There was barely any gravity in the hangar, as Elizabeth found when she stepped out of the ship's airlock. She fell slowly towards the hangar floor, and touched down silently. There was no air to carry a sound. But the real shock came when trying to take one step. She found herself propelled upwards, several feet in the air, with no sign of stopping. She let out a scream as she flailed her limbs uselessly, for there was nothing she could reach to grab on to. Eventually however the small gravity caught her, and returned her gently to the ground.

The only problem with the landing was David's snickering. "Hey, watch this," he said, and then leaped powerfully upwards. He imparted some spin on himself at take-off, and was now performing several controlled tumbles and pirouettes in the air. She followed him with her gaze, struggling to see in the relative gloom of the hangar, the glow emanating from beneath the ship and their torches the only lights.

"David, stop fooling around."

"This is not a frivolous display," he said. "They may not think of us as a threat if we act a little goofy."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and waited for him to come down from his jump. Behave like this, they'll think like that; who could really tell? Only an Engineer, and there were none around. She had expected some kind of welcoming group, or some kind of inspection, guards maybe. Her fears that she was investigating a hollow shell returned.

"I managed to get a look around the place," David said on landing. "We should go that way." He then leaped again, even higher than before.

Elizabeth followed, not so much walking as crawling, grabbing to whatever holds she could find in the floor, heaving herself forward.

"You should try this instead, Elizabeth. It's much faster, and considerably more fun."

She looked at him. Virtually flying through the air, he seemed to be mocking her and her nervous clinging to the ground. All right, David, she thought, you watch out.

She tentatively took another step, which propelled her upwards an uncomfortable amount. Back on Earth, a fall from this height would have resulted in injury. It would take a while for the instinctive part of her brain to realize that this wasn't Earth and readjust; she screamed again, which only prompted David to laugh.

"David, stop it if you know what's good for you."

"Catch me."

She stepped again, higher, faster, slowly becoming accustomed to falling and not getting hurt, despite all her instincts screaming at her to stop. It was, in a way, exhilarating. Her heart rushed, her breath quickened, adrenalin released. Fight or flight response. Flight- literally- as she lunged towards him. And missed, repeatedly. He proved very cunning in choosing his trajectories. While neither one of them could change their flight path in mid-jump, he seemed able to foretell how and where she'd go, and leap just so that she wouldn't get him. Which frustrated her to no end.

"David, stop, this is no time for games."

"Really? I thought you were playing. Look, you almost got me."

What would the Engineers think of them? Children with spaceships. Angels in paradise.

If only there were any Engineers around. They reached the area David thought was an access point to the hangar. It seemed to be some sort of airlock, and closed.

"Got you," Elizabeth said.

"Look who's not playing now."

Elizabeth wanted to say something in response when the airlock moved, all by itself.

Maybe someone was watching, after all.

"Do you suppose that is an invitation?" he asked.

"I hope it is. There's only one way to go."

He nodded, and they moved forth, through the airlock sequence, into the center of the spire. An extremely wide corridor extended, endlessly upwards, endlessly downwards, with ridges and balconies placed periodically in the walls, tens of meters apart. No ladders, no stairs, no easy access- or rather, none if this were Earth. It was clear that the intended way to move around was by jumping, which the local, almost but not quite non-existent gravity, didn't much impede. From place to place, thin tendrils supported shimmering orbs of pale blue light.

David took a look at the sensors on his suit's forearm. "Earth-like air, similar pressure. Temperature at thirty degrees centigrade. Very little humidity."

"Let's go up," she said.

That would take them closer to one of the large discs that made up the station, she thought. And it just felt, somehow, natural, to need to go upwards. Skywards, even if there was no sky here. Even if the great stretch of darkness beneath her made her heart skip a beat at every jump.

But as they moved upwards, the station looked less and less like an approximation of heaven. It was difficult to place why, something just seemed off to Elizabeth. More and more often, vein-like structures appeared inside the walls, slowly throbbing, carrying some sort of fluid to unknown places. The tendrils and their luminous orbs looked more like some creatures of the deep than proper illumination. Rib-like support struts, ridges and crevasses made the place more like the belly of a colossal beast than the product of industry. Then again, there was a mechanical insanity about the obsessiveness with which patterns were repeated.

The architecture became more and more suggestive of something else as well. Or rather, quite explicit in its inspiration. In several places, thick tubes went inside lipped tunnels located in walls beneath twin bulges. And everywhere those throbbing veins. Simultaneously obscene and mechanical. Soul-less.

"It appears someone's compensating for something." David laughed, attempting to dispel the eery mood that had obviously descended on her. Elizabeth just shrugged and went on, upwards, into ever changing sights. Her mood couldn't be lifted so easily.

She knew now that she was watched. She knew when the airlock opened, in a way, but that could have been just a mechanism. Now, she knew, she felt it in her bones. Someone was watching. Someone was waiting. For her.

"I think we should stop here. Look," she said, pointing to a sideways junction. "Do you feel anything strange?"

"Not really. Do you?"

"I don't know how to say it, but yes. What do you mean, not really?"

"Some electromagnetic interference in the communicators, but as you see, we can understand each other fine."

"Whatever it is, it's there." She pointed at the junction again.

He looked like he would ask something, but the answer was clear.

As they advanced into the junction, more and more machinery appeared in the walls. Incomplete machinery. Behind glass-like panes, tubes approached, but failed to meet each other, as if something was missing between them. The light orbs meanwhile became rarer. Turning back, Elizabeth noticed that behind them was pitch black darkness. The orbs from the spire had been extinguished. Forward then.

Forward, towards another gateway. It opened when they were still quite far away. Elizabeth stopped, and David followed suit. A figure emerged from behind the gateway, indistinct at the distance. Alone it stood, motionless. They resumed their approach, cautiously.

And, much like the station before it, the figure became stranger as they approached. At first it was human-like and female. The pale blue hue of her skin just like the hue of the Engineer from LV-223. Twice as tall as the Engineer. Naked. Female ... but definitely an It. Its features, powerful yet graceful, elegant and beautiful, if not for the thick, sinewy neck, supporting a monstrously elongated head, its shape more reminiscent of a phallus than a skull. And its face- two dark beads for eyes, a sunken nose and a mouth baring a row of sharp teeth- yet, no expression nor emotion at all.

Elizabeth halted, and signaled David to do the same. Just what was that thing in front of them?

She remembered seeing herself, for the first time noticing her dark eyes and pale blue skin, the effect of the ship's rations. She remembered her curious gaze at the time, as she approached the mirror, feeling her new face, her new body, studying this new stranger, eager for knowledge.

No. That wasn't how it happened. She had reeled back in horror at the time, retching with disgust, she nearly took her own life, if not for ...

The memory insisted on its version of events. Then she knew- it wasn't her memory. It was a foreign thought, searching for purchase inside her mind, grabbing on to whatever it could find that was somehow similar. But whose thought was it? If not hers, it could only belong to ...

Who are you? What are you doing here? Are these my thoughts or yours?

Get out!

David looked at her, uncertain of what to do. She wasn't much help deciding either. It was the figure that broke the silence.

"Welcome home."

It spoke in Proto-Nostratic, its diction hampered by its near-lack of lips but still understandable. Both David and Elizabeth were caught off-guard, and the thing continued.

"The journey must have been tiring, and you will get to rest before you join us. Humor me though, and answer this riddle. The more of it there is, the less you see."

It turned to David. "Darkness," he said with barely a pause.

It then turned to Elizabeth. His answer was correct, she knew. It was a very easy riddle. But all that she could think of saying was-

"Space."

The thing looked at her for a moment. "Hm. Follow me," it gestured to the both of them, inviting them along to step towards the other side. David moved past Elizabeth, shooting her a glance of playful disapproval. Come on, Elizabeth, how could you get that wrong?

He didn't notice the thing prepare its arm to strike, nor could she warn him. He only knew when it had pierced his belly, grabbing his spine. It then braced itself against the gate, and flung him violently into the gloom of the corridor behind Elizabeth, milk-white blood spewing everywhere.

Useless while living, useless while dead.

And through it all, Elizabeth couldn't move a muscle. Her mind was locked back at the time when she first exited the ship, and placed herself in the vacuum of space. Trapped by the freedom of emptiness, unable to move then, unable to move now.

The thing grabbed her, staring her deep in the eyes, and jumped upwards. It didn't kill her, though she knew it could, with ease.

"Where are you from?" it asked, without a hint of violence in its tone despite tossing her against a wall. She hit it hard, and fell a helpless rag-doll, still locked inside her vision of emptiness, trapped by her own inertia.

"Why?" was all Elizabeth managed to say as the thing grabbed her again and took another leap to some unknown destination. It was only careful not to kill her, otherwise it made no qualms about flinging her into any obstacle it could find, as it carried her ever upwards.

They stopped for a while, as the thing paused to look at its captive.

Elizabeth could barely speak. "Why ... why do you w-"

"I see you protect your kind. Understandable. I protect my own."

Elizabeth saw herself inside the ship. She was in the control chair, and all around her were the cryo-sleep pods. But they were filled this time. Ford was there, and Fifield, and Jackson, and Vickers. Even Weyland. Charlie. Everyone.

This never happened. That wasn't her. But the memory insisted, clear in her head, an invader bent on total conquest.

"Why are you here?" the thing asked, shoving her against a wall.

"I just ... wanted to know ... what did we do wrong?"

The thing paused, its face as inexpressive as ever, its mind in rapid activity.

"What did you do wrong?" it said, but Elizabeth could barely hear it. For she was far away, and someone else.

A small girl over her father's grave, she cursed death and the heavens for their cruelty. Why must anyone die? Life does not want to end, why must it always submit to the same fate?

And then it didn't need to. Weyland, the one so desperate for everlasting life, had found what he was searching for, and gave the gift of immortality to all.

She ate of the nectar, so did everyone she ever knew. Death was vanquished. Aboard mighty ships supplying them the nectar, they were the gods now. The stars called for them to give them purpose.

"You think this was ever about you?"

She searched among the stars for answers to half-formulated questions. She and her kind were the first to wake. Alone among the stars, some found a mission. She watched as Ford left the ship, an unconventional fetus in her belly, choosing to die so that new life may spring. Ford wasn't alone to pick that path; there were some others. Charlie burned with the light of new creation, the fact that he had chosen his own death making it no easier to bear.

Most however, like her, chose to live, and watched over the fruits scattered across the galaxy.

"Did you think you were that important?"

She had thought those things were important. They used to be people she knew. But they changed. Everything changed. The oceans, the ground, everything. The stars grew older, colder, and further apart. Purposeless as ever. All the while she didn't die, and didn't age. Just grew older.

All her designs were useless markings left in lipstick, fragile signs on a reality that operated according to its own mindless rules. She struggled futilely, trapped in nothingness, for an unimaginably long time. So did all the others. She tired of the struggle. What had ever been the point?

She remembered that night by the campfire, with Charlie. Or was it David, it was difficult to tell. All they ever needed was each other, huddled together near the dying embers. The cold infinite darkness never cared for anything, why should they care for any of it?

But there were monsters there. In the vast spans of time, the chaos that gave birth to her could give birth to other things, eventually. Maybe sooner, now that she and her kind had looked into it and spread seeds there. Life would find a way. She saw herself poisoning it with radiation, burning corridors clean. Yet life arose anew, to find its way.

Then life would be given a way, they decided.

Life wants one thing, to multiply. She saw herself and David, working, selecting, culling, engineering pathways for it, to increase its ferocity. If it wants to multiply, let it. The one thing it must never do is look up from the cycle of predation and wonder. It must never see the stars. Heaven forbid, it must never reach for them. There shall be no slimy parasite, crawling towards the heaven they had built.

No one will interrupt their eternal embrace.

What would Charlie have said, or Ford, or the others who had died? What would they have thought, about that plan? But they were dead, they didn't have to see, they didn't have to live through the encroaching coldness. Had they lived, they themselves would have clipped the wings of their descendants, for all that vigor and innocence was a dangerous mockery that needed to be contained. That's what she told herself as the accusing ghost of Charlie's ring confronted her on her betrayal.

Forgive me Charlie. We must live. They must never get here.

I shall not feel guilt.

The thing stared at her. "Now you have seen through my eyes. Is your curiosity sated?"

Still no expression, no emotion, on its face. It tossed her to the floor, and Elizabeth fell on her knees, crying, crushed by how the thing had played havoc with her mind, defeated by how indifferent it had been of the whole affair.

"I have my own questions for you." It grabbed her and jumped again, stopping at a balcony near a machine similar to those incomplete ones she had seen earlier. Trickles of fluid dripped from the three tubes. Fresh spit. Waste.

The thing placed her on the floor, and proceeded to adjust the tubes. It briefly sized her up, and changed tube positions. Thicknesses. Calibrated for a female. Then it lifted her up near its face again. Whether it spoke, or just sent its thoughts to her, Elizabeth didn't know.

"When you are ready, you will tell me everything. The wish to conceal something will reveal it to me." It tore through her helmet as if it were paper, its strong fingers ripping the plastic off with ease.

The shine of Elizabeth's necklace briefly distracted it. It snatched the trinket, pausing to study it. Elizabeth could see her soul there, about to be left bare.

Welcome to paradise. There are no secrets here.

And there was nothing she could do. Just like the time when she had exited the ship. She could only flail uselessly, it was impossible to move.

No.

No. She could move. She had used the Colt then. She still had it now, in her pocket. She had a way out of the alien's spell. Her arm moved, under her control again. She fired a shot, then another, and another. She didn't know if the shots even hit anything, but they made the thing lose its mental grip on her and temporarily cower behind its machinery. She used the chance to fling herself downwards, firing another shot.

The thing didn't pursue.

"rrrbeth? Elizabeth, are you crrr rrright?"

She was falling from the height of the Eiffel tower, tears pooling on her face, a feeling of void inside her. "No, David. I'm not all right."

"rrchood. Keep tarrhhng to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Ehhhthing."

"I can't hear you."

"nnthrferance. Might be hfffting you as well. Where arhhhew?"

"Falling towards the gate. Where are you?"

"I'm thrrr now. rrrh you being hhprsued?"

She shifted her weight to look around. "I don't think so." Her voice trembled. "David, I could hear it in my mind."

"Dhhht think now, just krrrp talking. Please. Keep tahhhng."


Author note:

Poor David. It seems all Engineers he meets are hell-bent on tearing him to pieces. Oh, yeah, that was an Engineer they met, hence the AU tag I've slapped on the story description. I decided that I'd have two tiers of Engineers, the Space Jockeys of the film, and another kind based on Giger's "Necronom 5" painting. (The original xenomorphs were based on "Necronom 4", incidentally). Further, I'll claim in this story's universe that the bass-relief on LV-223 was not a xenomorph queen, but one such Necronom 5. This is obviously not what the authors intended, hence more reason for AU.

Giger's "Biomechanoid" and "Erotomechanics" series were the inspiration for the architecture, obviously. Don't look for those paintings at work.

So yeah, immortal Engineers. I've seen (frames from) an alt. beginning scene where aged Engineers appear. That doesn't really mesh with immortal Engineers either, but del./alt. scenes never happened, la-la-la-la I can't hear you.

The only things I knew when I started writing this story were how the film ended, and what Elizabeth's answers would turn out to be. The problem was finding a way to convey them as a story. Because, for a big chunk of those answers, I could only think of, essentially, a Bond villain speech.

So I tried to make it a slightly different Bond villain speech than the usual. How successful that was, it's not for me to judge, but I will claim that the idea meshed well, imo, with the chief inspiration for "Paradise Sought", which was J. L. Borges' "The immortal". I do recommend you look it up, Borges is a much subtler author who doesn't need such cheesy tricks as telepathic aliens to make a point.

The one way telepathy (emitter) thing I cribbed from Alfred Bester's "The Stars my Destination". It's a very annoying 'ability' to have, if you don't have the utmost self-control (and it's a safe bet Elizabeth would not be such after what the Necronom was about to put her through). I changed Bester's version a little, to make the telepathy dependent on the memories of the receiver. This allowed some reuse of the often silly imagery previously appearing in Paradise Sought, and creates some (but not too much, I hope) confusion between Elizabeth and Necronom 5. That is intentional. Borges argued that human character (including me and you) is a fragile fiction, its distinctiveness dependent on happenstance. Remove certain limits and it disappears. In eternity we are all the same as all virtue and all vice is infinitely repeated.

Other influences that are no longer directly present in the published version of the text are William Blake's "Auguries of Innocence", Ice Ages' "Buried Silence" and Ordo Rosarius Equilibrio "The love and defiance of being alive".

In four or five days I'll upload the final chapter of Paradise Sought. It's written, tweaks likely. As always I welcome opinions and criticism, don't be shy.