UNDERGROUND MILITARY FACILITY

0345 HRS

"You know you weren't supposed to bring guests along...for heaven's sake, Call, this is a military facility, not a tropical resort!"

Call gazed steadily back at her colleague, General Michaels. His hair was in disarray, his eyes bloodshot and his temper short. For years now, General Michaels had been involved in Project Aurora. He was irritatingly organized...so much so that if the slightest thing went wrong, it could throw his own well-planned world into chaos. She was feeling the effects of his chaos.

Call remained calm. "I didn't compromise security. She used to...be part of the military at one point. She can be trusted."

"Trusted?" he squeaked.

"Yes. You can hold me personally responsible if any valuable information leaks out." Call chuckled inwardly. Being held responsible was the least of her worries. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be."

She walked past him coolly, brushing against his shoulder in the narrow corridor.

*          *          *

She walked into a room filled with men and women. On seeing her, they rose from their seats and saluted her.

"At ease," she said, a little awkwardly. "I know that you all weren't expecting me, but there's been a change of plans. I'll be leading the team – namely you people – into...into..." she stuttered.

"-the past." completed one of the officers before her.

"Thanks." she said.

"No worries, General...I have a little trouble with that concept myself."

Call smiled. She then accessed her memory databank to find out the names of the twenty people on her team. They scrolled down before her in her mind. Yes, she'd been introduced to several of them before, with the exception of about three or four new recruits. Overall, they looked a pretty competent bunch.

Her thoughts suddenly flashed back to the soldiers on board the Auriga. They all believed they were fighting for a good cause. But they had been deceived, betrayed, and each had finally met his or her horrific end. They didn't deserve to die the way they did. No one did. She wondered if the same fate would befall the marines standing in front of her now. Call didn't think she could take the death and the pain all over again. No. It wouldn't happen. She wouldn't let it happen.

She sat down on a steel bench nearby, and brushed away her thoughts.

"So. Looks like we got thirty minutes to kill." Call wanted to initiate a conversation, albeit one that would be full of nervous tension. "How are you all feeling?"

A man – Call recalled that his name was Kroger – breathed in loudly, and spoke first. "To be honest, I don't really know. All I know is, I'm as nervous as hell. I mean, this ain't like some combat or rescue mission. And it ain't like we're going to some unknown territory. Hell, we're going back to some unknown time."

"Scares the heck outta all of us, Kroger. But we have to stay cool." said another Private.

"So, General...I bet you heard more about this thing we're going to recover. Back in the day, it was called a xenozorf...?"

"Xenomorph." Call corrected.

"They say they needed it for scientific studies? I sure as hell don't enjoy collecting butterflies for no one. Can't they find some other way to pursue their interests?"

Call was startled. So these people hadn't been informed that the collection of the alien species was for military purposes only? They didn't know. The implications of this hit her hard. If they weren't aware of this, how much – exactly – were they aware of?

"This thing, Kroger...this thing is no butterfly. It's lethal, it's more dangerous than all of you put together." said Call.

"Oh c'mon...you make us sound like little red riding hood. If you ask me, the hard part's getting back into the past. The rest is a cinch. Get to LV-426, bag those babies and shuffle back here with our prize."

"Yeah, how bad can it be? If it was so lethal, we'd have heard more about it. The Secretary General himself would've warned us. You've got some wrong information, General." Spoke another voice from behind Kroger.

"I don't have incorrect information." said Call quietly.

"Then how...?"

"-I've seen it."

The room went silent. Just then, an automated voice could be heard. "Unit 5A please report to base level one. Unit 5A please report to base level one. Mission Aurora is underway."

*          *          *

They called it the "shuttle" when in reality it was a large, heavily-constructed elevator of sorts. It shook thunderously as it lowered its way down the shaft, grating against the walls. Call sat silently in a corner with several other military men and women, her jaws clenched tightly together. Her apprehension heightened for a moment, but then she smiled at the irony of it all. Here she was, worrying about dying in this damned elevator, when something much more colossal both in deed and danger lay before her.

"Call?" said a baby-faced young man seated across from her, noticing her smile. "Something funny?"

Call was used to being addressed informally. She never really took to military formalities very well, unless they were absolutely essential. Plus, she enjoyed being treated as they treated one another – it not only gained her popularity but helped build a good rapport with those ranked below her.

"No, not really." Her smile vanished as she thought of the dangerous possibilities that awaited them. "Just a brief minute of ironic humor, Janson." She was momentarily relieved that they'd dropped the subject of the alien. She felt that they were too.

"Speaking of irony, how'd you get to be on this mission? I thought the Sec. General was adamant that you weren't to be notified..." A Private seated next to Janson shot him a look to say that what went on behind the façade of military harmony was not a subject to be discussed.

Oblivious to that look, Call went on. "A change of plans. The Secretary General doesn't have full say on everything that goes on, Janson – even if he thinks he does. I've decided that he's compromised a lot of things by sending you lot on this wild goose chase to nowhere. So I'm tagging along to make sure things don't spiral out of control."

"I'm sure he's acting in everyone's best interest."

Call looked away. It was no use arguing with the eagerness of a man just out of military school. "Maybe. Maybe not." She decided to change the topic. "So what's with this piece of trash anyway?" she said, rapping her knuckles against the metal walls of the elevator.

"Yeah, ain't it?" spoke a woman, grinning broadly. "You'd think that if they could construct a friggin' time machine, they sure as hell can build a damn lift, huh? Hell no. Ain't no one here who can tell me why we're traveling in a trash compactor."

Janson rose to the occasion. "They didn't have much time. Too much was spent on this time traveling project alone, building a lift to send troops in isn't exactly top priority, if you get what I mean. As long as it gets us there in one piece, I'm happy."

The woman's grin disappeared. "Yeah, jerkoff, you would be. I seen you – I seen you rubbing shoulders with top brass trying to make a name for yourself...man, you're so friggin' naïve. They're gonna eat your praises and sweet little attitude, chew it up and then spit it back out like you're the scum of the universe."

Janson's cheeks grew flushed, and he opened his mouth, ready for a retort, when the elevator screeched to a grinding halt.

For a minute, everything was silent. Then the sounds of doors sliding open could be heard.

"We're here." said Call.

*          *          *

They stepped outside the lift, into a enormous domed shaped-room, with technicians flitting about in white lab coats, and soldiers standing stiffly at their individual posts. The tension was palpable and for a few moments, Call forgot to swallow.

A soldier – probably a lieutenant, thought Call – marched up to her, and saluted.

"Welcome General Call, ma'am! This way to the briefing room, please."

"I had the impression that all these soldiers had been briefed a few days ago, Lieutenant."

"That's correct, Ma'am. But it's standard military regs to have these repeated sessions. It's preparation, in event of any accident that could occur, Ma'am. This way, if you will."

Call sighed, the briefing would be of no use to her. She already had the details locked away securely in her memory. The repetition would only serve as to make her more anxious. "Maybe I'll just sit this one out, Lieutenant."

"Very good, Ma'am. But maybe you'd prefer to go into that room to your right. Lieutenant Andrews over there will get you suited up, so that you'll be all good to go once we're done with the briefing."

"Will do." said Call, as she watched the troops, her troops now, she corrected – follow the lieutenant into another section of the over-sized room.

She walked over to the room on her right, greeted Lieutenant Andrews with a slight nod. On entering, she looked about her and saw twenty bulky suits situated next to each other, with the name of each suit's wearer stenciled neatly above it. She looked over at Andrews who was holding a computerized slate in one hand, and an electronic pen in another.

Andrews frowned and then spoke. "Looks like your name isn't on the list, General. There must be some error...but I'm afraid that if it isn't there..."

"When did you last update your information, Lieutenant?" interjected Call.

"Uh – two days ago, but I didn't see any need to –"

"ALWAYS make sure your information is current, Lieutenant. Please do so immediately." Call swallowed, trying to mask her nervousness with firm authority. What if Call hadn't successfully managed to add her name to the list before? What if the Secretary General already knew of her plan? What if Ripley...

"Your name's here, General. I'm extremely sorry about this. Really, I am."

"That's okay. Just don't let it happen again." If there would ever be a next time, thought Call. She breathed in deeply. "So where do I suit up?"

Lieutenant Andrews grinned sheepishly. "Well...actually, since I didn't know you were going to be here, we didn't have a suit made in your size, General. But we have two spares – a bit larger than you may be used to though."

"I don't think I was ever used to something as large as this," spoke Call, nodding towards the suits. "Why the er...extra padding?"

"The padding's actually a form of fibrous lead, General. To protect the wearer from intense radiation that may be emitted on your journey. It's going to be heavy when you get in, but in zero gravity, you should have no problems moving around."

"Good."

"I'm sorry to have to cut to the chase, but time is running short and I need to know if you prefer to wait for your troops or to suit up and enter the dilation chambers straight away."

"What's the difference?" asked Call.

"Well, if you choose to begin the procedure right now, we'll have to anesthetize you to sleep, so essentially...you won't wake up until you get to your destination. We're not employing the hypersleep chambers because of the risks involved in this type of situation."

Call thought about it for a minute. Fear grew steadily in her. The idea that she was going – willingly – towards death, placed her emotions in turmoil. She had to do something, and fast. Call knew that there was always the possibility that she would change her mind, and she couldn't take that risk. Better to get it all over and done with, until there's no turning back.

"Now." she said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" spoke Andrews, leaning forward.

"I'd like to go now."

*          *          *

She looked out the thick plastic room she was in. She could see Andrews outside it, smiling encouragingly, but could hear no more than the own sound of her breathing. Suddenly a crackle of an intercom being turned on sounded above her.

"General Call, I've reduced the room to a complete vacuum. You're in zero gravity conditions right now. You'll find that you can easily move in your suit. If you would please walk towards the chamber in front of you..."

Call placed one foot in front of the other, feeling as if she was out of her own body. She looked towards the upright chamber. My God, she thought, it looks just like a damned coffin!

Within seconds, she was in it, and the transparent lid clicked closed with a soft thud. She heard the steady hiss of a gas entering the chamber, and finally her suit. It's only the anesthetic vapor, she told herself, nothing more. She forced herself to think of other things. Thoughts flew in like rapid gunfire. Where would she be when she finally woke up? What would she do when she got there? She found herself thinking of Ripley. Ripley. If only she were here. But she would be. Just not the same person she knew. Call's vision blurred for an instant, and she blinked her eyes to clear it. She suddenly saw a picture in her mind's eye – of Ripley – when she first saw her, locked away in a cell aboard the Auriga. Suddenly the blurriness intensified and Call began to panic. Not yet, she was not ready to die yet. But she was not dead. And it was too late to turn back, too late...and then everything went black.