Weyland had rummaged through a clothes drawer, finding a pair of trousers and a drab-grey shirt, and pushing it up through the vent into Akkan's talon. The xenomorph hissed aggressively. He was already lobbing a bag filled with synthetic meat around with him, and his mood was horrible. Weyland had tried to explain it to him, but it had earned him an aggressive hiss, and a harder than necessary pat on the shoulder.

Now the Xeno angrily stormed off through the ventilation shaft, no doubt to race back to Paul and do stuff with him he didn't want to think of.

Weyland left the crew quarters, smiling to himself. He had secured the cooperation of Akkan and Paul. Whilst the Xenomorph was a fearsome addition to his arsenal, Paul Cromwell was an enigma to him. He had found love in a creature known only for its hate. They shared a bond, he, Weyland, did not dare to touch.

Both of them were more to him than just leverage. He had grown to like Paul. They had worked together, and Weyland had followed his and Dr. Schulz project through. Six years had they lived on Sigma-44 together.

Six years Weyland had watched Dr. Schulz reaching nothing, and within three weeks, Cromwell had upset all the research about Xenomorphs with befriending one. Making love to one.

And Akkan was the living proof that Xenomorphs could be made to behave out of their natural behaviour. A living proof that the idea Dr. Schulz had pursued, now bore fruit. Weyland had promised Akkan and Paul safety and a safe retreat, but he had not promised to quit all research on Xenomorphs altogether.

Smiling to himself he walked along the corridor, towards a Door labelled "Bridge"

It opened when he came close, and he stepped onto the Bridge of the extraction ship.

Captain Ulridge turned around in surprise.

Weyland stepped up to him, and flourished the revolver, his blood-stained coat flapping around him.

"Captain Ulridge, if you'd be so kind as to step back from the controls! We have taken over the ship!" and on cue, Akkan dropped from the ventilation shaft, hissing dangerously.

The bridge descended into screams.

Paul had gotten dressed, and now huddled himself in a corner, whilst the Alien fussily pressed food on him

You should eat. You should drink. You're not getting better. You're worrying me!

Quit your fretting, Akkan.

Fretting? Quit? Are you out of your mind?

Grudgingly, Paul started to nibble the slab of synthetic meat.

Don't you have anywhere to go? I don't know, rip people apart, or whatever you do for hobby?

The Xeno snorted. I'm not going anywhere until you're done eating

Paul playfully kicked at Akkan's legs, and the xenomorph lightly sidestepped. You've got to be better than that

It's hopeless with you!

It's just as hopeless with you. If you won't eat, I'll shove it down your throat with the little mouth. The Xeno came close and extended the inner jaw.

All right, you bossy creature. I'm eating! He started to stuff his face with the meat. It tastes weird. Wanna taste?
Oh no, not for me. I've already had my fill. The Xeno burped.

What'd you eat?

If you must know. I don't wanna spoil your appetite.

No, go on.

I had intestines. And human belly flesh.

Eww.

Oi, that's not very kind. Your meat cook stuff tastes just awful!

I know. It's not that I really mind. Just don't like the look of intestines. They must be horribly slimy.

They are. They slither down your throat like water.

Akkan?

Yes?

You're spoiling my appetite.

Told you.

How's Weyland so far?

He wants me back. I'm not his dog or something. Akkan patted Paul's shoulder. If you want to, I'll stay here with you.

Hey, don't worry about me. The faster you get the ship under control, the faster I can get somewhere comfy to lie down.

Akkan nodded, kissed Paul's cheek, and scooted off into the ventilation shaft.

Paul hoped Weyland knew what he was doing. After all, he was their only hope.

Weyland had assembled the crew in the officer's mess, making them sit down and listen to him. Akkan had an effect on the crew that no gun whatsoever could create. The presence of a live xenomorph behind him, as he told them that they were now under new orders, from him, Frederic Bishop Weyland,

They were to pilot this vessel to a new set of coordinates he supplied them with. A new destination. He disarmed the guards, basically, he massed every gun he could find within the officer's mess, and locked it away.

And then, he made the captain supply him with a spare set of rooms.

Two rooms, one bigger, one smaller, the smaller one for him.

The creature caused everyone in the room massive discomfort, and now, as they were unarmed, it was even worse.

Weyland surely managed to drive the hammer home.

As soon as the conference was finished, and everyone had gone back to work, he had come to the bridge, and supervised the course change personally.

Everyone on this ship believed that he could summon the Xenomorph instantly, at a whim to unleash it, and he thought best for it to stay that way.

The truth was, he wasn't very happy with how it had turned out. He had the crew in line with his demands, but nobody was doing it out of their own free will.

They were scared of him, which was never a good basis, if he wanted them to cooperate. Else, he might end up with a knife in his back, maybe even a kitchen knife. And that wasn't what he wanted at all.

Maybe he should just lock himself him his room.

Chuckling at the idea, he stared out at space. He had been trained to focus and to react fast and deadly, a training money couldn't pay for, a training no marine, guard or soldier would ever receive.

But he wasn't invincible, far from it. And the last few days had certainly take their toll on him. He was, when not constantly being spiced up by the flow of adrenaline, deathly tired. His arms ached. His head hurt.

Both his body and his mind had been steeled to ignore such things, but he couldn't deny that he was not that fit anymore.

He was getting older now, he was about ten years older than Paul.

Poor Paul did not take all the action very well. Mentally, Weyland was already used to feeling bullets whizz around his ears, and to wake up each day knowing someone had the intent of doing you in. But Paul was a scientist, a gay, soft-hearted scientist who couldn't even see a xenomorph suffer, yet alone kill something.

Before the end they would all have to kill, Weyland knew as much. It would be kill or be killed. And he knew Paul wouldn't take it kindly.

Also, he was wounded. He needed a change of bandages, and a good and proper rest in the warmth. Hell, they both needed a rest.

Akkan had already left to break the good news to Paul, and to move to their new room. Weyland stared into space again.

He really wanted to know what they were up against, but no one on this ship knew anything. Seemingly, the sinister force orchestrating all of this was trying to keep hidden. That meant they had something to hide, something he could use.

And he would find it out. He would smoke them out, strip them of their lies, and expose them for all to see.

He would expose their lies, what they had done to his father, and then, he would kill them.

He would avenge his father, and re-claim the seat as Weyland-Yutani CEO. It would be the end of a career of an ambitious young man with a great name but nothing else, but the lack of fear to kill. If he had not been employed within the rapid strike force, he would've surely used his intellect and instinct, operating outside the law.

But fate had directed him on a different path, and now here he was. A vengeful millionaire, a living weapon, not unlike a xenomorph.

But unlike Akkan, whose mind was not focused, he would not allow himself to be distracted by mere feelings.

Smiling and satisfied, he strolled back to his quarters, looking forward to a hot shower, and a few hours of sleep.

Akkan had done his best, even though he hated playing Weyland's pet.

But he could not deny, the human was a smart and cunning warrior, not swathed by pity or other feelings.

He was a being he could relate to, to a point. He had managed to get the ship under his control without so much as a shot being fired, just with the power of speech.

The Xenomorph re-traced his steps to the small room, and opened the proper door leading to it, albeit not without ripping the lock clean off.

Hey Paul! Weyland was successful

Slowly, his mate lifted himself off the floor, and made his way over to him, into his arms.

They cuddled.

I'm so glad. Maybe I can lay down somewhere soft and warm now.

Akkan supported Paul with his arm, as they left towards their room

Paul was warmer than usual, a strange heat radiating from his bandage. He didn't smell very healthy either. It worried Akkan.

They had made their way into their room, and Paul had secured the door.

He looked unhealthy, now as Akkan saw him in proper lighting for the first time. His skin had gone pale, and his breath was coming in short, ragged gasps.

Paul, are you okay?

Yeah, the reply came. I'm just a bit tired and exhausted.

It dawned to Akkan that Paul was not like him. He had forgotten that the human was what it was. Paul was not as strong as him. He was feeble and fragile, and certainly didn't enjoy all the action they were getting. His face showed a blotchy bruise on one cheek, and his hair was deranged. He dropped down on the bed, and gasped.

Akkan… I need help. You have to help me get to the shower.

Shower?

Water. I need water. I'm dirty, I can't go to bed like this.

You look fine to me.

But I don't feel it. Please?

All right, if you tell me what to do.

Paul sighed, and then started taking his clothes off. Akkan hadn't expected that, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from the now naked Paul, trying to get up.

You horny xeno! Can't you think of anything else?

Ummm… Akkan felt heat rising in his head, and quickly helped Paul to his feet. His mate was sick, but he couldn't stop himself thinking those nice thoughts.

They slowly made their way into the shower cubicle. Yellow, unhealthy-looking goo had seeped through Paul's bandage. It smelled awful, and a spear of worry pierced Akkan's heart.

He supported Paul by kneeling down and letting the human hold onto his head, as the warm water rained down on them, washing away all the dirt of the last few days.

Akkan winced a bit as the soap came in contact with his recently acquired burns around his neck. He had to remove the collar, but the burn scars would remain. They were hard-acquired war scars, and he would wear them with pride.

Paul thoroughly cleaned himself, being carefully not to soak the bandage. Akkan helped too by screwing up his lips and making unhappy noised, in turn making Paul smiled. Gently, he cleaned down the xeno too, being careful not to hurt his neck.

Akkan marvelled how gentle the human's touch was.

He couldn't stop himself getting hard, and Paul also quickly washed that down. Oh how much he would like to enjoy himself with his mate now, but Paul was in no shape to do that. He was weak, and Akkan had to towel him after the shower, as he wasn't able to do it himself anymore. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and Akkan was worried.

Maybe you should see that doctor guy.

Paul shook his head Don't worry. I just need a night's sleep. It's just the strain of the recent days. He lay down on the bed, sighing and pulling the blanket up to his neck.

I'm not going to leave your side. I'm gonna stay here to make sure you're safe.

Oh, Akkan, you are very sweet.

You're my mate! I have to protect you!

All right, all right you bossy xeno. I'm not gonna run away… He put his hand into Akkan's talon, who had sat down on the bed. He gripped it tightly, and softly kissed Paul's lips.

They were hot, an unhealthy heat that made the Xenomorph wince.

Good night Paul. Sleep well.

Good night, Akkan.

Happy new year, dear readers!