FOR DISCLAIMER: Please see Prologue
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CHAPTER 2It's bodies are legion, its mind is one. It has no eyes to see the blackness enveloping its thousand chrysalises. It doesn't need to see. Its senses every inch of its vast temple, feels them with the senses of its thousands of sleeping bodies, which have been waiting patiently for ages to come into being. Smells their chemical messages with each pore of its bodies. Longing to join the stream. To… become. Time has no meaning. To the being, there's no such thing as age. Its bodies will not age in the chrysalis. They will not die. They will last forever. Until they are called into being to perform the one act their shape is destined to fulfill. To jump, to grab, to not let go until the body has condensed its essence to a microscopic thing, protected by a hard shell, which is planted into the new chrysalis by the last spasm of the old, empty hull before it falls off. Then is the time for 'becoming'. The new body needs energy to grow; energy which surrounds it everywhere, plentiful in its warm, moist cave. If it takes too much of it, the energy will die… but it never happens. The new body grows, and in doing so, its newly awakened mind joins the stream again. It grows.. until it is time to change again. The cave is too small now for the new form, and the stream tells it to leave it… to shed it's old skin, because it too is becoming too small. And finally - it 'becomes' – another extension of the stream, equipped with new senses and a powerful body. A body with a sole purpose – to serve the stream, to help it grow stronger and stronger and stronger… until everything is one.
But the stream has been cut. There's nothing now to listen to but total, utter silence. No pictures, no impulses, no smells enter the mind; nothing leaves it. The being's reduced to a one. It aches, sending out a pattern of questions, searching for the connection, but there is no answer. But there's movement – it jumps, not thinking. Pure reflex. Like it's done many times before, just as fruitlessly. And again its fingers don't find a grip, they slide down on the smooth surface… it doesn't remember its failures, doesn't learn. Every motion could be its path towards 'becoming', towards the stream, so it reacts… until there is no more energy left to feed its muscles. Until it hangs unmoving in the liquid which surrounds it, waiting for its strength to return. While it floats, the being picks up a distant echo, only the faintest trace to what it once was surrounded by. Nothing in comparison to the stream, but … a beginning. The mind has found another body…
"Boo!" The facehugger twitches in the liquid, its long, spidery fingers flexing, the long muscular tail shooting forward against the glass… but there's no strength in the attack. It has been reacting to each and every movement behind the invisible barrier for hours, and the fact that it's been out of its chrysalis for well over two months now without any nourishment doesn't help. Its reserves are slowly coming to an end. If it doesn't find a host soon, it will die without having completed the circle. Its essence will vanish and be lost for the hive. A face appears close to the barrier, distorted by the glass, but the facehugger doesn't react this time.
"Hey! Hey ugly! Yeah, I'm talking to you!" The man outside knocks his knuckles against the container, sending off vibrations into the liquid. It wants to jump, oh yes, the reflex is there… but nothing happens. The intruder straightens himself and shakes his head. "Must have fallen into a coma or somethin'."
"Don't blame it, Skinny," a female voice behind him says. "It happens to everyone who can't avoid listening to you." The addressee turns around, annoyed.
"I wasn't talking to you, Granny." His remark's hit home. The hurt on his colleagues' face is obvious, and for a brief second, Collin 'Skinny' Scylar, Doctor of Experimental Genetics Phd. , hates himself… but the moment is fleeting, and it doesn't prevent the malicious grin which belongs to his words from spreading over his face. 'That was a shitty thing to say, Skin… yeah, but fun, man!' He knows fully well that what happened to Kira Katana could happen to himself anytime, too. Destiny sure can be funny sometimes: Here you are, a 28 year old brilliant and decent-looking scientist, making tons of money, living in a great relationship, planning your wedding, family, kids, career… and then you wake up from cryo-sleep after a trip to the colonies' most-desired vacation destination… to find out time has stolen you 30 years of your life! Kira Katana went to sleep in a young body, trusting the technology with her life as she had done countless times before… After all, what could possibly happen during five days of hypersleep, right? … and all of a sudden found herself in the fall of her lifetime. Up to this day nobody has even has an answer for her as to what caused the cryo-tube to accelerate her body functions instead of slowing them down. It's been a freak occurance, one of a kind bad luck. None of the extensive checks later on could provide any kind of explanation for either the technicians nor for her. The tube in question has been put out of service of course. It's been checked… and checked again… and checked again… and now it's standing in a storage room on Phooka, somewhere on one of the sublevels, left to rot and take its secret with it.
"Asshole!" the tragic victim snaps at Scylar, red-hot anger glaring in her eyes, but before she or her opponent can think of further compliments to throw into the discussion, they get interrupted by a firm, hard: "Stop it! Both of you!"
Both turn their heads, caught. Blushing as they meet the annoyed gaze of the fair, slender young woman, who's entering Lab #1 together with a visitor they've seen before.
"Excuse me, Mr. Burke, but you already know the pathetic people I've got to work with." An icy glance orders the two combatants to go about their business. The company representative is momentarily caught off-guard by his host's blunt introduction of her colleagues, but manages to keep his composure as he steps up next to her with a squeamish feeling in his stomach… The soft blue glow of the stasis-tubes illuminates both their faces and brings back a massive deja-vu.
"So… these are the killer-bugs?" It sounds somewhat sarcastic. But then again, Darwin's always like that. It's nothing personal. It's probably the only tone a genius with an uncharted I.Q. like her can talk to some Joe Doe like him…even though he's considering himself a not too dim light himself… but then again, he's probably more cunning than brilliantly intelligent. He knows about his reputation as the weasel and sees it as a compliment actually. It's just a different form of I.Q. He eyes the facehugger in the nearest stasis-tube, remembering all too vividly his first encounter with that being, still half-hearing Ripley's whispered warning from somewhere behind him. His skin's starting to crawl again.
"Yes…"
Darwin narrows her eyes as she takes in the creature's appearance. Again he can't help but wonder. She's still so young. She's also looking it, despite of her serious, detached and often bored, even arrogant attitude. How must it be to know everything, and to know everything better than everybody else… but constantly having to fight for acceptance because your outwardly appearance leads your much older colleagues to assume they could fool with you? Small wonder she's made sarcasm her dominant character trait. In combination with her intelligence and absolute lack of scruples, it's her most dangerous weapon.
"They don't look like much. A bit like shrimp. Maybe we should fry them."
"They are only an intermediary form… but deadly just the same." 'The woman… the woman he saw 'giving birth' in the twilight of sublevel three…' "They… they jump at you, choke you, and while you're unconscious, they implant an egg into your chest." 'All this blood…' "And after a few hours… or a day, they-"
"Eat their way out?" Darwin completes his sentence, not appearing to be too bothered or disturbed by the thought. " Sounds like an ichneumon-fly."
"I wouldn't say they 'eat' their way out… it's more like they 'burst' out of people." Now this finally earns him a trace of morbid amazement on the scientist's face. "They burst out – killing the body of their host of course – and then grow rapidly into seven-foot nightmares… killing machines. I saw them rip apart an entire, heavily armed Marine squad." Her gaze shifts back to the abomination right in front of her, now definitely interested.
"And what is it you want me to do with them, Mr. Burke? Domesticate them? Behavioral science is not my field."
"It might not be your field, but I doubt you'd have problems adapting it… right?" 'Carter, you smart cat,' he congratulates himself. 'It's amazing how you're able to find the right words time and time again!' He can virtually see the wheels of his opposite mind in motion. She's intrigued. Finally something interesting to play with. Yeah, he's a cunning bastard alright. Always knows what's making people tick. "Any way, you do what you wanna do with them. You're the scientist here, not me. Study them first, of course. I think the creature's got a lot of potential. It's your call now to determine what they're most suitable for. I'm sure the military could be interested in it… one way or the other…and you know what that means…" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. It earns him a short nod.
"Tons of money."
"Exactly. And I don't think I'm kidding you by saying that these things… are worth more than their weight in pure gold."
"It's always about money with you, huh? You're a greedy son of a bitch."
"Aren't you?"
She's chewing on this for a while before she gives him an unreadable, mischievous smile. He doesn't push her. His hook and sinker are out there, floating on the surface for her to swallow. She will. Oh yes, she will. Her eyes wander off to the second creature not far away.
"There's just one problem I'm seeing right now…"
"What kind of problem? Problems are there to be solved, right?" He smiles encouragingly, but drops it when he sees her enervated frown. Man… he used to be more convincing than this! But even to him, his usual cheerfulness feels forced these days. Some of his usual 'Life is full of opportunities, let's make the best of them'-attitude has gone AWOL in the wake of the Acheron-incident, and it's a strange feeling.
"Did you only bring me these two specimen?"
"Unfortunately yes. They were already contained and attainable without risk. Bringing you more would have involved entering their hive and… having to mess with the … seven-foot monsters. Why is this a problem? Can't you clone them?" His suggestion earns him an icy glance that looks highly bizarre on the young face. He can literally hear the crackling of the ice. How old is Darwin again? 20? 21?
"Right now I don't know more about them than what I'm seeing here, Mr. Burke." She pronounces his name very pointedly. "Meaning: Nothing at all. You know probably more than me. To clone a completely alien creature -"
He raises his hand.
"I see. I'm sorry… You know, there's something that will help you probably more than if I told you everything I've seen…"
"Yes?"
"We've got the reports from the Sulaco, the warship they sent down on LV-421 with a marine squad to investigate. Everything that went on in Hadley's Hope was immediately sent to the Sulaco's database… including the preliminary scientific evaluation done by Bishop, their synthetic. As far as I know he already undertook quite intensive research on those creatures… and the reports from the staff at the station were salvaged, too. Lots of reading stuff for you."
"Good. Where are the discs?"
"Kurtz has them." She grimaces. "Sorry. You know how it is. As the nominal head of Phooka Station he's the –"
"-first one to lay eyes on whatever you bring. Yes." Darwin's chewing on the unwelcome information for a while longer before she raises her eyebrows and gives the Company rep one of her trademark 'all business' expressions. "Tell you what: I deal with Kurtz, and you bring me more specimen. There's no way I can get anything done with only two of them – I'll probably have to cut them both up, and then there won't be any left to do the breeding."
"Uhm..." Damn, he knew this would come. But as she's saying it out loud now, the words are putting the fear of God into Burke again. There's no way for him to go back. Not for all the money in the universe. But as usual, his opposite already has a working plan.
"Look, I can see you're shitting your pants about the prospects of going back. You don't have to – at least not down onto the surface. I'm sure I can get Kurtz to give you a handful of synthetics to do the job. No danger for anybody."
"But no guarantee the aliens won't attack them either."
"We'll get to that when it happens," she interrupts him, now that she already knows what to do with her familiar impatience. "From what you told me, I think it should work. These things attack humans, not machines, right? Whatever they'll do, we'll find a way. I'll talk to Kurtz first thing in the morning." She finally turns her back on the two stasis cylinders – with quite some reluctance, Burke can't help noticing with slight delight. "And you go and get some rest. You look like death on two feet." God beware it's real compassion which makes her add those words – she simply needs him to function, and a tired brain doesn't work very well. They're going to have some substantial organizing to do tomorrow, and the young genius has been blessed with only very little patience. So he nods.
"Okay... when do we meet?"
"I'll call you when I spoke with Kurtz. Expect to hear from me around 10 a.m." She stretches out her hand to touch the cool surface of the cylinder next to her, patting the glass. "And you guys hang in there, you hear me? We're gonna get to know each other a lot better... very soon."
***
It is early morning when I come home. Of course you can't tell on a space station, because its surroundings are perpetual black only broken by the light of the far-off stars or the glowing atmosphere of a nearby planet, but Phooka's designers came up with an expensive and nifty idea to make life a little nicer for its inhabitants: The corridor walls in the living quarters complex are long-stretched holo-walls, panorama-screens for the latest illusos, realistic to the point where one wants to lay down under one of those majestic Kauri-trees or jump into the water on a deserted beach. The illusion doesn't stop at the ceiling. There are no visible lights, but a blue sky with some scattered clouds, which sometimes form a dramatic pattern as if a rainstorm's brewing, only to be wiped away by a non-existent wind to reveal a rainbow. The cool thing about it is that the landscapes are always lighted accordingly to the time of day. From dusk till dawn, the lighting is always perfectly simulated. You don't even need a chronometer, because we don't have any seasons which would shorten or lengthen the days. Our days are neatly divided into 12 hours of daytime and 12 hours of night. Every day, every month. You can always tell how late it is by the position of the sun. If the sun stands over the venting machine at the end of the corridor, it's noon. If it stands over the green-glowing emergency sign to the right, it's about 6 p.m. Sounds weird? I agree.
I also don't understand why humans want to be tricked. Where is the point in walking through a virtual jungle with non-existing humming-birds flying around my head when the illusion ends at the next wall and reality hits me over the head again? Isn't it even more depressing to constantly see what you could have if you where someplace else in the universe? To even be able to smell the salt in the air on a beach that isn't there, only to step into the next elevator and let it take you down to the research level which couldn't be more sterile? Isn't it self-inflicted cruelty?
Something rustles in the bushes to my right, and I know before seeing it's the jaguar again, returning from it's nightly hunt. I've seen it before, so I don't halt when it steps out into the corridor, but walk right through it. After all, it's blocking my door. I press my hand against the scanner on the right side and enter… to my surprise, I'm not alone.
"Alex… xander?" It's a little after 6 in the morning. He's got a meeting with the mighty man in less than two hours, so what is he doing here? Even more since he looks as if he could well use the additional sleep he robbed himself of by coming over. "That's a surprise!"
He looks up while he's blindly shoveling five spoons of coffee into the machine. I can tell he got wasted yesterday. He looks awful. Didn't he say he'd just be gone for a short while? He must have put it to good use...
"Yeah? Well, I came back last night after one hour. Thought I'd surprise you… but then you weren't there."
"Kurtz and his special assignments… you know he doesn't call you in the middle of the night to ask you a simple, brief question." I hold up the files and disc in my hands and lay them on the table next to me before I step up and give my most important source of information a good-morning kiss. He looks nervous. I don't blame him. After all, he's going to have an eye-to-eye with two beasts today…
"So what did he want from you?"
"The usual…" I shrug and turn to my closet. Since my flesh and skin are so real I even sweat, I'm longing for new clothes after this long night. And a shower. Not necessarily in that order. Damn Rogue, why did you have to build me so realistic? "Sneaking into fiercely guarded databases to suck out information about someone who will soon be a corpse anyway." I shake my head. "I spend the whole night accumulating this stuff, and I bet you next month's pay it'll land in the trash before the day's over."
"You don't get paid, Ice," he smirks. My back is still turned to him, but I can hear him smirk. I rid myself of the stinking shirt – at least I think it stinks – and feel his appreciative gaze between my shoulder blades… or – more likely - my ass.
"Right," I reply dryly. "I keep forgetting. I'm a slave." Off with my pants.
"So who is it?"
"Huh?" I turn my head.
"The person you checked out. Someone from the station?"
"Nope." I nod in the general direction of the bath room. "I tell you in a sec. Can I just take my shower first?"
"No.." He comes closer, a mischievous grin on his lips. "I'm too curious. You've got to tell me right away." The grin broadens even more." "In the shower. I'm coming with you." He locks his arms around me, but I free myself of him, not to his pleasure.
"Come on, Alexander – you need to get your head clear. You-"
"A shower will help me!"
"You already did. I can smell the soap on you. And getting your hormones in an uproar now is not going to help you deal with either Kurtz or that psycho… Sorry. It's for the best." I shut the door into his face. Not angrily, without any force, but I can tell he's disappointed all the same when I hear his miserable voice through the door.
"But I'm too fucking nervous… I need to relax…!"
"In this case you should spare the coffee and fix yourself a glass of hot milk with honey," is my good advise. No, Mr. Saitchev – no pre-work quicky today. I step into the shower booth, and the water rains down on me automatically. If he's still trying to change my mind, I can't hear it.
When I leave the bathroom, I find him sitting at the table, seemingly drilling for oil in his scrambled eggs with his fork. Not looking up. Sulking. I inhale sharply.
"Alexander… sometimes you're like a little boy…"
"How would you know?" he scoffs, and I take my hands off his neck, where I placed them to make up for the shower he didn't get.
"You'd pale if you knew how extensive my data on-"
"Yeah, right, data!" He's still pissed and throws the fork down. "You know it all, right? You're humanity's wisdom in a box, right? You're all that and a bag of chips."
I'm already halfway on the chair next to him, but stand up again to get some distance between us. Why do humans have to be so complicated?
"Do you want to hear about the assignment or not?" Anger and curiosity battle on his face. And I admit, I want to know what he found out about the 'Orthanc's return, too.
"Yes," he admits grudgingly. "I also want you to treat me as if you knew I have some sort of feelings. And I don't want to hear again you're a synthetic! You always use this shit as some kind of excuse. And I'm fucking tired of hearing it, okay?"
"Okay…" I decide to give in. If I keep contradicting him I won't get to hear what he's heard.
"And I know you're just saying 'okay' now because you want my news! You're a manipulative, calculating…"
I can virtually see the word he's thinking of on his face, but he swallows it at the last moment. Reluctantly. It probably just dawned on him that he ain't that much better than me – he too is too darn curious to hear about my night's work, plus he wants me for his bodily needs. Who should he take instead? Kira? Now that's a thought that'd make you laugh! He still wants me. He'd be a hypocrite to deny those facts. So instead of the heated words he's just uttered, his lips form an unexpected, but still grouchy smile. "Damn Isis… we really deserve each other, don't we?"
"I don't know about this, but we don't have much time left to get even, Alexander," I state, returning his gaze cryptically. He taps with his fingertips onto the table plate. "I suggest we get started right now. You first: What about the 'Orthanc's untimely return?"
He pushes his dish back. Seems like he's hardly eaten anything. I can't tell whether it was me or the prospects of having to meet both Kurtz and Raven who spoiled his appetite.
"Well…" he takes a swig of coffee – another good advice down the chute – and relishes in my curiosity, stretching the expectant silence for a moment longer. "Your friend was there."
I furrow my brow.
"My friend?"
"That Burke-character." I make a face, then frown when the significance of this little piece of information dawns on me. "I don't know whether it was because of his presence, but the others were as taciturn as the W.Y. database." Alexander shakes his head in remembered disbelief. "No, worse: They didn't just collectively swallow their tongues, they even lied to me! Told me some fairy-tale about a glitch in the 'Orthanc's navigational system they wanted to check on in the dock before they'd get lost forever. Do you believe this shit?"
"Carter Burke is here?"
"Yup. Arrived with the 'Orthanc' yesterday. Why?"
'Cause he was on the same ship as a certain Mr. Dwayne Hicks…' My gaze shifts to the disc with the accumulated files I collected tonight. That marine whose life Hikahi's currently fighting for came with the 'Orthanc', too, that's a fact. The question now is – was it just a mere coincidence they picked the two up along the way … or were they the initial reason for the ship's return? Nothing in Corporal Hicks's files hints at him being special in any regard. As a Colonial Marine, he is a member of an elite team, yes… but so are ten thousand others. Even his latest – and/ or last – mission reads unsuspicious. A typical rescue mission on Acheron, ex- LV-426. He was sent out with his squad onboard the 'Sulaco' to investigate on a sudden loss of communication with the local station, Hadley's Hope. According to the USCM's computer, it hasn't been restored yet. And the 'Sulaco's gone missing… I sense there's our story. I feel Alexander's gaze on me and look up."You know something. What?"
"This guy Kurtz wanted me to check on…", I down a swig of artificial milk. My partner usually smiles at the sight of a synthetic sticking to health- food, but not today. Since it' real flesh that's covering my metallic bones, it needs to be nourished. I don't know how Rogue solved that whole 'digestion' problem, and I don't want to know. It works, that's enough.
"Yeah?"
"… he's a Colonial marine. Or maybe I should say 'was', because he didn't look as if he's going to last much longer when I saw him last night. He came with the 'Orthanc', too, that's a fact. And it seems that the mission he was on went awry… their ship's still missing." I put down the empty glass and can virtually see the wheels of Alexander's imagination in motion. "Plus the colony he was sent to is still cut off from communication. Transmitters picked up an automated distress signal from one of the colony's atmosphere processors about three weeks ago… but it's been silent for the last ten days now… And get this: Carter Burke was on that same ship that went missing… on the same mission… Makes you wonder what happened out there, huh?"
My opposite freezes, deep in thought, before he slowly shakes his head.
"'Maybe we're reading too much into it. Orthanc's trip started five weeks ago. It was already on it's way to the Gamma-quadrant when it got redirected, if your story's true. Meaning –"
"- it's a coincidence," I finish for him, matter-of-factly. Somehow disappointed. "It is true. I got it straight out the USCM's database. They just picked them up along the way. Rescued them from whatever happened on Acheron when they picked up the signal. But why did they head back to PHOOKA? They could have frozen them for two weeks longer and investigate on whatever they had been wanting to do in the Gamma Quadrant. After all, it's a pretty long trip from here if they want to fly out again. Why the hurry?"
""Don't know…"My Russian's eyes find the clock, and I can see the storm clouds gathering on his brow. Only twenty minutes left until he's got to leave. He's never been good in hiding his nervousness, and I hope it won't cost him today. He's an outstanding psychiatrist, otherwise Kurtz wouldn't have sent his headhunter to buy him out of the – very lucrative – contract he's had with W.Y.'s sharpest competitor, LifeTech. He's usually able to transform all this nervousness into concentration, and the endorphines and adrenaline help him focus… he is someone who can meet a challenge, who can rise to the occasion. I hope the same will happen today, because he looks downright sick right now, as his troubled blue eyes rise to meet my questioning glance again. "But I do know that Mr. Carter Burke wasn't his usual, annoying self last night. He was looking as if he's lost more than a couple of pounds, and his face was… how shall I say it?… He looked old… and hollow somehow. You know, that look people have who survived a catastrophe? Something like that."
I feel my right eyebrow rise very distinctively.
"Burke? Carter Burke? Sounds pretty incredible."
"See for yourself. He should be stranded here for at least a couple of days."
I snort.
"You're saying I should chase him for a change, huh?" I get up to put the milk back into the fridge and turn around, lean my back against it. "I don't know… the jerk's too cunning. He won't talk." We stare at each other for a while longer. The subject's pretty much dead. As much as we like to speculate on things, it's easy to overdo it. Everything we both found out spells "Coincidence" here. After all, it's not as if the guy down in Medical is the first one to ever strand here… think 'Raven'… or that von Sontheim-character they brought here together with him. That was a pretty incredible coincidence, too! Even if they'd planned for it, it couldn't have worked out better: Not only did they manage to 'buy' the universe's craziest killer, no, on their way back they stumble over an unsuspecting little private ship in the shadow of Nova Lepidoptera – snatch it.... only to find one of the biggest thorns in Weyland Yutani's side in the persona of Axel von Sontheim on it! The man who's dedicated his life to uncover every little piece of dirt under the omnipotent company's rug. Last time he went public with his findings was the first scandal that really shook the big W.Y. and caused heads to roll. Since then all the big broadcasting stations literally battle to have him in their shows. After a slow start – nobody wanted to mess with the United Colonies' most powerful company at first – W.Y.-bashing is an official sport now. Kurtz must be delighted to have him in his hands now. Destiny seems to be his friend. A lucky dog he is.
My man finally breaks the spell by standing up. His face looks ashen. I've never seen Alexander like this. I'm surprised he's so afraid.
"It's time. Kurtz will have my ass for breakfast if I'm late." He puts his almost untouched plate into the sink and turns when he hears me stepping up behind him. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.
"I don't care about Kurtz. It's Raven I'm worried about… Be careful around him, okay?" He nods, obviously pleased with my unusual display of emotion. "Don't take any chances. The guy will accept the first one you grant him to tear your head off." He hugs me like a bear.
"Yeah, remind me of that, will ya? As if I'm not nervous enough."
"That's good. It'll keep you aware." He kissed me back, and I let him go. He takes up his file case and heads for the door, hesitating briefly before he leaves the room.
"When will you be there? Didn't you say Kurtz wants your report until noon?"
"Yes." I nod into the general direction of my pile of files. "And I've still got some work to do until it is ready. I'll be down in about… say two hours from now. Will that do?"
He shrugs.
"It's not like I got a choice, right? But I'm looking forward to seeing you there. This is the worst case I've ever had to deal with… I could sure use my cheerleader rooting for me."
"Cheerleader?" I ask, but he shakes his head and reaches for the door opener.
"Nevermind. See you later."
