Chapter 7: Give In to the Night
To say that Anteros was an intimidating figure would not at all be an understatement. Obviously. Looking at him from a distance, however, one might be shortsighted enough to believe a Scout like him to be the lesser threat, when compared to other castes. As a Scout, Anteros was not as tall, or, indeed, heavily built as a Soldier. Nor could he burn the flesh of his targets, from immense distance like a Ranger (though, he could spit acid, just... not nearly as far or fast). Even his ability to go unnoticed, something that all of his kind did exceedingly well, was hampered by his exoskeleton's color.
Yes, in a battle, Anteros would be the "lesser threat".
Were it not for the fact that he was the fastest living thing on this planet...
He wasn't sure if it was purely his speed, or his ability to use that speed on walls and ceilings, but Anteros had never been hit by a bullet, before.
Ever.
Even when he was in a wide open area, and multiple Colonial Marine Snipers had him in their sights, he was able to run and dodge fast enough to avoid getting a limb blown off.
Sure, being able to dodge one or two bullets, in a firefight, may not be much— his Hive-Mates tended to pull that off semi-regularly.
But, when you start to evade bullet, after bullet, after bullet, after bullet, the people who are shooting at you tend to get more and more focused on trying to hit you. And when they start getting tunnel-vision, they tend to forget that there was also a Soldier off to their left. And when they forget that crucial little detail, well... you get the picture.
All in all, had Anteros grown up to be the ever-loyal and devoted instrument of the Queen's will, like he was supposed to, he would have been very much a boon to the Hive's success. And, every marksman's worst nightmare.
But, now, despite all of those reasons why he was something to be feared, Anteros had to walk through this apartment door, and be amicable... with a being who, at the moment, would probably have none of it.
His right fist closed around the bronze door handle— barely two of his fingers able to fit on the bar. He twisted his wrist, and pushed.
He let go and allowed the door to swing slowly open, lightly banging against the wall of the room.
His echolocation had already ascertained Samantha's exact position in the room— backed up against the far wall, in the corner, left of the bed. Her thoughts were mired in paranoia and uncertainty. Upon the door opening, and his presence being revealed, her mind quieted itself greatly, though there was still an undercurrent of fear— worry over what he would do, over his current temperament. She had already caught on that he had killed a Xenomorph just outside— for a brief moment, she even caught a glimpse of the sheen of acidic blood covering his tail. But, as result, she was uncertain as to Anteros's mood. Uncertain about whether she should be afraid.
Perhaps the beast was still lusting for blood, after having experienced the rush of killing something.
It was this thought, above any other, that pissed Anteros off the most.
Anteros may not have had everything figured out, and he may have been uncertain about a great number of things in his life, at the moment. But there was one thing that he was absolutely — beyond a shadow of a doubt — completely, and utterly adamant of, and that thing is: in regard to Samantha...
He was officially 110% done with being treated like a monster!
Anteros stepped forward, his left leg making a small stride into the room. His tail pressed itself to the ground and quickly began rubbing off the blood, on the carpet in the hallway. His teeth were hidden, his skull angled downward to "stare" at Samantha's feet. A slight stoop in his posture, and a noticeable "weight" to his limbs' movements, Anteros began walking directly toward the Human. In small, measured strides.
Had he outright stormed his way over, she would have been compelled to run. If he moved any more slowly, it would just get plain awkward, or induce even more paranoia. But, this way... he could get her "trapped" in the corner without triggering any immediate fear response.
Before twenty seconds had passed, he already stood a mere three feet in front of her. And it was only then that she realized what had happened. As he'd gotten closer, she unconsciously began to shrink in on herself, and by the time he stopped in front of her, she was damn-near kneeling— giving him a side-on look of trepidation. And now... he waited. He simply kept "staring" at her, waiting for her to act, waiting for her to calm down.
Almost a minute went by... but she kept watching him like a hawk who'd been threatened by the mafia (not that he knew what the mafia was).
Come on, woman, give me something to work with, here, Anteros pleaded, internally. In truth, he was just as nervous as she was. All he needed was something to go off of and get the... conversation going with. He just wished that she could hurry up so that they could get... introductions out of the way, and, eventually, get his plan in motion.
... and his legs were starting to get tired from standing upright. It would be a bit stupid-looking if he had to abruptly reach an arm out and lean against a wall...
Samantha was... sufficiently disturbed, at this point. To say the least. From her "vantage point", kneeling, up into a corner, and looking up at the Xenomorph's face... Sam was... confused, concerned, scared, and somewhat annoyed at the same time. It obviously wanted something, and it was obviously waiting for her to... well, waiting for something from her. There was no way to know what it was that the Amber Demon wanted. It wasn't angry, and it was making no sound.
She... she could smell it. It was this... odd amalgamation of wax, soot, blood and chlorine. Metallic, yet... organic/natural, if those things could somehow be put together.
She couldn't tell how long it was that the Amber Demon had kept this up but, eventually, its legs seemed to start shaking, slightly. It was getting tired, and she could start to hear faint breathing from its mouth. She could tell that it would start to get impatient, the longer that it felt it had to keep standing upright.
And she didn't know what to do about it.
Samantha wasn't sure whether to try and speak, or if standing up, or... she didn't know what to do!
So... eventually, just as the Xenomorph's exertion-breathing became audible above a whisper, Samantha felt that she had to take a chance.
Samantha, out of impulse, briefly looked downward, pushing her hair behind her ear with her right hand. Brow creasing.
Her first attempted to speak yielded nothing more than a small croak, causing her to cough, clearing her throat. She briefly checked if it got any reaction from the creature, but it didn't.
Her voice cracked as she spoke, "umm...". Her eyes couldn't seem to meet the Demon's gaze, but they slowly focused onto the Xenomorph's "face", as she spoke yet more, "do you, uh... need... something?". Her expression could be called "nervous, with a hint of fear". She would have slapped herself for asking something so stupid. And for being an awkward little so-n'-so.
But she couldn't help it! This was a Xenomorph! And Xenomorphs are damn creepy!
The Demon's oblong head tilted to one side, teeth briefly showing, before one of its feet took a micro-step backwards. Its other foot made a larger step back. She could spot its tail lash behind it, before the fifth limb seemed to press itself to the ground.
The Amber Demon then... kneeled down— both hands coming down to touch the floor with the tips of its claws. The left knee resting on the carpet, with its right knee braced against its own chest. Its tail snaked along the ground and made a circle around the Xenomorph's hands and feet, at which point, Samantha was becoming more perplexed than frightened. Its head seemed to remain focused on Samantha's eyes— it was almost as though she could feel its gaze. The Demon, had, effectively, lowered itself to her position.
Her brow creased even further, confused, as she unconsciously leaned forward, and straightened herself up in her seated position.
Looking back, Samantha would remember this moment, in hindsight, with an emotion she hadn't felt since before she was ten years old. This pivotal occasion, in an apartment on Guardian-625, would come to be one of the most... influential throughout the entirety of her time spent being alive. After all, what happened next was certainly a remarkable event... and still is.
Out of nowhere, and quite abruptly, Samantha suddenly felt a kind of... tingling sensation— right at the base of her skull, where her cranium met the top of the spinal cord. This sensation then quickly... "spread", and began to permeate throughout—... it was as if warm liquid had suddenly filled the insides of her brain-case! The feeling didn't bring panic, as one might expect — though it was quite disturbing, objectively — but rather a sense of... heightened spatial awareness... like someone had just given her a shot of caffeine directly into her veins.
She felt her vision suddenly expand, almost like a slight increase in Field-Of-View; eyes widening, and everything becoming... clearer... as though she had lived with blurry vision for most of her life, and then abruptly put glasses on, for the first time...
It was then, as Samantha began to clutch at her skull with her hands, a look of pure shock taking over her features... that she heard... a voice...
Not just "heard", though— she felt the voice. It was like a quick burst of spastic energy that briefly buzzed in her brain before she seemed to... "process" whatever obscure "signal" was sent— from where she didn't yet know...
The voice was clear, definitely male, mildly deep in a calm, rich tone, and had... an undoubtedly British accent? One she believed she had heard before...
It said to her, in that moment... "that depends on what you're willing to give...".
The weird thing was, a split second before her brain seemed to comprehend the message... it sort of sounded something more like... well, it was complete gibberish, she was sure, but it only took a fraction of a second for it to make sense to her.
In any case... Samantha was left dumbfounded— staring into space as she struggled to understand what exactly she had just experienced. Hearing voices from nowhere simply wasn't normal— and unless Sam was somehow destined to be a futuristic Joan of Arc, or something, this was a very big cause for concern!
For a solid forty-five seconds, Samantha eventually, slowly came to the conclusion that the voice had come from the Amber Demon... and that the voice she had heard was a response to her earlier question.
Her eyes slowly came back into focus, and she lifted her gaze to look the Xenomorph in the "face". Her expression was one of shock, and awe.
Anteros patiently waited for the Human to process his communique. Honestly... even when he spoke, he was a bit terrified that something would go wrong. He was half-expecting to have a "stroke". Needless to say, the Unknown was practically jumping for joy, causing Anteros's' own satisfaction to raise. The Ancestral was... pretty damn apathetic, actually. It must have gotten used to Samantha's presence and discounted her as a threat.
Anteros was feeling... well, nervous as to how Samantha would react, but also strangely... at peace. Content that he could finally speak without limiting himself. Looking back, his original concern seemed silly, actually...
He paid careful attention to the Human's thoughts, as her brain continued to scramble in response to his statement. At the moment, she was only now connecting the dots and making the conclusion that a Xenomorph had just spoken to her with perfect English. And now, she was staring at him with a mixture of awe and... well, shock. Her thoughts seemed to... idle, for a few moments— her mind literally had no clue what to do about the current circumstance. Anteros waited in his kneeling position, for what he estimated to be at least a minute and a half, in complete silence.
Then, Samantha's brain seemed to immediately jump from "2" to "12" in terms of activity, as her stream of thoughts briefly went into overdrive. With it came a deluge of... surprisingly strong emotions, at least half of them being relief and joy—
Within the next few seconds, Anteros was forced to quickly brace himself as the Human in front of him lunged forward and... held him. Just, uh... just kind of held onto him. He leaned backwards from the female's weight— his arms stuck out behind him for support. Samantha was practically using her legs as a rod-straight brace to further lean on him. Her arms were wrapped around his torso, under his arms, and her face was pressed against his collar-bone.
Anteros had no understanding of what this was, exactly, but the Unknown was absolutely giddy at the physical contact. Which, in turn, lead to Anteros experiencing the same... "euphoria". The Ancestral had a brief spike in aggression before it petered out into an uneasy lack of comfort.
And Samantha, from what Anteros could hear of her thoughts... seemed to be in a state of pure, ecstatic relief. He had no clue why, though.
For about fifteen seconds, Samantha was completely silent as she hugged him. It wasn't immediately obvious to him that that's what it was, given the way she'd done.
The hug continued for a solid sixteen seconds, before Samantha seemed to realize what exactly she was doing. She abruptly leapt away from him, concerned that she might have angered the "Amber Demon". When she observed him for a few moments, kneeling in the corner, and saw that she had elicited no reaction from the creature, she huffed and ran her hands through her hair (suddenly realizing how sweaty she was), looking downwards in relief and disbelief at the situation. And she seemed to have a massive smile on her face. Anteros promptly straightened up and sat on his haunches.
She looked up at him, blinking repeatedly, and struggling to think of something to say. Anteros heard her thoughts seconds before she asked, "y-you... you can... talk?". Almost disbelievingly. She already knew the answer, but was testing whether the Amber Demon would speak again at her inquiry.
She was heavily anticipating a response... and so Anteros felt the abrupt need to have a bit of fun with it. His skull tilted to one side at her, as though confused, and his tail lifted off of the ground behind him to swish about in the air, idly. He would have been smirking, had he the required facial muscles. The look of expectation on her face disappeared and she frowned rather humorously.
He dropped the display and spoke, "yes— yes, I can talk".
Her face immediately "lit back up", and her smile returned.
For a few moments, she simply stared at him in wonder. Before the fact that he was obviously very self-aware clicked in her mind. And, all of a sudden, she suddenly became very, very awkward. Both, at the fact that she now no longer had an excuse for staring, and because of the fact that she inconveniently happened to remember how she'd been "petting" the intelligent alien creature less than an hour ago. Her stream of thoughts allowed Anteros to very quickly pick up on these things, even as her gaze shifted to the floor, and she cleared her throat rather lamely.
"U-uh... uhhhhh", she attempted to say, before clearing her throat again. "Umm- h-how, um... how is it that you're able to talk?", she asked.
Anteros's head tilted in a display of thoughtfulness, slightly orienting off to one side. "I suppose the technical term would be what you could call `telepathy`", he explained. His tail slowly curled around his legs out of habit.
Samantha seemed to stare at him for a scant few seconds, confusion coming over her features.
"Why do you have a British accent?", she inquired, in a voice that suggested she had temporarily forgotten her awkwardness. Apparently, she found his voice extremely familiar, but couldn't remember where she'd heard it before.
Anteros, having a certain, evident cheekiness about him, responded, "I believe the more pertinent question to ask is: `why did you hug me?`". His tone toward the end on a slightly mocking tone, though still light-hearted, as his head listed to the left and leaned forward— neck craning in an odd angle in Samantha's direction.
In any case, a look of silent panic came over Samantha's features. She seemed to lean backwards, averting her gaze, and began to sputter and struggle to find words.
"Oh, well, I, uh... pft— um... you just, uh... see, you... umm...".
Anteros chuffed outwardly, his head shaking once, "it's not a problem— you're forgiven".
Samantha stared at him for a second or two, before leaning back even further and sitting down against the corner. She rubbed her eyes, realizing, again, that she was sweating profusely, and ran her hands through her hair. With a hand to her forehead, and the other resting on her stomach... she gave a laugh. She kept glancing between Anteros and the ground.
Samantha spoke, almost silently, "well, I, uh... I really wasn't expecting this!", looking at him in what he could assume to be a mix of relief and amazement.
She honestly wasn't sure what to think about this! She... she was talking to a Xenomorph! It just... this should be impossible! Everything about this was utterly absurd, and yet... Samantha couldn't help but feel... giddy! Fucking giddy! Heaven knows why, but this feeling of evocative ecstasy was just about the only thing present in her brain at the moment! She couldn't quite pin down why— it all just...
Samantha looked back up at the Xenomorph in front of her. She seemed to forget her reservations about staring, as she absentmindedly took in the details of the creature's appearance— her thoughts quickly snowballing into speculation and wonderment.
The smooth, shiny, elongated head that shone in the light on a certain angle. A tail that took up slightly more than half the creature's total length, looking segmented, as though it were a fleshless extension of the spinal cord that blatantly stuck from the lower back— the triangular blade on the limb's tip; all of it a dull, matte bronze color. Upper-arms and thighs that appeared to be muscled and filled with mammalian flesh, but which both extended into lanky forearms and calves that barely seemed to have any flesh on them at all— ending in hands and feet that were outfitted with talons of shiny, bronze, organic "metal". Four digits on the hands, three clawed toes on each foot.
The torso— a bizarre blend of organic and non-organic aesthetics. The chest: a skeletal-looking ribcage that seemed to have a thick epidermis stretched over it, with the abdomen and upper back appearing to be a softer flesh that, while not exactly "flabby" or "squishy", definitely was not as taut as the flesh on the chest area- nor was it chitinous. The sides, lower back, and under arms were of a more chitinous persuasion, matching the material found on the skull's domed surface- except with segmented plates that might have the ability to bend and stretch and fold as needed for any give motion.
And, though its voice sounded male to a fault, she did not see any corresponding... extremity between the animal's legs— as it was currently sitting in front of her, on its haunches. It briefly registered to her that she might want to investigate that, later...
The alien, evidently, seemed to be waiting rather patiently for her to do or say something. Which prompted Samantha to wonder how exactly she should react to all of this...
Any normal person would be questioning their own sanity or demanding to know what the Xenomorph wanted with them. Not her! Not Samantha Carman Quinn, the special little flower that she is, who seemed to have some variety of subconscious death-wish! No— all she could think of doing at the moment was administering a lengthy, thorough, and utterly oblique questionnaire to the extraterrestrial in her presence!
Though, to her credit, it wasn't for no reason...
She was currently making first friendly contact with an alien species, and could now speak and communicate with the alien in question. Converse freely, seeing as though it knew English. The only other time this had been done was with the Arcturians. The Cravenor, as well, technically, but that wasn't really done on friendly terms. The Xenomorph in front of her appeared to be friendly enough, and if he'd intended to harm her, he could have done so seven times over, already...
As she continued to debate over what to do or say, her mind abruptly went back to the start of their conversation...
"Do you need something?"... "That depends on what you're willing to give...".
She thought, So... it— he wants something from me... or he would gladly take something from me, depending on what I have to offer... or...
She looked up, glancing towards the creature's mouth, as she tentatively supposed, he wants me to ask all the questions and lead the discussion...
Samantha frowned as she wondered what she could possibly ask the Xenomorph... she couldn't exactly make many assumptions or guesses as to what kind of questions would work for an extraterrestrial. But, then, she remembered something from a paper, written by one of the leading scientists of human-extraterrestrial-relations, which went something like, "The safest conclusion to draw before anything else, when it comes to a newly-discovered sapient species, is that every individual has their own designation".
She looked up at the Demon's "face", eyes focusing on a glint of light, shining on the front of his skull. She crossed her legs and sat up, gaze remaining steady.
"Do you... have a name?", she asked, with a polite tone and neutral expression.
Anteros's head tilted ever-so-slightly to the left, listing slightly over to "look" to his right. Odd first question. I was expecting something less... oblique, but, I can make this work...
As he thought of how to answer the girl's question, Anteros absentmindedly stood up on all fours, and slowly pivoted on the spot, and walked toward the bed. His movements, not entirely consciously, adopted a slightly... regal persuasion. He knew from his echolocation that Samantha's eyes were rather contentedly locked onto him, and it seemed to be triggering his rarely-seen "swagger" side. He didn't often remain in the presence of any given Human for very long, so it was a bit of a challenge, still, to control his... slight streak of vanity. He'd never been entirely sure that he'd ever had such a thing, until now, but apparently this was a time to learn.
Interestingly, a single thought from Samantha's mind stuck out to him, as he walked. Apparently, the way he walked had triggered a distant memory of a character from an old movie called "The Jungle Book". A "tiger", named "Shere Kahn".
Huh... neat.
Anteros turned the left corner of the bed, and hopped up onto it, the furniture making the smallest of creaks in protest to his weight. He then proceeded to lie down in as fluid an action as possible, facing Samantha. One hand over the other, with his tail slowly swishing about in the air above and behind him in a random, circular twisting sequence.
He concentrated; a small pulsing sensation thumped in the front of his brain, right behind where his "eyes" would be, as he directed his telepathic reach toward Samantha's mind. Communicating with Humans was a bit different than with others of his kind. When speaking to any of his Hive-mates, they would instantaneously receive his signal, as they were constantly, unconsciously on the look out for communique. With Humans, though, it was always the case of having to mentally "push" the message into their heads. It was like the difference between sticking a dollar into a vending machine and putting an envelope into a mailbox. One is ready and receptive to what you're giving them, the other requires you to stick in a few fingers and apply some force.
Anteros could feel the "signal" twist and curl its way over to the Human girl's skull, through the air, and then disappear into her head. With a Hive-mate, the signal would have zipped on over with grace and swiftness. All of this passed by in mere microseconds, mind you. In any case, his message was sent and there was no taking it back.
He said, "I suppose you can call me... Anteros".
Samantha felt a sensation similar to liquid mercury briefly flash within her skull, before "hearing" that same voice, again. Well... not hearing with her ears. It was like... it was like someone tapping out a rhythmic pattern on her gray-matter, from within her own skull, and she being somehow being able to decipher a tone, accent, emotion, and "voice" from it. It... it made her shiver— goose-bumps running down her back, every time.
Ahn-terr-ohs? Vaguely Roman, she thought. Her expression changed to a resting, blank-neutral state that many in her life had called "lifeless". A weird urge to act casually and seem at-ease with the situation (as would normally happen whenever something went horribly, horribly sideways... or just in a generally unexpected direction) overtook her, as she abruptly stood up and out of the corner and stepped toward the bed. The briefest hesitation made her pause, before she sat down on the corner of the bed, to the Amber Demon's left side. She looked at... "Anteros" — she decided it was spelt — side-on.
Her legs crossed over each other, something not normally in her bodily lexicon, as it was a habit she only did when trying to hide anxiousness. Along with this, her hands clasped together and rested on her knee— her back: ramrod straight with rarely-seen good posture. To any Human, it would look as though she was trying to act professionally, and, to an extent, Samantha understood this, but to her, it seemed like the actions of someone simply relaxing. She couldn't tell you why.
She still was not aware that the Xenomorph next to her didn't need to pay attention to her body, and it could simply hear her thoughts and emotions.
In any regard, she intended to continue the conversation... only to croak and redden at the realization that she had no idea what she could possibly ask the creature, after his name.
Now, that... that was new. When he told her his name, her mind immediately formed the sounds into proper letters. In English. He... he could see it. His name in bronze letters on a black background. There were other variations of it, but her mind settled on the letters "A", "n", "t", "e", "r", "o", and "s", all pushed together in that order. It was... strangely satisfying to him.
Yes... yes, that's me— that's my name! That's what my name looks like!, he thought, suddenly. He was now rather jubilant and would have grinned, had he the facial muscles to do so. These thoughts had left him preoccupied, and he realized that he was still "staring" at the corner of the room where Samantha had been. A brief infrasonic chirp told him that she was now sitting next to him, on his left, though he'd already heard and felt her change of position. She seemed to have noticed that he was "daydreaming".
His skull oriented in her direction. The movement triggered a small spike of fear in the girl, and she visibly stiffened. The flashing image of him whipping toward her and mauling her arm made its way to his brain.
This wasn't to be unexpected— it wouldn't be a shock to find out that she had PTSD from six months in the XHT. Though... at the thought of her arm, he paused.
His focus centered onto the scarf wrapped around her upper, right arm. Her wound— he suddenly remembered it being the reason why he had spent so much time finding a medical packet. Which he'd left outside the room...
What happened next was... odd.
Anteros, seeming to have a lapse in logic, suddenly sat up on his haunches— moving quick enough to make the bed creak. He turned left, and scooted forward, toward Samantha, and transitioned into a squatting position, with his tail coiling into a ball, behind him. She was within arms-reach, before, and now he was close enough to potentially lean forward and take a chunk out of the Human's frontal lobe with his Piston Jaw. As one can imagine, Samantha had alarm bells going off in her head and was leaning backwards, though, otherwise too shocked to act further. The other indication of this being a small squeak emerging from her throat.
All of this would have been rather apparent to him, had he been paying attention.
In hindsight... he probably could have handled the situation better.
His hands reached forward and wrapped around her right-forearm.
Samantha... was sufficiently spooked. She was already in the process of trying to calm herself down after having two mini-heart-attacks from the Amber De— from Anteros doing little more than twitch. The Amber— no. Anteros, then, out of the blue, sat up, turned toward her, and reached forward with its— with his hands. The shots of adrenaline and cold sheets of fear settling onto her shoulders were only mitigated by one factor— the fact that it was previously established that Anteros was a thinking, sapient organism, and that he likely had no reason to harm her.
Still, though... you would flinch like a crack-addict if your best friend waved a taser in your face, wouldn't you?
So, there she was, bugging out like a rabbit on a highway, yet compelled to stay as still as humanly possible, and with her right forearm being held by the most dangerous organism in the galaxy.
For a few moments, all she could sense was pressure and an urge to run or fight. Pounding blood in her skull. Everything losing color. Her skin losing color. Innards going numb. The usual. This was not helped when she felt her arm being tugged by— by Anteros. Well, not a tug— more of a gentle pull. It did not take much for her to let her arm go slack and surrender the limb. She could live as an amputee— not a big deal.
Then, as she calmed down and gained more cohesion, she could then start thinking again.
The first thing she noticed were Anteros's' actions. Its— his mouth was alarmingly close to her bicep. Specifically, the scarf that was serving as a bandage around her bullet wound. If he was smelling her, she couldn't hear it. But he was clearly conducting a very close examination, and her paranoia was ebbed further. She straightened up, again, and stopped leaning away from the alien. Her expression turned curious with some amount of contemplation as she studied her studier.
Samantha, as she waited for whatever it was that Anteros was doing to be over with, started to let her mind wander a bit.
The first thing that came to mind was the feeling of the alien creature's hands on her arm. Each of his hands had two fingers and two opposable thumbs; said thumbs were on opposing sides of each palm. It was something that had been showcased in fiction before, and was theorized to denote more dexterity. Certain combat enthusiasts claimed that having this tetradactyl structure would allow for an "ice-pick-grip" on a knife or dagger to be much more viable in a fight.
These details were only distant thoughts, though. Her real focus was on the hands themselves. Each palm of the creature was half-again as large as hers— the entire hand was large enough to completely wrap around her thigh (which wasn't exactly thin), and the digits could probably completely wrap around her arm twice over, right now. The surface of the skin on said hands was... firm, taut, and leathery. Not warm, but not cold, either. They looked wrinkled, but this factor was merely exaggerated from a distance. Up close, the peaks and troughs of these wrinkles seemed much less pronounced upon a closer look.
The next thing to catch her notice were... the claws. Talons, more like. The two fingers on either hand seemed to be each made up of two, fused fingers, themselves. At the very tips of these fused digits, the claws that could shred through flesh like mere butter each began as separate halves of what looked to be finger nails, before coming together into a single, sharp point. Each talon was almost as long as her middle finger— just as thick at the base, too.
The very tips of these claws were lightly pressing into the skin of her forearm. She could tell that, any more pressure, and they'd draw blood.
He's being gentle with me, her thoughts remarked, as she smirked minutely. The idea, conceptually, came across as rather cute to her. It briefly occurred to her that the reason for that was probably the same as why so many young girls had a fascination with horses. A big, strong, solidly built animal with more than enough strength to kill you, yet so very docile and subservient. Probably something of a Freudian complex, really. Though, it had been years since Samantha had read about this stuff— it was something about the feminine psyche that is allured by the idea of having some control over an entity that is many times more powerful than oneself.
Just as this thought came and passed, a noise from the Xenomorph in her company caught her attention. A small puff of air hit her skin, as the Demon chuffed. He seemed to draw back, a bit.
She looked the alien in the "face" and raised an eyebrow. Now that she wasn't hyperventilating through her nose, she felt more ready to use her words, like an adult.
Her mouth opened, then quickly closed as she cleared her throat after making a small croaking noise. She tried again, "ummm... yes?", she asked.
Anteros had been trying to smell any hint of rotting in the wound — his mouth held ajar, teeth hidden behind his lips, and simply intaking the air; trying to taste for anything suspect — and seeing if the Hive Resin was starting to decay, at all. He paid tertiary attention to Samantha's thoughts, all the while. After blasting her upper-arm with wave after wave of focused infrasonic sound, in an attempt to pick up as much detail as possible, for about thirty seconds, he finally determined that it was time to remove the Resin. He drew back with a chuff, letting one of his hands release her forearm, with the other transitioning to loosely hold her wrist.
As she attempted to speak, he thought of what to say while orienting his head to point at her face. He also sat back on his haunches just as she was about to speak.
"Ummm... yes?", she said. He could hear the words broadcast from her head, long before they came out of her mouth. He released her wrist, took a micro-step backwards, and stood up on all fours.
He spoke as he walked off the end of the bed and stalked his way toward the door of the apartment, "would you kindly remove the scarf while I go and get something, please? It's time for the Hive Resin to come off", in a polite tone.
Anteros, as he made to go and find the medical package and bag of apples in the hallway, suddenly realized that he had left the door to the apartment open this whole time. He probably should have closed that after coming in. As he entered the hallway, he paused, and stood up to his hind legs as he tried to remember where he put the items...
Oh, wait, he eventually thought. They're right here...
As the Demo— no, after Anteros spoke, Samantha had to briefly process what he'd said (it was so weird to hear such a rich, British accent from a Xenomorph of all things!), but almost immediately reached for the scarf and the rubber band holding it in place as he let go her wrist. However, as the Hive-Resin coating her bicep was once more exposed to open air, she did a double-take at a small detail that stuck out to her. While Anteros hopped off the bed, her eyes followed his movements as he moved off in front and of to her left, and she froze.
How does he know the term "Hive Resin"?, she asked herself, her mouth suddenly hanging ajar, while her fingers idled near her right arm.
She turned to face forward, looking down at the floor near the left wall of the room, a hard look coming over her features. Her left hand busied itself with tearing off the rubber band on her right arm with a swift tug, then taking off the loose scarf and rolling it into a ball.
It's a Human term— made by Humans long before the Infestation started. Story-tellers would pass around the term as they continued to propagate myths of other infestations on Human worlds... how does he know it, then?, her thoughts rattled off. They continued down this avenue of thought for a bit, before coming to no real conclusion. Still, though, she sat and thought on it more. When the scarf had been rolled up into a tight bundle, she started fiddling with it— her mind going blank. That was another of her habits— an uncanny ability to just turn her brain off and enter into something approaching vegetativeness.
After thirty seconds passed, she became animate again and looked about the room. She then turned and scooted to her left on the bed's corner, facing the door. The De— Anteros was... on his hind-legs, in the doorway, standing stock-still. He wasn't looking around — or, she thought he wasn't— and seemed to just be staring at the wall in the hallway. He just seemed to be staring at the wall. His tail was raised off the floor, faintly sticking up into the air. From this angle, from his right side, the only part of him not visible to her was the front half of his head.
He then dropped to all-fours and sat back on his haunches, reaching around the each corner of the doorway with both arms.
Anteros almost felt the urge to face-palm at how he forgot that he left both items on either side of the doorway. When his echolocation noticed the items within arms reach, he quickly sat down and leaned forward, reaching for both of them around the doorframe. Can't have himself look like a dolt.
When both items were in hand, the bag of apples in his left, the medical box clutched in his right, he stood up to stand on his hind legs and turned on his heel. His left hand, with his inner thumb holding up the plastic wrapping by its handle, reached forward to grab the wooden door by the edge and swing it shut behind him as he turned to face Samantha in the same movement.
For a brief few seconds, they both "stared" awkwardly at each other. Well, it was more awkward for Anteros, really. There was something about holding Human-made items, in front of a Human, and standing up straight like a Human that made him feel like a bit of a plonker. Like if you were dancing to a very obscure or niche type of music, and then the person known for making that type of music suddenly walked into the room. Still, though, he made the effort to seamlessly step forward as though no lapse had occurred.
His right hand extended, presenting the plastic medical case, as he conveyed to her through thought, "for the wound...", he waited for Samantha to take the box from him, which she did. She seemed surprised that he'd been able to find the thing, and set it down on the floor, as she eyed the bag in his left hand. His left hand then presented the bag, as well— Anteros telling her, "... and... in case there were any hard feelings".
Samantha seemed to hesitate for a moment as she stared at the bag, suspicion coming over her features. She then quickly snatched it and opened it up. The thing had been twisted shut by the person who last had it. Very tightly, in fact.
As the Human female busied herself with tearing at the plastic bag with a surprising fervor (she was actually becoming very excited— almost as excited as when she hugged him, earlier), Anteros took a small step back and dropped to all fours, sitting down.
It briefly occurred to her how big and imposing Anteros looked when standing tall like that. He had at least two feet of height on her, and had much wider shoulders— not to mention a torso that seemed to be the size of a barrel. Almost as though he got bigger whenever he stood on two legs. It might have brought back painful memories of other times she'd seen something similar, if she hadn't been occupied with the shock of the Xenomorph presenting her with a bright red, plastic, pizza-box-sized medical emergency package, and a plastic bag in either hand. When he handed the medical box to her, she awkwardly grabbed it around the edges, then shifted her hands to wrap around the handle at its opening side.
With a brief look at the big, white capital lettering that said "IN CASE OF MINOR INJURY" underneath a big white plus-sign on the plastic case's textured side, Samantha quickly put the box on the floor. She was curious about what was in the other bag. A tiny voice in the back of her mind remarked that three bullet wounds weren't exactly "minor" injuries, said munitions were still on the floor, to the side of the bed.
When she reached for the plastic bag that Anteros held out, she paused.
Did he..? Are those...?, her brain conjured. It was heavier than expected. There was a shade of opaque green she could see through the plastic material. A bundle of many, round objects...
She acted faster than would be considered normal, snatching the bag from the Xenomorph's grip, and quickly starting to tear at the thin membrane.
Once the bag was finally open... she couldn't believe her eyes.
Apples. Green apples.
Literally her favorite food in the entire universe— PERIOD. They were so juicy, and delicious, and firm, and... UGH— she loved them! She'd loved green apples since she was five! Not red ones, though. Fuck red apples.
"In case of hard feelings"?! Oh, this... this is more than enough to smooth anything over, as far as I care!, she thought excitedly, as a manic, comically large grin spread across her features. Her heart and chest started fluttering at the joy of one of her core creature comforts being present! Her elation was only going to increase, however. As she grabbed one of the apples, fished it out of the bag, put the bag on the floor, and held it in front of her face, she felt like she was on the verge of tears!
Not a single bruise on it, with a shiny green surface, and a pleasant weight in her palm. And there were ten of them in the bag! These apples weren't just any kind of apple— these were genetically modified, crop apples, grown on Aurore 510! Modified to be the size of cantaloupes and not rot as quickly when exposed to open air!
Anteros could not have done better in his choice of food for her— she'd done anything from sexual favors to committing a crime just because someone offered to buy her a quality green apple!
She clutched the apple with both hands, turned it on its side, and opened her mouth. She imagined her jaw unhinging like a snake and spreading as wide as she could allow. The apple was lifted to her waiting mouth, and her teeth crunched slowly into its surface, taking an immense chunk out of the fruit. Larger than most would advise. She spent ten seconds chewing on the apple chunk, reducing it to cud in a surprising amount of time. She could tell that she was drooling, but she didn't care— this was heaven for her, in her own little world at the moment.
It was delicious. Savory, and sweet. As she swallowed, memories of sitting in her mother's lap as a tyke emerged, munching on an apple as her hair was played with, idly. Someone else might have become homesick, but it only energized Samantha. She licked at the liquid dribbling down her chin, and returned to reality, setting her mouth upon the "wound" in the apple— licking and sucking at the exposed, white innards of the fruit, extracting as much juice as she could manage. Unbeknownst to her, she'd been making rather loud moaning sounds.
The way she ate would probably disturb others— not that she would have cared. This— this was the first bit of genuine comfort she'd had in eight months! If anyone had a problem with that, they'd lose a finger trying to stop her from enjoying it!
When the exposed innards of the apple became dry, she drew back and sighed contentedly. The best thing about apples was, with every new bite, more juice could be suckled on. Her grin hadn't subsided. She noticed that her feet were tapping very rapidly. Her heart was beating rather quick, and she fidgeted. Green apples tended to have an affect on Samantha similar to Adderall. Whenever eating one, she felt the urge to run, jump, sprint, and dance. Some people had said that she had a problem. Some people were wrong!
Even now, she wanted to... to just dance, or something! She didn't know, specifically, but she knew we the happiest she'd been throughout the entire infestation. For now, she had to settle for kicking up from the carpeted floor and launching herself backwards onto the bed, turning over onto her left side and curling up into a ball— releasing a torrent of high-pitched, maniacal giggles while clutching her treasure close to her chest.
Immediately she took another gargantuan chunk out of the apple, at a different angle than her previous bite. Her legs were constantly rubbing together in a methodical sequence that she only ever did when feeling especially cozy.
Anteros... was nonplussed. The brain activity and noise coming from her mind was... well, pleasant. For some reason, he felt a... giddiness in his chest. Like... contact happiness. When Samantha proceeded to roll onto the bed and curl up into a ball like a sleepy Newborn, Anteros took the opportunity to hop up onto the bed, himself. Luckily, she'd turned onto her left side, exposing her wounded arm, so he could get on with it.
He walked over behind her back, sitting on his haunches and allowing his tail to hang off of the bedside. He decided to speak...
"So... I'm just gonna go ahead and scrape the Hive Resin off your arm, yeah? I'm not going to be kicked in the face, am I?", he said, dryly.
Samantha swallowed the apple chunks she'd been chewing. She didn't bother looking at him, only maintained her smile, and said with a jovial, laughing tone, "buddy, you can do whatever the Hell you want with my body while one of these is in my mouth!". Briefly pausing to chuckle at her own jest, she immediately tore another huge chunk out of the fruit and munched on it contentedly.
"Hm", Anteros replied, not skipping a beat, and promptly scooting forward a few inches. He leaned over her and grasped her upper arm with both hands. The left hand to keep it still, and right hand to pick at the Hive Resin like a scab. He rested his right palm near her elbow and put his two fingers together to slowly chip away at the splotch of solidified mucus. The substance was adhered to the Human's flesh, and wouldn't come off easily. It had become brittle and nearly transparent. It was slow work, and it took Anteros a full minute to remove a square inch of the stuff and flick the fragments off to the side.
It had to be slow, because removing it too quickly could result in a lot of pain and potentially cause more bleeding. He'd seen it happen with his Hive-mates— and if they felt pain from it, Samantha surely would, too. Had Anteros possessed the vernacular and savvy, he'd have compared it to shaving or waxing too quickly.
It was a smooth process, though arduous. Samantha only occasionally made a grunting noise in the back of her throat whenever Anteros accidentally picked off a piece of Resin too hastily, or from the wrong angle. By his estimation, it took about five more minutes (he was only halfway done with the Resin) until Samantha's apple was reduced to a core. She kept taking smaller and smaller nibbles until her smile began to fade. So, Anteros quickly got up, grabbed another apple from the bag at the end of the bed, and presented it to her face. She immediately tossed the eaten apple away and took the new one— beginning to devour the second fruit.
He heard a tiny "thank you" from her mind, with an even quieter mumble of it from her mouth as she bit into the round foodstuff.
Eventually, he was finished with the Resin, all of it reduced to tiny shards on the floor to the right of the bed. Samantha didn't seem to notice, so he took the time to sniff at the exposed, though healed, wound and scan it thoroughly with his sonar. He didn't smell blood, or rotting. No bumps or deformities in the skin— apart from three separate spots where the flesh was especially smooth. All in all, nothing bad. Still, he knew next to nothing about treating Human injuries, so he would have Samantha see to it, herself— hence why he brought the medical package.
He patiently waited, as Samantha was almost done with the second apple. Once she tossed it off the bed, he leaned down and nudged her elbow with what amounted to his snout. She looked up at him, a light-hearted, innocent-looking expression adorning her features. As though she'd regressed to some point in her youth. The only reason Anteros could make that comparison is because he'd seen more than one juvenile Human in the Hive Egg Chambers...
A second or two passed as Anteros returned her "gaze". After coming up with the phrasing, he spoke, "your injury seems fine, but you should probably take a look at it, yourself". A neutral tone.
Samantha blinked... and the weight in her spirit that he'd seen from her previously returned as she suddenly came back to reality. She didn't look sad, or angry, just... more weighed down. She sat up wordlessly and looked about the room, getting her bearings, again. Incidentally, she also briefly became deeply embarrassed at her own behavior, just now — all that over an apple, of all things — but quickly chose to forget that it ever happened. Anteros got up to all-fours, turned on a dime, and hopped off the side of the bed, coming around to the foot of it, and grabbed the medical case. He placed it on the bed and slid it towards Samantha, who caught it.
Anteros stalked back around the bedside and hopped up onto it. He sat on his haunches behind Samantha, appearing to look over her right shoulder (even though he could be facing the other direction and still "see" her just fine) as she kneeled there inspecting the medical case. She turned it around and inspected the strange metallic fastenings that stood out on one side of the case— specifically on the side that had the "handle" in the middle.
She made a "tsk" noise. "I need a key to open this", she said, vaguely gesturing at the air. One might have said that she was annoyed at this, but Anteros could tell from her brain activity that she actually wasn't too concerned about the whole thing. She was actually starting to become rather curious about him, though.
Anteros was already thinking of a solution, but still asked, "so, it's useless to you, then?".
She shook her head angling the case upwards a bit, to closer expect it. She explained, "it looks kinda cheap, so I could probably brute-force it open with a crowbar, or something".
Anteros's tail had already been moving and twisting about, curling around her left side and to her front. It appeared, hovering to her left, out of the corner of her vision. She recoiled and yelped a bit, which Anteros ignored.
"Would this suffice?", he asked, cooly.
Samantha gave a barely audible "yeah". Though, she just sort of stared at the large tail blade for a matter of around twenty seconds.
The weapon before her was rather... distressing. Yes, she'd seen it a thousand times, by now, but... up close, the blade on Anteros's tail was a monster. She couldn't help but stare at it! Eventually, she realized where she was and twisted about in the other direction to look over her right shoulder, at Anteros. Her eyes looked at the alien's "face" for a few seconds before turning back around to her left to see that the tail blade had remained where it was.
Her left hand began to weakly raise up towards the blade. It shook. She could a cold sweat on her back and hear her own heartbeat.
"Y-you... you want me to just... grab it...?", she asked, lamely, with a small, pathetic voice.
She felt a tingle in her neck and head, "go ahead", she heard him say. She didn't hear any hesitation or ill-will in his voice. So, why was she choking up? She had hugged him not fifteen minutes ago! Why was... this shouldn't be a big deal!
She knew, really. She'd seen countless numbers of people be butchered and impaled by weapons just like this, throughout the Infestation. Hell, she'd been on the receiving end of a Xenomorph tail-blade, more than once. Looking at it brought those terrifying moments back into her brain-pan. Pain and fear had come back to the surface— a core aspect of her trauma was being held in front of her face.
A hard look came over her features. She gritted her teeth, and clenched her left fist— her other hand making a fist in the blanket of the bed that she sat on. She forced herself to breathe. Trying again, her left hand raised up to shoulder level, and reached outward. It came three inches away from the blade before she started to hyperventilate, again, and her hand began to shake uncontrollably, forcing her to clench it into a fist and pull it back, once more. Over and over, as she kept trying to will her hand forward, her vision ceased to register and behind her eyes, she kept seeing the same things, one after the other, rapid-fire; a man vomiting a stream of blood as a tail-blade sprouts from his chest, a woman's decapitated head thumping against the floor after being subjected to a tail-blades swing— a dozen feverish memories of Samantha herself ducking, running, and weaving away from the thrusting blades that now permeated her mind. She felt a tear fall from her cheek...
Come on! It's just a tool— it's not going to hurt you!, she shouted at her herself, inside. Her teeth gritted together even more, her lips pulling back into a sneer.
She reached for the tail, again, coming even closer, this time. Only to find her heart beating ludicrously fast, and her left eye twitching— she began to start flinching rapidly, as more tears fell. She did not pull back her hand, though.
Just do it! It's not even moving, you stupid bitch!, she told herself again. A whine creaked out of her throat, and her face contorted into a snarl.
Her hand wouldn't stop shaking, now, though she kept trying to move it forward. It was impossible. Not with all the memories — countless memories! — flashing through her mind. Seeing strangers get impaled through the torso, seeing limbs be lopped off with such sickening ease, and seeing people be knocked into unconsciousness by an impossibly fast flick of the Xenomorph weapon. A scream, a snarl, a crunch, and a hiss. That was all it took to take a life— that was all it would have taken for her life to end.
Her left arm fell limp against her side, as she slumped over, a loud, sorrowful weep tearing its way out of her throat. She felt impossibly weak, yet her heart was hammering at her ribcage as though she'd been in a sprint. Her head ached and her nose burned— more tears falling.
You stupid cunt, her own mind spat at her as she grimaced at herself. Just be strong for once in your worthless life, and grab the damn thing!
She hated this! She hated how quickly she could go from being a confident, carefree vixen to a sniveling, pathetic coward! It was such a simple task and it couldn't have been any easier! But no— she had to choose now to have PTSD after six months of having nothing of the sort?! A sickening sense of self-loathing and bitterness crept into the back of her throat, as her eyes clamped shut and she tried to force herself to stop crying. She needed to just be strong for fucking once, after six months of running away from everything and, of course, she couldn't fucking manage it—
She squeaked loudly, and jumped, as a weight fell on her right shoulder.
A loud, firm voice reverberated through her mind. It shook her brains and made her spine tingle— her flesh cascading with goosebumps and her hair standing on end. The bitterness, the hate, the anxiety— forced out of her mind by a single wave of sound reverberating through her head.
"You are strong".
Anteros had started to feel awkward. Eventually pity overtook him, and he had to step in.
He planted his left hand firmly on Samantha's shoulder. Both thumbs on her shoulder blade, his fingers over her collar bone. For some reason, it occurred to him that he could probably dislocate her shoulder and shatter her clavicle with enough pressure.
He focused in on her mind and concentrated on sending the firmest, most convincing voice he could muster. As she felt it come to her, she blinked, not looking back at him, and seemed to gain back some composure. Her breathing steadied.
He added, "if you weren't, you wouldn't have survived this long". He continued after a moment of pause, "I've seen Humans who could barely muster the will to crawl on their hands and knees. Who could barely process what was happening to them, and couldn't bring themselves to do anything about it. Who could hardly begin to find the will to live, after seeing so much horror". He spoke in a tone that carried no stresses, but which conveyed more than enough wisdom.
Samantha was no longer crying. Still red in the face, and sniffling, occasionally.
Anteros waited for Samantha's heartbeat to slow to a normal pace. It was painfully bright to his senses— each flash of each pump suffused his mind, this close up.
He spoke again, "I should know something about strength... and you, Samantha, are far from weak...".
Saying her name seemed to do it. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes, and let it out slowly. She ran her hands through her hair, rubbing her eyes, and nodding to herself.
"... for a woman", he added, cheekily. If you asked him where he got that kind of humor from, you can thank his time spent shadowing squads of marines and listening to them talk. Samantha seemed receptive to it, though, as she snorted, and quietly chuckled to herself. She rubbed both of her own arms and sighed, smiling.
"Thank you", she finally said, quietly.
His hand lifted from her shoulder, as he responded, "you're welcome", feeling satisfied.
His tail retracted and brought itself around to her right side, in front of Anteros.
"Now, then...", he said, putting forward his left hand with an open, upturned palm, "do you trust me?", he asked, in an impassive, inoffensive tone.
Ah. Now that... is an awkward question.
If the question was "should she trust him", the answer would be "probably not".
If the question was "would she trust him, in any given number of hypothetical circumstances", the answer would be "probably not".
She'd noticed the hand in the right corner of her peripherals, but did nothing to look at it properly.
It was crazy. And it was probably the wrong decision. But she chose not to take the blame for that.
As a child, she had always looked at the behavior of other women and scorned them. To this day, she understood very little about why other women acted the way they did, sometimes. It was all drama-mongering, attention-hoarding, and avoiding accountability by feigning weakness or stupidity when it suited them. It was always why she'd never gone out of her own way to make female friends. And to be fair, she was probably guilty of a few of these things, too. But there was one thing that she had vowed to be 110% clear on, with herself and with others.
Her emotions.
And, right now, carrying out that promise was not difficult.
Do I trust him?, she asked herself, honestly, not fearing the potential answer.
For a specimen of the most dangerous species in the known galaxy, Anteros was rather charming in his own right...
She looked down at the open, large, alien hand that hovered near her elbow.
Samantha smiled, placing her own hand in Anteros's palm.
"Yes".
Five months ago...
Prometheus pondered...
The tired man in a worn, old coat had given his companion a name. Nigel Williams had named the bronze beast "Aiakos". It seemed fitting, given the circumstances...
Aiakos bore his teeth and stood to his full height. Another Xenomorph, a "Worker" as Nigel understood it, had come around to harvest Nigel for the meat on his bones with which to feed their Mother. Aiakos arrived just in time to stop it, and the two were in a confrontation. Nigel could only guess at what conversation was taking place between the two, but it didn't take long for Aiakos to get his way, repeatedly shoving and headbutting the Worker until it left.
It had been two weeks since Aiakos first spoke to him, and in that time, the creature had confided to him about his troubles. Aiakos felt alone among his kind and, in fact, hated them— had admired Humanity and wished to understand them. Nigel Williams was only a little skeptical of him.
"You shouldn't be risking so much, for me", Nigel said, as the Worker disappeared in the heat and darkness. From what he had learned, Aiakos did all he did in as inconspicuous a fashion as possible. If he created too big a spectacle, he risked being targeted and killed by his own family.
Aiakos hissed, and Nigel felt his own organs vibrate in his chest as his friend rumbled, displeasured.
"It's not fair! None of this is fair! You don't deserve to die, here!", Aiakos said. His voice had evolved once more, into something that sounded like a young man. Or almost.
Nigel squinted at his friend, responding, "you've condemned dozens of others to death for my sake, without a second thought. Why? Because you find me useful? Because you value me more than the others, here?".
A whining, keening sound grumbled out of the Xenomorph, as his tail lashed and his head shook. It reminded Nigel of a child having been told off, knowing that they are in the wrong, and having no way to argue back.
"Of course I do. I don't know any of them... and you're my friend".
Nigel knew that to not be entirely true. Aiakos had been speaking to several other Humans imprisoned in the Hive. Less and less, more recently, but still. Nigel didn't think Aiakos to be lying, maliciously, though...
He answered, "anyone here could have been. I'm no different and no better than anybody else in this place".
"I... I can't save any of the others. Keeping you safe is all I can do. Any more... and I'd be killed, as well", Aiakos said.
"But do you know why you're doing it?", Nigel pressed.
And to that, Aiakos had no response. The amber Shadow chuffed and laid down on the floor, seemingly in submission.
Nigel kept speaking, "you can't keep me safe, forever. Helping me escape would put you in danger. And you can't very well remain here indefinitely, waiting on me hand and foot".
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that, like it or not, at some point I won't be around anymore. My only benefit to you has been my knowledge, and even that is starting to dry up. You have kept me alive this long because you had questions, and because you wanted to understand yourself. And I gladly helped you. But my usefulness to you is running out, and at some point, we will only be liabilities to one another".
There was a long pause at that. Nigel laid back and took deep breaths, feeling another coughing fit coming on. A deep ache had settled deep in his chest for the last few days, and it made each breath begin and end in a wheeze...
He had said the quiet part out loud.
"Why do you want to die?", Aiakos asked.
Nigel sighed through his nose. That question, again. It was a sticking point, and Aiakos didn't seem able to comprehend it. Perhaps he should rip the band-aid off.
"To be frank, I think I died a long time ago. My parents were a vicious pair, my siblings tormented me for the fun of it, and the lot of them died in an accident. My only escape was literature, and as I became an adult, the idea of genuine love was only a funny little dream as far as I was concerned...".
His voice then became warm.
"Then I met my wife. And then I knew that love was real. She did her best to convert me to Catholicism, and though I softened to the faith, I more or less stayed agnostic. We were together for thirty years, had five kids. We were happy...".
He clasped his hands behind his head and stared into the middle distance.
"But then came the accident, and all at once, she had only weeks to live. I tried to be there for her, but I was angry. And sad. And broken. And everything else. I managed to be there and make peace at the end, but... I think the kids never forgave me for being a selfish prick. I did right by them, raised them through college until they could pay their way... and then, I was alone".
There was a distant scream, from elsewhere in the Hive. Nigel coughed and wheezed, wiping his eyes with a sleeve.
"She made me promise her that I would be happy, and I did my best to fulfill that promise, all the way up to now. I was ready to die the moment my youngest son moved out of the house, I think. Everything since has been... numb. Pleasant, but numb. And now that the Infestation is here... well, you could call it a loophole. A way for me to die without breaking my promise to her".
Nigel looked to his friend, "do you understand, Aiakos? Being alive can only have so much value, if what one lives for is taken away".
Aiakos didn't reply. A poignant silence hung, and Nigel breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't realize how much he needed to say all of that...
He eventually had a thought, and asked his friend, "what made you first try speaking to me, way back when?".
There was a long pause, as Aiakos lifted his head.
"You were the only Host— the only person who... wasn't afraid. And... you were the only one here who was anything close to happy".
Nigel blinked, searched through his memory of that day, and came to the conclusion that Aiakos was probably right.
"Hm. I see".
If you're wondering where "Arcturians" come from, they were mentioned in a small snippet of dialogue in ALIENS. One Marine says something about a past event to Hudson, something about how they were at some sort of celebration, and Hudson remarks how they both had sex with an Arcturian each. The other Marine comments that "but, yours was a male". The only reply was "it don't matter with Arcturians!".
So... Arcturians have extremely little sexual dichotomy between either gender... and Arcturians and Humans (I suspect, mostly male Humans) are able to have sexual intercourse— if only recreationally. This led me to believe that Arcturians are a pair-bonding species, and typically mate with one partner for life— like swans do. In fact, most species that have little to no sexual dichotomy are pair-bonding. Fairly recently, Arcturians have had a lot of information added to their lore in an Aliens-brand RPG guide. So that's quite neat.