captain and pull her out into space, sans environmental suit.

"Thanks." She stood and leaned closer in to Elizabeth.

Natasha thought she was whispering about her.

"It's 'dottoressa', by the way. Not doctorina." Her mouth twitched up at the corners.

This was the closest to a look of contentment Elizabeth had seen on the woman. It was almost a display of happiness.

Janet took her plate and cutlery over to disposal and headed for the door.

As she was walking past her, Natasha took her arm lightly. "I know you've been pre-occupied lately by whatever goes on inside that skull of yours, but Delta still hasn't had an After-Flight. So if you could get round to it... First Officer..."

"I'll inform Chief Jakande." Janet said timidly.

"I'd be awful grateful if you could, seeing as it's been subjected to atmospheric conditions n'all and has been sat docked for two days already."

Janet really wanted to ask her why she hadn't got Sammy to service the dropship herself, but she knew that would not end well. It was Janet's job to allocate the work on board, but there was no reason why the Captain couldn't take matters into her own hands.

She was, after all, The Captain.

Natasha let go of her arm and Janet scurried off.

The room was silent. Elizabeth and Oz heard everything that had been said.

Natasha walked over to sit down with them. "Ladies." She didn't need to be invited. It was her ship: her dining hall.

"Seat's taken." Said Elizabeth.

Natasha hesitated for a moment and almost went on to the next seat before she saw the smirk on Elizabeth's face.

"Just kidding, Captain. Please take a seat." Elizabeth's smile was wide, letting her know that, unlike the rest of the crew, she had very little fear of her... and even less respect.

"Thank you, doctor." It was a thank you that sounded very much like a fuck you!

"You're welcome. We're eating carbonara. Or going to. Would you like to join us?"

"That would be lovely." She said sarcastically. "But I'll just stay for the company." She curtsied before she sat down. "How are the droids, Bates?"

"Fine, Captain. All serviceable."

"Findley?"

"He's-"

The Captain frowned.

"It's-" He realised quickly what he'd said and corrected himself. "working within all serviceable parameters. I gave it an all-circuits test." He lied.

"What was the problem with him?" asked Elizabeth.

Him again.

Natasha wasn't going to be pulled into the gender game with her. The woman was a wildcard and she had no authority over her. "Nothing you need to worry about, doctor."

The dispenser beeped over by the wall and Oz went over and collected the food, cursing under his breath. This was a very different gooseberry to the one that had just left. An extra sour gooseberry that made your face want to implode.

He carried the food and drinks back together on a tray. "Are you sure you don't want a drink, Captain?"

"Yeah, okay. You twisted my arm." She took one of the cups of coffee off the tray.

Oz knew he'd walked straight into that one. "Thanks. Willy: one coffee- black."

Elizabeth picked up her knife and fork, trying to ignore the animosity that was lingering in the air. "Mmmm- it smells edible and Brown."

Oz laughed and looked over at Natasha whose expression didn't change.

"Before you begin," the Captain said, as Elizabeth was about to cut into the food, "We have to say a blessing, right?"

Oz had no idea what she was talking about.

Elizabeth was waiting for the punch line.

"Bow your heads please and place your hands together."

Oz put his hands together in the form of a solo handshake and lowered his head unsurely.

"Head down, please and eyes closed, Mister Bates."

Oz closed his eyes.

"Thank you. Let us beg..." Natasha put her hands together in prayer while Elizabeth stared at her, unamused. "Oh, Thing, up there... do something to this food before they tuck into it... and let us thank you for the whole lot and give thanks only to you, Thing... and not to the scientists and technicians who built the machines that made the food, oh Thing... thank you, though I know not what it is you do... or do not do. And let me finish my obstinate nagging, oh Thing, by asking you to show us your eternal love by not killing us all. Thank you, Thing... whatever you are... All men."

Elizabeth's gaze was waiting for her when she opened her eyes. "Amen, Captain... not All-men."

"Oh, sorry. But apart from that- authentic, right?"

"Good enough." Replied Elizabeth.

Natasha was very pleased with herself. "Making you feel at home."

"Thank you." Elizabeth said flatly.

Oz still hadn't a clue what was going on, and why.

The machine beeped again and Oz went for his drink, taking the chance to stay there. "Five milligrams of sweetener, Willy." A few seconds later, there was a second beep and the small quantity of sugar substitute appeared from within the food dispenser and was slowly conveyed forward.

He took his time stirring it into his drink. He didn't like sweet coffee, but it was a delay tactic nonetheless. He'd order another coffee after the Captain had left. It was free after all.

The two at the table were still not talking. Oz knew the Captain was waiting for him to return so she could have an audience.

As he walked back over, the conversation reactivated.

"I always like to make our guests feel at home." Natasha assured her. "I searched D-7 for you... and Weyland. Everything it had. Got the company to send it to me."

Elizabeth didn't understand what she meant by D-7. It sounded intrusive.

"The company managed to find a document regarding you, of a discovery you made in Mesopotamia in 2087. Cave paintings. With your partners Myrtle and Hollins. It said you were an archaeologist... and a practising Christian no less." She mimicked inducing vomiting by sticking two fingers down her throat. "No offence."

"None taken. Myrtle and Holloway. Cynthia Myrtle and... Charlie Holloway."

Natasha put her hands together in mock apology and mouthed the words 'forgive me', before continuing. "Aged twenty-six." She spoke questioningly. "You were still practising at twenty-six? Hope you graduated since?"

Elizabeth ignored her jibes. "Cynthia died a few weeks after the discovery. It was a blessing she didn't live longer in hindsight- come with us to LV-223; the weapons installation I told you about."

"A real 'blessing'." Natasha concurred.

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. "Yes. It would've been awful... but I'm sure she's grateful she never got the chance to meet you... no offence."

Elizabeth smirked as she realised she'd hit her mark, finally. There was no immediate comeback. Natasha was obviously searching for a good reply, but not being used to anyone besting her, she was off-balance.

The ship's address system interrupted them and Elizabeth felt annoyed it gave Natasha a distraction. "Chief Jakande- please report to the bridge. Thank you. Chief Jakande."

It was Natasha's turn to ignore Elizabeth's jibe. She shook her head quasi-mournfully as she spoke. "The Prometheus. State-of-the-art. Never came back. Crew lost, presumed dead."

"All except two." Elizabeth amended.

"Two?"

"David and I."

Natasha seemed to be amused by this and let out a giggle. "Well... it's one now, isn't it?"

If they were cats, they'd be circling each other with tails raised by now.

Elizabeth wasn't entertained. "They don't test for personality flaws when they assign captains in the twenty-seventh century, do they?"

Natasha held her gaze. "That's-"

Elizabeth held a hand up, interrupting her. "Rhetorical question, Captain." She said. "No need to answer."

Natasha smiled. "Very good." She looked at Oz who was showing only interest in his food and little acknowledgment of the two women's conversation. "That's... well, I think I'll leave you two love-birds to your tête-à-tête." Her pronunciation of the final word was like a celebration of tees... and another fuck you. She had seemingly perfected a way of saying fuck you in every sentence without actually saying it... though she was not one to shy away from using it when she wanted.

Elizabeth let her know she was grateful: "Merci beaucoup, ma Capitaine."

Natasha saluted Elizabeth almost cordially. "We'll speak some other time. I have a couple of questions about the alien ship, doctor." She looked at Oz. "Don't forget to service those droids before you stow them, Bates. You can decontam them. They won't be returning to the surface."

"Yes, Captain." He stood slightly in respect as she left.

There was a moment of quiet after the door closed before they spoke.

Oz snorted. "This is incredible, you know? It's not usually until the final few months that everyone on mission wants to kill each other. You seem to have speeded up the process, Ellie."

Oz waited for Elizabeth to laugh.

She didn't. She looked at him with a sternness he hoped he wouldn't see too often. He thought he'd crossed a line.

She spoke bluntly. "Pardon my French-"

"No, your French was good." He assured her. He wanted to placate her.

She shook her head, "No-"

He didn't understand the context. "Yes. You said 'thank you, Captain'."

"Yes, I know that. But that's not what it means. It's an expression. It means 'pardon my bad language'."

"Oh... okay." He gestured for her to continue.

"Right- pardon my French,"

Oz nodded- he knew what she meant now...

"but that woman is a word that begins with 'c'-"

"'Captain'!" Oz guessed quickly trying to be whimsical.

"Will you shut up, Oz, and let me finish! Jesus! Normally you say one word every hour and now you can't stop. It's... oh, never mind." She cut a slice of the food with her fork and scooped it into her mouth, chewing angrily before gulping it down.

"No, it's okay." He could see there were crossed wires. Six hundred years worth.

The adrenaline had already been released. She just had to wait till it was out of her system. She took another belligerent bite of her food.

Oz knew he should try to persuade her to continue or at least vent in some way. Intimate conversations were not his thing. "Please f-"

"And it rhymes with 'runt'." She sawed off another slice and stabbed into it.

Oz wanted to laugh, but didn't dare. He had no idea what was the right thing to do. People were hard work. Better to stick with droids.

The rest of the meal was endured without another word spoken. The atmosphere had suddenly turned frigid. The meal had become just a reconstituted mess on their plates.

Any romance they were feeling had drifted away shortly after Janet Russo had left.

The Captain would've been happy to know.

Oz looked over at the dispenser. "Willy: coffee, black, no sugar."

(2)

"Janet, I finished my shift five minutes ago. I'm going to the mess then I'm going to bed." Sammy explained to her.

"Chief, you know there are no shifts on board ship. You finish when the work is done, if there is work to be done." Janet informed him. "And there is work to be done."

Sammy could tell that Russo wanted to intimidate him. But he wasn't going to let her. There were people who could intimidate him on a good day. Natasha. Aria. But no one else.

"It's just an A/F." She assured him.

"An A/F." He wanted her to confirm it.

She nodded. "That's all."

"It better not be a scheduled servicing."

"It's got a 25hour in another 3 hours of flying time. Just an A/F." She assured him. "It'll only take-"

"I know how long A/Fs take! Don't tell me my job!" He wanted to call her a bitch or maybe even a motherfucker. He restrained himself. He was tired. He wanted some down-time before he went to bed.

She completed her sentence anyway. "Twenty minutes." Janet had had enough of being spoken down to for one day.

"Look, I'm in bed by midday whatever happens. If I find anything unserviceable, I'm gonna write a seven-three-one and leave it there till I come back on shift... or you can get Billy onto it, like you should be doing..."

"The Captain-"

"Spare me." He cut her off and selected Delta's documentation on the console. He yawned widely as he began typing: 17/09/2680 - 10:07A.M. – AFTERFLIGHT - CHIEF JAKANDE. He hit enter. "I'll finish the docs while I'm on Delta. Good night, sir!"

She was unimpressed by his attempt at humour. "Good night, chief. Let me know when you finished the servicing."

He left the bridge without responding.

Janet continued to fantasize how good it would be to lose the Captain and her secret fuck-buddy in a tragic 'accident', maybe on a newly explored planet. How good it would be to watch them being ripped apart by the wildlife.

Maybe I could get them to go for a walk in the Menagerie, she thought. How romantic to watch them try to trip each other up as they ran from the Xenomorphs, screaming for their lives.

The Xenomorphs. What an idiot she'd been. Why couldn't she have just waited? All because she was so down-trodden. The need to be Captain was strong, but would never happen while she had someone like Natasha writing her assessments or having input on her Curriculum Vitae.

Natasha would find out soon what she'd done and give her another dressing down. She'd wait until the pre-sleep debrief; do it in front of as many of the crew as possible. Or maybe even wait till they start the next mission. Even more people to humiliate her in front of then.

"I can deal with it." She told herself. It had been done now. The courier capsule had contained more than just ship's logs and communications, and Elizabeth Shaw's requisition. It had contained something for her brother. Something that could change their lives. Something so lucrative, she really didn't mind sharing it with him.

(3)

Sammy cursed all the way to the dropship. He'd taken over from Billy Walker and supervised the arrival of the alien derelict. A total of twelve hours from before the launch of Echo and November to securing it up into the Third Tier Dock. He would complete its stowage on his next duty. Fatigue was taking hold of him and he just wanted to go to bed.

No supper.

No delving into his stash of contraband whiskey.

Just bed... alone.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Sleeeeeeep..." He chuckled to himself. He knew he was tired- he'd reached the skeleton shift giggle stage.

He reached Delta's docking station and hit the button to open the outer hatch.

There were soft hissing sounds of air escaping on the other side of the door to restore equilibrium before they opened.

He mimicked the sound- sssssss...- and entered, the doors closing behind him.

"Willy: A/F. Activate avionics and lights. Give me levels. Open all interior doors. Transfer recycling to main..."

There was a double beep informing him it had been done and the craft lit-up before him.

"... and play some music."

There was a dull beep informing him his last request was invalid. "Cannot comply with request to play music."

Sammy rubbed his eyes indifferently. "Thanks, Willy."

He headed for the flight deck on the upper level.

(4)

"I'll have to come out when Shaw goes into labour." Said Aria.

"How about the droids?" Asked Natasha. "They could do it." She looked over at Findley/David.

"They could..." she deliberated, "but I'm not going to risk complications just to keep our little secret."

"I would love to be of any assistance, Natasha." Said David. "To bring new life-"

"Shut up." Said Natasha abruptly.

David had an option to smile as a reaction to her censure, but this was denied by his 'Findley' sub-routine for obvious reasons. His expression stayed emotionless.

The derelict was proving to be a botheration to the Captain. Its stasis chamber's ability to regenerate cells was something that would be highly coveted. The realisation it could rejuvenate and return a person back to their youth was troubling.

They had no idea how it had happened. Findley had stated it didn't have a probable explanation for the anomaly. Its data banks hadn't shown any malfunction and it had stated it had entered the same command for each pod.

Natasha had decided to keep it on restricted-duties until they were ready to go back into hypersleep. Willy could perform a complete overhaul of Findley's circuitry while they were all asleep until the start of the next mission a month later.

For now they had to keep the ship's doctor away from the ship so they could work out how to exploit the situation. But it would be useless if they couldn't find out what had happened. The alien ship would be fully stowed soon for transit. They would have to wait till they got back to Earth before the thing was accessible again. And then it would be in the hands of the company.

They had discovered the fountain of youth. This was a ticket to infinite wealth. She would receive her Card. Both her and Heidi. Maybe even Aria. If the rest of the crew knew about this extra function that had been discovered, the wealth would have to be distributed even further. Maybe Shaw would get the lion's share as she was, to some extent, captain of the vessel at the time of salvage.

The company would pay them well, sure; well enough to retire, but she wanted more. Living comfortably was not living exorbitantly. Any self-respecting capitalist could not settle for anything less.

They needed to find out what had happened differently to the stasis chambers before the next thirty-six hours elapsed. The Xenomorph eggs in its cargo hold had taken a back seat for now.

She was sure the answer lay in the finger tips and neural matrix of Findley. If she could get her answers she could dispose of the droid to remove all residual data from the proceedings. Another 'accident' like the one on LV-10978. Only this time, there would be no cover-up. The droid would be destroyed... once she had her answers.

(5)

The instrumentation on the flight deck showed the energy levels of all flying control systems which he transferred to the A/F servicing doc on his mobile. Everything was in good shape in there and so he'd headed out to inspect the rest of the ship. He would work methodically starting by climbing straight down the forward ladders to the Lower Deck and working his way towards the Engine Bay at the rear, then back up.

The dropship layout was simple, each ship being seventy metres long, forty metres wide and ten metres high:

Lower deck was the main Cargo Bay; two Quarantine Areas; Restrooms and Engine Bay to the stern. The undercarriage was accessible through a hatch in the Engine Bay. The Outer Hull was inspected by Slick Willy's sensors in the dropship's dock- they were already taken care of.

Central Deck: Cargo Bay at the rear; Port-side Ablutions and living areas; Central Hypersleep Nest; Forward Observation area; then the Starboard Recreation area as he worked back round to the rear access ladders.

Upper Deck: Galley; Port side living areas; Upper Hypersleep Nest; Starboard living areas; Flight Deck.

Lower Deck to Central deck to Upper deck to Exit and then... to bed!

He was now on the lower deck completing his visual checks through dry eyes.

As he walked further towards the aft, he gradually noticed an odour in the air. Unpleasant. Not overpowering, but one that offended his nostrils.

As he approached the quarantine areas, he sniffed the air. It was like there was something rotten on board.

The passenger areas were clear, along with the engine bays and undercarriages. He had to bypass the quarantine areas before he got to the toilets. With all doors onboard open he knew he was going to find something unsociable in there.

As he walked past Quarantine Area A, he saw the lone transit box David had used through the corner of his eye. It was a mangled wreck.

And there was another mess on the floor nearby. "What the fuck...?"

He entered the room to examine it closer.

He had found what the smell was.

"I am not cleaning this shit. You nasty..." He looked at it in disgust. It looked like shedded skin, but there was no way he was going to pick it up. "I'm getting a fucking droid to..." As he spoke, he was trying to remember which ship had carried the parasites back. Delta...? No... Charlie. "Already serviced you."

He didn't like it. He was unsure of what was going on.

He stood and left the area, feeling just a little unnerved. His mind went flitting back to Heidi's ugly little parasites.

He walked briskly past the second three-metre by three-metre quarantine area scanning the cell briefly. Inside was another bomb site. Two salvage boxes this time... and there were two piles on the floor in there.

Halfway through a yawn he flinched, looking over his shoulder as he thought he heard a sound. A faint tapping.

He shook it off. You can't hear a thing when you're yawning. He was imagining it, surely.

"Let's get out of here, Samuel-" He told himself. "just to be on the safe side." Even by himself, he didn't want to lose face. He didn't want to come off as a wimp.

He walked past the restroom, a worried jump in his step and headed towards the access ladder up to the centre deck.

He grabbed the ladder and began to climb, all the while an uneasy feeling making his skin crawl. "Just small. Like cats." He reassured himself. "You can kill a cat, Samuel. Course you can. Break its-"

Was that another tap? He halted momentarily before continuing his mind returning to the parasites. But they don't have necks. They don't even have heads.

He shuddered.

As he reached the next level, he paused as his hand touched something sticky. A viscous liquid on one of the bars.

"Whoa! What the fuck?" His voice sounded loud. He thought it more prudent to be quieter.

Xeno-somethings, she'd called them. They mature in just a few hours.

Well, she was just full of shit. Of that he was sure. But being out here... all alone...

He ascended further, only now more tentatively, until his eye-line was level with the centre deck's floor, wiping the substance from his fingers onto his trouser leg as he waited.

He looked around for signs of life.

There was nothing. It was clear. All clear.

Maybe they're waiting for me. His thoughts were troubling him.

Maybe they're beneath me, coming to grab my legs.

He looked down and was suddenly very nervous

He pulled himself up the ladder quickly before moving two metres to the right where the next ladder to the upper deck was located.

There was more slime.

"Fff-" He hushed himself. He knew he had to be quiet. And he knew he wasn't going to climb these ladders. He had to get to the set at the fore.

He moved hurriedly, but there was still fifty metres of corridor to navigate. He had the continuous feeling there was something behind him as he went.

He looked over his shoulder repeatedly, just to make sure.

It was clear. There was nothing there.

And then with less than thirty metres to go, he froze.

From inside the starboard living area he saw movement. A shadow on the floor. "Sh-"

He was still. Maybe it was just the light.

There was a darkness on the floor that might be something benign.

Just a couple of seconds and he would continue.

It was a strange shape. He couldn't think what it was that could be making it. The games machines were by the walls. The table were in the centre, but they wouldn't make such irregular shapes.

Movement. Creeping. Towards the doorway.

Go back. Get back. Go round the port-side!

He ran back as light-footedly as he could, tiptoeing round the curve of the Hypersleep Nest.

He skidded to a halt, his shoes making a squeaking sound. "Ff-"

There was another shadow.

Three skins. He thought. Three beasts!

You're gonna get through this, Sammy. Stay calm!

He had to think. But it had to be quick.

Think, Sammy. Come on! ...

He looked from side-to-side as he backed away.

Three beasts...

He looked at the living area.

One in there...

He looked back at the shadow round the corner of the Hypersleep Nest.

Another over there...

That's two on this level...

He looked at the ladder leading up.

One more above...

There was only one way to go from here: back down the ladder to the lower deck.

He checked in one quick glance- they were still just shadows on the ground. They were moving slowly. Maybe they were waiting for him. They would ambush him.

But surely an ambush predator would be aware of their own shadow?

He wasn't sure of that, but he was sure he had to move... now!

As he slid down the ladder with his hands and feet on the outside, the soles of his shoes slapped the floor hard as he landed.

NO! What are you doing?! They must've heard that.

He didn't think the restroom he was approaching would keep him safe. He pressed himself against the wall and shuffled towards the quarantine areas. They weren't much further. He would be safe in there.

And then he was past the door to the communal bathroom and so close to safety.

quick

He began running.

quick!

It took just a second and he was in.

black shadow

He was safe.

"Willy: lock Quarantine-"

His breath choked in his throat.

black shadow...

It's in the room.

He turned round to see it already crawling towards him over the box from which either it or one of its brothers had broken out.

He didn't hesitate. He ran back outside and hit the close button as the Xenomorph pounced. The door cut across like a bullet, shutting it in, infuriating the beast.

He stumbled back. "Fuck." His voice was still just a whisper, but from within the room, it began ramming the door to test its own strength against its structural integrity.

He wanted it to shush, but he knew it wouldn't. The others would be here soon.

He headed for the passenger lift on the starboard aisle, midway up the corridor. He could bypass the centre deck- come out on the Upper level and scarper.

He hit the button and the elevator drove down to the lower deck. It would arrive and Ping!, but this was the least of his worries while the one trapped in the quarantine area was hitting the door with such force.

"Come on, motherfucker..." The others would be climbing down the ladder soon enough.

As the door opened he saw the head and hands inverted, zipping down fast.

He jumped inside and hit the close button, shutting it without delay and just in time.

The door smashed in, cracking along its length causing him to press himself to the back.

He punched the Upper level button and the lift began rising. But only for a metre and then it ground to a halt. "No! Don't stop." He needed it to rise or he was dead. The concave door was stopping its ascent.

The whole shaft trembled as the Xenomorph smashed against it again, causing damage to the floor of the lift this time. It buckled in the centre, distorting his reflexion into two mutated halves.

He needed to get rid of the lift door. It was impeding his escape. He started kick out himself to try to force it out of the way- to dislodge it. It motion was like a two handed saw.

Push me pull me.

The Xenomorph hit from one side- Sammy kicked from the other. The door would fail soon, he hoped it would fail and allow him to rise.

Kick

BANG!

Kick

BANG!

Kick

BANG!

At last there was a groan of metal against metal and he started to rise.

"Yes!"

There was only one more Xenomorph outside, but he was sure it would have followed the other down to the Lower deck. They were animals; that's how they worked.

The lift juddered, travelling very shakily, then stopped with an ear-splitting shriek. Once more, he was static. Waiting.

The door to the Central level was in front of him. Shut.

"COME ON, MOTHERFUCKER!" There was no need for whispers. They knew he was there. "PLEASE!"

But his words were met with indifference to his plight.

"Please... please..." He was desperate for movement, but he knew it was not going to happen. He had to get out before they got in. "Willy: emergency open Central lift door."

The door slid open without fuss, allowing him to escape onto the level. He rushed out and headed for the forward ladders.

black shadow

His heart missed a beat and seemed to flutter in his chest. He slipped as he tried to stop, falling onto his backside, struggling to get back to his feet.

It was a face. A face with no eyes, impossibly crawling towards him along the wall. Smiling. Drooling.

It descended onto the floor. Its head was long and as it turned to face him it hissed.

He knew there was nowhere to go, unless he could take the route back around the Hypersleep Nest to the Port-side and outrun it.

He turned back, stumbling into a run in the opposite direction.

But his escape was cut short again. The shape stood tall, just a few metres from him. It had left the lift and scaled back up the ladder in an instant.

He felt alone. This was so unfair. He had given it his best shot, but they were still there. He couldn't escape them. He was trapped. Maybe if there'd been only one of them...?

"B... wh..." He couldn't even understand himself what he wanted to say. His thoughts were a jumble. There was something inside, urging him.

There was something he wanted to say- he needed to say.

And there was something he wanted to do- something he needed to do.

But he couldn't grasp what those things were.

It was simple:

The 'needed-to-say' was a warning to Willy.

The 'needed-to-do' was to start to run again-

- in any direction.

He had seen these same scenes in wildlife videos and films many times.

Alone with a pack of wolves in the wilderness of North America.

Face to face with a pride of lions on the plains of Africa.

Floating on the surface of the South Seas, watching powerlessly as a Great White shark appeared from the deep like a steaming locomotive.

But this was Homo sapiens. It didn't happen to Homo sapiens anymore. Not in real life.

It may as well have been ten thousand years ago.

"No..." His voice was weak and pleading. He looked back over his shoulder as he backed away. "Please..."

All he'd wanted to do was go to bed. To sleep. That's all. It'd been a long night.

He wheeled to the right and backed into the wall midway between them while they closed in ever so slowly. He could still hear the other monster making dull thuds on the deck below.

He didn't want to see them. He raised his arms up so his face was in the crook of his elbows. If he didn't see them-

But he could still hear them. Claws like shortened daggers tapping on the deck floor. A hissing sound coming from their mouths through their sharp, metallic teeth.

'A mouth within a mouth', Elizabeth had said. 'Shoot out like a bolt'. 'Serrated tail'. 'Acid for blood'. 'Total hostility'. 'Without pity'. 'The supreme predator'.

The words shot at him like jagged barbs.

No. No. NO-O-O-O!

There was a blow to his head, knocking it back against the wall. It felt like someone had pummelled him with a soaked fist and there was a warm liquid now running down his forehead and into his eyes, though he still dare not open them.

Then another blow, this time to his neck. He was being punched. That was the only thing he could understand it as being. They couldn't be biting him. That was ludicrous. It would mean he was going to die. He couldn't be about to die. He couldn't die. He was never going to die.

"Willy...?" He had nothing more.

Another blow to his chest and this time it felt like his face was going to explode. It was a feeling like straining trying to lift an enormous weight, all the blood going to his head.

He didn't want to think about it. It wasn't happening. He was dreaming. He'd finished his shift two hours ago and he was in bed, having a bad dream.

That's it- it's just a bad dream.

As the dull thuds became more pronounced, gradually the build up of pressure in his head began to flow away. The pain was abating. All sensation was going with it.

He was going to live.

He allowed his arms to fall down to his sides.

He could see teeth now. Nothing but teeth striking forward. Teeth as a singular entity... but he didn't care.

There was Teeth...

... and red...

... and black...

... everywhere.

But that didn't matter now he knew he was going to live. He would have six hours of sleep and rise for the next day's duties. He was calm. Tranquil. It was all going to be okay...

... and as all the colours and all the shapes merged into one abstract mist, he felt himself drifting off into a deeper, more peaceful sleep away from all the horrors of the universe.