Hey all! Here is the third chapter as promised. In the next upload in two weeks, we will get back to some good ole Scar / Lex interactions - and the two interacting with each other...if you catch my drift *eyebrows wiggle mischievously*

Until then, just what does Henson want from Lex's mother? There's only way one to find out...


THE ENEMY'S HEART

Unknown Territories

COMPONENT:

ONE

"You killed a ranking officer."

"I'd do it again."

"Are you insane?!"

"Pretty much!" ;p

"You weren't there. You don't know how much Scar cared for Alexa Woods-."

"He wanted to bang her heart as much as her body!"

"Lil…"

"What? I'm adding details in a way these ball brained imbeciles will understand. Everyone isn't as intellectual as us, Ricky."

"I've had it! Someone shut this crazy bitch up!"

"Touch me, and you'll bleed out where your dicks used to be…check my records. I'm good on my word…"

"…If I had let Colonel Donovan kill her, Scar would have undoubtedly set his kind against us. The Mother Ship was big enough to take out all of New Zealand and any area surrounding it with ease, sir – imagine what ten of them – PLUS the smaller crafts – could do to the planet. Letting Lex live was vital to Earth's very existence. But even more than that? Alexa is a friend. She put her life on the line to save us – ALL of us – even you assholes who would have wanted her killed. That's more than your fucking Frank Dubois, or fancy scientists, or your precious Colonel did or ever could do. I killed the fuck out of him, and I'd do it again, OO-RAH."

"That sounds like talk from a traitor."

"What I tell you, Ricky? Close minded, walking, talking, ball sacks who only have their erection set on one solitary thing…"

"It's talk from a survivor. We saved the planet from destruction from TWO alien species that our human intellect or weaponry would have been incapable of conquering, much less eliminating. You're welcome. But if you want to kill me, just get on with it."

"Same. But that won't help you sleep at night – especially now that you KNOW the hunters are real – floating around out there…waiting."

"Alexa Woods is a traitor to Earth!"

"Alexa Woods is a SAVIOR to Earth, TWICE. And it wouldn't have been twice if you dick bags hadn't gone digging up for trouble in Bouvetoya. All those lives lost are on YOUR head."

"YOU brought a near extinction to the planet with your greed – like you've constantly done throughout history. I am terrified of what those things are, but having her up there with them just might be our best bet in staying alive."

"You're assuming if she doesn't become a homicidal maniac like them…"

"Oh, dealing with you fuckers, she probably already is one. But she'll remember where she comes from. She may not can stop the hunts, but she won't let us end up extinct."

"As if one is better than the other? And if she does? If we've pissed her off enough where she doesn't care what happens to us?"

"Then it's your fault…and God help us all."

"But one thing's for certain: she saved us. She and Scar saved us. And if it means living another day, knowing our families won't get turned into hosts by those hyper aggressive bug things? I'd kill TEN Colonel Donovans."

"Add THAT to your files, Home Light – and then go to hell for what you've done…and what may come next as a result…"


In her late husband's study, Margaret Woods sat behind the oak desk in Alexander's office chair while Dr. Henson rested on the large leather couch to the right as his military escorts stood watch outside the closed door. From inside, they could hear the murmurs and constant passing of her relatives packed in the living room of the house, obviously displeased that their matriarch would elect to shun herself away from them to converse with these messengers of death in solitude. But their disapproval meant nothing to Margaret – and despite how much they may have hated it, the family knew it was safer to wait in the distance than interfere in the mother getting the answers she wanted. Sunlight reflected through the massive bay windows into the mostly wooden office space, illuminating the bark in glorious shades of reds, browns, and even hints of gold. It was more than just an office – it was as if warmth, patience, and brilliance had been incarnated into this very room…and Henson had to admit, it reflected off its owner well. Staring at the older black woman, especially with this light glistening off her rich and flawless mocha skin, it was beyond obvious to see where Lex had gotten her beauty from – except Margaret was the living embodiment of ethereal serenity, as opposed to her daughter's palpable ethereal viciousness. If the women were immortal goddesses destined to be worshiped, Lance sensed with Margaret: mankind would surely be destined to show divine reverence in the face of her gentle disposition and love. But with Lex? The world's only vocation could be to cower and hate. This he knew from personal experience. "I'd like to extend my condolences once again, Mrs. Woods."

"Margaret," corrected the elder woman with a cooler head as she crossed her manicured fingertips diplomatically, "please."

Lance nodded understandingly and took a big breath. "Margaret. If you don't mind me stating – you seem fairly calm now."

Margaret Woods smiled in recollection as she turned her eyes to a picture of Lex and her late husband sitting on the desk – arms around each other, lips turned up wide in boisterous smiles and joy. That had been so long ago…for both the time since the picture had been taken, and the happiness entrapped within it. "My daughter lived her life in a state of thrill and passion…but… dangerously," explained the mother, "despite being extraordinarily gifted at what she did. Much like her father, Lex feared no challenge from man or nature – though she respected the latter enough to stay out of too much trouble. But, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't prepared myself for the day when she wouldn't come home. Especially after the last expedition." For a moment, her brown irises darkened with malcontent. "Though, because of the circumstances surrounding that particular excursion, and my daughter's handling of it, I was expecting a call about suicide…"

Interesting. Henson gripped the handle of his cane like an inquisitive old man. "Could you tell me what you know about Antarctica?"

For a brief second, Margaret hesitated. She was no stranger to the secrets of the United States government – or their sneaky or conniving ways of manipulating what they wished to attain…or keep hidden from the rest of the world. Why was this man – a man from the government – so interested about what she may have known about that horrible day? Hadn't Lex already debriefed the appropriate authorities? And what made him so sure the mother knew anything to begin with? Lance leaned forward, wearing a terribly concerned expression. "I know you may have your concerns but this is important. You see…Alexa didn't just die in some accident. Your daughter was…" he passed for effect – as if he was unsure if he should continue before finishing, "…murdered…"

Margaret gasped, clasping a palm over her mouth. "Wha…what?! But why?! WHO?!"

Lance turned down his lips in a painstaking frown of empathy. "Mrs. Woods, after the Bouvetoya incident, there's been some…conflict. I work for a confidential government organization. We wanted to look into Antarctica – to protect your daughter. I shouldn't even be here. But your daughter changed the lives of our organization with the knowledge she gained from Bouvet – knowledge that we were able to study first hand. She changed the world as we have ever known it," which wasn't a lie whatsoever, "– and I feel like I owe you some kind of explanation. But I also need to gather Intel to make sure others won't be targeted. So…please…"

Margaret paused for a moment in thought before asking with an expression of accusation, "Is it Weyland?"

Ahhh. At last. A morsel to draw her in for his advantage. "The Weyland Corporation lost more than just their founder and CEO on the ice…They were trying to protect something that your daughter knew…Perhaps…" he mischievously hinted.

"Perhaps that is why she was killed…" speculated the mother before unclenching her fists as a new resolve took over – her eyes now boring into his with a desire to give him whatever it was he could possibly need. "I don't know how much help I can be, doctor. After her father died, Lex kept away. They were so close. But after Antarctica, it was like she was a different person. It's hard to see your child lose herself not once, but two times."

"Maybe she wanted to protect you from what she knew…" offered the Home Light lead scientist, coaxing the mother into revealing more.

Margaret shook her head. "No. This wasn't just some conspiracy theory that shook her. It was more than that. It was genuine fear…and I believe the fear was for herself. You have to understand, Dr. Henson. I've never seen my daughter afraid of anything…not like this." Margaret closes her eyes to push back the pain – push back the image of her little girl lying on the ground dead with a permanent look of terror cast upon her face. "When Alexa first told me about the approaching expedition to Antarctica, all she said was a group of scientists needed help navigating the ice in Bouvetoya. She was going because the corporate head was desperate and willing to be stupid by hiring someone far less qualified than my Lex – therefore jeopardizing so many lives. If Lex hates—well, hated—anything, it's the inexperienced making rash and reckless decisions that could kill people. I asked her who to sue in case things went south during her trip. That's how I found out it was Weyland. Somehow I knew something was wrong the last time we communicated when she was on the ship. The day she came home, weeks later, she was…off. With that strange cut on her face."

"And what did she say? About the cut, that is?" pried Lance with a deeper interest.

But the Woods woman merely shrugged. "She said it was given to her by someone important. I thought it was strange she would imply that someone would purposefully cut her face – even more so the knowledge that she would let them. Alexa wouldn't tell me what happened. But I would hear things…"

Lance Henson's interest piqued significantly as the scientist found himself sitting on the edge of the couch, practically panting hungrily for the information Margaret held. He couldn't wait to hear it all to decipher later – and although the tidbits she offered may have been small and shallow things, Henson had a knack for taking the small, analyzing it, and turning it into something far bigger than normal minds could hope to comprehend. It was how and why he'd managed to become one of Home Light's most accomplished, revered, and successfully trustworthy scientists. He was rarely wrong. "Hear?"

Margaret nodded. "For the first couple of weeks that Lex was brought back stateside after her debriefing and hospital stay…and…well, mental evaluations – she stayed with me. During the day she would either pretend to be fine or shun herself away to the point it worried me. But at night? She could be heard murmuring in her sleep. Crying, growling – like she would go from fighting to begging not to die. She would mention someone named 'Scar' and beg him not to die. She would apologize for killing some man, or scream to run from the serpents. Black serpents. Most of those nights, nearly every night, she woke up screaming. The dark played horrible tricks on her. She slept with a strange stick she'd brought back from Bouvetoya, and immediately enrolled herself in all sorts of self-defense classes – from multiple forms of martial arts, to perfecting how to fire practically any kind of gun. I suspect it was the only thing she could do to make herself feel safe, but it was like she was preparing for something – making herself ready to fight hell itself at any moment. It got so bad, Dr. Henson, we had to keep the lights on while she slept…My sister's husband stayed with us one night and ran in to check on her when she woke up screaming – baby girl nearly took his head off – and I'm not exaggerating. Ever heard of a hurricanrana? Lex does hers with one hell of a spin. Incredibly effective and debilitating. I was afraid she would pull his head or arm off…Anyways, night time wasn't fun around here."

"She was rather…" Lance tried to think of a word. "…Proficient in combat, I noticed. I guess a hellish night under ice will do that to you. What else would she say while sleeping?"

"Something about hunters," Margaret continued. "But it was when she would mention the serpents that everything went south. Most nights she tried to stay awake. She watched the stars a lot. Said that maybe even now they were watching. I used to think she meant the heavens…or the dead ones lost…but now, I'm not so sure." Margaret furrowed her brows in thought before directing to the scientist. "Dr. Henson? Something's been bothering me about what happened. Media outlets said a storm cut off communication with the ship, and something about malfunctioning equipment and injuries when the accident-. What do you-?"

Lance chose his response carefully. "There had been seismic activity. Significant seismic activity. Most of the whaling station where the expedition camped had been totally destroyed – lives gone."

"You sound exactly like the media…" Margaret cocked her head, though obviously not convinced. "That explains the 'hunters', maybe, but what about the serpents?"

"Whatever Weyland found there, others wanted it. Acts of sabotage had been taking place since the expeditions plans begun. It's why Weyland stressed in hiring not only scientists to properly obtain and study whatever they were looking for, and your daughter who could guide them there safely, but also a security detail to protect the group and himself from any other trouble that may make itself known."

"But what does that have to do with my daughter?" demanded Margaret with a tone that gave way to frustration for the first time since the two had come together in her husband's office. "And her murder? Because frankly? Frankly I'm not the slightest bit convinced it was just an earthquake. My daughter knows how to survive and handle what Mother Nature throws at you. In that respect – this couldn't have simply or only been Mother Nature."

This woman was smarter than he realized. Looks like Lex got her brains from Margaret as well, and in all disheartening honesty, that fact could prove the fruition of the doctor's plans to be far more problematic after all. He would have to proceed with caution. "When my organization took over the investigation on Bouvet, we discovered…something. Something…beyond us. Something similar occurred in New Zealand and Alexa went with us for confirmation. But the force behind our discovery didn't want the digging. We were attacked. And Alexa lost her life. But the threat is still out there."

Margaret hesitated, watching the doctor very curiously. "When you say, 'something beyond us' – what do you mean?" When Henson doesn't answer right away, the mother of the environmental technician rises to her feet and makes her way to a large wooden, vintage china cabinet being used as an elegant file cabinet and bookcase. Ignoring the doctor's obvious confusion, the older woman extracted a key from a necklace around her neck and fiddled with the lock before opening the doors and pulling out a small leather bound notebook, then returning to sit next to Henson.

"What is this?" inquired Henson, staring at the strange document.

Margaret smiles solemnly. "My husband was a Colonel – but when I first met him, he was barely a private. Our daughter is – was – the culmination of us both: Alexander's militant tenacity, and my knowledge and patience of what's around her. I was a biologist – which I'm sure you already knew. And these-," she said as she pulled out two sheets of loose paper from between the notebook, "-aren't human."

Henson warily opened both sheets – one obviously worn and tattered from old age, and the other much newer. On both were drawings. On the older was two – a lightly sketched, almost invisible life form on a detailed jungle branch. Within the faint humanoid's head were very vivid eye holes. Beneath that was a second drawing that was uncannily similar to what was on the newer. Eyes.

"My husband picked this up off a maddened solider his team found in Central America many years ago when Alexa was just a small child; a lone survivor of his platoon found hiding in a mud hole…literally. He'd been laying there in that hole for three days before my husband and his team discovered him…and the remnants of his platoon scattered across a five mile radius within the jungle. I know, because I was there – helping my husband and the Central American government by looking into an environmental issue when we found them. The newer one there was drawn by Alexa late one night. Being a biologist with a minor in zoology, I can tell you that these aren't human. The way those men had been killed, the wounds and strange green plasma on that survivor, coincided with no attack or bodily fluid by any live animal – predator, human, or otherwise – on this planet. Do you understand? Nothing on Earth scared my daughter, Dr. Henson. Nothing. That notebook belonged to my husband, and along with my own findings, it details one of the largest mysteries he's ever faced – 20 years' worth. Now I understand there are things you can't tell me – and things I can't tell others – but I never let Alexa know about this…and yet it corresponds too much. So all I want is for you to answer me this: Was this thing in Antarctica? Was this what Weyland was trying to get his hands on? Or his enemies? Did this thing…kill my daughter?"

Lance froze, staring at the notebook as if it were the tablets of commandments handed to Moses and written by God, Himself. The amount of information inside of that leather book had to be infinite, if not explanatory enough to piece together some of this puzzle. This was what Henson came for. Upon doing his own private digging, he had come to the hypothesis that Alexa's father had some dealings with the Predators – dealings which could open so many doors…perhaps even bring Alexa back with her alien counterparts in tow…perhaps enough information to defeat the invaders…or at least offer some hint on how to stop them long enough to wound or capture one – in the names of science and humanity, of course. He remembered something the late Home Light Field Agent Frank Dubois had told Alexa Woods when he "briefed" her on the chopper ride to pick up their Marine tagalongs, when she asked why the government had not simply exterminated the fake target she was believed to be pursuing for them on contact: "…he holds a great deal of information. His plans, his troops, his weapons. Everything in that devious head of his could be beneficial to the wellbeing of this country that you and I call home. It can help ensure the continued state of freedom that we hold so dear." Those words had been about a human terrorist – but that was just a mask of who the true topic of that conversation had been about. The person may have been a lie – but the purpose had always been true. The scientist's objective has and would always be learning whatever he could about the Predators through whatever available or necessary means. Why? To ensure the continued existence of mankind…and the destruction of their enemies – whether American or foreign; human or extraterrestrial, alike. There was no greater fear than the realization that man was not alone in the galaxy, in the great expanse of the universe – and that they were the weaker of both a ferociously primitive, and advanced species. And that there could be countless others out there who could just as easily pose a threat to humankind as the two they now knew of.

A fire kindled and burned within the doctor's mind as he finally found what he craved right within his literal grasp. All he needed, was to say what Margaret wanted to hear, and everything would fall in place. "…It stole Alexa Woods completely from this life…" Not a direct answer…but enough.

"Then, doctor," stated Margaret as she placed the notebook in his hand, "take my husband's notes. And I hope you learn what it takes to avenge my daughter."

Henson patted her hand reassuringly alongside a grateful smile - dangerously grateful. "I hope, someday, to avenge us all…"

To be continued…


uh-oh, spaghetti-o's!

Please excuse any spelling errors! I look forward to the next chapter. See in you in two weeks!