I do not own the Aliens Franchise.

I do own a digital copy of the movie.

Alien Evolution

The Long View


There's nine left, less than the twelve they started with.

Ten and thirteen, if you counted the colonel.

But like so many high and mighty leaders, not with them on the 'field of battle', so to speak.

Their numbers are dwindling and fast.

But she's alive and Dwayne is alive and they're all drenched in water and . . .

"-ck was that thing? What the fuck was that?!"

. . . struggling to pull it together.

"It was a mutant Xeno, okay?! Listen, everybody calm down-"

The motion tracker has resumed its steady beep, reassuring them nothing is moving but them-

"-have to get out of here alive, that's our mission now!"

They could turn on their comms for Miller to shout at them, give orders, refuse to impart needed information.

But Ellen doesn't . . .

"Marines, status report."

. . . care to.

And Dwayne is . . .

"Anyone injured?"

. . . gathering everyone up.

"No, sir."

"Negatory."

"A-a-ll good, sir."

Regrouping them as best he can.

"Good. Set formation."


No injuries are reported and no one starts to seize, fall to the floor, scream.

And it's time to do whatever they can to get back to the loading dock.

Except . . .

"Hang on. Do you hear something?"

It's Dwayne, of course it is.

And Ellen feels relief mixed with rising dread.

"You hear it too?"

". . . -ly . . . -elp . . ."

It's not just in her head and it's closer.

He's stopped, half melted head tilted down, eyes riveted on the grated floor.

Listening intently.

The sound comes again and closer and Ellen can no longer deny it sounds . . .

"Ellen-"

. . . like her daughter.

She takes off running, pulse rifle held out in front of her, motion tracker a piercing metronome cutting through the harsh rasp of her breathing.

It can't be, she's not even here-

She dimly hears Dwayne shouting orders, something about "here" and "five minutes" and "back to loading dock" but she's too busy trying to triangulate the echo of her daughter's cries, it cannot possibly be her, she's not even here-

"Ellen! Wait!"

- and she doesn't bother slowing down, he'll catch up with her, she has to prove to herself she's wrong, even if she dies in a trap, she has to know-

"Ellen!"

-because that's the only reason she's here is to save-

"Newt?!"

-her daughter.


And it is her, it is her.

"Newt!"

"Ripley!"

And who the hell would put her in here as a final solution, to silence her, silence a little girl-

Bastards-

Rebecca Jorden, Little Newt, is struggling against some sort of bonds, crying out for her-

"Newt, oh Newt!"

-and Ellen Ripley's beyond terrified she's about to be snapped in half, crushed, obliterated by a hiding Xenomorph, that would be the greatest cruelty with Ellen finally almost close enough to touch her-

Her daughter is bait, but bait set by who-

Dwayne's shouting surprised expletives behind her-

"Newt, oh, Newt!"

"Ripley!"

Ellen Ripley reaches her little girl-

"Newt!"

"Ripley!"

That little girl still wearing the clothes she was kidnapped in and her hair is a mess and her face is streaked with tears-

And Ellen Ripley grabs her little, outstretched hand, cuts the pinky finger quick and hard-

"Ouch, Ripley-"

-and slaps a healing sealant bandage over the red blood seeping from the shallow wound.

"Sorry. Had to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

Ellen doesn't answer her, she doesn't want to confuse the child anymore than she has to.

So she cuts the bonds that have nothing to do with Xenomorphs-

"Come on-"

-and grabs up her daughter.

"Newt!"

"Hicks!"

"Hey honey-"

Disengages them from the family hug they don't have time for on a Xenomorph-infested space station.

"Let's get-"

- the hell out of there.


The non-Bishop meets them on their way back.

Dwayne in the lead, Ellen carrying Newt, little girl's arms wrapped tight around her.

"There's a problem."

And Ellen Ripley tries not to rankle at his presence.

"Ripley-"

"Shhh. We'll talk about it later."

If there is a later.

"But he's-"

"Shhh."

And she holds the child tighter, more protectively . . .

"Ripley, you're holding me too tight."

"I'm sorry, baby-"

"Don't stop."

. . . and kisses her tangled blond hair.


They've returned to the rendezvous point.

"-go."

And everything's changed.

"Negatory, sir."

"As your commanding officer-"

"Respect, sir. You're not our commanding officer, sir. Miller is."

Somebody got nervous. Somebody got scared.

Going against superior command on a spaceship filled with mutant Xenomorph lurkers.

They turned their comms back on.

Took orders.

And now-

"No one returns to the loading dock without directive from Colonel. Sir."

"Xenos are coming, they're going to tear us apart-"

- pulse rifles are leveled at Ellen, Dwayne, their daughter.

"I'm sorry, sir. Wey-Yu orders."

And the Weyland-Yutani engineered synthetic.

"Don't make us put you down, Private."

Brought along simply to fuck her up.

"We are all going to die if you don't fucking-"

And a pulse rifle blasts, Ellen Ripley flinches, feels Newt press against her.

But she takes another quick breath.

And another.

And another.

And realizes she's alive and unharmed.

Her.

And Newt.

And Dwayne.

And the-

What the fuck-

-non-Bishop synthetic-

Artificial person-

-whose weapon has just been aimed and fired.

The soldiers blocking their way collapse to the ground in ungainly heaps.

And it's Dwayne who finds the words to speak.

"I thought you were programmed to not to harm humans."

Dry. Not quite sardonic as he could have managed to be before.

Ellen supposes it's been a long day.

And the non-Bishop glances at the girl, then back to scanning all possible points of contact-

"Well, I'm kind of taking the long view here. Plus . . ."

- and Ellen Ripley doesn't take the time to forgive him for being created to torture her.

". . . it's just the stun mode."

And they . . .

"Let's go."

. . . move.


Yeah. More on Newt there later.

Thanks for reading!

:)