May 30, 2181
Onboard the U.S.S. Nevada, DD-996
Entering Earth Orbit
The recently thawed soldiers, Marines, crewmen and survivors of Tau Ceti were now lounging about in the mess hall, eating somewhat better than normal ship rations. Earlier, many of the civilians, and most of the military personnel, had the wonderful opportunity to realize again why they hated the airborne antifreeze that collected in their lungs to keep them alive.
The stuff tasted like ration cornbread, but in mucus form. So, it was a good thing that the flooring directly in front of the pods was designed for the inevitable barf fest. Kestrel, oddly enough, was one of those who hacked up a disgusting ball of slime, and was clutching his chest in pain. Standard was busy with some cryotechs when she saw Dutch stand up, look at her, and point at the door to the mess hall, and held up five fingers. Standard nodded, and five minutes later, she, Nathan, and Larissa were in the hall eating a much better meal than was on a Marine transport. Nathan was eating something that resembled a waffle, with some sugar enhanced syrup, and Larissa simply went for a light salad. Looking around, Nathan was surprised to see Kestrel in the hall with them, a group of technicians behind him fussing over him.
It was rather amusing to see a synthetic tell a bunch of techies to go screw themselves.
As it was, Larissa turned to look at her brother. "So," she said between bites of salad. "Think they'll let us off at Gateway?"
Nathan shook his head. "Nah, don't think so," he answered. "This is an Army ship, so different base of operations."
Standard nodded. "He's right. As of now, the Nevada is en route to James L. Stone Orbital Dockyard for repairs and offloading," she explained. Larissa raised an eyebrow at that tidbit of info as the captain spoke on the P.A. system again for the first time in a few weeks.
"Attention. We will begin docking with JLS Orbital in ten. By that time, I want all personnel ready to assist in offloading survivors. Also, Kestrel, Corporal van Hold, Doctor van Hold, and Standard are to report to the number three airlock, portside in twenty. Thank you."
Everyone in the mess hall started eating quicker. In five minutes, everyone was done. In one, everyone had left.
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The James L. Stone Orbital Dockyard is a marvel of engineering. Nearly as large as Gateway Station, the dockyard was finished in 2145, and has since seen many United States and NATO vessels go through its docks to be refitted, repaired, and for some, built. Able to house nearly twenty carriers, the Nevada has no trouble at all finding a place to dock.
Soon, power loaders scramble to move parts and equipment in to fix hull breaches and other bits of internal damage, and people in EVA engineering hardsuits fly out to fix the hull itself. Meanwhile, guards shuttle survivors off the ship and into processing. One of them slipped through, more or less unnoticed, holding a hard traveling case. Minutes later, after he was processed, the Weyland-Yutani spy was on a shuttle ride down to the surface, to where he would deliver the alien relic to his boss, Karl Bishop Weyland himself; not an android fashioned from his likeness, but the man himself.
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Nathan stood by the airlock, and he was oddly enough in full combat gear. It was a request from a Driftech executive, that he appear in the uniform he was in on Tau Ceti, and that Larissa, Standard, Kestrel, and Allen be there as well. So, there they were. A marine, a scientist, and a xeno. Fuck, that sounded like the start of a bad joke. The light above the airlock went from red to yellow, air hissing into it. Moments later, the light turned green and the airlock finally opened. Nathan saw, with some trepidation, a three star general standing on the other side, flanked by a pair of soldiers wearing…was that actually what Nathan thought it was? Hell, the Army hadn't used Driftech Reflex Armor in years! As in, since 2050, when they were deemed 'too expensive to field.'
As it was, Nathan and Kestrel saluted. Well, Nathan did. He heard a metallic snap! come from Kestrel, and glancing over, he saw that Kestrel's arm was hanging limply by his side. The general nodded. "At ease you two," he said gruffly. Nathan stopped the salute and stood in parade rest. The general looked over them, eyes staying over Allen for a brief second longer than the others. "Everyone, follow me. We'll be taking the tram system to the Driftech R&D Division here at the docks."
Kestrel just nodded as Larissa spoke up. "Um, sir, are you sure about that? I don't have the clearance to even go there, and Corporal van Hold-"
"Is here on both my and the CEO of Driftech's authority," Kestrel said, clutching his side. "And furthermore, you're the only one with any knowledge of Allen's unique physiology, so that is now a moot point." Looking to the general, he asked "Care if I lead the way sir?"
The general waved for him to do so, and now the group was following Kestrel down the service halls, where they soon came to a tram. Walking up to the high end security lock, Kestrel placed his thumb on the scanner, allowed his eye to be scanned, and said clearly into the mike, "Tram authorization Gulf-Mike-seven-two-one-Kilo-Delta-Victor-one." The doors to the tram opened up, and the group piled in. The doors closed, and the tram soon sped off to another part of the dockyards. Popping out into an area in vacuum, Nathan, Larissa, Standard, and Allen all turned to look at the ship being built off in an obscure part of the dockyards.
It was huge, considering the fact that it had a Mark IX Magnetic Acceleration Cannon for a keel, along with some other type of cannon. It seemed to be halfway done, but the group of four could already feel the ship's intimidating aura from their position in the tram. Two minutes later, the tram pulled into another tram station, only this one was busy with Driftech employees going about their business. Stepping off, the group proceeded to a nearby elevator and went in. Kestrel inserted a key, and the elevator rose up into the business' levels. It took only thirty seconds for them to reach their destination, and the group soon got off.
"No, I don't want to discuss how much the company stock is going to fall! Something just happened on one of our facilities, and we're lucky we didn't lose more people than we already did!" yelled a man standing in front of a wall of monitors, each displaying another member of the Interstellar Trade Comission. Kestrel sighed and spoke.
"Now if you excuse me, I have people to talk to right now." The previous speaker shut the monitors off and sighed.
"So," he said, his voice shockingly similar to Kestrel's. "How bad is the damage?"
Kestrel didn't bother shrugging. "Half my squad dead, eighteen Marines KIA, and nearly four hundred nonmilitary personnel lost."
"ClusterfuckingshitfacedHoove rfucking-"
"FUBARedshitstormof Hell," Kestrel finished. Nathan looked at his sister and girlfriend in bewilderment.
"Gentlemen," Kestrel said, putting his one functional arm over the man's shoulders. "This is the CEO and head of Driftech's Research and Development of Advanced Applied Sciences, Alexander James Monnot."
Alex waved a peace sign to them. "Yo." And now that they had the time to look at them, Nathan, Larissa, Standard, and Allen could only stare at both Kestrel and Alex. The brown hair, the hazel eyes; the wrinkles were the same, down to the last twitch.
"So, what is Kestrel?" asked Nathan. Standard leaned in a bit, eager to hear the answer.
"I," Kestrel began, "Am an artificial intelligence based on the thought processes of the late founder of Driftech, Gabriel Monnot. The body I have now is currently the seventh I've had so far."
"But how is that any different from a normal synthetic?" Standard asked.
Alex shrugged. "Garret is unique in that his thought matrix is designed to degrade like a normal person's, similar to how memory operates. He also never had the Three Laws installed, and he never will have them installed," he explained.
Nathan looked at Alex. "So, what's your story sir?"
Alex laughed. "Me? Ha, I personally am a clone of Gabriel Monnot."
Silence reigned for seconds, until pandemonium rang out.
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"The relic is secure, and the data uploaded sir."
"Good," came the gravelly voice of Karl Bishop Weyland. "Initiate the procedure as soon as you can. We'll need every weapon we can make if we are to survive this war with the Hunters." Weyland barely heard his underling say his understanding as he turned to face his office window and admired the view.
A view of San Francisco at dusk.
:\_/:
And so begins the Terra Arc of 'Aliens: Homefront!' I hope you all like the story so far, and I want to wish you a happy New Year!