:: Kerberos ::
"In all encounters with the xenomorphs the human side always believed those creatures were only mindless enemies bent on killing everything that moved. We thought that they were driven only by instinct. Insects, parasites, from the man's point of view." Engineer Number One, the eldest male of the five clones, spoke almost dream-like. "We never really asked ourselves how those insects managed to move in space. But they have built spaceships faster, bigger and better than we build. Their nature has played a wicked trick on them because they can only reproduce through an intermediary carrier, and they had to solve this problem. They searched for suitable races, no easy task in the vastness of the space. They piloted their way to those planets and made careful ambushes for the fitting species. All this requires technical skill that is way too high for just an ant."
The Captain listened to the clone with a cup of coffee in his hands. Holding the hot mug kept him from undignified fidgeting.
"Their journeys had to become longer with time, and eventually they had to meet a race that didn't give up without a fight. We can't know how much of a fight that was, and how successful, but what we do know is, that the other race won. At least once."
"Somehow I don't believe you're speaking about us humans."
The clone shrugged indifferently. "Well, the race is humanoid, at least. They call themselves yautja. We've come to the conclusion that the high level of their technical development was stimulated by the clash with xenomorphs, in the first place." The clone's lips curved into a smile. "Another name they like is 'hunters', mostly because they've made it their sport to hunt the xenomorphs."
"You know quite a lot about them, no?" Somehow the mention of either race made the Captain equally uneasy.
"They used to visit Earth occasionally. Until 2004, when the last of their hunting grounds was demolished thanks to the careless, ill-prepared and egotistical pursuits of the Weyland Corporation. Since then they can't be possibly motivated to come to us again."
The Captain stared into his mug. The black liquid inside it was now transparent, just like the clones' mission was.
"You don't seem to like Weyland guys, do you?"
"And now it is time to remind you, Captain, that you and your craft work for Mr. Lorentz. In the past decade, the Lorentz Research Holding has won thirty percent of shares over Weyland."
"The bloke is just too damn fortunate," the Captain shrugged. The news that somebody was more successful than him made him feel slightly uncomfortable. "Can't say I feel moved to sympathize with him, though. I haven't even seen him."
"Look at me, then. Mr. Lorentz is our prototype."
The Borderland Station 57 was better known among its populace as 'Kerberos'. It was located on one of the asteroids between Mars and Jupiter. Its reddish, airless surface swelled on the craft's screen until it occupied it all, and finally the Navigator announced the successful landing.
"Please remain in the cockpit while we'll be transferring our cargo," Engineer One advised in a tone that clearly marked it as a command. "The seal holds, but we don't want to run into any more risk."
Neither of the officers felt like disobeying anyway. They watched how the loaders bustled in the dock. When all gates except one were hermetically locked, the container cube was lowered onto the loader's platform and slowly driven away. The Captain followed it with his eyes until the loader disappeared behind the entrance gate into the main lab premises.
The gates then closed leaving only one man in the dock.
"Well, I'll be damned," said the Navigator. "He looks like the sixth brother of our engineer friends."
"The prototype," the Captain muttered under his nose.
The tall, fair-haired man stood right in front of the cockpit's screen. He seemed to feel the people inside were watching him, and he waved to them with a most carefree air.
"Gentlemen, welcome to Kerberos." He raised his arm in warm welcome. "The property of Lorentz Research Holding. My property, in plain words."
After a short while, sitting in the private office of the Holding's owner, the Captain admired the spotless surfaces and wondered if Lorentz's land looked any special comparing with his rival, Weyland. The same high-tech style everywhere was pretty much faceless. If this corporation was in any way different from the other, the difference had to lie in the mind of its leader. And even there, the Captain was sure, the same lines ran. Two industrial billionaires, arrogant buffoons drowning in luxury, ready to put anything at stake in the hope to gain still more. Just two evils to choose from for a poor guy like himself.
"I suppose my assistants have informed you about our mission?"
"In detail." The Captain wasn't sure he wanted to know anything more. "Whatever you want to use this egg for, it's none of my business once it's off my ship."
"Don't tell me you're not curious. For a captain of a ship on deep space routes, you must be wary about what you may encounter there. The deeper you get, the bigger the chances you'll meet one of the two races my Holding studies. Or both."
With a click of the remote control, Lorentz started the hologram.
"You know the xenomorph already. From the embryo - we call it the egg - it evolves into young brood inside a warm-blooded carrier. The adult forms are mostly drones who serve a queen - just like the bees back on Earth, and so the system was promptly called a 'hive'. That's what everybody knows. The unknown fact is that xenomorphs have a culture of their own. They build cities that look like torn out intestines. They have a language and they can write. They feel, think, and probably have an aim in life - which we'd rather not know."
Thank God at least for that, the Captain thought. It was nice to hear that the scientists' interest had reasonable limits.
"And now imagine a race like this has been made quarry in the game another race plays. Bred like cattle, destined to die not even knowing who they are and how they got there. Generations of prisoners, forever subjugated to the species they once planned to conquer."
"Yautja," the Captain blurted out and hurried to add when Lorentz furrowed his brows at him, "One of the clones told me."
"Then it's time to show you the picture." The hologram changed with a ripple of light and showed a 3-D model of a humanoid form much bigger than the average man. Beside its generally impressive muscular frame little could be seen under the armour and weaponry that covered most of its body.
"Xenomorphs are promptly called 'aliens' - they are too distant from us, our physique, our mind. But this species looks a lot more like me and you. Ah, there's so much we could borrow from them..."
"Doesn't look like this guy and his kin would be willing to answer your questions."
"But I have all means of persuasion," Lorentz's voice was silky and certain.
Not that the Captain had any doubts about that. He shifted uneasily under Lorentz's confident stare.
"Anyway, how do you plan to lure them here?"
"To lure...what a nice word." Lorentz switched off the hologram, stretched his arms and then leaned against the table. "What's your name, Captain?"
"Gregor."
"Oh, fine, Greg. I'll keep the technical details simple for you. When Weyland razed the last hunting pyramid on Earth, we salvaged something that he missed. I mean the scans of the structure that were passed on to the satellite - not recommended to do if you mean to keep your data safe. Then we analyzed what he saw without even realizing what it was, and some things we were able to reconstruct, first of all, the beacon that signals the presence of xenomorphs. That, and the fact that those hunters are as gambling as a hardcore football fan, should be enough to get them interested."
The Captain felt some response from him was expected, but all this was really beyond him. He had a suspicion he and his craft had landed in a game where the players were a deal more skilful than him, and the stakes were high enough to turn him bankrupt any moment. He wanted to be out of it all, the sooner the better.
"Come on, Greg, let's go see how the egg is opened. Not many have seen that and survived." With a contented chuckle, Lorentz moved to the door. The Captain watched his back, wide and strong under white immaculate suit.
"My name is Gregor. Not Greg."