I do not own the Aliens Franchise.

I do own a digital copy of the movie.

Alien Evolution

Pretty Little Lights


One Xenomorph attack activates more, stirs up the bloodlust.

Others will follow, follow the sound of the screams, the scent of blood.

They have to go.

They have to go . . .

"-now."

This has been a false mission, they've been set up to be put down.

Ellen and Dwayne, they've known this from the beginning.

It's deathly obvious to them now, undeniable.

As if it wasn't before.

There is no point in staying, this entire place, just like the two before, is a complete and total loss.

They've done their job, they've searched, they've scoured.

They've observed that the wreckage of the WayStar Weyland-Yutani Medical Station is unsalvageable.

And it is Time. To. Go.

But . . .

". . . ley . . . elp . . ."

. . . something keeps washing at the outside of her hearing.

It can't be.

And it isn't.

She isn't here.

And whatever it is . . .

". . . ley . . . elp . . ."

. . . it's further into the Xenomorph-infested maze.

Not out.

I'm just hearing things.

So she's not going to follow it, the ghostly siren song of doom.

". . . ley . . . elp . . ."

She's going to . . .

". . . leave. Whoever wants to, can come with me."

She switches off her comms.

"Lieutenant Ripley! You are not in charge, I give the orders here-"

Knows there may or may not be a way out anymore.

But knows, . . .

They'll say we're AWOL, incommunicado.

Unfortunate casualties.

. . . she has to try.

"Alright, everybody. Stay close. Stay together. We're on our own from here on out."


Domain Eukaryota. Kingdom Plantae. Clade Diaphoretickes.

Plants.

They shouldn't be in space.

At least not like this.

Not now.

Vegetation on an alien-infested space station.

It's distracting, disorienting.

They're passing through an aeroponics lab.

It's probably not as big a chamber as it seems.

But it's stuffed with, well, was stuffed with plants.

Not growing in soil, as this is a space station and the natural order has never given scientists the briefest pause.

They're walking, their rattled unit is walking, weapons at the ready and high-strung beyond belief, between rows and rows and rows of towering plants.

Wrapped around, affixed, to wide, vertically set, cylinders drilled into both the floor and ceiling.

Thin snakes of misters jutting out at regular intervals.

They can't see them but these misters are attached to high pressure pumps and timers, tasked to alternatively spray the plants with hydrogen peroxide to stave off disease and nutrient-rich water to hydrate and stimulate photosynthesis.

Both of which have . . .

"We got no line of in sight here, Hicks."

. . . decidedly failed.

"What is that?"

With the air filtration system on the fritz and xenomorphs plaguing the entire station, once again, these failsafe systems have also failed.

"Did you see that?"

And all the plants are dead and withered, hanging roots and vines brown and shrunken and lifeless.

"Just a shadow. Keep going."

The banks of solar light simulation flicker erratically.

Ellen's skin, safe inside her suit, crawls with the feeling of bugs that aren't there, her nostrils burn with acrid order she can't identify.

"Don't start firing at shadows."

The motion tracker beeps rhythmically, nothing's moving but them.

But they're all paranoid, tense.

Ready to be trigger-happy as hell.

"Stay frosty."

After all they've seen, damage and destruction, the dead officer, the mutation of the animals, the grotesque demise of Dixson, they're wired out.

Ready for anything.

Even . . .

"Ellen?"

"I'm here."

. . . Xenomorph vegetation.

Xenomorph Venus flytraps, snapping screams closed between hissing, dripping trichomes.

Xenomorph sundews, trapping helpless victims in sweet, inescapably sticky secretions, to thirst and starve until consumption.

Xenomorph sandboxes, exploding deadly blood-acid filled spiked-seeds at top speed in all directions.

As if it's not bad enough to be attacked, skewered, and eviscerated by Xenomorphs like the ones on the Nostromo and LV-426, this new possible horror might entail whole ingestion and slow liquidatification in the digestive sac of some mad scientist-created botanical-Xenomorph.

"Are you sure you don't see that movement?"

But they don't see anything, nothing snaps at their faces or wraps itself in a stranglehold around their ankles.

And they . . .

"One step at a step. Watch your six."

. . . just keep moving.

"Seal that entrance. We don't need anything crawling up our ass."

"Copy."

Until they're out.


But it gets worse.

Oh god.

They've passed through the hydroponics labs straight into the aquaculture lab, the main corridor cut off by the collapse of the entire ceiling above.

And now, where there wasn't sufficient water supply to keep the rootless plants alive . . .

We can't go through this.

. . . there's nothing but water here.

At least that's what Ellen Ripley hopes is true.

Huge tanks of water flank them on either side and leaks have caused the walkway to be flooded.

They're in up to their knees and Ellen's nightmare visions of Xenomorphs swimming effortlessly with those rudder-like tails cause her chest to constrict and she can hardly breathe.

She's above the water but drowning in her own terror.

"Oh fuck, man-"

As are the other members of their squad.

The lights are flickering here too, lights set in the ceiling, in the floor-

And Ellen Ripley misses the sunshine, the fresh sea air.

The safety and peace of her family.

She misses everything that she had and she's terrified . . .

"Ellen, are you alright?"

"Yeah."

. . . she'll never get back to any of it again.

There's no aquaculture that she can see, no big fish, no little fish, no mussels or clams or oysters.

They must have all eaten each other . . .

Or been eaten by something else.

. . . and only limp, dangling seaweed floats in the murky tanks she can't surmise the depths of.

"Let's go."

They're going through, wading through the water, no draining floor grates here or above, all specialized scientific chamber here.

And . . .

"God,-"

. . . it really is difficult to stay focused.

She's getting a headache and really pissed off . . .

"-these fucking lights-"

. . . and she's not the only one being affected.

There's even lights in the tanks, it makes sense, you need to see the creatures you're experimenting on, observe the effects of the experiments you conduct have on them.

One of the soldiers has faded to a stop, standing in front of one of the tanks, seeming almost hypnotized by the mesmerizing display.

"What do you think was in there?"

The man on his six stops with him.

"Something that's dead now."

Nudges his shoulder.

"Come on, keep going. This place is giving me the creeps."

And it's true, the tank is empty, there's nothing in there but rocks.

Rocks and the lights are flickering off and on, and-

None of the other tanks have rocks-

-and everything happens all at once.

The cuttlefish-Xenomorph hybrid that was disguising part of itself as rocks while also mimicking the erratic blinking lights of the compromised electrical system launches itself out its camouflaged state-

"Oh Jesus God-"

-and glass explodes everywhere as it bursts out of the tank-

"What the fuck-"

-and it's huge, still more Xeno than cephalopod and-

"Gains!"

-the lights rippling along its now black carapace are flashing faster and faster, chromatophores registering savage excitement and brutality as it crouches atop its screaming, thrashing victim flailing under the water-

"Gains, no!"

-rips off his helmet with effortless ease-

"Gains!"

-and tears his face off-

"Come on!"

-while emitting a searing shriek that could peel metal.

"Ripley!"

Dwayne's shouting her name amid the chaos, another soldier has been taken down, cuttlefish-Xeno pouncing on his back, knocking him into the water, snapping his spine like a handful of sticks and he's screaming and Ellen's-

"I'm here!"

-shouting-

"Go! Go!"

-and there's pulse rifle fire everywhere, the motion tracker is going crazy and tanks are bursting their water, everything, everyone's soaked, everyone's screaming-

"We gotta go, we've gotta move now!"

-and Dwayne's pushing everyone forward, even as they're being drenched, shoved, discombobulated with water from all sides and the Xeno's behind Ellen and the doorway's opening ahead, water's pouring out of it, soldiers are falling out of it and-

"I got you!"

-Dwayne Hicks grabs her by the lapels of her suit and heaves her into the hall and-

"Parker! No! You left him! You left Jones!"

-slams the emergency button on the wall and-

"They were gone! They were both gone!"

-and the door slams shut behind them.

Not a moment too soon as the Xeno slams head first into the reinforced glass-

"-back!"

-rears back-

"Get back!"

-and slams into it again, using its head as a battering ram.

Over and over and over again.

"Can it get out?!"

And whoever's still alive staggers, stumbles, scrabbles away, gasping for air and streaming water onto . . .

"-inforced glass-"

. . . the grated floor.


Whew! What do you think?

Thanks to Occam Freeman, DinahRay, and NeverNeverLady for your sterling reviews! I appreciate that.

Thanks also to blackknight99, j8488087, and Katt8500 for adding your support to this story!

My teenage son walloped me with a couch cushion for this chapter, by the way. "Mom!" "What?"

;)