I do not own the Aliens Franchise.
I do own a digital copy of the movie.
Alien Evolution
The Good Doctor
Ellen Ripley looks wildly about, desperate for the sight of her daughter safe.
There's boxes and equipment everywhere, Xenomorph screeching makes it difficult to focus.
But she sees her, she does see her.
Rebecca Jorden, Little Newt, blond hair wild and eyes wide, is hunched behind the transport pod, peeking out.
Right next to the open door, right next to the button.
That released the Schnorr-Xenomorph hybrid.
Ellen has a brief thought she doesn't even register-
Such a brave little girl-
-as she scrambles away from the advancing monster.
Her hand skitters across something long and heavy . . .
". . . feel the weight . . ."
and tubular and-
-thank you-
-exactly what she needs.
She folds her legs up under her, pushes herself up off the floor, as much weight as she can on the uninjured ankle.
One hand swipes away the blood dripping from her face.
And joins up with the other, securing her grip on the pulse rifle.
She pulls it in tight against her shoulder.
". . . will kick some . . ."
And leans into it.
"Newt! Get to the ship!"
The little girl darts out from her hiding place, racing for the ship's open loading bay.
The Schnorr-Xenomorph senses the movement and begins to turn.
"Hey!"
And Ellen Ripley sends a blast toward it.
"Over here!"
Her vision is blurring, she misses.
"Over here!"
But Newt's disappeared onto the ship, she has to hope there are no more monsters lurking inside.
She doesn't want to think about having to turn the pulse rifle on her daughter and then herself in an effort to "take care of it".
She would, she loves her enough to.
But she hopes she doesn't have to.
The Schnorr-Xenomorph advances toward Ellen Ripley, hissing and drooling.
She blasts it again and again again.
The hybrid takes the hits, blood-acid spraying, sizzling as it hits the floor, walls, overturned gear.
She's screaming, shouting, she's running out of room and if she dies, her daughter dies-
And the black carapaced monster collapses to the floor, talons, scratching across the top of her boot.
And is still.
Ellen gasps out a breath, shudders, and runs a trembling hand through her sweat-soaked hair.
"-ley?"
Her daughter's calling her, the monster's dead, and it's time go, the station is going to blow-
"Stay there, Newt! I'm coming!"
-but there's something else happening-
-oh god, no-
-just out of her clear line of sight, on the left.
Something moving on floor.
Twitching, jerking.
Flopping.
Changing.
It's a fate worse than death.
A fate no one should suffer.
No one except for, perhaps . . .
Stevens-
-the man suffering it now.
And she runs, she runs, toward the ship, toward their freedom, their survival, their escape from this death and hell.
She's lurching bad, ankle already swelling, pain slowing her down.
But she has to get there, she has to.
Garrett Stevens is thrashing on the floor, thrashing and screaming, he's turning and he'll come after them if they're a step too late.
Ellen Ripley drags herself onto the ship-
"Strap in, we've got to go!"
-and smashes the button that closes the cargo door.
She opens the airlock without closing the loading bay doors first.
The vortex immediately begins sucking out everything not bolted down.
Things fly past them, supplies, equipment, debris, out into the vastness of space.
Stevens goes with it, blood and gore and chunks of flesh floating away from him as he silently screams and claws his human form away.
She can see him writhing, transforming, as he floats.
Floats.
And freezes, crystallizes.
Half man. Half Xenomorph.
All agony.
All excruciating.
Her daughter's there, Ellen gestures toward her.
"Close your eyes, baby."
And behind them . . .
"Don't look."
. . . the WayStar begins to explode.
She cries.
She can't help it.
She loved him, she couldn't save him.
He saved them from him.
And now he's dead.
And gone.
Forever.
And she . . .
"It's okay, Newt. It'll be okay now."
. . . cries.
They wash off the blood, the gore, the sweat, the tears.
They wash off the fear, as best they can.
Dress themselves in clean clothes, wrap themselves in warm blankets.
Little Newt, safe and sound and very tough for such a little girl, swims in hers, no one ever anticipated a child here now.
No child should be.
But it's okay, it's going to be okay.
Now that she's not dead and not a Xenomorph-hybrid, she'll grow.
With time.
And love.
Ellen Ripley puts down a cup of hot chocolate, the same kind she first gave the child before she knew she would be her daughter.
And watches the child slowly pick it up and take a slow sip.
The pain of their loss is so fresh, the grief fills them up.
The man who sacrificed himself was a good man.
A good father.
A good companion.
And there wasn't enough time.
But it was all they had.
And that is something they will have to deal with.
For now, . . .
"I'm tired."
"Me too."
"I miss Hicks."
"Me too."
. . . the best thing they can do . . .
"Ripley?"
"Will you stay with me? Please?"
"Yes, baby. I promise. As long as you want."
. . . is rest.
Whew!
Hope you enjoyed!
Last chapter coming up.
It's a mini but it needed its own space, I think.