Summary - Hadley's Hope, the colony found deserted and ravaged by
xenomorphs, is the setting for the film Aliens. But what happened before
the marines arrived? What happened when the inexperienced colonists fought,
and ultimately lost, against the xenomorph threat?
--------------------------------------------------------
Viscous wind tore at the planet's surface, howling around the rocky dunes and hammering against the colony walls. Loose stones rolled along the ground, and dust swirled, creating mini tornados. The black sky roared overhead, as it always did.
The colony itself, a tiny settlement dominated by two atmosphere processors, was a hive of bunker-like structures and metal pylons. High- wheeled tractors and other vehicles trudged between the, insects working busily between anthills. Every now and again there was an insignificant shimmer as one of the many neon advertisements within the complex flickered, a victim to the community's unreliable power source.
The atmosphere processors had no such weakness. Fusion powered, belching a steady supply air back into the atmosphere that had long since become poisonous hundreds of years ago. Particle matter and dangerous gases were removed by chemical breakdown; oxygen and nitrogen replaced them. Each belch brought Acheron closer to complete colonisation. It wasn't an expensive process, but it was time-consuming.
At the entrance of the colony stood a steel sign, weathered by the elements but still delivering the message: Hadley's Hope - Pop. 159. Welcome to Acheron. Beneath it, one of the more rebellious locals had spray painted "Have a nice day".
The inhabitants of Hadley's Hope were as weathered as the sign. They were tough and well muscled, a community with the worst neighbourhood in the galaxy. Most were company employees, attracted to Acheron by the chance of adventure and the huge paycheques. However, here and there independent business owners sold over-priced goods to overpaid colonists. They had bought land from the Company, hoping to make a large profit from those that had left entertainment behind.
The centre of Hadley's Hope was taken up by a tall building known as the control block. Towering above every other artificial structure bar the atmosphere processors, it housed the base of operations for the colony. With little room for anything but computers, only a few workers were needed to oversee the work of the mainframe.
At the foot of the structure, a small group of teens lingered, trying to make fun for themselves on this dark, overcast afternoon. Brought up on a world that their parents had settled on a decade ago, these children knew nothing of their home world, and nor did they wish to. Acheron was their universe.
"You wouldn't do it," Greg, the oldest and therefore the leader, taunted, "You haven't got the nerve."
"Have too!" Sam, one of the youngest of the group at eight, replied, desperate not to lose face in front of the only gang of kids on the planet.
"Where's Newt?" Greg asked, using the question as an insult, "she'd do it."
"She's off with her folks somewhere," another member, Sal, answered, "her dad said something about searching for radioactives."
"I can do anything Newt can do!" Sam piped up, refusing to let the topic be derailed,
"I'm two years older than her!"
"Fine. Show us then," Greg prompted.
Hesitated a little, the small boy bent down and picked up a large rock. He rose, and, after taking a look around to make sure the street was deserted, hurled the stone through the window of the control block. Glass shattered, and the children stood and stared, awed at the destruction caused by one of their number.
"Hey!" a man's head popped out the window. The children fled.
"Hey! Get back here! Hey!" the man ran out onto the street, but to no avail. The children were gone, experts of the alleys and backstreets that wove in between the houses and bars of Hadley's Hope.
The adult, Simpson, was operations manager of the central block, and therefore ran the colony. He was burley, but had the brains to back it up, and he wore the dark-rimmed eyes of one to whom sleep is a distant stranger.
Taking a glance at the shattered window and shaking his head, he stepped back inside and shut the door.
Walking up a dimly lit corridor up the stairs, he returned to Operations. His assistant, Lydecker, was the only occupant of the large room. The walls were adorned with control panels, and the majority of the space was taken up with desks and consoles.
Lydecker sat at his console, telephone glued to the side of his head and a sombre expression slapped across his haggard face. He gestured to Simpson as he entered.
"You'll never believe what some little bastard's done downstairs," the boss started, but was cut off by his assistant's telephone call.
"Yeah, ok, he's just arrived. We'll both get down there right away. Bye," he replaced the receiver, and turned to Simpson, "it can wait. This can't. Russ Jorden's just arrived with some.organism stuck on his head."
"Jorden? The volunteer for the radioactive search?"
"The very same. His wife and kids brought him in. He's lying in Medical right now. Ling's not touching anything yet, says he's gonna wait for us to get down there."
"Ok, let's go."
**********
Medical was a wild mess. Staff hurried about in disarray, asking their superiors what to do. The superiors were as clueless as the staff. They'd never seen anything like this before.
As soon as Simpson arrived, all questions were turned on him. He walked through the door, Lydecker on his heels, straight into a tirade.
"Sir! Thank God you're here!" Ling, a middle aged surgeon of about five foot nine, rushed through the group of frantic doctors, "you've gotta see this."
He led the two operators through to a private room. Surgical equipment layoff to the side, obviously prepped for use. Heart monitors beeped frequently. But it was to the bed where all attention was drawn.
Russ Jorden lay there, his chest moving up and down steadily. A monstrosity sat upon his face. Like an oversized hand, its long fingers gripped Jorden's head, and a tail stretched down and around the man's neck.
Anne Jorden sat on a chair to the side of the bed, head held in her hands. Upon the entrance of the three men, she looked up.
"What is it?" she whispered, her eyes tear-stained, "what the hell is it?"
--------------------------------------------------------
Viscous wind tore at the planet's surface, howling around the rocky dunes and hammering against the colony walls. Loose stones rolled along the ground, and dust swirled, creating mini tornados. The black sky roared overhead, as it always did.
The colony itself, a tiny settlement dominated by two atmosphere processors, was a hive of bunker-like structures and metal pylons. High- wheeled tractors and other vehicles trudged between the, insects working busily between anthills. Every now and again there was an insignificant shimmer as one of the many neon advertisements within the complex flickered, a victim to the community's unreliable power source.
The atmosphere processors had no such weakness. Fusion powered, belching a steady supply air back into the atmosphere that had long since become poisonous hundreds of years ago. Particle matter and dangerous gases were removed by chemical breakdown; oxygen and nitrogen replaced them. Each belch brought Acheron closer to complete colonisation. It wasn't an expensive process, but it was time-consuming.
At the entrance of the colony stood a steel sign, weathered by the elements but still delivering the message: Hadley's Hope - Pop. 159. Welcome to Acheron. Beneath it, one of the more rebellious locals had spray painted "Have a nice day".
The inhabitants of Hadley's Hope were as weathered as the sign. They were tough and well muscled, a community with the worst neighbourhood in the galaxy. Most were company employees, attracted to Acheron by the chance of adventure and the huge paycheques. However, here and there independent business owners sold over-priced goods to overpaid colonists. They had bought land from the Company, hoping to make a large profit from those that had left entertainment behind.
The centre of Hadley's Hope was taken up by a tall building known as the control block. Towering above every other artificial structure bar the atmosphere processors, it housed the base of operations for the colony. With little room for anything but computers, only a few workers were needed to oversee the work of the mainframe.
At the foot of the structure, a small group of teens lingered, trying to make fun for themselves on this dark, overcast afternoon. Brought up on a world that their parents had settled on a decade ago, these children knew nothing of their home world, and nor did they wish to. Acheron was their universe.
"You wouldn't do it," Greg, the oldest and therefore the leader, taunted, "You haven't got the nerve."
"Have too!" Sam, one of the youngest of the group at eight, replied, desperate not to lose face in front of the only gang of kids on the planet.
"Where's Newt?" Greg asked, using the question as an insult, "she'd do it."
"She's off with her folks somewhere," another member, Sal, answered, "her dad said something about searching for radioactives."
"I can do anything Newt can do!" Sam piped up, refusing to let the topic be derailed,
"I'm two years older than her!"
"Fine. Show us then," Greg prompted.
Hesitated a little, the small boy bent down and picked up a large rock. He rose, and, after taking a look around to make sure the street was deserted, hurled the stone through the window of the control block. Glass shattered, and the children stood and stared, awed at the destruction caused by one of their number.
"Hey!" a man's head popped out the window. The children fled.
"Hey! Get back here! Hey!" the man ran out onto the street, but to no avail. The children were gone, experts of the alleys and backstreets that wove in between the houses and bars of Hadley's Hope.
The adult, Simpson, was operations manager of the central block, and therefore ran the colony. He was burley, but had the brains to back it up, and he wore the dark-rimmed eyes of one to whom sleep is a distant stranger.
Taking a glance at the shattered window and shaking his head, he stepped back inside and shut the door.
Walking up a dimly lit corridor up the stairs, he returned to Operations. His assistant, Lydecker, was the only occupant of the large room. The walls were adorned with control panels, and the majority of the space was taken up with desks and consoles.
Lydecker sat at his console, telephone glued to the side of his head and a sombre expression slapped across his haggard face. He gestured to Simpson as he entered.
"You'll never believe what some little bastard's done downstairs," the boss started, but was cut off by his assistant's telephone call.
"Yeah, ok, he's just arrived. We'll both get down there right away. Bye," he replaced the receiver, and turned to Simpson, "it can wait. This can't. Russ Jorden's just arrived with some.organism stuck on his head."
"Jorden? The volunteer for the radioactive search?"
"The very same. His wife and kids brought him in. He's lying in Medical right now. Ling's not touching anything yet, says he's gonna wait for us to get down there."
"Ok, let's go."
**********
Medical was a wild mess. Staff hurried about in disarray, asking their superiors what to do. The superiors were as clueless as the staff. They'd never seen anything like this before.
As soon as Simpson arrived, all questions were turned on him. He walked through the door, Lydecker on his heels, straight into a tirade.
"Sir! Thank God you're here!" Ling, a middle aged surgeon of about five foot nine, rushed through the group of frantic doctors, "you've gotta see this."
He led the two operators through to a private room. Surgical equipment layoff to the side, obviously prepped for use. Heart monitors beeped frequently. But it was to the bed where all attention was drawn.
Russ Jorden lay there, his chest moving up and down steadily. A monstrosity sat upon his face. Like an oversized hand, its long fingers gripped Jorden's head, and a tail stretched down and around the man's neck.
Anne Jorden sat on a chair to the side of the bed, head held in her hands. Upon the entrance of the three men, she looked up.
"What is it?" she whispered, her eyes tear-stained, "what the hell is it?"