SUMMARY: A drabble that evolved. Ripley Clone #8 tries to recover lost memories with the help of an android and the fresh air of Earth.
WARNINGS: Couple of bits of harsh language, some questionable thematic matter. So I'll give it, what, PG-13? Teen? Whatever it is nowadays.
DISCLAIMER: Yeah, right, like I own these characters. Jean-Pierre Jeunet owns Alien Resurrection, Dan O'Bannon and Ronald Shusett own the characters. Ridley Scott started it all. I'm just playing.
It Almost Tasted Sweet
She took deep breaths and sucked the air into her lungs, feeling its coldness whistling through her mouth across her tongue and loving the chill. Real air, fresh air. This was no recycled balance of oxygen and nitrogen concocted to keep an occupant alive within space. This was imperfect air, natural air, the air of Earth. It almost tasted sweet.
She was officially Ripley Clone #8. It sounded mechanical. It sounded cold. It sounded like the voice of Mother. She didn't understand the thought of this Mother that lingered, as so many other half-memories lingered and formed and reformed within her mind, too thin and intangible to be caught. She was burning in confusion. She knew she hated Mother, who would speak in a loud soprano echoing with the clang of electronic interference fizzing through mechanical speakers.
So she called herself Ripley. Ripley, Ellen, Lieutenant First Class. She didn't know anything more than that she hated Mother, so fuck Mother. She was Ripley. Ripley that was on Earth and could feel the breeze caress her sensitive skin and breathe it in like she was just human, just normal. It was so sweet. Cal, who had first been so reticent to the idea of Ripley calling herself by the original's name, supported the change. It made her more human, she said. And on Earth, it was important that she feel human.
Something about Earth made her want to yell things into the air, to spread her arms and spin beneath the sky as if she were a child like the children they had observed playing their games beneath the sun in the park. Ripley was fascinated with this urge, this longing, but while she did not fear ridicule she did not spin or yell. There was something about pretending to be a child that pained her. She didn't understand why, so she stayed on the bench, simply watching and breathing and trying to forget.
But Earth seemed to be pushing her to understand. Ever since their haphazard landing from the Betty, the ghosts of memories had become more insistent, pushing against the inside of her skull and moaning things she couldn't comprehend except in single words that had no obvious connotation. Words like Nostromo, and Dallas and Kane; Hadley's Hope and seventeen days. And Newt. She asked Cal if her databanks mentioned these things at all. Ripley didn't like the answers she received in that buzzing metallic voice that meant Call was connected to the Network.
"Nostromo: Licensed deep space commercial towing vehicle. Destroyed in 2219 by Lieutenant Ellen Ripley for unknown reasons after landing on an uncharted planet."
Buzz.
Dallas: Major city in the vicinity of former North Texas, population 1.45 million before destruction during third World War.
Crackle.
Kane: World Champion Wrestler, 1998.
Buzz.
Seventeen Days: Album by band, 3 Doors Down, released February 8 2005.
Echo.
Newt: small, bright-coloured, semiaquatic salamander of North America, Europe and North Asia."
The mechanical sounds faded as Cal ended her connection with the Network, shivering and rubbing her arm vigorously as if she suffered from cold, and scooting away slightly from the computer terminal, looking around surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed. Ripley frowned. "The only one that relates is the first one. Can you cross-reference the others?"
"I already did, Ripley. Dallas was the name of the captain of the Nostromo and Kane was the executive officer. Both reported dead. The official reason was a malfunction of the –" she hesitated, looking Ripley in the eyes. Ripley looked back, unfazed. "– the Science Officer, Ash. He was an android. Hyperdyne Systems."
"And what about the others, Cal? Hadley's Hope? Seventeen days?" More importantly, Ripley wanted to see about this Newt. If it was really just a salamander she was really insane. Mad. Losing her way. But she was so sure it wasn't.
"Hadley's Hope was a colony on planet LV-426, where the Nostromo landed. You were sent there, with a group of Marines, to deal with a failed colony transmission system. The data records don't say much more, but I can assume they found more of the aliens there. Seventeen days, according to Marine Protocol, is the declared state-of-emergency time period. But Newt… I really have no idea, Ripley." Ripley turned away from Cal, staring off into the distance. She didn't know. Fucking Network. She stood up from the bench and stretched, trying to hide her disappointment. It wasn't Cal's fault. The memories were coming back stronger, but she still had no idea of Newt.
"Madness," she whispered. It was pulsing through her, then. Those memories. That name. It was a name, she was sure. The name of someone she had known? Unconsciously, Ripley's arms had encircled around her, her mouth moving to form the word again, and again, and again. Newt. Such a sweet name. But it was all madness. Sweet, sweet madness.
"Ripley?" Cal questioned, standing up from the computer terminal connected to the bench. Ripley turned to face Cal, seeing her dark eyes filled with concern. Ripley didn't know if it was real or stimulated. She didn't care. She was wrapped up in her own thoughts, in breathing the air. In obsession. In madness. She began swiftly walking, her booted feet clunking loudly down the sidewalk, away from the bright sunshine and the laughing children. She could hear Cal follow behind her, and had an urge to kill the android.
Alien blood was hot and swift and nearly overpowering. Her blood, alien blood, stung her from the inside out and seemed to insist she thrust away memory, thrust away humanity and attack and kill. You can't kill a robot, she told it savagely. Shut up. Her alien instinct served her well at times, but on this Earth, she could not kill and hide and kill some more. Especially not Cal, who had been so kind, programming or no. Ripley intuitively did not trust synthetic life forms, but she didn't know if that was a human memory or an alien instinct. But Cal was close to humanity. Cal was – Ripley's mind was disturbed by it all.
Ripley thought of other things. She thought of the ship. She thought of the scientists thinking they were God. She wondered why they had been so arrogant as to bring her back to life. Life. She thought of life, then. She thought of her hybrid child, and salt stung her eyes. There were almost tears, thinking of the child, the bloody creature that was half-her, half one of her brothers. Hideous. Beautiful. The sweet child.
The child!
Ripley felt faintness rippling through her body and slowed, leaned against the dirty concrete of the nearest building, heart beating fast. Her hands clenched. Sweet child. Cal ran forward then, stopped beside her and held her up with too-strong arms. "Ripley," she whispered. "Ripley, what is Newt?"
She knew, then. She had figured it out. Ripley remembered her confession. A child with bad dreams. A child she wanted to save with bad dreams. "Newt." Her breath was heavy, her voice lower than normal with the pressure of unshed tears and a sob held back in her throat. "Newt was the girl with bad dreams. Hadley's Hope. My daughter." Cal's eyes went wide and she released Ripley's arms. Ripley slumped back onto the concrete. She had guessed about Newt, realized that it sounded like a nickname and remembered the Ripley's confession, remembered the way her eyes had looked when she talked about the child and how they matched her eyes when she said Newt. But a daughter?
"Not your real daughter." It sounded harsh, it sounded fucking robotic, but it was the truth. Ripley's real daughter had died on Earth. Still, Cal cursed herself. Wasn't it better to have false memories than no memories? Memories were just shooting neurons and cybernetic pathways to her, but she understood human memories were more. Dammit, Cal. Dammit.
"No, not my real daughter. But my daughter. With the long blond hair and the big green eyes. Much sweeter than the alien child and that was real blood between us. But her dreams, I told her she could have sweet dreams…" Now Ripley's eyes had fallen shut and she was speaking too quickly, losing herself in the memory. A descent into madness. Cal shook her viciously. The last thing she needed was a delusional hybrid running the streets of Paris. It could be dangerous to the occupants. With Cal's final shake the back of Ripley's skull banged the concrete of the building, and Cal let go, immediately fearful.
Ripley's eyes opened. Cal felt herself cringing and stepping back in preparation for a blow that never came. Ripley was watching her calmly, arms folded. Other than her unusually deep breaths, she looked fine.
"Thank you, Cal. I'm sure you didn't have to bash my skull in for that." She shook her head. "New asshole model." But her voice was only gentle mockery, no real anger. Ripley broke into a beatific smile, and ran one hand gently through Cal's short, dark locks. Cal blinked in surprise. Sometime she didn't understand humans.
The two started walking back down the street, deserted as nightfall fast approached. They were silent, lost in thought. Their occupation in Paris was quiet, a tranquil life compared to the dangerous thrill of space travel. The military, as Cal had promised, was looking for Ripley, their precious science experiment. They had not found her. They had not thought to look in Paris. Who would? The Network informed Cal that as the search wore on, more and more officials were convinced that the Ripley Clone #8 had perished in the crash, along with their xenomorph pets. Cal had felt a fierce rush of pride, knowing that she had saved the human race. Pride wasn't something an android was supposed to feel, she knew. But she felt it anyway.
Johner and Vriess told her not to get too full of herself. Johner had gone on and on about what a shithole Earth was, and why were they there and why couldn't they leave until Vriess told him to shut up and he listened. Smugglers they were, but tired of the life they were also. When they had come to Paris, Cal offered that they stay with her and Ripley, on the run from the government. Johner had said the gig sounded sexy, being fugitives, and Vriess decided to stay as well. Cal thought maybe it was because of her. Too full of herself, maybe. But they were family, now.
Ripley was thinking hard, too. She was thinking about the idea of family. She was thinking of Newt, of her muddled ghost memories. Blond hair, green eyes. Small. Fearful but brave. Scattered memories of Hadley's Hope brought to life by Earth. Then she was thinking of Johner and Vriess. Of family. Of living together in Paris off smuggler money. Of peace with her past behind her. Then she was thinking of Cal. Cal, she thought, reminded her of Newt. Of innocence Ripley turned her head to glance at the android woman-child, walking swiftly to keep up with Ripley's own long strides. There was no physical resemblance, but it was something like a kindred soul. Ripley didn't know exactly what a soul was, but she had a hunch. And if she could have a soul, Cal the android could have a soul. A soul like Newt's. There was such sweet relief in knowing the name and almost-knowing the face. Maybe someday more would come.
If she hadn't told Cal the connection might never had been made. Ripley felt something then, a stirring deep within her chest. Unlike the nightmare-vision-memories, it was nothing like the feel of an alien queen thrusting its way through a broken ribcage. It was pleasant, warm. A feeling, perhaps. Like thankfulness. She looked back at Cal. Sweet.
They reached the apartment in a few more minutes. Cal punched in the code and the doors slid open with a hiss. The apartment was quiet. Ripley could smell no trace of anyone. That meant Johner and Vriess were out, probably getting drunk and telling stories about their days out in space and about fighting monsters and clones and robots weaving itself into a dreamlike story no person could possibly believe unless they'd lived through it.
"Lights on, 30 percent." The dim light filled the stark white apartment. Cal gave Ripley a good night and headed to her room. Ripley stared at her retreating back, and then followed silently. Cal's room was farther apart than the others', and protected with a passcode. Despite everything, Cal still didn't trust Johner. She probably had good reason, because he was a very forward drunk. As the door slid shut behind her, Ripley stepped in, and Cal turned with a gasp, shock written across her face.
"Damn, Ripley. Do you have to be so sneaky?" Her breathless voice betrayed humour. Ripley relaxed and smiled her predatory smile. Cal gave a timid smile back. "Did you want to talk? About Newt, I mean? Or – anything?" Ripley didn't answer except with a nod. Cal gave her a questioning glance, but turned and walked over to her bed, sitting down with a grace that betrayed her non-human state. Ripley sat down beside her.
"I wanted to thank you." Again, Cal's dark brown eyes went wide. Ripley was many things, but she was not big on apologies or thanks. Cal supposed it was the sentimentality that comes from finally remembering a loved one. Ripley continued. "Without you, I would not have remembered her. It's – difficult, being human. Pretending to be human. Memories make it easier. Companionship makes it easier. You make it easier." Cal didn't know quite how to respond. Sentimental android or not, she wasn't used to be treated like this by anyone, especially a cloned hybrid human-alien woman that she had so fiercely feared and hated when they first met.
Ripley was feeling confusion as well. Perhaps the old her, the one who was fully human (call me Ellen, my name's Ellen) wouldn't have had nearly as much trouble with feelings. With the leaning forward. With the grasping Cal's arms. With the pressing of her mouth against Cal's own soft one. With a kiss.
Funny thing. Like the memories, like the feeling, like the air, this kiss –
When Ripley released her, Cal's eyes had gone even wider than before. A strange thanks. She supposed she should've found it strange that she enjoyed the kiss, the thanks. Ripley was an enigma, and the feelings she made others have was an enigma as well. Feelings in an android. That was stranger than anything else. Simple thanks, a kiss, feelings.
Ripley stood abruptly and opened one the windows with the press of a button. As it slid open, the cool night air whispered through to ruffle her hair. Deep breath. Sweet air. Confusion. Arousal. Memories. Newt. Cal. She turned to Cal, who smiled tentatively, before becoming bolder and approaching Ripley to wrap her in a fierce hug that Ripley returned after only a moment's hesitation. She whispered into Cal's hair, thanking her again for the return of this memory of her child. She thanked her for her compassion. She thanked her for being beautiful.
Mostly, she thanked her for the kiss…
because like her memories, like the feeling, like the air, this kiss –
It almost tasted sweet.