Cromwell had tried everything. He had screeched at the alien, he had even, as a last resort, sprayed it with ice-cold water, but it hadn't reacted.
Hell, Cromwell wasn't even sure if it was alive. It had to be...
It was out of the range of the brain – activity – scan, and now he was genuinely worried. The Alien had not moved, he even couldn't feel its consciousness in his mind. The drugs must've be affecting it still.
Getting up, and pacing up and down in the room, he cursed under his breath. Paul, think of something, think! You can't let it die under your eyes.
He stared at the security hatch. He had to go back in. He had to check up on it. He doubted it would kill him. It needed him to survive, and whilst being a ruthless killing machine, its sense of survival would keep him alive... for now.
Slowly, carefully, he opened the door.
The walls of the cell had a few gashes from the creature's claw.
"Hey, you, are you all right?" He stopped a metre from the xenomorph and dropped on his knees, to get closer to the curled up creature. He could see its dorsal tubes, the base of its tail, and the back of its neck and head.
The whole creature, Cromwell only too closely remembered yesterday, and his encounter with it. It was fearsome and scary, yet now, as it lay on the ground, he couldn't help himself, and felt pity for it.
"Shh" he hummed. Mesmerized by himself, he stretched out, and started to stroke the alien creature. Its skin felt smooth, like well-made leather. It wasn't cold, but the alien did not hold the same warmth as his body held. He stroked the creature's ridged side, softly and carefully.
He was angry. He didn't know why. The Human had come to him, and he had hurt it. He shouldn't be angry for hurting prey.
Why did he let it escape then? Why didn't he devour it?
He had sensed its fear, and its confusion, and below that fear, he had sensed something deeper, and that chilled him to the core.
He had sensed the human to a point, had trusted him. A human. Him. Prey trusting Hunter.
And he'd broken that trust, and it hurt him, and made him angry. Not anger directed at the prey, or the circumstances, but anger directed at himself. A self-hate enveloped his mind with dark tendrils, and as it boiled, he slowly felt himself losing to it. Loosing himself down there, in that lone dark.
He curled up tight into a ball and forgot about the world around himself.
A long time passed, where he did not notice anything. He did not want to notice anything anymore.
He started to feel the presence near him. It was a human, but he didn't care. He had stopped caring.
There was no way out. The human had brought a glint of hope with it, and now, the hope had gone. He'd failed...
All those emotions burned in his mind, as he suddenly felt something on his side.
It was something soft, warm, fleshy even. Brushing over his side, he heard a slight humming noise. A noise that somehow, unknown to himself, pierced his heart. The hum drained all his hate, all his anger, and left nothing behind. Like somehow a big, heavy knot in his heart had finally been undone.
He felt the Xenomorph move under his hand. He kept stroking its side, as he watched the formidable Creature uncurl, and quietly, it moved its big head to look at him
Why? The voice in his head whispered, and Cromwell was almost knocked over by emotions radiating from the Xeno.
Because I trust you, he thought.
He kept stroking the Xeno's side, carefully and softly, and the creature did nothing to prevent it.
Frederic Bishop Weyland sat in his office, brooding over a letter that had arrived just this morning. He had his secretary print it for him, and he was now staring at the words, reading them over and over again.
"We need results. If there are no results within the given time, I will take the matter into my own hands."
Weyland knew whom this was from, without needing to decipher the signature.
And it worried him. He himself was no biologist, he was an accountant. He was heading the Sigma-44 research colony on the urge of his father, David Weyland. Much rather would he have liked to stay in the firm's earth headquarters.
But now it was as it was, and with the departure of Dr. Schulz, it was even harder to reach their goals. They had four live Xenomorph's left on this colony, and no method they had tried so far has resulted in anything, except dead creatures.
The only one that had turned out into something was Dr. Schulz and Dr. Cromwell's drug experiment.
Dr. Cromwell, although young, was a brilliant mind.
If anyone can reach success, it has to be him, he thought. Even though he had to keep the staff as far away from number 13's cell.
And now his superiors needed results. They demanded results. And he had to deliver.
Sighing, he crunched the letter up into a ball of paper, and chucked it into the shredder.
It was getting late, the light in the cell already started to dim down to night-time lighting, as the xenomorph moved again.
What are you? The voice asked
I'm human.
I know that. Its irritation could almost be felt in the air.
So why do you ask? What do you want to know?
I want to know what's making you do this.
Cromwell exhaled, and stroked the Xeno's backside. I'm not sure myself… I mean, I'm insane
Probably, the creature replied drily.
You're something different, something new. Something we didn't treat right. Somehow, I'm trying to make up for the last years.
It sighed. Why should you? What do you owe me?
I don't know. I probably owe you your intelligence...
WHAT?
Well, you know Dr. Schulz injected you something, when you were small?
I think I can remember. But I'm not sure what is memory and what's just a dream.
Xeno's dream?!
Well what other choice did I have? You made me sleep for years.
Cromwell sighed. That's true.
They both were silent for a minute.
I made the drug. I created the substance that turned you into what you are.
He heard the creature hiss. Where is that Schulz prey? I want to tear him apart.
Why?
He hurt me.
Where? Where did he hurt you?
The creature turned around, and sat up. It pointed at its shoulder.
Without shivering and shaking, he bent over, and brushed his lips over the creature's leathery skin.
Better?
It pointed at its neck. That's where I'm hurt as well…
Cromwell put his hands around the creature's neck, pressing his lips on the smooth skin.
Better?
The Xeno shuddered, and he withdrew, sitting down in front of it. Yes…
It drew its lips back into a toothed smile. Akkan.
I beg your pardon?
The creature smiled widely. You asked my name. Akkan.
Cromwell acted fast. Not really understanding what he was doing, he leaned forward, put his arms around the creature's back, and hugged it.
Cromwell lay in his bed, with the night closing in around him.
Thoughts and blood was rushing through his temples.
He had shared an embrace with a xenomorph. A male xenomorph. It had hugged back, even lifted him close to it. His thoughts were a mess, and so were its.
Not It. He. He knew the Xeno was a male.
He.
Akkan.
Paul turned in his bed.
They had hugged. He had kissed, well not really but still, he had kissed an alien.
And he didn't even feel bad about it. He had enjoyed their hug. It had made him feel, like he found a friend. A friend, a true friend, amongst all those two-sided Weyland-Yutani personnel.
Even though he was an alien creature, Paul felt more connected to it, than to all those humans he had met on earth.
Sighing, he drifted off to sleep.
It wasn't prey. It was like him.
Paul. Paul Cromwell.
He had come back. Come back to him. And they had done a thing he never ever thought they could do. A thing that, so his instinct told him, was something not to be taken lightly.
They had hugged. The Human had been so close, he could smell the heat from his heart, could feel all that life run through his body.
And some of the life had sparked over to him. For the first time, since the stupor of sleep had been lifted from him, he felt pacified.
For some reason, Paul filled up a spot in him that had never been filled before.
Something he didn't know anything about. But it was whizzing around in his gut, like electricity.
He shouldn't have let him go.
But there was no choice. He couldn't, he wouldn't get out. And amongst that true happiness, he felt the sting of fear inside him.
With the fear came the hate.
But this time, Akkan fought. Thinking about Paul's soft skin, about his soft lips touching his neck, he felt the flame of hate peter out within him. He must think hard now. What do to, with the time he had left.
Slowly, he allowed the dark veil of sleep envelope him again.
Frederic Bishop Weyland sat in his office, staring at the screen in front of him, watching the scene from the surveillance camera within the Xenomorph's cell.
It can't be. What in god's name had Dr. Cromwell done? And the Xenomorph was behaving outside its possible behaviour as well.
He watched their hug over and over again, dumbfolded by the scene. The xenomorph had let himself be hugged, hell it had hugged back.
Weyland couldn't believe his own eyes. Maybe he was hallucinating.
Grabbing the cup of coffee on his table, he gulped it down, but still the scene did not change.
The Computer beeped with an incoming transmission.
"Incoming transmission from Weyland-Yutani HQ.
Surveillance footage acknowledged. Result agreeable. Prepare the specimen for transportation. Both. Transportation to HQ will arrive within 24 hours. Communication terminated."
Weyland dropped back in his chair. He had forgotten that the HQ monitored his office computer network.
Shit!
He flew out of his office, grabbing the voice-communication unit his secretary used, and put in a name.
David Weyland.
"Dad? This is Fred speaking from Sigma-44. What's going on? Why wasn't I informed? Why didn't you tell me that you wanted this?"
"Hello, Mister Weyland. I'm sorry, your father isn't available at the moment." He heard a chuckle in the back. "But I can answer your questions, if you desire."
"Who are you? Where's dad?"
The voice changed. It changed to a voice that he knew. A voice that he had heard almost every day. "He has… resigned from his post. He's not available currently. And I doubt he will return from where he went." Devoid of any emotion, the voice went on. "You, on the other hand, have a career before you. He has made some grave mistakes. Do not make the same ones." The voice chuckled.
With a roar, Weyland threw the communicator at the wall, it burst open and a shower of electronic components hit the ground.
It couldn't be.
Whatever had happened in Weyland-Yutani HQ, he would find out.
He was part of the Weyland Clan after all. Power would not so easily be ripped from their grasp.
But there were more pressing things at hand.
He looked at the portrait of his ancestor, Charles Bishop Weyland.
"What would you have done, Charles? I need an idea…"
Turning back into his office, he opened a drawer, and pulled out a small gun.
Putting on his coat, he smiled at the portrait. "Always go down fighting. Just as you."
Coat flapping behind him, he left his office.
And the Bell chimed three. The countdown had begun.