Hello readers new and old!
Long story short, I've been trying to finish this damn story for 9 years. I'm finally in a better place mentally to be able to actually do that.
Chapter 1 is also by far the weakest chapter of the story. It's mostly just setup for the real story to start in Chapter 2 and beyond, so if you're interested in seeing what the plot is like, go check out Chapter 2 & 3 first to see if it's your kind of story.
Don't worry about spoilers, this story's a long one.
And as always, I hope you enjoy - AX 3
He drifted in an endless icy void, a timeless sleep, waiting.
He did not know how long he had been waiting, or what he was waiting for. All he knew was the solid icy grasp of eternity around him.
But eternity didn't last. It began to fall away like the cracked pane of a window, shattering away piece by piece until it was a deluge of ice, falling away, freeing his mind back into the warm embrace of waking...
The loud blast of a siren in both of his ears jolted him back to life. The passenger flinched away from the noise, banging his head on the low, synthetic glass lid of his 'Convenience Class' Cryo-Chamber accommodations. He tried to reach up to rub his soon-to-be bruised forehead, but the cryo deep-sleep pod didn't even have enough room for him to wiggle his fingers.
"Ey! You awake yet?" A gruff voice shouted at him through the speakers. This time, he smashed his knees up into the roof of the insulated tube. "I'll take that as a yes then."
=The lid of his chamber let out a gentle hiss of air as the chamber's seal was disengaged, and the lid slid off to the side into a recess in the side of the tube. A drab, tired looking man looked at a notepad in his hands.
"Welcome back Dr. Kirchoff," the gruff voice droned, as if he had said these exact words a thousand times. "Thank you for choosing Interspace Travel Incorporated for your interstellar travel needs. Please follow the yellow lines on the floor to your assigned sleeping temporary sleeping quarters, you will find the room number attached to your personal belongings." He pointed to a luggage case propped up against the wall. "Do you have any questions?"
"Erhm..." Kirchoff mumbled.
"Good! Since you have no further questions, please follow the yellow line on the floor to your assigned temporary sleeping quarters." Before Kirchoff could even inhale, the man was briskly walking over to the next pod in the row. A bright yellow line was painted along the floor, just like the man said, stretching away into the rows upon rows of cheap deep-sleep pods. Arrows scattered along the line pointed in what he assumed was the direction of his sleeping pod. He shrugged, grabbed the handle and pushed the cart in front of him down the yellow lined road.
Oooohohohoho fuck, I needed that, Kirchoff thought while he toweled himself off. After taking a luxurious 30 minute shower he felt more alive than he had in… damn, how long had he been in stasis? It was a long ass time, that was for sure. He'd had to use most of his savings just to buy his one-way passage to Bernard, a dinky little planet orbiting a boring M-class star on the ass end of the Perseus arm of the Milky Way. Despite the fact that the salary he was being paid for his new job was ridiculous, they still didn't offer to help pay for his transport costs.
He picked up the watch he kept with him at all times from his bed and checked the date displayed on the tiny, mechanical display.
Seven years. It had been seven years since he left. Fuck. It still felt like he had just departed.
He placed the watch back on his pillow. Better not to think about it. Not now.
Kirchoff dug through his luggage container, pulling out a clean set of slacks and a nice polo shirt. It was nothing fancy, but then again, he didn't want to stand out too much. He slipped into the clothes, comforting him with their bland familiarity. His short brown hair was still dripping wet from his shower, staining the fresh garments with spots of moisture. Goddamn, it felt nice to be dressed in new clothes after wearing the same jumpsuit for four years in suspended animation. It smelled exactly as bad as you would expect a years old stasis suit would smell too. He'd tossed the suit in the garbage can and tied the bag shut as soon as he got into his room.
A tiny mirror was hung up on the back of the washroom door. Kirchoff gave himself a good once over. All in all he wasn't a remarkable specimen of a human. In fact he was rather average looking. Standing at about 5'6" with brown, tangled hair and dark brown eyes, he was the kind of person who could easily blend into a crowd without being noticed. Even his body seemed average, not too broad, but not too skinny either. It was truly amazing how little he had changed during his journey here, but that was suspended animation for you.
Kirchoff combed his hands through his hair in an attempt to untangle some of the knots in it, but after fruitlessly digging through it for a few minutes he gave up and decided to find the cafeteria.
Kirchoff watched as the cafeteria lady spooned a large serving of what he assumed was mashed potatoes onto his plate. It landed with a wet plop, coating the beans, rice, and pork that were already on his tray. Yum, dehydrated 'potatoes'. My favorite.
He rolled his eyes, but what did he expect? Interspace Travel Inc. wasn't exactly a first-rate luxury cruise line company. It mostly did industrial shipping and the occasional military contract, and that fact was clearly reflected in the food on offer.
He turned around and looked out over the small cafeteria for a place to sit. It was a cramped room with only 4 tables big enough to seat nine or ten people at most. Three of the tables were already occupied by men and women in white bodysuits, crewmates no doubt. The fourth was occupied by two surly looking military types, muttering to themselves and glancing over at him occasionally.
Instead of engaging with the clearly hostile and unfriendly looking men, he decided to take his food for a walk out to the unoccupied hallway. There was an alcove not far down the hall towards the living quarters, a square hole in the wall that probably held some kind of vending machine at some point. Now, it was a nice little spot for Kirchoff to wedge himself into, balance his food tray on his knees, and try to eat the bland, overcooked, rehydrated muck that was being advertised as 'food'.
As he ate, he tried to think about anything other than the food he was shoveling into his mouth. That wasn't hard, since they were only about a week out from their destination, and he still knew surprisingly little about where he was going. Of course, he hadn't exactly asked too many questions when he took the job, but he was still a little fuzzy on the exact details of his job. Of course he knew it had something to do with his Doctorate in Xenobiology, otherwise they wouldn't have hired him in then first place. And it wasn't like he was thinking all that well when he took the job in the first place. And then there was the other reason he'd come here, but he tried not to think about it too much.
He shook his head. That was the past, and whatever was waiting for him out here, he was sure it would be better than the life he left behind.
"Dr. Kirchoff, please report to Dr. Nigel's office please," The polite, clipped voice of a woman announced over the intercom. "Dr. Kirchoff to Dr. Nigel's office."
Kirchoff was lying on the small cot in his room, re-reading a worn copy of a cheesy romance book. His quarters were sparsely decorated, with only a bed, dresser, and bedside table (complete with lamp) to fill the small concrete room. At the sound of the announcement, he dragged himself upright and stared at the ceiling. This was odd. He wasn't expecting any more meetings today, least of all with Dr. Ursula Nigel.
It'd been 3 weeks since Kirchoff had arrived at Bernard and the aptly named Bernard Research Station. Whoever came up with that name must have really been stretching their imagination. Despite arriving here almost a month ago, he had yet to do any actual research. Or even receive any information about what his position actually did. Or do anything useful.
All he had been doing was going to mandatory briefing sessions, instructional lessons on the use of lab equipment and the proper procedure on writing up reports as well as various aptitude, medical and physical tests. It was so boring and repetitive that Kirchoff was pretty sure he had actually fallen asleep three times during the last briefing. Well, at least I finally get to meet the infamous Dr. Nigel.
Dr. Ursula Nigel was something of a legend at the Bernard Research Facility, at least based on all of the gossip that was going around about her. She had been working at Bernard for nigh-on twenty years and that she had been in charge of the Xenomorph Studies Division for the past eight. If the rumors were to be believed, she had managed and participated in dozens of bizarre projects and studies, although Kirchoff doubted the legitimacy of many of them. After all, wasn't that the entire point of this research station? Advanced Xenobiological Studies was the entire reason the parent company of Bernard had built such an important research facility on a nearly unreachable planet. Hell, it was so remote that they actually had to grow most of their own food and manufacture part of their own supplies on-site.
It was odd that she would call for him though. She rarely addressed any of the other staff in person other than her direct subordinates, so meeting her right off the boat was a little unnerving. Well, it wasn't like he could just ignore the summons. He stood up, stretched his back, and began the long walk from his dormitory to the Xenomorph Studies Division of the facility.
It took Kirchoff almost half an hour to traverse the various hallways, stairs, elevator rides, and security checkpoints down to the office of Dr. Nigel. It didn't look particularly impressive on the outside, just a regular looking door with a simple name plate that read "Dr. Nigel, Ursula". He didn't enter right away, instead opting to stand at the door for a good minute, working up the nerve to knock. When he finally raised his hand to knock on the door, a clear, tired voice called out, "Just come in Dr. Kirchoff. I know you're out there."
His cheeks burning, he turned the knob and pushed the door inwards. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he stepped into Dr. Nigel's office, but it certainly wasn't what he saw. It was a very simple affair, with only a wooden desk, a desktop computer, and several filing cabinets filling the interior of the cramped office space. However, it was hard to tell exactly where everything was though due to the massive amounts of paper strewn absolutely everywhere. Covering the desk, bulging from the filing cabinets, laying on the floor, and pinned to the walls. There wasn't a single inch of space in her office not covered by paper. Sitting behind the paper covered desk was Dr. Nigel herself, her head buried in yet more papers.
"Um… You called for me?" Kirchoff asked hesitantly.
She looked up from her desk. In contrast with the mess scattered around the room, her hair was neatly braided, the brown skin of her face was smooth and flawless, except for the large bags under her eyes. "I did indeed."
"Do you know why I called you here?" She asked.
He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, "No."
"Take a walk with me and I'll show you," She got up from her desk, being careful not to knock any of the papers off her desk and walked out the door. Kirchoff hesitated for a brief moment, then followed her out of her office and down the hall. Neither of them said a word as she led them down a winding path of hallways, stairs, elevator rides and various empty rooms. Soon they reached the doors to a grimy looking elevator. Dr. Nigel pressed the down button, and they stood together in awkward silence while waiting an eternity for the elevator car to arrive.
"So... I assume you've heard a lot of rumors about my work here," She said, breaking the silence.
"Yes," Kirchoff replied, not knowing what else to say
"Which ones did you hear?" She asked
"Pardon?"
"Which rumors did you hear? It's always amusing to hear what stories all the new scientists have heard."
Kirchoff was taken aback. "Well… I've heard quite a few. The most memorable one I heard about was the one where you transfused Xenomorph blood into a group of test subjects and they melted from the inside out."
Dr. Nigel broke out laughing. "They're still telling that one?" She shook her head. "I can tell you with a hundred percent certainty that we did not pump a bunch of people full of Xeno blood. In fact, it was the complete opposite. We pumped a Xenomorph full of donated human blood in order to study how similar a Xenomorph's biology is to a human's."
"Wow," he breathed. "That's very…"
"Interesting? Yes it was. We learned quite a bit from that little endeavor I can tell you."
"Wait, we?"
She raised a thin eyebrow at him. "Well you don't expect me to do all of my research alone do you? You did see my office, right?"
He thought back to Dr. Nigel's paper coated office. "You do have a few papers lying around."
"And that's just some of the paperwork from the latest study we conducted. My job is far less glamorous than most people make it out to be. Sure I get to say I lead a variety of different research projects that better our knowledge of the Xenomorphs, but when it comes right down to it I'm like a glorified secretary. I get to sort through all of the data all the scientists working for me collect and I process it down into reports that I get to hand off to my superiors on the board of directors, which is not an easy task let me tell you."
"Why don't you just do everything through a computer?" It seemed a lot easier to have everything organized on a computer rather than have it all on paper.
"I don't trust digital storage. It's too easy to copy a report or steal a hard drive and get away with it. I would much rather my research remain… confidential. So I hope you don't mind hand writing reports."
"I don't really mind. It certainly explains all the classes on report writing though."
"Yeah. You wouldn't believe how many people have no idea how to write a proper report."
"Not after they're done with that report writing class."
She giggled. "I like you Kirchoff. I'm glad you're participating in this little project of mine."
"Don't get any crazy ideas doc, I don't swing that way."
She stopped talking and looked at him. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he quickly looked down at his shoes. Just as he started to regret letting his joke slip, she chuckled and shook her head again. "All that aside, I think we ought to get down to business. There is a reason I called you to my office."
Kirchoff let out a little sigh of relief. "Yeah, I was wondering about that."
"As you know, you aren't the only scientist who came here to be a researcher. Many of your colleagues are going to work in our weapons development programs or in our interplanetary agricultural department, but you are going to be working for me on my latest project. Xenologists are in high demand out here and I can use all the help I can get."
She pressed the elevator button a few more times. "God damnit, could this thing be any slower? Anyways, you are going to be working on a special project for me directly. Your job is going to be studying the emotional reactions of a single Xenomorph subject to certain stimuli and environmental influences."
"Emotions?" Kirchoff was confused. "You mean like their body language or reactions or something?"
"No, I mean their actual emotional responses. The point of this project is to determine the exact range of emotions that Xenomorphs can experience."
The sheer implication of what Dr. Nigel was mind boggling. Sure he was a Xenobiologist, a damn good one if he said so himself, but this was something else. "Um, are there any procedures or past work for me to base my work off of? I mostly did anatomical and physiological work before this."
"Don't worry Kirchoff. You'll be provided with all the equipment you need to perform the experiment."
"Hmmm." Even if he was given some incredibly advanced equipment, he couldn't see this being an easy task. "Okay, but seriously, what kind of equipment will I be working with?"
"You'll see in a minute, if this damn elevator would show up." A loud ding sounded. "Ah, how convenient."
The elevator door slid open, revealing a carriage just as grimy as the doors. Both of them stepped inside and Dr. Nigel inserted a key card into a slot and pressed a button marked 'R'. The elevator screeched and slowly began its descent. It seemed like hours before the elevator finally stopped it's long journey down into the bowels of the facility. They descended down floor after floor, past the barracks, the dormitories, the indoor farms and hydroponic facilities... and the biology research labs. Wherever she was taking them, it couldn't be somewhere people visited very often.
The doors opened with a screech to reveal a corridor that looked very different from the car that had brought them down here. Everything was pure white. The walls, the floors, the ceiling and even the lights were all pure white and impeccably clean. Not a single scuff or mark anywhere along the pristine walls and floors.
"Where is this place?" Kirchoff asked.
"This is our Advanced Biological Research Facility, the ABRF." Dr. Nigel replied and gestured for him to follow her. "Take a good look around, because you are one of the few people here who will ever get to see this place. The only way to get in and out of here is through the elevator we just came through."
They strolled down the white hallway, passing rows of identical doors at regular intervals until they came to one marked 223-C. Dr. Nigel entered a code into a small keypad protruding from the wall and the door slid up into the roof without a sound. The room behind the door was similar in style to the hallway outside. Everything was clean and white, very minimalistic. The room was about ten feet high and all the walls were about twenty feet long. There was another door off to the side of the room. Monitors and panels protruded from the wall that had the other door, taking up most of the remaining space.
"This is your lab Kirchoff. That door to your right is your new living quarters, which has its own door to the hall." Dr. Nigel explained. "All of your belongings have been brought down here from your previous room, and there is a map of the facilities down here pinned on your fridge. Get well acquainted with this place because you're going to be spending a lot of time here."
Kirchoff glanced around the room. "Where's all the equipment? I thought this place would be filled with computers and machines."
"This lab is the equipment," She pressed a button on a pedestal covered in even more screens, dials, and buttons. The wall opposite the entrance to the hall shimmered for a brief moment, then turned completely transparent, revealing a large empty room approximately the same size as the one they were in.
"The other side of this wall is a containment cell. This entire room is essentially a giant workstation," She explained. "The floors and walls in the cell are lined with sensors that can detect a subject's pulse, breathing rate, body movements, body temperature, anything you could possibly need. A computer will automatically process data into numbers and stats for you, but it's your job to draw conclusions from the data you receive."
"Is that why you wanted me? To be able to process all the physical data?"
"Bingo, Dr. Kirchoff," She shot him a single finger gun. "That, and you're the best person we could get on such short notice. Our last scientist bailed at the last minute, and we needed a replacement."
"Oh," Her words stung him, just a little. "So I'm just a backup?"
"Not at all!" She hastened to answer. "You wouldn't be here at all if you weren't qualified for the position."
She must have seen the look in his eyes, because her tone softened just a bit. "Don't worry Doctor, you have personal assurance that you're not just some last-minute replacement."
"Thanks Doc," Kirchoff's mood lightened at her words. "So, what kinds of tools do I have for this project?"
"Oh, we have a variety of different tools that you can use to stimulate certain emotional behaviors. Unfortunately, there aren't all that many existing procedures for you to follow either, since this is a new branch of experimental science. That gives you a lot of leeway for what you can do, but I still expect you to produce results."
"There are also a variety of documents that you have access to." She gestured to the table covered in monitors. "They have all the information that we have compiled on Xenomorph biology, genealogy, and behavior. All of the manuals for the equipment are included as well. I also recommend that you read the manuals in your room. Your lab is a bit more advanced than the equipment you learned to use in training, so you'll want to give them a read."
"You seem to have this pretty well planned out," he remarked.
"Oh, you have no idea," she said. "Five years of planning and technological research went into this experiment, so try not to break anything. Do you have any questions?"
"Will I be working with anyone?" He asked. "This sounds like a lot of work and very little direction you're giving me."
"Only you will be working with this subject for now. That being said, don't get too wild with your research methods Doctor. I don't want to go through the hassle of getting a replacement for you. He'll arrive first thing tomorrow morning."
That piqued his interest. "Does it have a name?"
"Officially, his name is VS-223." She leaned in conspiratorially. "But unofficially, I've nicknamed him Valen."
"Valen? As in Valentine?" That seemed a pretty odd name for a Xenomorph.
"Yeah, that's where I got the inspiration from," She told him. "And he's going to be your one and only research subject. So please, please, please try not to kill him. He's rather… Unusual."