Cromwell sat cross-legged on the floor, reading.
He was so often reading these days, reading books out loud to the creature suspended in front of him
Actually, when he wasn't reading, he was probably sleeping or eating.
The progress he had made was astounding. Not so much with the alien, as with himself.
He'd grown to care for the black creature. In little more than a week, he found himself to ponder every free hour about its fate. He cared for it, like he cared for a charge given to his care.
But yet every encounter, so much as it filled him with joy to see the Xenomorph commence, also filled him with sadness to see it bound and restricted.
The creature's curiosity had not subsided. In his mind, he felt the consciousness of the Xenomorph lap up every word he said, as if to fill a need, a need that had long not been fulfilled.
Cromwell himself also filled a need he had long since not fulfilled. The need to be with someone, another sentient being, that somehow, in a way Cromwell did not fathom, also cared for him.
Yes, whilst he read to the xeno, he felt something coming back at him. Something difficult.
He wasn't sure if the xeno knew what he was doing either.
He watched the human intently.
So much he had learned in the last week. It was a human. All of the prey of his kind was human
That's what they called themselves.
As far as he was concerned, the humans were prey. Especially the stale human. It had hurt him so much that he longed to slice it apart.
But the other human was different. It didn't push things into him. It wasn't scared of him either.
It came every day, smelling of meat and something else. It sat down in front of him, and started to speak.
Sometimes it spoke differently, looking at him directly, and he felt it was expecting something.
But most of the time it was sitting on the floor with the thing in its hand and it spoke from it.
He tried earnestly to decipher what it was saying.
He did not know why. Humans were prey.
But this human was different.
For some weird reason, this human had set a great importance on him
It came every day, speaking with him.
And slowly, with time and effort, it began to comprehend him.
Another week passed, and Cromwell had now spent two weeks sitting in front of an alien, reading books to it.
He had not touched it again. He had felt its confusion on the touch, and he decided not to attempt it again
Aside from the probing, curious mind of the xeno, he had not encountered any other reaction
It did not fear him, it did not hate him, it was curious
On the Sunday of the second week, in the middle of reading the ancient epos "Harry Potter", he suddenly noticed something.
The Xenomorph had raised his head, and then, all of a sudden, he heard a voice
It was a voice, parched dry and creaky. But it was a voice
Um Hello, the voice went.
"What? Who's there?" Cromwell jumped, the book tumbling to the ground as he turned around to look for the owner of the voice
Um... me… the voice went.
Cromwell had no idea where it came from. There was no one in the room. But surely it couldn't be…
"It's you!" He looked at the xenomorph
Of course it's me, who could it be else. There's no one here anyway.
It talked! "You talk!
Of course I talk! What did you think? That I'm an idiot? There was a note of indignation in the voice.
"But – Where did you –" Cromwell was dumbfolded
The Xeno grinned widely. I learn very fast
"But... that's impossible…"
You think of me like a bigger dog. I feel it. I feel your thoughts.
"Well, nobody ever told me a xeno could talk"
What's a Xeno?
Cromwell snorted "That's you."
Well, I'm not sure what you mean by Xeno but I can talk all right...
"I mean can all of you kind talk?" Involuntarily, Cromwell had raised his voice
Oi, Quit the shouting!
"Just answer my question please"
All right, all right. Just one question before we go on:
"Fire away"
What do I get for answering?
A sly grin had crept up the alien's face.
"I beg your pardon?"
I want to know what I get for telling you
"I don't think you're in the position to bargain"
Oh yes I am. If I wanted, I'd just shut up again.
"Then I will tell Weyland that I'm not making any progress, and he will gas you"
And lots of years of research die with me.
Point taken, Cromwell thought
See. You don't need to shout all the time.
Right. So what do you want?
The Xenomorph pondered. I want to get out of these things. I want to move freely.
I can do that. But I won't be able to come in here again.
Why not? The Xeno smirked.
Because you will rip me to shreds
I won't shred you. What use would that be to me? I want to shred the stale prey.
Who's the stale prey?
The guy you talked to a lot.
Oh, that's Dr. Schulz.
Dr. Schulz? What's that?
It's a name?
Do you have a name too? It was an innocent enough question, so Cromwell answered.
I'm Paul Cromwell. Do you have a name?
Don't know.
Suddenly a wave of sadness hit him, quickly to be replaced by indifference
What's wrong?
Nothing. Get me out of these things, and I might answer your questions.
Sighing, Cromwell left the chamber, and while making sure it was sealed tight, even doubly tight, he pressed a control.
The clamps that were holding the Xeno back fell off and the huge creature dropped from the frame flat on the ground.
Hey! What's wrong?
Gruff, the voice replied I'm okay, just a bit tired for not having moved in like... years?
You can tell me now about your kind.
No.
"What?"
I'm not going to talk to you about that. You're just going to use it. And then I'll get gassed or what. I suppose my knowledge is the only thing that keeps me alive right now.
Cromwell shivered. They had to work out something. What about a deal?
Deal? The Xenomorph turned towards him.
Yeah, a deal. Something along the lines of you give me some information and I'll protect you.
Deal? The xeno scoffed. How do I know you're not being two-sided?
You can read my mind?
Not really. Just know your general feeling.
Well then what is it telling you?
The Xenomorph stayed silent. Cromwell went on. I've been granted authorisation to experiment with you for another month and two weeks. After that, either I need results or we both are finished. Your life and my career.
Again, indifferent silence.
But if we work together, then we can give them results, one at a time, and I can prolong the experiment.
The xeno raised itself on wobbly legs. Come here.
What?
I want you to come in here. I want to see if I can trust you. I want to smell you.
I'm not insane! I won't put yourself to your mercy.
Fine by me. Then no deal. You wasted all that time. I'll just die then. He rolled over and looked away
Cromwell angrily punched the desk.
What guarantee can you give me that you won't kill me. He couldn't believe him saying that.
I need you to survive.
That's a good point.
Cromwell did not believe his own eyes. He undid the security hatch, and walked inside the cell.
If you have to kill me just hurry up.
The Xenomorph had sat down in a corner, it now got up and walked over to Cromwell. It moved its face close to his, and for a short time, he could see the fangs and lips of the creature.
You're afraid.
Jeez. Your kind are known to tear humans to shreds at first sight.
Yeah, I could tear you to shreds as well. Your kind are known to imprison us and torture and torment us for years!
He felt the Xenomorph's anger wash over him, and the creature seized him in its talon, lifting him up with absolute and complete ease. Then he felt being tossed through the room, and heavily impacted in the wall.
The creature lifted itself up to its full height, its tail slashing around behind it, and advanced towards Cromwell.
Shaking in fear, the young scientist made a run for the doorway, and miraculously, he escaped.
Still giddy and with a shoulder burning with pain, he scarpered the laboratory, and made straight for the medical wing.
"Jesus, Dr. Cromwell, what happened to you? Your shoulder is all blue!"
The medical examiner inspected Cromwell's shoulder. "It was an accident. I kinda fell, and got hit by an automated door."
"Well, you should file an accident report, and take care with that shoulder. But there's nothing wrong as far as I can see. Just a few bruises. It will be all right given about a weeks' time."
A thought struck Cromwell. "Another question. Can you bandage the arm? I need a bandaged arm for a test of mine."
"Yes, of course…" The medic made a confused face and then proceeded to bandage his arm, wondering probably what strange people lived on this station.
After having wrapped up the arm, Cromwell returned to his quarters.
He had not felt the presence of the alien in his mind, and he was somehow glad.
Undressing, and lying down, he fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning was a pain.
His shoulder hurt, and he was hungry, having skipped on dinner yesterday, so his first step was the cafeteria and breakfast.
He was almost alone in the room, almost.
A figure clad in a brown coat made his way up to him, and sat down.
"Mr. Weyland, what a pleasant surprise!"
The executive smiled. "Call me Fred."
Cromwell, taken aback by the sudden openness of his boss, replied in a similar way.
"So, Paul, how's your project going on?" Weyland asked, whilst he bit into his toast.
"I'm advancing within schedule."
"So you are. Anything worth reporting yet?"
"I'm sorry Fred, but apart from having toned down the Creatures effect on the rest of the world, nothing worth mentioning."
"But Paul, that's a great step forward. I'm sure to read it in your report at the end of this month. What happened with your arm?" He winced.
"I fell, and one of the automated doors slammed my shoulder. It's nothing."
Weyland nodded, and then proceeded to eat his breakfast, and Cromwell did the same.
They finished in silence, but before he left, his boss looked at Cromwell again. "I really wish you good luck with your research." He gravely told him, and then marched off.
Cromwell wiped up the last bits of the sauce with his bread and then, after having put the dishes in the dishwasher, he left.
On his way to the lab, he passed at his quarters, and looked at himself in the mirror.
He had short, tousled brown hair, and was roughly 6.1 foot tall. During his time on earth he had worked on himself gaining more strength, but that was almost gone right now. He should asked Weyland if they had a gym around in the station.
Wondering why he had never asked before, he brushed his hair, and left the room, heading for the laboratory.
The alien mind had stayed quiet, not at all touching his, he couldn't even feel it was there. Cromwell wondered what had happened in that cell yesterday evening. The Xeno had been angry, not at him directly, but at his species, for what it had done to it.
And that Cromwell understood. But it hadn't killed him. It had just let him go, after chucking him against a wall. God, he could still feel those talons on his body, the leathery feel of the creature's exo-skeleton. Shivering, he entered the lab, rushing to the glass that separated him from the dangerous Xenomorph.
He squinted into the room, and eventually found it.
It had curled up in one corner, and seemingly had gone to sleep.
"Xeno! Hey, you! I want to talk to you!"
There was no reply.