Underground Facility

Ripley lay on her bunk, waiting. She could sense her friends were being kept in the cell next door. They were angry and anxious. Ripley wanted to reassure them, but she knew they wouldn't be able to hear her anyway. So she waited, staring intently at the door until it swung open to permit entrance for two burly soldiers.
"We are to escort you to the Med Lab for genetic tests," one of them said.
Ripley stood up and smiled. "Of course, gentleman. Lead the way."
They led her down a series of corridors, all of them were little more than tunnels carved into rock. There were pipes and wires running along the ceiling, and light bulbs hanging down to light the way. They finally came to a metal door marked Med Lab. One escort pushed it open and motioned for Ripley to step inside. Ripley went in, observing her new surroundings in calculative silence. This medical bay was much less sophisticated than the one in which she had been grown. All of the medical equipment were bulky, beeping affairs that had messes of wires protruding from them. The walls and ceiling were bare rock, though white tile had been laid on the floor. The space was lit by fluorescent lights. There was not a stasis tube or regeneration pod in sight. Ripley wondered just how they were going to conduct the tests, if they only had such primitive equipment to work with. No matter. She decided it would be entertaining either way. A woman appeared from a back room, carrying a black bag. She was obviously a doctor - not only was she wearing scrubs and a white coat, but the two soldiers visibly straightened as she approached. She shot them a stern look, like they had been under her care one too many times.
"Thanks for bringing her," she said to them. "Just wait outside until we're done."
"But ma'am," one protested, "protocol dictates -"
"Protocol dictates I could give you a shot if I deem it necessary," she snapped. "Or perhaps a colonoscopy? You boys have been in for abdominal pain quite frequently. Perhaps I ought to inflate your intestines and shove a camera up your butts, just to be safe."
The escorts shared a nervous look, then retreated.
"We'll be outside if you need us," one said. He didn't look back as he hurried out.
Now alone, the doctor turned to Ripley and smiled pleasantly.
"Sorry about that. Those boys only listen to me if I threaten them. But I guess that's the drawback of being a woman in a man's line of work."
Ripley chuckled. "Tell me about it. I'm Ripley." She held out her hand. The doctor shook it. "Erin Dawson." She paused to look at Ripley's dark, claw-like nails.
"Oh, it looks like you've got a nail fungus. I've never seen it that bad before. I have a cream for that."
Ripley pulled her hand away. "No, don't worry about it. It's all right. They've been like that since I was...born."
Dawson gave her a strange look, but didn't press any further. She gestured to a metal chair.
"Please, sit. I'll just be taking some blood samples for the genetic tests. The Colonel seems to think it'll prove something, though he won't tell me what."
Ripley shrugged. "He thinks it'll prove that my friends and I are lying. He thinks it'll prove we're all just crazy criminals and drug users. Did you hear the story?"
Dawson opened her bag and pulled out a rubber strap and syringe.
"I heard parts of it," she said slowly. She tied the strap around Ripley's arm to express the vein.
"But it did sound pretty far fetched. I mean, aliens that burst out of people's chests? I saw a lot of shit when I was serving with the USM, but never anything like that."
Ripley said nothing, but she chuckled to herself when the doctor prepared the syringe to take a blood sample.
"What's the joke?" Dawson asked.
"You'll see in a second," Ripley replied, just as the needle bit into her skin. Dark blood was drawn into the syringe, but the metal needle and medical-grade glass began to dissolve, letting off a cloud of vapor.
Dawson swore, leaping back. The syringe fell and shattered on the tile, blood splashing outward. The blood ate part way through the tile, and the bits of syringe became liquid.
Ripley ignored the blood dripping down her arm; the wound would close itself in a moment. She gauged Dawson's expression, which was less shocked than she had expected.
"So it's true," Dawson said grimly. "The rumors." She looked at the bloodied tile, which was still burning from the acid. She shook her head and zipped up her bag.
Ripley looked at her in question.
"So that's it? No tests?
Dawson sniffed in amusement. "As far as I'm concerned, we're done here. Just from that, I'm able to say that you are who you say you are...or a clone of her, anyway. And as for the 'dragon aliens', well. I've known they were real for a long time...though I didn't think they actually burst out of people." She shook her head. "I just kept hoping the USM would never succeed in getting a hold of them."
"How do you know all that?" Ripley asked. This doctor, unlike all the others she had known, intrigued her.
Dawson sighed as she drew up a wheeled stool to sit on.
"Several years ago, the USM sent out a personnel request to all subsidiary military facilities. Earth, Mars, Charon...they were requesting medical personnel and scientists to staff a research vessel for a top secret project. I had finally gotten off Earth to do research on the moon. I was fresh and bright, eager to prove myself as an equal among my peers. So I volunteered for the project." She laughed bitterly.
"The things we did were appalling by any standard. Definitely not ethical. We were attempting to prove that cloning a parasite within a human host was possible. The results were...horrifying, to say the least. Separating the host DNA from that of the parasite in situ was extremely difficult. But we eventually did it. And then we replicated the procedure ten more times, just to prove it that the first time was not a fluke. Of course, by then we were all wondering why we were doing this in the first place. And that's when we heard the rumors: that preserved blood samples of a certain Lt. Ellen Ripley had been found in storage at a remote facility. The same Ellen Ripley who claimed to have fought and killed aliens with acid blood...and died trying to keep them from the Weyland Corporation."
Dawson shook her head sadly. "But there was nothing any of us doctors could do at that point. We were thanked and paid for our research, and promptly dismissed. Most of us left, but others, like Dr. Gediman, agreed to continue working on the next phase of the project. As for me, I'd had enough. I was pissed off enough at the USM to move back to Earth. Nowadays, of course, most of Earth is pissed off at the USM, so I'm in good company."
She paused, looking at Ripley carefully.
"We never were able to completely separate the host DNA from the parasite in any of our experiments. It's obvious from your blood that Dr. Gediman and the others were still not able to do it. So what's it like, being part, uh, them?"
Ripley grabbed a tissue and wiped dried blood from her arm.
"A lot like it was before, I guess. But now I don't have to worry about where the aliens are. I can just sense them." She paused, looking towards the door. "Speaking of which..."