A/N: Yet another chapter which has my aversion to excessive swearing butting heads with my desire to keep characters authentic. Seriously, go back and watch the movies and count how many times they chain swear words like it'll give them a Mortal Kombat combo or something. Mostly pointing fingers at that one scene from number three where every second word is some variation of 'fuck'. End A/N.
Colonial Defence Vessel 'Big Bad Bug Buster' S209-1437
0614 hours
Fireteam Raindance
Corporal John Richards slipped through the double doors before they could fully swing shut, hot on the heels of a fellow soldier as everyone made their way into the mess hall. He shook the fatigue of morning drills from his muscles and grabbed an MRE from the front of the room with about as much enthusiasm as one can muster when faced with the tedious task of chewing through an MRE.
As with every morning, he made his way over to his fireteam's usual spot towards the left side of the room, finding he was the last to arrive. He was confused to find that his team was very energetic this morning, fidgeting, chatting animatedly, eyes bright and awestruck grins wide. All three pairs of eyes turned to him as he sat down, conversation ceasing for a moment before suddenly assaulting him with questions.
"Dude, have you seen that video yet?" Private Robby Kenwin demanded the moment his ass touched the uncomfortable metal bench seat.
"Oh, yeah," John muttered sarcastically, "I've totally seen that video, yeah, that one video, y'know, the video. The only video worth seeing out of the trillions of videos available at any one point in time. Yeah, of course I've seen that video you bloody twat." Robby huffed in annoyance, but used to his CO's sarcastic ways, simply scrabbled for his PDA and began tapping away at it, likely locating this 'video' of his.
"Trust me," Private Pauline Eswerth piped up, "it's gonna blow your fucking mind." John cast a glance at his final teammate, Private Garry Dean, who simply nodded through his mouthful of hash brown. Finally, Robby turned his screen around so John could see it, and the corporal groaned and shot his team a nasty look.
"Seriously?" he deadpanned, clearly unimpressed with the bold banner at the top of the screen which read: PornHub. "You know you can get into a lot of shit for stuff like this, right?"
"Yeah? Then so can the rest of the entire human race – this video is viral, man! I'm surprised you haven't seen it yet."
"Maybe because I don't jack off to… alien… porn…?" John trailed off as he read the tags for the sake of his quip. "Come on man, that's just –"
"No no!" Robby cut him off, putting the video on fullscreen. "Look at which alien it is." John sighed and humoured his friend, pressing the play button. A clearly amateur video opened up with a silhouette creeping out of the darkness, sneaking up on a woman who was laying naked on her bed. John rolled his eyes, but Robby shot him a reprimanding look to tell him to keep watching. John's breath hitched as the creature finally came into the light, looming over the nude human with its intimidating stature.
"This is so fake," John growled. "There's no way in hell." The Xenomorph then hissed pleasantly as it received a cherishing hand tracing its jawline and rubbing its dome affectionately, slowly easing the duo into their foreplay. John quickly pushed the screen down onto the table, not wishing to view any further.
"It's already been analysed by thousands of reputable movie-whizz guys and scientists and stuff," Pauline explained, shaking her head slightly as if she couldn't quite believe it either. "It's totally real and, if you had the balls to watch the entire thing, you'd see it understands English, too. When she says faster, it goes faster, when she says harder, it –"
"I get it, thank you Pauline," John snapped. Recomposing himself, he turned back to Robby. "How the hell does that work? We've been at war with these things for centuries, and now all of a sudden they're open to fucking our brains out instead of blowing holes in our chests?" He paled suddenly. "Oh shit! What if it put one of those things inside her when it –" Garry cut him off by shaking his head and swallowing another mouthful of his breakfast.
"She's been posting rather regularly, long after the gestation period should have ended. So no, this isn't some new ploy to impregnate and kill us," he said dismissively.
"So, if this is real," John began hesitantly, making sure to stress the 'if' as much as possible, "then what does that mean for us? Christ, we're scheduled for a bug hunt in three hours, and now you're telling me these things are intelligent? No way, you're just fucking with me."
"It doesn't mean shit," Pauline sniffed, "we knew we could fuck the Raiku back when we were at war with them, didn't stop us from kicking their dumb asses. It's simple; the bugs want to kill us, so we kill them first. Doesn't matter if they can understand us or not."
"Well, that's one way of looking at it, I guess," John muttered thoughtfully. Though the more he thought about it, the more he realised she was right. The Xenos have always been intelligent, there was no question about that, but they chose to hunt and kill humans, and they chose not to try and make positive contact, and so really, they chose to go to war with humanity. And it was his job to make them regret that choice.
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
USS Power of Two (Formerly RSF Игла)
1902 hours
"Yeah, they don't really seem to want our help. I mean, fair enough, I wouldn't want a bunch of strangers rooting through my personal stuff either. We may be here a while, but it'll probably be worth it in the end," Jake spouted as he ducked through the doorway into a more secluded area of the ship. "So, you had some news you wanted us to see?" Jeica nodded from her seat at a comically-oversized table which was meant to seat several squads for briefing. Jake dropped himself into one of the nicely-padded chairs across from her and leaned forward impatiently. Advena, funnily enough, decided to do the same, pulling out a chair and plopping her rear on it, albeit with some awkward shuffling ensuing due to her tail. She ended up settling in a position which had her sitting on an angle with one shoulder – well, mid-back due to her height – and part of her back against the backrest and an elbow on the table's surface for support. Jake grinned uneasily when he picked up Advena's idle train of though; she was musing over how convenient it was for her having had her spikes brutally removed by Glover back on Reveles. It made a lot of things easier, like lying down on her back, for instance. Perfect organism her ass! Those things were a downright annoyance. If her current body died, she was coming back as something without spines, like a Runner.
"We actually managed to hit the big news ourselves, surprisingly. Well, not really, but our amateur pornstar has been a big hit all over; it's making people question their fight against Xenos, so that's progress. As for our Russian friends, well, take a look for yourself." Jeica slid a PDA across the table to him, a video already on-screen and ready to play.
The scene was a typical newsroom with a desk and a borderline-scantily-clad woman in a tight-fitting formal dress, small windows behind her projecting footage of far-off locations. Said location was a burning government building adorned with the sharp corners and curves of Russian alphabet.
"The unsettling confrontation on the Kaskitakov belt hit its crescendo at about eight o'clock this morning with Russian military forces storming the capital and forcefully seizing their government officials for imprisonment. Civilians have taken to the streets in celebration, praising their military leaders for their action against their empire. When asked by American press, one general had this to say on the matter." The camera cut away from the studio, enlarging the burning building which had been idling in the background where the Russian general in question stood stoically.
"We have stood by for too long now, allowing those with greed and malice to rule over us, oppressing their people and acting with harsh cruelty. No longer will we stand by and allow such corruption to poison our nation; we will cleanse our nation of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation and all those who associate with them. We do not wish to fight America or her people, but if you choose to defend the greatest enemy humanity has ever faced, then we will not hesitate to declare war." The news room returned with the woman on show doing her best impression of concern she could muster without disturbing her perfect showroom façade.
"A truly terrifying statement by the temporary rulers of our neighbouring nation. The Weyland-Yutani's Russian branch has pulled out into American territory resulting in trillions of dollars of abandoned assets, leading some American citizens to fear they will put their Presidential ties to use in declaring war on Russia. For now, tensions are high, but no moves have been made by either side. More from our reporter on the ground, Chris Henson."
"Thank you Stacy. I'm here on planet California, surrounded by protestants against both the Russian military and the American branch of the Weyland-Yutani who are currently butting heads with one another. Both sides are fearing the worst and demand action from our own government." The stout man turned to a lanky fellow who had been standing out in the wings and outstretched his microphone. "Now, you are supporting the Russians, is this correct?"
"Yeah," the citizen replied, anger in his eyes. "The Wey-Yu has been corruptin' us for years and forcin' people into slave labour jobs 'n' stuff. They ain't ever done anythin' right by the people. I reckon if the Russians can get rid of 'em, we can too. Hell, we could even work with 'em and get rid of the Corp together. All I know f'sure is I ain't fightin' a war for those murderin' scumbag suits."
"Interesting," the reporter mused with well-faked enthusiasm, before turning his attention to his other side, where a middle-aged lady was waiting patiently. "And what do you, as a Weyland-Yutani supporter, have to say on the matter?"
"Well, I happen to believe that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation has been paving the path for humanity's future ever since we separated from the Federation. Because they're power hungry? No, because nobody else would step up to the plate. The Weyland-Yutani Corporation saved us. If the Russians don't want the technological and scientific advancements, fine, then they can give the Corporation their assets back – our assets, our money. As an American-born Corporation, the Russians aren't only stealing from the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, they're stealing from us; the people. And that is quite frankly unacceptable. We can't let the Russians get away with this."
"Incredibly thought-provoking arguments from both sides of the conflict," the reporter concluded, prompting a cut-away back to the studio.
"Very thought-provoking indeed," Stacy agreed, shuffling papers for dramatic effect. "In other news…"
The video stopped there, having gone through all the interesting parts. Jake leaned back in his chair with a whoosh of air. He ran a hand through his hair and just mulled over that for a few minutes.
"The Russians are trying to help us get rid of the Wey-Yu as best as they can without causing an all-out war," Jeica explained. "After they took over their government and kicked out the Corp, they sent us a message offering all the help they could provide. Supplies, training facilities, ships, but if any Americans outside of the Resistance find out about any of it, it's not going to end well. Russians supplying terrorists? It'll ruin both our images."
"But people are starting to feel the urge to resist," Jake put in. "You heard the guy; the Russians have inspired them, given them hope that it's possible to get rid of the Wey-Yu. If nothing else, this will at least bulk up our numbers."
"Mm, but we still have the problem of the Insurrectionists. They'll be the thing stopping people from taking the plunge. Unless we can find a way to set ourselves apart from them, this whole thing won't do us any good."
"Tyler might be able to help out with that," Advena suggested slowly, unsure if this was going to be one of those times where she was misunderstanding humanity's incessant politics. "He was telling me a while back about how the Weyland-Yutani Corporation used advertising and propaganda to convince people to hate gays and give plausible deniability to their genetic experimentation agenda."
"An advertising campaign? For the resistance?" Jeica mused. "I mean, that's a great idea, but also… how the hell do you do that? Y'know, like, you can't exactly write 'come talk to us on Altin to review our policies!' on the bottom of a poster. I guess we can always ask the Resistance how they've done recruitments in the past, but I doubt they have anything more sophisticated than word of mouth."
"I think the most important part is that it gets people on our side. We don't necessarily need more recruits so much as sympathisers," Jake rebutted. Jeica's radio buzzed insistently, cutting the discussion off there so she could answer it.
"Lieutenant, the Queen is preparing to board now." Jeica smiled gratefully and thanked the soldier on the other end of the line. She'd asked to be informed of this so she could go and meet the gargantuan Xenomorph in person, without invading the colonists' personal space while they packed up. It seemed it was time for the two factions' leaders to meet.
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~ Planet Remington 0903 hours Fireteam Raindance
"Alright gentlemen, we're touching down in five, so let's make this quick!" Sergeant Butch yelled over the whine of the dropship's engines. "These things have been hiding on this planet for god knows how long, and for some reason they've chosen today to come out and terrorise the local colony. It's not our job to understand why, it's our job to get down there and kick their asses back into the pit of hell they crawled out of. More specifically, our platoon's job is to get to the source of these buggers and wipe out their nest. Now let's squash some bugs marines!"
"Oorah!" The loading ramp lurched open, and immediately the twelve soldiers poured out onto the grass below. John raised a hand to keep the bright sun from his eyes and glanced around shiftily. For some reason, he'd been expecting a grim, dark and uninviting barren warzone, but for once the cavalry had arrived before it was too late. Though after some reflection, he realised there was a tactical advantage to coming in the full swing of day; Xenos tended to hunt at night where they could be hidden by the shadows and darkness, which meant they would all most likely be sleeping in their Hive, all in one spot, ready to be burnt to the ground. Speaking of which… John quickly swung his flamethrower down from its shoulder strap and double-checked everything was connected properly and all the valves were open. Satisfied with the weapon, he stowed it once more and hefted his standard issue M14A Pulse Rifle, readying himself for what was to come.
Two more dropships swooped down to unceremoniously dump their passengers onto the ground before rocketing back up into the sky, not daring to touch down in such close proximity to a nest of 'landing-gear-humping aliens' as they had been dubbed by the fly boys.
The marines flicked on their visors, the display lighting up with their fireteam's status, their munitions count, and a motion tracker, which was non-standard as it added bulk to the gear, but if your battalion's sole purpose was to exterminate Xenos, your gear had in-built motion trackers, end of story.
"Alright kiddos; you know the drill," John murmured to his fireteam. He took point, stepping towards the colony's entrance. It wasn't a standard complex, as breathable atmosphere always meant more relaxed structures. The buildings were still dull and gunmetal grey, but they had a bit of space between them with paths and bench seats and lamp posts to liven the place up a little. For this reason, the entrance was a tall gate made of dull, spike-tipped bars, slightly ajar in its place hinged to the sturdy wire mesh fence which surrounded the colony. The tops were adorned with barbed wire, which spoke volumes about the local wildlife.
"I fucking hate it when you call us 'kiddos'," Pauline complained.
"We're on duty, Private," John reminded her with a ghost of a smile.
"I fucking hate it when you call us kiddos, Sir," she corrected herself. John allowed a chuckle before stepping over the threshold into the decrepit buildings beyond.
"So," Corporal Hill began over the radio in hushed tones, as if doing so would hide him from his superiors despite being on the main frequency. "We taking bets on who's gonna bag the most bugs? Or you afraid of sucking ass like last time, Richards?"
"Oh it's on," John growled, his attention not wavering from the nooks and crannies where Xenos would love to hide. He'd been trained on observable behaviour, and knew in situations such as this one the Xenomorphs would set up outposts in the outlying buildings to serve as lookouts. These ones wouldn't move as they had figured out through some kind of process of elimination that doing so would reveal them on the motion tracker – a lot more believable to John now he knew just how intelligent they were.
"Stow it, the both of you," Butch snapped. "Nobody's taking any bets. And if they were, they would be betting on Fireteam Watercress, and the losers would be owing the winners a round of beers."
"Up yours," Pauline scolded him. John cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, not that the private could see that through his visor. She managed to catch his meaning anyway, however. "Excuse me; up yours, Sir."
"Better," Butch grunted in gruff satisfaction. "Now seriously; shut the hell up. We don't have a perfect record because we run our mouths in enemy territory."
"Understood, Sir. We going business as usual, or we shaking things up because Hill's being a smartass?" John asked, mostly switched to serious mode.
"We've got some pretty open areas to deal with here, but seeing as most of them will be grouped up in the nest, I'd say Valhalla formation."
"I thought we agreed to change the name to 'Greek Wall'?" Hill spouted. "And also, who gets to be the wall?"
"We're doing it Valhalla, and Fireteam Watercress gets to be the wall because they keep forgetting to shut their god-damn mouth."
"Bravo Squad, how we doing?" another voice buzzed – Alpha Team's sergeant, tasked with patrolling the fences to ensure none of their enemies could escape the area. She also had three fireteams under her command, as opposed to Butch's two, a fact which the latter sergeant liked to whine about whenever he had one too many drinks between missions.
"Moving in," Butch replied, quietening down with a silent order for the others to do the same. Around about now was when the Xenos tried to frighten them off with a bash-and-dash. "About two blocks off the centre. How's the perimeter?"
"Nothing trying to get out yet, Bravo Squad. Fireteam Longbow is setting up shop in the weather station north-west of your position. Feel free to ping targets for long-ranged fire… kill-hogger."
"What's that – kssht – Squad? Can't – kssht – breaking up – kssht – sniper pussies – kssht!" Butch jeered, making hissing noises into his mic.
"Alpha out," Alpha's sergeant sighed. Butch grinned and eyed his motion tracker.
"Alright, we got one moving in north. Wait for it…" he advised, holding up a finger.
"I swear," Private Farn, from Fireteam Watercress, sighed, "if it's me again I'm gonna –" He didn't get to finish that thought, however, as a black blur dropped from a building above where it had been out of range of their trackers, thumping onto the ground next to him and slamming its tail into his chest, before bolting. The experienced crew had, however, been expecting this and hadn't fallen for the motion bait meant to distract them, and instead gunned down the Xeno who had thought they'd had a free shot at the marines. Classic Xeno tactic; make a commotion to draw attention while another attacks from a blind spot; marines piss themselves and beat a hasty retreat.
Instead, the Xeno who'd attempted the old 'bash and dash' collapsed with dozens of bullets riddling its body. Its momentum carried it forward a few metres, before it slopped to a halt. It tried meekly to haul itself back onto its feet in desperation, but was swiftly executed by an under-slung grenade launcher.
"Eat shit Watercress; one down," Pauline exclaimed quietly. She glanced back to the rear, where Corporal Hill has brandishing a special finger just for her.
"Fuck, that one got me pretty good," Farn told the rest of his squad. Butch grimaced as he spotted the ugly gash through the steel chestplate, giving them a clear view of the uniform beneath.
"Good thing you're on wall duty, then," Garry noted with the barest hint of teasing in his tone. Farn rolled his eyes and slung his Pulse Rifle in favour of his flamethrower, the rest of Watercress quickly following suit. They quickly melded into formation, with Watercress taking up the front with their incinerator units while Raindance made as if they were physically tethered to one of the marines, pointing their rifles between the shoulders of the other Fireteam. When the time came, the flamethrowers would light up, creating a wall of flame which would keep the Xenos from advancing while the riflemen at the back would be able to pick targets and gun them down. It had proved to be one of the better strategies the squad had come across during their tours, especially when they hunkered down in an entrance/exit and trapped their enemies in a room.
They moved on to the colony's power plant, where they would make quick work of the nest within.
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
USS Power of Two
1925 hours
"Fill my heart with song! Let me sing for ever more!" Tyler trilled, his voice muffled by the thick metal door which stood between Jake and the shuttle's interior. His voice was mingling with the soft melodies playing on the ship's speakers, and Jake couldn't help but smirk at the un-Tyler-like display. The scientist wasn't usually one for the simpler joys of life – or joys at all, for that matter. To hear him singing along to such a cheery song was a bit of a refreshing change of pace, actually. The sergeant rapped his knuckles against the hull patiently, and immediately the singing stopped.
Tyler appeared, opening the airlock and eyeing the marine in the hangar beyond. Jake could still hear the lyrics of 'Fly Me to the Moon' drifting throughout the small ship behind him.
"Do you make it a habit to blast your music like that when travelling?" Jake asked curiously. Tyler shrugged and twirled the spanner in his hand idly.
"I like to listen to music while I work. There's a lot of scientific evidence behind it being good for you and whatnot. Why, not a fan of the twentieth century?"
"Nah, I love Frank Sinatra. 'My Way' is one of my favourites from him. Anyway, Jeica wanted to talk to you. Took me ages to find you as well, what are you doing back on this dingy thing?"
"All my equipment's here," Tyler explained, "I'm pretty close to a breakthrough and didn't want to risk blowing the whole thing by moving it around." His eyes roamed around the expansive hangar for a moment, pondering something, before finally returning his attention to the marine before him. "We haven't really talked much since I screwed you over with the whole 'commandeering the ship' thing, have we?" Jake shook his head, giving up on trying to guess where Tyler was going with this at this point. The young man was so unstable that even the most obvious-seeming things turned out to be incorrect. "I guess, sorry, about that. Probably should have argued with you a bit more before just doing my own thing. I'm not gonna say I was wrong though, because I was right, and we have a Queen now because of me. But still. Sorry. I'll uh, yeah, tell Jeica I'll be right there."
And before Jake could get over his shock and confusion, Tyler had receded back into the Frank-Sinatra-filled shuttle. Aside from the usual arrogant prattle on the end there, Jake might have actually just received a heartfelt apology from Tyler. Huh. Go figure.
He made his way to the ship's main rec room to find his dutifully-waiting girlfriend on the couch within, upside-down with her head hanging over the lip, a controller in hand so she could play the video game on the screen before her. Jake chuckled at the display and draped her tail over the backrest to make room for himself to sit down.
"Hiya 'Vee. Enjoying yourself?" he asked mirthfully.
"Yeah." Well, that was unconvincing, and she was doing a pretty bad job of hiding her nerves from her human companion. He sighed, shuffled closer and rested a hand on her upturned belly, giving it slow, circular rubs.
"What's up?"
"I dunno. Nervous. It's been a while since I last had a Queen and I'm not sure if I'm ready to commit to another Bond like that, especially now that I've got you. Like, a millennia ago, back before we were turned into weapons by some tall assholes, it might have been different, but nowadays, a Xenomorph's first duty is to their Queen; to their Hive. It's been that way for so long because we didn't think we could Bond, but now that we can… I don't know. With the whole war thing, I barely have enough time with you to myself as it is. If I have to serve a Queen on top of all that…" Jake kissed her dome gently and felt her settle down a little.
"Well, nobody's asking us to pledge our allegiance to the Hive immediately. We can take as much time as we need, and we're definitely going to have a day on the water when we get back to the colony."
"Really?"
"Really really. We have this beautiful ocean on our doorstep and I intend to at the very least go boating on it. We could make a day of it; pick out a bikini for you and everything." Advena swatted his shoulder with her tail playfully with a rapturous grin on her face.
"Now that you mention it, I wonder if there's a Xeno form with tits? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Considering that you guys hatch from eggs? They would probably be filled with acid. So no, thank you." Advena snickered and slowly rolled herself over, stretching her limbs out leisurely.
"Are you sure? I could be like that chick on Austin Powers with the machine gun nipples. Just whip em out and fire acid at our enemies while they're too distracted gawking."
"When have you had the time to watch Austin Powers?"
"Tyler showed me. He likes old stuff and Pre-Space-Earth pop culture. You should hang out with him more – we could do like a double date or something. In fact, spending a little time with him may improve his disposition of you~" Advena sing-songed the last bit, trying to make it sound as tantalising as possible. Honestly, she was sick of the little standoff thing the two humans were doing. They used to be friends, and Advena used to not have to choose between them – she wanted that back. And who knows, maybe Sal would grow on her too.
Jake grunted noncommittally, still not entirely convinced on what he thought of his friend. He swung pretty quickly from asshole to helpful then back again. Secretly, he hoped some miracle would cure him of whatever had changed him so drastically from the timid-seeming scientist who ran the Advena Project back on Reveles. Maybe the Queen's powerful and reassuring presence would soothe him?
Advena, picking up on his thoughts, nuzzled his chest reassuringly. "Just give him some time and support; he'll come right eventually. It wasn't too long ago you tried to murder him, remember?"
"I mean, I prefer not to," Jake told her, "but yeah. Maybe I should have apologised?" Advena laughed her stuttering, hissing laugh, holding a claw to her face in a cutely-human display.
"I don't think an apology exactly makes up for an attempt on someone's life, but that probably would have been a good start." Jake chuckled and pulled her in closer, enjoying their closeness for a moment. After all, with all that was going on, they might not have many moments like this left.
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
Colonial Defence Vessel 'Big Bad Bug Buster' S209-1437
1334 hours
Fireteam Raindance
"So, how soon do you think it's gonna be before we're fighting the Russians?" Garry wondered idly while he placed his helmet back onto the rack. John shrugged and placed his sidearm on a tray, under the watchful eye of the Armourer, then un-slung his Pulse Rifle while he mulled it over.
"Honestly, I think I'm more concerned about when we're going to have to start fighting our own people. First the rebels start stirring up more shit than usual, and now the Russians have gone all gung-ho and overthrown their government. Soon enough we might find ourselves wondering if we're on the right side."
"Light, Eswerth," the Armourer barked. Pauline huffed in annoyance, picked her Pulse Rifle up from the rack, slid the tactical light off its rail, and jammed the weapon back in, before tossing the light into the tray with John's pistol. She waved her hands at him in a 'happy now?' gesture and made her way out the room. "Christ it's like dealing with children," the Armourer grumbled as he plucked the piece of kit out of John's tray and separated it. "No wonder my CO ordered me to babysit your platoon." The three remaining marines ignored his remarks, continuing with their own conversation.
"Do you think we're on the right side?" Robby asked curiously. John just shrugged again, leaning against the doorway idly despite the glare his loitering earned him.
"I don't think there really is a 'right side', just a lesser of two evils. I'd say the guys who aren't raiding merchant ships, destroying colonies, raping mothers and stealing resources would be the lesser evil." For some reason, Garry chuckled at this. A grim, dark chuckle.
"And which side is that? The Wey-Yu, or the rebels?" Garry almost managed to pull off a dramatic exit after the thought-provoking retort, but at that exact moment the room was plunged into a hue of red while buzzing alarms grated over the PA.
"Warning! Biological hazard detected! Section B-17 is currently under quarantine. All local personnel, please report to the nearest fortifiable area and await further instructions."
"Ah, fuck a duck," Pauline cursed as she ducked back inside the armoury. "That's us." John was already pulling out his radio.
"Fireteam Raindance to Bridge Crew, talk to me. What's the situation?" he demanded. It was highly unlikely the biological hazard was anything but a memento they'd picked up from their latest bug hunt, which would be dangerous for them as they lacked the element of surprise, a nest to target, and, for most of the crew in the section, weapons.
"Xeno spotted in the hangar bay, got into the vents before the fly boys could do anything about it. The area's locked down until the situation is resolved. How's your team?"
"Caught us in a ray of sunshine; we're in the armoury, ready to gear up and hunt this thing down."
"Happy to hear it Raindance. Try to regroup with the others; we've got marines holed up in the hangar control room, the elevator hub and cargo bay B-06. I'm sure they'd appreciate whatever gear you can bring them."
"Roger Bridge. Moving to hangar control." John frowned in mild irritation as he retrieved his gear from where he'd just set it down with disciplined care and strapped himself back in. "Private Kenwin, grab your PDA from the lockers," he ordered. Robby made to protest, but caught his CO's commanding glare and conceded. With a weary sigh, he began typing in the combination to his locker where his personal belongings resided. "Private Eswerth, you're on the incendiary unit. Don't let that thing get close to us if it shows up. Maghn, help me carry some extra supplies."
"And what about me?" the Armourer demanded, folding his arms peevishly.
"What about you?" John shot back as he shouldered a fifth Pulse Rifle. He gestured to the room around him in a sweep of his arm. "Set up a couple of the hundred Auto's you have and make sure these guns are checked back in once we kick this thing's ass."
The Armourer huffed, but took the advice to heart and began setting up a couple of Auto Turrets in the entryway. John stepped outside and signalled his team to form up. "Alright Robby, pull up the security panel will you?" Robby fiddled with his PDA for a moment, then glanced briefly back up to his superior.
"Access code?"
"JBR775892." The private dutifully tapped the code in, and the word 'Processing…' briefly appeared on-screen as the request was sent to the Bridge, and then 'Accepted!' as they were cleared to access the section's security grid.
"Alright, we're up and running. We've got masses of IFFs in the hangar, elevator hub, cargo bay and armoury with a few stragglers in the corridors. Can't see any unidentified movement," he reported. "Do we know how many Xenomorphs we're dealing with here?"
"Angel?" John prompted. Dutifully, the ship's AI spoke through the device in Robby's hands.
"Upon return from deployment, it was detected that one organism of recognisable hazard was stowed away in Dropship J-14. Hazard is registered as Xenomorph XX121. Threat level: ALCON Delta."
"Piece of cake," John commented with the slightest smirk. "Just stay tight, keep an eye on motion and stay away from vents." They barely made it a few steps before Robby suddenly halted them.
"Hold up. Movement. Unidentified signature heading from the hangar, towards the elevator hub."
"Elevator hub, report," John demanded over the comms. When the buzz of the other end kicked in, John could hear chatter in the background – more radios.
"All clear here, Raindance. We're currently directing a few stragglers here – they're out in the starboard corridors, taking the maintenance route."
"Shit, shit. Keep that place locked up tight, we're on our way. Bridge, Raindance is currently headed for the elevator hub, Rob, start sealing bulkheads, hatches, whatever you can, slow that thing down." The four marines began sprinting down the tight corridors, their feet pounding on the metal grating of floor. Undoubtedly, they would have no element of surprise to aid them, but it was better than arriving on scene too late.
"Sealing Bulkhead G-Seven, sealing Bulkhead – sealing Bulk – sealing – sealing – sealing Hatch H-Fourtee – sealing," Angel droned, getting interrupted as Robby frantically tapped away at the screen.
"It's so fucking fast!" he complained.
"Keep at it," John encouraged him as the rounded another corner. His motion tracker began pulsing on his HUD – 149 metres.
"Elevator hub, tell those two marines to stay put!" Pauline barked as she yanked the screen out of Rob's hands.
"Sealing Subsection I-Twelve-Twenty-Four. Sealing Subsectio – sealing Sub – sealing –"
"For Christ's sake, turn off the text-to-speech, would you?" Garry snapped over Angel's monotone.
"Oh, I'm sorry, should I just tell the Alien to wait a moment while I fuck around with the settings?" Pauline shot back.
"Sealing Subsection I-Sixty-Seventy-Two." The group slowed to a halt, huffing in exertion as the thick, steel plate of metal clanged shut behind them like the death toll of a church bell. Pauline took a break from resting her hands on her knees to offer the PDA to John. The Corporal accepted it and glanced over her handiwork. Two blue dots were boxed in a tiny one-unit-wide section of the grid with a mess of sealed bulkheads around them. Outside of that, there was an enormous box made of smaller boxes with both themselves, the alien, and the sealed-in marines inside it.
"Great work," John panted. "But we're on a clock now. With all the air vents locked down, they'll have half an hour of air, maybe an hour if they're not panicking, which is doubtful."
"So we seal off everything but the corridors between us and the Alien and we kick its ass," Pauline concluded.
"Rob?" John prompted as he handed the PDA back.
"On it, Sir." They tucked their weapons into ready positions and began shuffling along the corridor cautiously. Despite having the Xeno's location, they knew how fast the aliens could be, especially in tight quarters such as ship corridors, so being ready for a sudden rush was a necessity.
"Top or bottom, Rob?" John asked as they slid one sector closer to their target. The doors grated shut behind them, making their arena one intersection smaller.
"You know I ain't no dead fish in bed, Sir," Robby quipped quickly, before doing his job. "Last it was on the sensors… top. I've been trying to seal off as many maintenance hatches as I can to keep it out of the tunnels, but if I seal off too many it may get stuck down there, which would mean we would have to go in after it." John grimaced, only able to imagine how shitty it would be to confront a Xenomorph in the cramped, damp and dangerously pipe-and-wire-lined crawlspaces reserved for the maintenance crew. Having to bend down with your back brushing against the roof wasn't exactly the best form for fighting in. "Hold up – here." John glanced back to look at the display being presented to him. "It's cornered. After we round this corner, it's probably gonna charge us." The screen showed a single L-shaped section of corridors, with them in the small hook and a flurry of movement hanging back at the end of the long straight.
"What's that?" John demanded, jabbing a finger at a small, pale yellow square which had a red 'ERROR' message flashing over it.
"I tried closing off maintenance, but that hatch won't close. It's got access to the tunnels, but only in this sector; it can only come in and out of the broken hatch."
"That'll have to do. Let's move up – Pauline, hand out a few extra flamers, would you?" Pauline nodded and tossed the bulky weapons around, receiving a Pulse Rifle from John in return. They then shed the extra supplies they had been carrying to the hangar, knowing full well the extra weight could mean death in such a reflex-sensitive encounter.
"Uh, hang on, what's the strategy here?" Garry implored, awkwardly slinging his Pulse Rifle with one arm while he held the flamethrower in the other.
"We don't have a lot of manpower, so we're pulling a Ripley Manoeuvre. Stay alert, watch our fronts and turn off your motion trackers. We don't need the distraction here."
"Aye," Pauline confirmed, flicking the switch on her helmet. The others quickly followed suit, then began shifting their gear, pressing their flamethrowers and Pulse Rifles side by side, using the shoulder strap from one weapon to secure it to the other.
They carefully rounded the corner, heavy bundles of weapons loose at their hips to let their shoulders take the burden. The corridor was empty, and John grimaced when he spotted a maintenance hatch, torn off its rails before it could slide closed.
"Fault detected," he muttered under his breath. "Okay, Garry, Rob, stay here, watch the corridor – oh, and hand me the PDA would you? Alright, breathers on people, Pauline, it's pesticide time." Pauline nodded as the four of them slid the small re-breathers out of their vest pockets. Once secured, Garry and Robby took up positions on either side of the corridor, well away from the maintenance hatch, while Pauline and John took up positions above the other two locked hatches in the corridor. "On my mark. Ready? Three, two, one, mark!"
John tapped the PDA, unlocking both hatches and tossing a gas grenade in the open hole while Pauline did the same. He quickly sealed them back up and the duo made their way back to their teammates' positions. Hissing filled the room, and yellow smoke began pouring out of the broken hatch, along with the pained cries of a Xenomorph. "Steady…" A silhouette could briefly be seen, a flash of movement amongst the billowing yellow clouds. John hit the device in his hand. Nothing. Worriedly, he glanced down and hit the on-screen button again. No response. "Angel!" he hissed. "Activate the air filters in our sector!"
"Negative," Angel chastised him, "your sector is currently under quarantine."
"Angel!"
"Sir…" Pauline growled, low and slightly shaky. "Are we clear to fire?" John shook his head, eying the smoke drifting lazily into the corridor from below.
"That's sulflamizine," John hissed back. "The shit explodes."
"Why the fuck would you fill the room with explosive gas?" Pauline whisper-screamed, the strain in her voice evident as she hurriedly switched off her flamethrower's primer.
"Because the Xenomorphs go fucking berserk when it touches their skin. It's standard issue for flushing them out and blowing up Hives, how have you not been briefed on this?"
"How about we stop arguing, back up slowly, get into the next section, toss a frag in here, and hope for the best?" Garry suggested, already backpedalling.
"Angel, tell the Bridge crew to lift the quarantine," John commanded the AI.
"I am sorry Corporal, that would be against protocol. A Xenomorph infestation is still present in this section of the ship; lifting quarantine would endanger the lives of the rest of the crew."
"Fucking roof!" Rob cried, jerking his gun up at the ceiling. So caught up in their argument as they had been, the fireteam had failed to notice the midnight black creature slowly crawling across the ceiling towards them.
"Back up, back up – around the bend. You are cleared for fire around the bend."
The Xenomorph, however, seemed to understand their intention and quickly launched itself off the roof and onto the mesh of the corner, blocking their retreat. "Fuck this is a bad idea," John whispered to himself as he slipped another grenade from his belt. He tossed it at the floor before the Xenomorph could act on its advantage, showering the five of them in more billows of yellow smoke. Their vision was now completely clogged by gas, and all they could hope for was that their masks would hold up. John winced as he felt a tiny prick of discomfort crawling across his exposed skin – something about the gas reacting with moisture; he hadn't exactly been paying rapt attention during the run-down.
"Was there a plan here?" Pauline demanded as they backpedalled blindly, waving their guns about despite knowing full well they couldn't fire.
"I figured not getting slaughtered by the alien was a pretty obvious step one. The rest we can figure out."
"Touché."
Beep-beep.
"Fuck fuck shit fuck, that's five minutes until the trapped marines run out of air," Robby cussed.
"Go, go," John ordered him as he pressed his PDA to his chest. Using their HUD technology, they could still see the screen despite not being able to see the device, rendering it still usable. "I can handle the Xeno. Just unlock the bathroom in this corridor."
"Are you kidding me?" Pauline hissed. "There's a difference between a hero and a fucking moron, you stupid prick."
"Trust me, I figured out the rest of my plan, and it'll probably work better if I'm alone."
"If you die I will piss on your grave."
"Noted."
John carefully picked his way back into the middle of the long straight, darting aside when a wayward tail threatened to slice open his shins as the pained Xeno flailed about. John opened the bathroom door – with help from his HUD – and the flailing immediately stopped. Good, the Xenomorph recognised the sound and saw it as a way out. He threw himself through the doorway, and not a moment later the burly black figure went sailing over his head, skidding to a halt in the fresh, clean air of the bathroom. The door swished shut behind them, the small clouds of yellow dispersing in the air not lost on John as he left his rifle on the floor.
He slowly pushed himself onto hands and knees, pausing at the threatening hiss which seemed to fill the air in the room. "Easy…" he muttered, pulling himself into a low crouch. The Xenomorph didn't allow him to go any further, pouncing on him and seizing his neck in a flash. Its grip unknowingly fell upon the reinforced collar of John's armour – incidentally this feature had been designed for this specific circumstance – and he found himself dangling half a metre off the ground. John lowered his head and butted the creature just as its tongue shot out and collided with his helmet. It was stunned for a moment and released him, allowing him to roll out of its way and slip a frag from his belt.
The Xenomorph reared up to attack, but hesitated when a soft pling interrupted the heavy breathing of the room. "Dead man's switch," John warned. "Try that again and we both go up in flames." A low, guttural hiss, and the Xeno lowered itself to the floor, but otherwise didn't make a move. It understood. John used his free hand to reach under his armour to the pockets of the pants he wore beneath, fishing out his phone which he hadn't found the time to put back in his locker.
He used the ship's internet to make a quick search, then slid the device across the floor at the alien. It growled and stepped back, only to jerk in surprise when a loud moan split the air. It looked down, and sure enough, the screen was open to PornHub, where a human soldier was getting it missionary style from a Xenomorph. The alien tore its gaze away and glared at John. "Fuck if I know," he said, answering the unspoken question. "But I assume you have your theories, and I have mine. Obviously, we have the capacity to co-exist, and you can definitely understand what I'm saying, so if you're willing, I'd say that's a pretty good start."
The Xenomorph regarded him and parted its lips, baring its razor-sharp teeth at him. It was only after the alien picked up his phone that he figured out that was some kind of smile. The device was fiddled with and slid back to him, causing him to almost drop his grenade when he read the screen. A notepad had been opened. The creature's larger-than-convenient digits had made a mess, but the message was clear.
'Tyhatsd kijnda hoty'
"Great. Another fucking smartass in my life."
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
"So… you are the Queen of the rebel Hive I have heard so much about," the calm and thoughtful voice of the Queen mused. Jeica chewed her lip idly as she regarded the enormous figure, mulling over the firm, motherly voice which greeted her mind. It was odd, meeting a Queen for the first time; their voice was demanding and authoritative, yet gentle and sweet. You couldn't possibly ignore a being so majestic and powerful, but at the same time you didn't really feel all too bothered because you didn't want to block her presence out. Jeica shrugged it off, having seen too much in her life at this point to be taken aback by the strange sensation, instead choosing to extend a hand to the towering figure, playing it off coolly despite how awkward it was to offer a handshake to such a towering and tall creature.
"Lieutenant Jeica Smith. I don't believe we've had the pleasure." A massive grin split the alien's maw as it stooped down, one of the arms stuck to her chest like a T-Rex extending out to accept the gesture. They shook, both grips firm and unyielding in a silent competition to be the strongest and most fearless leader.
"Asphid," the Queen introduced herself simply. "It's a kind of flower, I'm told."
"I'm familiar. Grows on planets with high soil acidity. Hmph, that's kinda clever actually." Jeica chuckled despite her best efforts to remain stony-faced and business-like. She gave up her façade entirely when she decided to lean against the wall casually and swipe her cap off her head, dusting it out idly. "So, to business then. I'm sure you are very concerned about sending your people to my colony, and have a few rules to set me before we get there?"
"Well, if you're offering," Asphid replied smoothly, also abandoning her false mask of grandeur and sinking down into a less intimidating posture. "My number one concern is how you treat non-combat personnel on your colony, as I doubt many of the civilian branch workers under my protection will wish to fight. Do you even have non-combat personnel on your colony?" Jeica barked out a quick laugh at the question and patted her hip holster.
"Not too long ago I had to teach these guys how to draw a gun properly for self-defence. We have many people who don't fight – it's kinda crucial to maintain a functioning colony."
"Is there a proper way to draw a gun?" Asphid inquired curiously. "I always thought it looked fairly straightforward."
"Not so," Jeica corrected her with a waggle of her finger. "It's got somewhat of a safety lock to stop it getting stolen by civilians. Here, you have to push forward, pull up, pull back, then slide out." Jeica demonstrated the actions with her own pistol slowly so the Xeno could follow. "If you try to just pull it straight out…" She jerked her gun straight up after she re-holstered it, resulting in it not budging an inch. She wiggled it and tugged it in every direction, but it would only slide out a couple of inches at the most.
"Well that seems counter-productive. What if you need it in a hurry?"
"That's what training's for. Keep practicing the movement until you can do it cowboy-fast." Jeica showed this off as well, her hand gliding through the movements so fast it looked as though she had effortlessly tugged it straight out. She even struck a gunslinger pose, free hand pretending to fan the hammer at her alien ally. "Point being," she said, getting back on track and slipping her gun back into its holster, "most people on my colony barely know how to draw a gun, let alone fire the damn thing properly. If your civilians don't want to take up arms, they can work at the local bakery or something. They do great muffins."
"And how are the Xenomorph accommodations?" Asphid queried.
"It depends on the Xeno. You can either live in an apartment, live with your Bonded, or find a nice cosy spot in our local Hive – though I doubt you'll be anywhere but the latter."
"You have a Hive? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, it just seems a little odd to have a Hive but no Queen."
"Your arrival was highly anticipated," Jeica quipped, only really half-joking. She dearly hoped this Queen was the solution to their every problem they had been hoping for. "Oh, and I hope you're familiar with the concept of money – some of our Xenos weren't." Asphid nodded the affirmative, and Jeica felt a small amount of relief; that would make integrating them a lot easier. "Good, because we give Xenos jobs too. No freeloading." Asphid cocked her head curiously, which Jeica noted somehow still looked cute despite the gesture belonging to a biomechanical creature the size of a small building.
"What kind of jobs do your Xenomorphs do?" Jeica rolled her shoulders in answer, trying to call up a few examples of where she'd seen the aliens working.
"Hunting and construction mostly, though I've seen a fair amount around other places, like cafes, stores, even as a club bouncer, funnily enough. Oh, and there's this really cute little one who works in the administration block doing paperwork and stuff. He seems to enjoy the quiet. Not so good at writing, but excellent memory, can recall a month's worth of shipments off the top of his head, down to the exact shelf number."
"Lieutenant? We need you in the hangar, ma'am," a voice buzzed over the radio. Jeica sighed irritably and slid the device off her vest. Every damn time she tried to hold a conversation longer than five minutes…
"Understood, I'll be there in five." She smiled apologetically at the Queen before her, but received only an affirming nod from the gargantuan lady. "No rest for the wicked and all that. I'll check in again to settle you into the Hive once we're planetside," she promised.
"I look forward to it."
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
Weyland-Yutani Refuelling Station Zestaz-3
2108 hours
John glanced up from his PDA as the door swished open suddenly, bathing the comparatively-dark room with the much brighter light of the corridor beyond. The alien figure beside him shifted uncomfortably, placing a hand over his own with the intent to gently pry their only means of communication from his grip.
The door slid closed again, giving privacy to the duo and the third man who had just entered.
"They're insane; they're all insane. It's not even restrained," the balding, glasses-wearing, middle-aged newcomer muttered as if the other occupants of the room were deaf. He sighed, shuffled a cluster of papers, before setting them down and making eye contact with John. "Your report says you placated the creature?"
"I talked to him. Asked him not to kill anyone," John corrected the businessman with a frown.
"And you trusted the word of a…" he sighed again, as if every second spent in this room was a constant strain on his existence. He pushed his glasses up on the way to rubbing his eyes wearily with a thumb and forefinger, likely suppressing a groan of internal pain and frustration. "Let's start this from the beginning. You had an opportunity to kill the Xenomorph as was your mission, but instead chose to enter the room, defenceless, and try to talk to it, your reasoning behind this being a porn video you had been shown this morning?"
"That's… correct," John admitted.
"And after you contacted an official to stand down your AI and lift the quarantine, you neglected to restrain or partake in any form of control of this animal –" The Xenomorph growled, deep and guttural, at the name-calling, giving the man pause for a second. "Dangerous creature," he corrected himself with visible strain. "And let it have free roam of an entire ship?"
"…Yes…"
"You're an idiot." There was a brief flurry of movement, accentuated with the scraping of furniture and the shuffle of bodies springing into action as the Xenomorph leapt, bored of this incessant man's patronisation. However, he was stopped short by John's outstretched hand in his face, signalling him to hold back. The middle-aged man had at some point fallen back in his chair in fright, and was now seated with his rump on the cold, hard floor, looking shaken.
"With all due respect, you didn't come here just to be disdained at my life choices, and we haven't waited in this stuffy room for half an hour for that either, so why don't we move on to those important-looking documents, yeah?"
The businessman sighed once more, adjusted his glasses, and slowly got back into his chair, rearranging his papers for another painstaking few moments before finally speaking once more.
"Tell me, Corporal Richards, have you ever heard of Project Advena?"
A/N: Have no fear, Corporal John Richards is not another character you have to worry about keeping tabs on; he exists merely to update you, dear readers, on the Weyland-Yutani's advancements in the Xenomorph-befriending division. Unfortunately that also means I won't be able to write Private Pauline Eswerth anymore, which is sad because I enjoyed the brief time spent with her. Ah well, c'est la vie. More focus on the main cast next chapter.