Chapter 2
He stood, slack-jawed, blank-eyed as the Aliens skittering faded. Then, suddenly, sound came back to him: the screams of the colonel down below, the whimpering of the technician. He was relieved. It meant they were both alive, and his magnum had gone off in the opposite direction of the colonel. He shook his head, and immediately pressed the big, red button on the control panel to sound the alarm. The rooms lighting turned red, the sirens started to blare, and he suddenly felt strangely at ease. The horror was gone, and he sighed in relief. Someone would be here soon, and he would be relieved of this nightmare.
That was when he realised the Alien was still on the loose.
He started shaking, his hands were shaking, and he crossed to the door, trying to pry it open. He heard marching footsteps on the other side, then let go of the middle of the door as the welding started at the top. Within five minutes the door was free, and he stepped out into the white lighting, dragging the technician, still blubbering, into the siren-filled hall. He turned to one of the soldiers, still holding the plasma rifle, still smoking, and dropped the sagging technician in his arms. He started rapping out orders to a few of the soldiers.
"Get the colonel out from below. He's broken his legs, and may have a gun shot wound. You," He pointed to the man with the technician, "get him to the medical area, and give him a shot of painkillers and some damn hard- ass sleeping pills. He'll need to go into therapy after this. The rest of you," He turned to the group. "Follow me, and hurry up. We got a Xenomorph on the loose."
The soldiers – saddled up, he supposed they called it – and ran with him down the corridor. It was only 5 minutes later that he realised he knew dip-shit about the station, and they needed to know where the Xenomorph was quickly. He asked for one of the walkie-talkies, and the troupe stopped. He pressed the button.
"Big Momma, Big Momma, we have a Code Black, repeat, Code Black. Please advise, and tell me what the adjoining rooms are, by ventilation shaft, to the Analysis area 215, Over." He depressed the button, and waited while the people at the other end shouted, panicked then organised themselves.
"Yes, Sergeant, Code Black received and understood. We trust you have soldiers? Good," they crackled over the receiver, not even letting him answer. Stupid question, really. "Adjoining rooms are cargo bay 4, Labs 1 through 4 and cargo bay 2, areas 1 and 2 heading East, area 3 heading West. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to tackle on your own, wait for further assistance. Over."
Further assistance? Did they not trust him to do it right? One of them would fuck it up royally, and knowing the now hysterical technician, he was probably the things best… best chance? What the FUCK was he on about? Giving the thing a bloody chance was out of the question! The government would have his head, and hang him by his balls if he dared approach the thing. Ah, screw them, what did it matter? All this, he thought as he sent half the men to the East areas, and the rest joined him as he travelled West. He had a feeling, almost, that he would find it there. God, he was going to die. He knew what he was going to do, and he didn't know why the hell he was thinking it.
"Sergeant, information regarding Code Black, has been spotted by electromagnetic pulse in cargo bay 2. We have sealed the area, and he cannot leave. Approach with caution, and restrain the subject, Over." He stared at the thing.
Eh? They had told him not to approach before? What the hell was going on? He asked the questions over the receiver.
"We have been advised by higher authority, Xenomorph is of extreme interest, to not destroy subject. Sacrifice is necessary to keep subject in a non-terminal position." The crackle paused, then continued, "You have been specially requested. Enter alone, sergeant." The crackle stopped.
They had reached the cargo bay doors now, and he approached them cautiously. The soldiers tipped their hats to him, and one gave him the pulse gun. God, it was like a funeral, except the subject was still alive, they were giving him their last respects! He had never really felt scared until now, which was, to him, strange, but the soldiers pushed him along, and gave him the thumbs up. They were relieved, they hadn't been specially selected. He gulped, and gripped the plasma rifle like a dying man. Which he sure as hell felt like.
The door opened, and immediately the marines behind him pulled their weapons, blocking the creatures only exit. He gulped, then stepped in, skitterish as the door swished closed behind him. He was 5 again, scared of all the shadows, and saw the camera swishing back and forth above him, its reflection of the boxes stacked around him almost comical, and the flashing, blinking red light far above him. He mentally screamed at the person who thought it a bad idea to leave lights out of cargo bays. Stupid thing to do.
He moved the gun left to right, almost tracking the invisible thing, the black horse that trampled and addled his brain in different directions, towards fear, and anger. The radio crackled again, and he pressed the button, almost frantically.
"WHAT?! Can you not see I'm doing something here?!" He screamed at it, then listened carefully over the hissing.
"BEHIND YOU, YOU STUPID-" the sentence was cut off, when he realised that the hissing wasn't from the radio. The radio fell from his hand, and he gripped the gun with both hands. Sweat ran down his fore-
He felt a tingling, the tingling you get when you know something bad will happen, and whipped around. IT was there, right there! It turned, and slammed its tail across the gun, whipping it out of his hands, then tripped him up by swishing its tail the other way. The back of his skull hit the metal, and the last thing he saw before it all went black was it, standing above him, dripping saliva onto him, its teeth pulling from its jaw. Then it went red, and finally, blissfully, to black.
He woke up. He felt groggy, like after a five day cold-sleep, and the back of his head felt wet. He put a hand there, and groaned. It felt a lot like blood. Now what was that doing the…
He lifted his head quickly, and looked around. Panicking, he looked for his weapon. It could have gone anywhere, slid into the shadows where it was now probably waiting. He remembered what happened, remembered all right, and looked at the camera. He looked toward the door, its green light shining steadily far, far away. It hadn't changed, and he remembered, with a sickening feeling, their last words to him: "Sacrifice is necessary.". He felt like crying.
He looked around him, and realised how stiff his neck was. How long had he been out? An hour? Two? He cricked his neck, then giggled. How ordinary, with the monster still in here. Or was it? He contemplated. They could have opened the door, and sent someone else in, and have captured him. They wouldn't have noticed him, and since he had…
He started, and searched himself. The radio was gone, and he knew he had taken it with him in here, to get advice. Then he remembered he had dropped it. That blow to the back of his head was confusing him, mislaying things.
He heard hissing, and stiffened. Then he relaxed. If he was to die now, then he was to die. It hadn't actually done anything to him, it had left him alone, so he had a pretty good feeling it wasn't going to kill him. Not right away anyway. He listened hard.
The hissing was from the radio, he was sure of it. Words jerked out into the air, none of which made sense, and feeling confident that it was out of here, either by itself or by the marines, he didn't care. He approached the boxes nearby, cautiously, no-one got hurt by being cautious. He peeked his head round the corner.
Sitting on the floor, hissing loudly, was a strange contraption. Most of it was the radio, but the circuitry was ripped out, and flowed all over it. In places, there were metal objects, and extra parts he had never seen before. There were fuses, he guessed from the door, which was why they hadn't come in yet to get him. And if they hadn't come to get him…
He whipped around, and it stood there, its arms hanging by its sides. It held a box in its hands, but that wasn't what he focused on, all he saw was RAZOR SHARP teeth, and ant-like skin, and claws, and nails, and sharp, sharp things…
He went crazy. That was his reason, he was sure of it, when he thought back on it. It was his only reason, the only reason he could think of to explain how he could think he, a human, could have gone up against one of the most feared creatures in the galaxy. He swung at it, his only weapon, and it grabbed his whole arm and lifted him up. He bit it, nearly breaking his teeth, and swung at it with his legs and free arm. It held him higher, and he screamed and shouted obscenities at it. He was scared, terrified, and anything to make it go away, far away, to leave him alone…
It ignored him, and picked up the box he had been studying. it turned, and headed to a far-away corner, human held far above its head. It dropped him in a bundle of arms and legs, and he twisted away. He grabbed something anything, and came up with a screwdriver. It was turned away now, he could take it…
He approached it carefully, when suddenly it turned, and thrust the box at his hands. He dropped the screwdriver, the box taking up the space. He stared at it dumbly, then felt the Xenomorph's hands against his neck. He gasped, wheezed, and scratched at the hand. The Alien looked at him, its head to one side, then dropped him again. He cried out, then started screaming at it again. It turned away, picked up the screwdriver, and jammed it into the box. It held the box before it, cocked its head one way to the other, then set it down in front of him. He looked at it dumbly, then scratched his head. The box looked like a mess to him. Then:
"You mother-fucker, you let me go now! I swear, I'll rip you a new-" It cut off. The Alien shoved a finger in, ran it around, then the message played again, but shortened,
"You – let – go – new,"
He stared at the thing, astonished. It not only knew how to operate the electrics (why didn't he see it before, it ripped out fuses to stop doors working!), but how to sort out sounds. It stared at him, he thought, then he thought of an idea. He saw no record button, but the thing understood. It grabbed a pair of pliers, and poked in the box. It brought its hands in front of it, like it was offering something. He spoke. He spoke, long, hard, fast, slow on long words, but he spoke. He spoke the alphabet, and after an hour, was done, and the Alien repeated
He stood, slack-jawed, blank-eyed as the Aliens skittering faded. Then, suddenly, sound came back to him: the screams of the colonel down below, the whimpering of the technician. He was relieved. It meant they were both alive, and his magnum had gone off in the opposite direction of the colonel. He shook his head, and immediately pressed the big, red button on the control panel to sound the alarm. The rooms lighting turned red, the sirens started to blare, and he suddenly felt strangely at ease. The horror was gone, and he sighed in relief. Someone would be here soon, and he would be relieved of this nightmare.
That was when he realised the Alien was still on the loose.
He started shaking, his hands were shaking, and he crossed to the door, trying to pry it open. He heard marching footsteps on the other side, then let go of the middle of the door as the welding started at the top. Within five minutes the door was free, and he stepped out into the white lighting, dragging the technician, still blubbering, into the siren-filled hall. He turned to one of the soldiers, still holding the plasma rifle, still smoking, and dropped the sagging technician in his arms. He started rapping out orders to a few of the soldiers.
"Get the colonel out from below. He's broken his legs, and may have a gun shot wound. You," He pointed to the man with the technician, "get him to the medical area, and give him a shot of painkillers and some damn hard- ass sleeping pills. He'll need to go into therapy after this. The rest of you," He turned to the group. "Follow me, and hurry up. We got a Xenomorph on the loose."
The soldiers – saddled up, he supposed they called it – and ran with him down the corridor. It was only 5 minutes later that he realised he knew dip-shit about the station, and they needed to know where the Xenomorph was quickly. He asked for one of the walkie-talkies, and the troupe stopped. He pressed the button.
"Big Momma, Big Momma, we have a Code Black, repeat, Code Black. Please advise, and tell me what the adjoining rooms are, by ventilation shaft, to the Analysis area 215, Over." He depressed the button, and waited while the people at the other end shouted, panicked then organised themselves.
"Yes, Sergeant, Code Black received and understood. We trust you have soldiers? Good," they crackled over the receiver, not even letting him answer. Stupid question, really. "Adjoining rooms are cargo bay 4, Labs 1 through 4 and cargo bay 2, areas 1 and 2 heading East, area 3 heading West. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to tackle on your own, wait for further assistance. Over."
Further assistance? Did they not trust him to do it right? One of them would fuck it up royally, and knowing the now hysterical technician, he was probably the things best… best chance? What the FUCK was he on about? Giving the thing a bloody chance was out of the question! The government would have his head, and hang him by his balls if he dared approach the thing. Ah, screw them, what did it matter? All this, he thought as he sent half the men to the East areas, and the rest joined him as he travelled West. He had a feeling, almost, that he would find it there. God, he was going to die. He knew what he was going to do, and he didn't know why the hell he was thinking it.
"Sergeant, information regarding Code Black, has been spotted by electromagnetic pulse in cargo bay 2. We have sealed the area, and he cannot leave. Approach with caution, and restrain the subject, Over." He stared at the thing.
Eh? They had told him not to approach before? What the hell was going on? He asked the questions over the receiver.
"We have been advised by higher authority, Xenomorph is of extreme interest, to not destroy subject. Sacrifice is necessary to keep subject in a non-terminal position." The crackle paused, then continued, "You have been specially requested. Enter alone, sergeant." The crackle stopped.
They had reached the cargo bay doors now, and he approached them cautiously. The soldiers tipped their hats to him, and one gave him the pulse gun. God, it was like a funeral, except the subject was still alive, they were giving him their last respects! He had never really felt scared until now, which was, to him, strange, but the soldiers pushed him along, and gave him the thumbs up. They were relieved, they hadn't been specially selected. He gulped, and gripped the plasma rifle like a dying man. Which he sure as hell felt like.
The door opened, and immediately the marines behind him pulled their weapons, blocking the creatures only exit. He gulped, then stepped in, skitterish as the door swished closed behind him. He was 5 again, scared of all the shadows, and saw the camera swishing back and forth above him, its reflection of the boxes stacked around him almost comical, and the flashing, blinking red light far above him. He mentally screamed at the person who thought it a bad idea to leave lights out of cargo bays. Stupid thing to do.
He moved the gun left to right, almost tracking the invisible thing, the black horse that trampled and addled his brain in different directions, towards fear, and anger. The radio crackled again, and he pressed the button, almost frantically.
"WHAT?! Can you not see I'm doing something here?!" He screamed at it, then listened carefully over the hissing.
"BEHIND YOU, YOU STUPID-" the sentence was cut off, when he realised that the hissing wasn't from the radio. The radio fell from his hand, and he gripped the gun with both hands. Sweat ran down his fore-
He felt a tingling, the tingling you get when you know something bad will happen, and whipped around. IT was there, right there! It turned, and slammed its tail across the gun, whipping it out of his hands, then tripped him up by swishing its tail the other way. The back of his skull hit the metal, and the last thing he saw before it all went black was it, standing above him, dripping saliva onto him, its teeth pulling from its jaw. Then it went red, and finally, blissfully, to black.
He woke up. He felt groggy, like after a five day cold-sleep, and the back of his head felt wet. He put a hand there, and groaned. It felt a lot like blood. Now what was that doing the…
He lifted his head quickly, and looked around. Panicking, he looked for his weapon. It could have gone anywhere, slid into the shadows where it was now probably waiting. He remembered what happened, remembered all right, and looked at the camera. He looked toward the door, its green light shining steadily far, far away. It hadn't changed, and he remembered, with a sickening feeling, their last words to him: "Sacrifice is necessary.". He felt like crying.
He looked around him, and realised how stiff his neck was. How long had he been out? An hour? Two? He cricked his neck, then giggled. How ordinary, with the monster still in here. Or was it? He contemplated. They could have opened the door, and sent someone else in, and have captured him. They wouldn't have noticed him, and since he had…
He started, and searched himself. The radio was gone, and he knew he had taken it with him in here, to get advice. Then he remembered he had dropped it. That blow to the back of his head was confusing him, mislaying things.
He heard hissing, and stiffened. Then he relaxed. If he was to die now, then he was to die. It hadn't actually done anything to him, it had left him alone, so he had a pretty good feeling it wasn't going to kill him. Not right away anyway. He listened hard.
The hissing was from the radio, he was sure of it. Words jerked out into the air, none of which made sense, and feeling confident that it was out of here, either by itself or by the marines, he didn't care. He approached the boxes nearby, cautiously, no-one got hurt by being cautious. He peeked his head round the corner.
Sitting on the floor, hissing loudly, was a strange contraption. Most of it was the radio, but the circuitry was ripped out, and flowed all over it. In places, there were metal objects, and extra parts he had never seen before. There were fuses, he guessed from the door, which was why they hadn't come in yet to get him. And if they hadn't come to get him…
He whipped around, and it stood there, its arms hanging by its sides. It held a box in its hands, but that wasn't what he focused on, all he saw was RAZOR SHARP teeth, and ant-like skin, and claws, and nails, and sharp, sharp things…
He went crazy. That was his reason, he was sure of it, when he thought back on it. It was his only reason, the only reason he could think of to explain how he could think he, a human, could have gone up against one of the most feared creatures in the galaxy. He swung at it, his only weapon, and it grabbed his whole arm and lifted him up. He bit it, nearly breaking his teeth, and swung at it with his legs and free arm. It held him higher, and he screamed and shouted obscenities at it. He was scared, terrified, and anything to make it go away, far away, to leave him alone…
It ignored him, and picked up the box he had been studying. it turned, and headed to a far-away corner, human held far above its head. It dropped him in a bundle of arms and legs, and he twisted away. He grabbed something anything, and came up with a screwdriver. It was turned away now, he could take it…
He approached it carefully, when suddenly it turned, and thrust the box at his hands. He dropped the screwdriver, the box taking up the space. He stared at it dumbly, then felt the Xenomorph's hands against his neck. He gasped, wheezed, and scratched at the hand. The Alien looked at him, its head to one side, then dropped him again. He cried out, then started screaming at it again. It turned away, picked up the screwdriver, and jammed it into the box. It held the box before it, cocked its head one way to the other, then set it down in front of him. He looked at it dumbly, then scratched his head. The box looked like a mess to him. Then:
"You mother-fucker, you let me go now! I swear, I'll rip you a new-" It cut off. The Alien shoved a finger in, ran it around, then the message played again, but shortened,
"You – let – go – new,"
He stared at the thing, astonished. It not only knew how to operate the electrics (why didn't he see it before, it ripped out fuses to stop doors working!), but how to sort out sounds. It stared at him, he thought, then he thought of an idea. He saw no record button, but the thing understood. It grabbed a pair of pliers, and poked in the box. It brought its hands in front of it, like it was offering something. He spoke. He spoke, long, hard, fast, slow on long words, but he spoke. He spoke the alphabet, and after an hour, was done, and the Alien repeated