DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

[0000]

Weyland's men set up a security checkpoint at the monorail station, but Sil had eluded it. At first, I thought this were mere ineptitude, but then, as the meeting proceeded, and we talked strategy, the man began to get headaches and a seizure.

My people have the technology to treat brain cancer, but it's such a rarity that we don't have tools for it among the standard medical equipment onboard my spaceship, even if I could get to it.

I might be able to excise a tumor, but that was about it.

I met up with Ellie again. She was really happy to see me again.

The poor girl. From what I hear, they raised her in a simulated Homeschooler environment. To be thrown into such an excessively liberal society must have been a shock, especially considering how she almost died trying to stop our refugee.

I wanted to stay and help her out, give her some much needed comfort in her time of great loss, but Weyland said he had need of me, that the Iberet's medical equipment had been flown to his summer beach house, and if he had an episode while at his niece's, I was to operate on his brain. This he told me as his guards escorted me out.

"Have you ever been on a yacht?" he asked me.

"No," I said.

"You'll love it. The clean salt water, the sun, the aquatic life...we're on the edge of the Pacific oceanic preserve. It's absolutely beautiful. Our boat has a glass bottom. We might even scuba dive."

"Sounds like fun. It would be more fun with my husband and the rest of my family, and not being under guard all the time...but fun."

"I'm glad you agree, Ms. Pulsa. As for as your card restriction, I have restored your security access."

"Thank you, sir. I promise I'll never touch Jen-Jen again."

"I'm sure you won't. But, more importantly, I'm certain you will never again hack into my computer system and disable important monitoring equipment."

"What!" I cried. "Who told you I did that!"

"It's not important. The evidence is on your computer. Do something like that to me again, and I will make your life very unpleasant."

My life was already unpleasant, but I didn't mention this to him because I knew what he'd say. My head whirled with hate, suspicion and fear as we took the elevator back to the roof.

Did Big Bird lie? Was that a part of her programming now? Or did someone hack into her brain and access the memories? Did she tattle under duress?

What if I accuse her, and it wasn't her at all?

Was it Old Lady Gaga? Jen-Jen? Jennifer always had it out for me, but we were never close enough for her to spy. Unless she got into my room while I was away.

Maybe it was neither, and Weyland just happened to be smart enough to trace my computer hacking back to me. There were cameras in my room...

"What about Laura?" I asked the man. "What about the project we were working on, to stop Sil?"

"She can always video conference you if she has a question."

And then we were back on the plane.

We never made it to our destination.

[0000[

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

[0000]

The flaming wreckage of Weyland's airbus lay scattered in a thousand pieces along the jungle floor. My body ached from several cracks along my exoskeleton as I crawled out from under the chunk of metal and bulletproof glass that once served as my cell door.

I gasped for breath, examining my surroundings in bewilderment.

We had crashed somewhere in the Amazon jungle.

The first thing that came to mind were the lyrics to I'm Free by The Who.

The second was, `I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family...' a grin coming to my face as I imagined myself adapting the free and rustic life of Mr. Crusoe.

We'd crashed amidst several large palms, possibly a rubber tree, our airborne jail now nothing but a series of collapsed metal boxes with jagged shards of metal sticking out everywhere. A single cell door stood erect in the dirt, reminding me of a scene from Kubrick's 2001.

My paintings and their associated supplies were ruined, the paper ripped and dirty when it wasn't on fire.

My sewing supplies and finished projects, however, had been safely nestled in a little craft cabinet. A little washing and they'd be good as new.

My bible also happened to be in good condition, as was my MP3 player. All this I could assess in a matter of seconds with my infrared vision.

With that little bit of selfishness aside, I immediately set about sifting through the debris for survivors.

Weyland's guards had died, his androids out of commission.

It was dark, so regular vision was of no use whatsoever. In a way, it made things simpler, because, in infrared, any survivors would appear as a red blob in a sea of blue. Well, when I wasn't seeing monkeys or getting blinded by the fires of burning airplane parts.

One wing of the the airbus stuck out of the side of a detached section of fuselage like the fin of a half submerged drunken whale, the other wing buried in dirt. The rest of the plane lay elsewhere.

I found Golic squatting before a fire, his clothing ragged and bloodstained, arms and legs bandaged with scraps of cloth, looking generally disheveled as he roasted a chunk of meat on a stick.

Upon second glance, I noticed the meat was a human forearm with a hand still attached.

The man bowed in obeisance when he saw me, a difficult task indeed with his leg in a splint. "My Lord! How good is it for you to be here!"

He offered me the roasted human limb. "Please accept this humble offering. Sit down and enjoy."

When I refused his offering, he looked disappointed. "May it not displease my Lord if I eat the sacrificial offering?"

"Did you kill someone to get it?"

"No," he said. "Should I have?"

"No."

He looked very pleased now. "It was a test! Oh my Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! We have indeed arrived in the land of milk and honey!"

He spread his arms to encompass all that surrounded us. "Behold your heavenly kingdom on earth! I give it all to you, only let me sit by your right hand as you establish your rule in this great kingdom."

I rubbed my face in annoyance. "I was better off in my cell."

I departed from this grisly repast to search for the others, but as I did this, I noticed the man hobbling after me, one armpit propped up by a crutch he must have somehow dug out of the destroyed infirmary...wherever it was.

He followed close behind me with a torch made from a rag and a stick of dry wood. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, I would be Mr. Crusoe, and Golic would be my man Friday.

I heard a yelp of terror as I approached a fire along a broken piece of airplane wall.

Mrs. Barnes had been nervously staring into the flame from the comfort of a broken passenger seat, clutching her babies protectively. When she saw me emerge from the dark, every hair on her body appeared to stand up at once, making her look like a giant puff ball.

"My apologies," I said. "It is only I."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" she sighed in relief.

"Any news about my new niece?" I asked.

She had briefly mentioned this mysterious stranger during our flight.

"I'm sorry, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I don't know where to begin looking."

"I still don't understand. How did we wreck? How did all of this happen?"

She gave me an incredulous look. "You mean you don't know?"

"How could I? I was in my cell the whole time!"

"It was Zack and Ippi," she said. "They broke into the cockpit."

"That sounds like an impossible feat. How did they manage to do it?"

"Long story. I'll tell you tomorrow. Right now we need to find shelter for the night."

I nodded. "You're right. Might I suggest using the debris for that end? I believe a rough lean-to can be constructed from some of these walls..."

"Would you mind helping?"

I shook my head. "I must find out if anyone else survived. I will come back to assist you later."

I glanced at Golic. "Actually, my loyal servant will gladly assist you with your shelter, won't you, Golic?"

"Anything which pleases you, my Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

"Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Pillow cried.

"He is quite committed to his own particular brand of religion. I do not quite know how to correct this foolishness."

"The foolishness of Shasharmazorb is greater than the wisdom of men," he said.

"He has this all thought out," I said. "He has had ages to think about it, apparently."

We both started when a Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva scampered up to us.

"Hello Pillow!"

"Lacethanny!" the Abreya cried. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Pillow can't see in the dark," I explained.

"Not well," she agreed.

The larva crawled up on my shoulder plates. "Whatcha doing?"

"Looking for survivors. Seen any?"

She pointed a claw at the treetops. "There's one above you."

I looked up and saw a humanoid figure with a tail clambering through the branches. "It's Sharad."

"Sharad!" Pillow shouted. "What are you doing up there!"

The Abreya youth shined a flashlight down at her, then illuminated a strong looking bough high above us. "Oh please, mother! That human...dad, he's made a ludiho out of you!"

"What's a ludiho?" I asked.

"It means `groundling.'"

She turned her head upwards again. "Mommy's pregnant, honey! She's not going to climb up there!"

"That didn't stop my aunt Bruna!"

Pillow sighed. "All right! I'll be up there in a minute!"

She gave me an apologetic look. "You'll have to excuse me, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. This family time is way overdue!"

"I am happy for you," I said with a slight sob. "I'll come back to check on you later."

I watched as the female placed her young up on her back, their little hands instinctively clutching her backside and tail as she scaled the sheer palm tree that led to her adopted daughter.

"Should I begin building the shelter, my Lord?" Golic asked.

I shook my head. "I believe that tree will do nicely."

The two of us walked in expanding circles around the crushed prison area, searching for survivors.

I found the smashed up cargo hold right away. The supplies had been scattered all over the place, guns, ammo, sealed crates of food, metal suitcases with biohazard stickers, backup first aid supplies. Golic said he got his crutch from there.

I found a Korean stewardess lying unconscious with her legs pinned beneath a heavy shipping container. Judging from her heat signature, she wasn't dead. In fact, I could see her chest rising and falling quite calmly.

The name tag said Bo Young. Blood dripped from the ripped shoulder of her tight blue uniform, but it appeared to be a surface wound. The situation below seemed far more life threatening.

The crate had hit the woman directly below her tiny black skirt, pulverizing her legs so completely that it seemed to be a lost cause. Since the worst damage had already been done, I and Golic worked to roll the container off her.

To our surprise, her legs sprayed milky white fluid and sparked like something electronic.

The woman's narrow eyelids snapped open, her pupils contracting in fear.

She let out a scream, then, to our complete and utter surprise, unhooked the broken legs from her body like were mere boots, crawling away from us on a pair of octopus-like lower appendages, apparently her actual legs.

I stared speechlessly as she vanished into the dark.

The crash must have occurred at a strange angle. The staircases had been flung quite a distance from the rest of the plane. The first one I saw stuck out of the ground like a corkscrew in a wine cork.

We passed through a demolished `first class' passenger section with its damaged seats, bent overhead bins, and broken tray tables, arriving at the remains of the meeting room.

I found Jen-Jen trapped under a long table in the center of the area. Jagged shards of metal projected from the carpeting all around her, but none of them touched her body, as if she had been protected by something otherworldly.

The shattered monitors and wall panels had missed her completely, the shell with its vertical stabilizer falling outside the collapsed structure.

Emergency lights from a nearby chunk of airframe provided illumination, apparently running on its own power source.

The woman didn't seem to be in peril, she just didn't have the strength to lift the table. In her defense, a chunk of ceiling had fallen on top of it, but someone a little more muscular probably could have pushed it right off.

She stared up at us like an indignant queen catching sight of her royal subjects loafing about. "Hey! You two! Get me out!"

I stepped forward to do just that, but Golic rushed ahead of me, slapping the woman in the face. "Impudent female! How dare you address the offspring of God with such disrespect! Beg mercy from our Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, and maybe she will forgive you of this most heinous indiscretion!"

"I bow to no man. Or alien monster. You should free me because otherwise you're never going to get out of this jungle."

"Although I desire no such worship," I said. "What makes you think I wish to leave? I believe I shall enjoy myself immensely in this secluded place. I can go anywhere I want, do whatever I want...I am, overall, quite content!"

Jen-Jen attempted ineffectively to push the table off her body.

"You're not going to get away with this! I'm going to die, and someone's going to come looking for me, and they'll kill you all!"

"She overvalues her position in the company, my Lord," Golic said.

"You look perfectly fine to me," I told her. "I'll come back to you a little later. My companion may have overreacted to your disrespectful tones, but that is of little concern to me. Far more troubling are your comments about summoning aid. Right now, I'm more free than I have ever been in my entire life. I can work with my claws and dwell in an earthly paradise, free from prejudice or fear of torturous imprisonment."

"What about the girl?" Jen-Jen demanded.

"Ellie knows the Lord," I said. "I am content in this. If the Lord has brought her to her before, he shall do so again, if he so wishes."

"I was referring to Sil. She's still out there, killing people."

"No one ever asked me to interfere. And I had no method of escape, so I had no hope to provide any assistance to that end. I do not see why this is different. It is a long way to America. I doubt I can swim that far."

"What about your grandma? What about your friend Newt?"

I frowned. "As previously stated, you are fine, I shall return to you. I shall consider your words as I assist survivors with more pressing impairments, pardon the pun."

"I thought we were friends," she groaned.

"We are. Which is why I must retreat for awhile in prayer. I will not abandon you for long. I shall return later on tonight, when I have finished my search."

As we departed, I heard Golic muttering to the woman, "Beware of snakes."

The executive level of the plane lay smashed along a hillside near the second staircase. I pushed through a wall of creepers and immediately found a gun pointing in my face.

Mr. Weyland, it seemed, had survived.

Although he stood with one arm in a sling, he seemed otherwise unhurt, standing on two perfectly operational legs. The night vision goggles explained why he could see me in the darkness. "Hello, Ernie. If you're looking for a midnight snack, I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came."

I attempted to do just that, but the man followed me, clicking back the hammer of his gun. "You know I can't allow your kind to breed here, don't you?"

"Sir," I answered with raised arms. "Throughout my time of unjust imprisonment in your facility, did I once raise a claw to injure any one of your staff members, or attempt to lay eggs in their bodies?"

He pressed the gun to my dome. "Perhaps, but I can't afford to take risks. I must apologize in advance, but we have other specimens of your kind. Since, in our current situation, you cannot be restrained, I'm afraid I can see no alternative."

"Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" Golic screeched, ramming the burning end of his torch into Weyland's chest.