I
Bella Vista, a small research colony on the oxygen rich planet, FP-013. FP standing for Forest Planet, while the number indicated which one it was (in this case the thirteenth). The primary goal of the colony is study the Xenomorphs for Weyland-Yutani's Weapons R&D Department. The goal, however, was not to make the Xenos into bio-weapons. It was to develop better ways to fight them seeing as how conventional methods did not have the same over all effect as it would have on a human threat.
A room able to house one or two people was dark. Its only occupant was sleeping in a standard Weyland-Yutani bed fit for two. He slept soundly until the alarm clock to the left of his bed awoke him from his slumber. 5:00 A.M., Earth standard time.
The man in bed gently tapped the off button to the slightly annoying device. Removing the sheets covering him, he got up and began his morning routine. Brush teeth, fix bedding, iron uniform, quick warm up with fifty push ups, jumping jacks, and pull ups, take a shower, dress for the day. After the work out, followed by a quick shower, he drew his combat knife. Now standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he began to remove his facial hair. A bit of shaving cream and some careful strokes of his blade completed the task with ease.
With his grooming done, he took a moment to inspect his handiwork. His reflection copied every action he made. His hair was black, his eyes a light hazel, and muscle mass equal to that of a body builder. Being 6 ft., 3 in., and weighting at 260 lbs, all of it pure muscle, he was not someone to trifle with. What's more, he had excellent training in hand-to-hand combat. His skin held a few scars, each telling a different and fairly gruesome part of his past. One such scar went across his right cheek in a horizontal motion, a reminder of how a piece of schrapnel from an exploding truck nearly killed him. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, he thought to himself. Now satisfied with his work he went back to the main room and got into his uniform.
As head of security, he made it a requirement that all security personnel wear their tactical armor and padding in addition to having melee and ranged weapons at the ready. Checking himself in the full length mirror so that none could say he didn't practice what he preached, he was content with his current appearance. Sheen guards were in place, shoulder pads properly aligned, knee and elbow guards were all properly positioned, his fore-arms also protected, Kevlar-knuckled gloves barely squeaked in protest to each of his hands' movements. A modified VP78 Pistol was holstered at his side, already loaded. This pistol was different from its plain counterparts for one reason. This pistol, with an engraving on the side reading "Heart Breaker", had a bayonet attached to it. It was more of a dagger in truth but the fact remained that it served as a bayonet. What's more is that the dagger could be removed so the pistol could work individually. The clamp used to hold the dagger could also fire it as a last resort. The man had a utility belt with a number of small tools and accessories for weapons he may find, and several daggers and combat knives in addition to several mags for said Heartbreaker.
The man turned and walked out of his quarters, the door closing behind him. Going down a corridor, he passed by some of the other security personnel as they were finishing the last hour of their shift. They all stepped aside an stood at attention. Some saluted while others simply stood by. All the same, he was glad that they took his requirements seriously. He quickly gave them a once over. They all had combat knives strapped to their boots and M41A/2 Pulse Rifles slung on their backs. They resumed whatever task they were tending to after the man walked past them. Coming up to a corridor intersection, he took a right. A minute or two later, he walked into the Security Command Center (S.C.C. for short). He heard people talking to each other about enforcing protocol, changing shifts to better suite their needs, or making plans for their free time. The man walked to a terminal with a P.A. system wired through out the colony. Taking a flyer from the another man sitting to his left in front of the P.A. system, he gave it a once over. The P.A. operator gave him the thumbs up to speak into the P.A. "Good Morning, Bella Vista. Today is Friday the 14th of December, 2432. It is currently 5:15 A.M., Earth standard time. Today's breakfast include scrambled eggs, your choice of sausage or bacon, an assortment of toasts and beverages, and some crepes for desert. Since today is Friday, Saturday and Sunday will be saved for free time. Security personnel are still required to fulfill their shifts and remain alert. We all know the danger this line of work involves. We will be receiving a new shipment of supplies and 'patients' this afternoon, so until the guests are properly secured, all security forces are to be on high alert and fully armed and equipped by 11:40 A.M. On an unrelated matter, lunch will be moved to 1:30 P.M. Today is a hearty meal of Angel's Hair noodles, meat sauce, and a combo of three meats(Bratwurst, Roasted Beef, and Grilled Chicken), Garlic Bread, and your choice of drinks. Tonight's dinner is at 7:30 P.M. with Pan Fried Pepper-Lime Chicken, a bed of white rice, avocado dip, and a number of freshly grilled vegetables. Shift change at 6:00 A.M., 40 minutes people. Get ready and have a good day." With that said the P.A. operator shut down the system.
"So, Sir, sleep well?" the P.A. operator asked. "Can't complain, really. And Jax, didn't I tell you to call me by my name when we aren't on duty yet?" responded the man, with his American accent. "Sorry, sir. I was just being respectful to my C.O." "It's fine. Just refer to me by rank when we're on duty." "Very well then, Michael." The P.A. operator stood up. At 6 feet tall and a slightly lighter build, he looked like he could hold his own in a fist fight. The black man ran a hand through his braided hair. The hair only went down to the back of his neck, but still had that Jamaican look just his voice had the accent. "So what should we expect from our newest patients, sir?" he asked with slight curiosity. "The same thing we should expect of all our patients, Jax. They'll wait for a chance to break loose, free their kin, and wreak havoc. Of course, we won't give them that chance. But be ready, Jax. Those ugly fuckers can be unpredictable." Jax merely nodded in agreement. He had heard stories of their guests. "I know what you mean, Michael. The Xenomorph is always a major threat to never be taken lightly. I once read a report of a Colonial Marine vessel responding to a call for help from a colony named Freya's Prospect. Long story short, the Xenos got loose and killed everybody. Hell, even the marines sent to answer the distress call were slaughtered. No one knows what happened after." "All the more reason to be careful, Jax. All the more reason to be careful." "By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what are the Xenos we get this time?" "We get royalty and few runts this time. We're looking at maybe thirty drones, ten or so warriors, and a queen plus five praetorians." Jax turned to Michael with a face that showed he was both surprised and concerned. "To make it worse, the ten of warriors and twenty drones we have here are from this queen too."
Once this bit of news was mentioned, a few of the people around them stopped and looked in their direction. This was definitely cause for worry. An isolated Xeno could cause a lot of damage in a short period of time if it were to get loose. A group of isolated Xenos would easily triple that as they would be willing to sacrifice themselves for their kin's well being and wreak vengance on their captors. The amount of damage to be expected should they get loose only multiplies with the increase in the number of Xenos. But when a queen is thrown into the equation…well…when it comes down to control and security in relation to the Xenos, enough is never enough. And anything less will only lead to the serpent/insect like creatures escaping and unleashing hell on those unfortunate enough to be near them. If they could and the queen demanded it, her offspring would set the entire universe ablaze in her name. This was the sad, unfortunate, and simple fact of the matter.
As everyone continued to look at the Head of Security and his P.A. Operator, the amount of tension and worry within the confines of the S.C.C. grew to the point where a person could cut it with a knife. Finally, so as to calm everyone down, Michael spoke with a voice holding authority and reassurance. "Alright people, I know how nervous you all are. This is of course with good reason. We are all aware just how dangerous these bastards can be. But the lab boys and Weyland-Yutani have provided us with the best means of securing and containing the creatures possible. The holding cells are wired with interior electrical fields, they have 2 ft. worth of heavy shock absorbing glass reinforced with heavy allow exterior cages. Gas dispensers also lining the corners of each holding cell, so we can easily knock them the fuck out if they try any of their slimy Xeno B.S. Hell, the queen won't be able break out either since we'll keep her chained up and in a heavily fortified location. Plus incinerators that can melt her alive are also in the room. Her kids won't do shit against us since we're holding a flamethrower to her head. The only real issue to worry about is the transfer from the transport ship to the holding cells. Come on people, we still have a job to do. The faster we work the better prepared we are for anything the new arrivals try. Jump to."
With that said, everyone calmed down and breathed a collective sigh of both relief and caution. Relief since they knew their leader was aware of the threat in front of them and that he had done all he could to prepare them for it. But caution since they knew that the most dangerous part of their job was about to take place. Then again, it's what they're paid for.
After another minute, the two moved on. Michael and Jax spent the rest of the day making plans for their free time during the weekend and carrying out their duties after grabbing a bite to eat. Finally, the clock neared 11:40 A.M. Everyone was nervous. Research personnel and other non-combatants kept as close as possible to isolated rooms, weapons (or whatever makeshift ones were available to them at the time), or the security forces. Security displayed the same emotion in a different manner. They were arming themselves and running about checking things in every part of the colony time and time again. Michael and Jax were no exceptions.
They moved to the colony's Flight Control Tower (F.C.T.). Jax had a ZX-76 Shotgun strapped to his back, an M41A/2 Pulse Rifle in his hands, and a basic VP78 Pistol strapped to his thigh in addition to as much ammo as he could carry. Michael had the same things and was holding onto them in the same manner, but was using his modified Heart Breaker like he normally did. The ship would arrive soon and everyone was nearly prepared. The Control Tower workers were at the monitors and consoles making sure everything was all set. Six other security members were with Michael and Jax inside the F.C.T. Just in case the fifty armed men and women standing on the outdoor landing pad sitting in front of one of the hangar buildings needed some extra hands. A number of mechanics and engineers were running about so as to clear the area of anything that give the Xenos an advantage as well as themselves. Ten more of the security guards were positioned near the Defense and Power Grids near by the hangar. Should the Xenos get out, then that area had to be defended to keep all Xenos cell measures working.
"Comm. Tech, have you picked up any sign of the transport ship yet?" Michael asked with a voice that held a great amount of worry, caution, and focus. "Yes, sir. We are attempting to contact them now." the Comm. Tech responded. "Transport ship Damascus do you copy, over?" Michael kept looking through the window into the rather open and empty sky then looked over the Comm. Tech's shoulder. He repeated this several times as the Comm. Tech kept trying to hail the vessel. A rapidly growing dot off in the distant sky could be seen by all. But something wasn't right. Michael spoke to his friend, the P.A. Operator without looking away from the dot, "Jax…I got a bad feeling here. Please tell me I'm just over reacting." All the while, the two friends tightened their grips on their guns. Jax found himself being unable to look away from the growing speck like his friend in front of him. "No, sir. I don't think your over reacting. 'Cause I've got a bad feeling too."
The Comm. Tech noticed the speck was getting too big far too fast. He kept trying to contact the ship, but to no avail. "Transport Ship Damascus, you need to slow your approach! You are coming in too fast! I repeat, your approach is too fast!" the Comm. Tech shouted into his head set. "Sir! There's still no response from the Damascus!" Michael, Jax, and everyone else were both shocked and panicking on the inside. Michael shouted into his head set only one command to the security personnel who stood awe struck as the ship was now only moments away from crashing into them. "CLEAR THE FUCKING AREA NOW!"
The order had come too late, though. The transport crashed shacking everything and everyone around it. In Michael's eyes, it was as if time had been slowed down. He bore witness to every spark, explosion, and sound with extreme clarity and detail. Some people had caught fire and were desperately attempting to put out the flames. Broken bodies lay strewn about, the life having been tossed out of them from the explosions or the wreckage and rubble from nearby vehicles and damaged structures crushed it out of them.
The Damascus had skid across the landing area, into the open hangar and out through the back, and completely wrecked the small building that housed the Bella Vista's primary generators and gas controls. The ruined ship rested on top of what was supposed to make the Xeno's containment easy. Everything picked up speed. Everyone in the in the F.C.T. remained completely dumbstruck. People on the ground floor and near the crash site were scrambling to fight the fires, assist the wounded, secure the area, and basically get to a less destroyed location. They all froze at what sounded like thump coming from the ship. All eyes turned to the dent in the ships hull. Another thump. Then another. The dents were getting worse. Finally, the hull gave way as the Xeno Queen tore through the ship's side. The creature's off spring charged out into the open as the Queen let out a massive almost ear-splitting roar, its black and thick natural armor shining in the mid-day sun. Michael could see some security personnel open fire on the charging swarm as the workers fled to the colony's primary structures. Both of the human groups were attacked all the same. Michael knew it was no use. He knew that it was impossible to hold them back with their defense force scattered. He knew the Queen would toss them aside like rag dolls. What's more, he knew hell had arrived and had broken loose on them.