Rapists!

I bared my teeth, distending my jaw, prepared to shred the men to pieces to save the young woman, but when my claws clenched into fists, a thick eyebrowed man resembling Billy Burke showed the other men the bar code on the back of her neck. "Jesus! She's a Double Y!"

They backed away, staring in horror.

"Are you calling me fat?" Sarah asked indignantly.

The guy with the shark mouth chuckled, but no one else did.

"It's a sign!" `Billy' cried, crossing his chest.

"Oh yeah?" said the man who looked like Frankenstein's monster, the man who had been guarding the Leechfruit earlier. "Then why hasn't she killed any of us?"

"Every Double Y at this prison is a reformed killer," Billy said.

He was going to explain more, but Sarah pointed at me, "That's right. But I make her do all my killing."

On cue, I flashed my teeth and growled menacingly, popping out my suaakudsi for extra dramatic effect. All five of the men fled the shower.

With tears in her eyes, Sarah rushed to me, wrapping her arms around my carapace as she cried. "Those men were going to do something sexual to me, weren't they?"

"I wouldn't have let them."

She sniffed, looking down on her body. "Am I really double wide?"

"I'm not sure that's what they meant."

The zipper on the front of Sarah's uniform had been ripped out of the seam, leaving a large V of flesh exposed, her bra torn, held in place by only a strap.

"My tools are in the cafeteria. Let's go back there so I can fix them."

She shuddered. "Let's...go fix it in Zadoori's ship."

"Perhaps that is best."

I picked up my sewing kit, leading her back to the literal `mother-ship.'

The device worked well. After a few minutes of applying it to the rips and tears, her outfit looked like no one had touched it.

The moment I had mentioned the incident to David, he had shown concern, following us to the craft. He now scowled, pacing the floor of the main room.

At last he turned to face Sarah. "You shouldn't have gone off alone!"

"You promised to protect me!" she shot back.

David sighed.

Pillow leaned on a couch. I didn't see the Abreya's baby, so I presumed she'd put it in a crib of some sort. "She only looks like a grown woman, Dave. You shouldn't treat her like one."

David only glared in reply.

"I suppose she won't be in our play," I muttered.

He nodded. "This play is going to suck."

"Maybe we should just go home," Pillow said. "And get a nennop. One that has actual nennop training."

Sarah suddenly looked worried. "But what about Thonwa?"

David rubbed his face in frustration. "Shit."

The man shook his head. "Speaking of which, let's go see her, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. That doctor seemed a bit...unprofessional."

The Cijmabsa appeared to be healing, slowly but surely. The eyes on her horns cracked open a few times as she drew in weak breaths, but I couldn't tell if she saw something.

At the other end of the room, I saw Clemens changing the Ripley woman's urinary catheter bag. Being a medical professional was not always glamorous, I gathered.

My second thought was, if you're finished with that ammonia, can I have it? I'm thirsty.

Third, I reflected that my toilet habits were not what they should be.

"I've injected her with some helpful chemicals," said our alien specialist. "I also sprayed her shell with a healing agent. She should be up and walking soon."

"Does anyone know who did this?" I asked him.

Zadoori shrugged. "It's not important. When someone tore off one of Thonwa's arms a few years ago, she simply asked us to forgive him. We will only pursue legal action if she requests it. Whenever possible, we try to forgive our enemies, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

"Yes. What troubles me is forgiveness means nothing to enemies who feel no guilt."

He nodded. "True, but holding a grudge against the unrepentant is equally meaningless."

I sighed, looking away. Clemens was now injecting something into Ripley's IV tubing.

When he noticed the woman's intravenous catheter had been unplugged from a vein, he leaned closer, bringing the needle back to the crook of her arm.

The woman shot up like a Jack-in-the-box, yanking him in while simultaneously whipping the needle around so it stuck into his neck.

"Go ahead," Clemens said with icy coolness. "It's just some steroids, painkillers and antibiotics."

She withdrew the needle, easing back into the bed.

Still, she looked at him with suspicion. "Where am I?"

He told her, introducing himself.

"I don't understand. What am I doing in this place?"

He told her about the crash.

"What about the other survivors? There was a man and a little girl!"

"I'm sorry," Clemens said. "The others didn't make it."

Now, both Newt and Julia had accompanied me on this little visit to the hospital, so once Clemens made his pronouncement, Newt felt compelled to say something. "I'm still here, Ripley! I died, but I came back in a different body!"

I should have carried her out sooner.

Ripley whirled to face us, her right eye solid red from whatever physical trauma she'd experienced during the crash.

The moment she saw us, she jumped out of her bed and shrieked, "Oh my God! What are those things doing here!"

"It's me, Ripley!" Newt cried. "Newt!"

"You are not Newt!" she growled, grabbing a folding chair. Although naked, self defense took priority.

Clemens reached for a privacy screen to hide us, but it was too late. We'd already given the poor woman a fright.

"Do not be alarmed, Ms. Ripley," I said. "It's only me. Ernie."

I held up my larvae for her to see. "And this is Julia and Newt. They do not eat humans."

"You again!" She threatened me with the chair. "Stay away from me!"

I looked sadly at my two young ones. Newt was sniffling. "Come. We are not welcome here."

When we had left her sight, I thought I heard Ripley crying into her bedspread.

I crept down the hallway, en route to the ship, to inform the others of the recent development.

I bumped into David outside the cafeteria entrance. "Listen, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I think we're going to have to change the play, or just tell Andrews to soak his head. It's really not safe to bring Sarah-"

Before he could finish, the big man pushed the door open, barging between us.

As always, Mr. Aaron accompanied him. Now indoors, the man wore no cap, and I could see the stubble on his head forming a widow's peak. He kept quiet as the superintendent spoke.

"It has been brought to my attention that you and your companions are harboring a fugitive!...A Double Y killer, no less! Care to explain?"

"There has to be some mistake!" David said. "We found Sarah on LV 426. In a lab. She's been plugged into a simulation for twenty years!"

I nodded in agreement. "She has been a prisoner in a scientific compound run by androids. It would have been impossible for her to murder anyone."

Andrews pointed at me. "That's why she hired you to do her dirty work."

"Sarah lied about that," I said. "She only said it to avoid getting raped by your prisoners."

The man did not look convinced. "And how do I know you're not lying now?"

"She's not setting foot in this prison again," David said. "Not after what happened in the shower room."

"She is a fugitive from the law until I see evidence to the contrary," the man growled. "And if you don't bring her to me right now, your little friend in the hospital is going to have a very difficult time."

David sighed and shook his head. "Bastard."

"Sir," I said. "I do not believe this is necessary. You allow prisoners to run freely out the door to die in the wilderness. What is it to you if one prisoner leaves in a spaceship?"

"This is a human game preserve, Thwaka. I want all my animals tagged and cataloged so I can report them through the proper channels. Once she completes the enrollment process, she is welcome to wander off into the desert, if she likes. But only after she is screened. You see, sometimes, especially in cases of global terrorism, governments want a prisoner recalled for public execution.

"One time we released an American for beheading by the Islamic States of New England because he made a cartoon sex book starring the prophet Mohammad. To be fair, the prisoner did kill a few people..."

"I'm liking this idea less and less," David said.

Andrews crossed his arms. "Devil's advocate. If we take a look at her bar code and find nothing, she's free to go."

David took a deep breath. "What scares me is if you actually find something."

The warden's office resembled the rusted interior of an 1800's deep sea `Diver Dan' helmet, its centerpiece a big beat up metal and simulation wood desk. They had a couple computers, yellowing antiques of questionable reliability, one machine with the acronym IRIS printed on it in large letters.

Aaron had Sarah sit on a stool next to the desk with the back of her neck facing him so he could punch in the number from her bar code.

The moment he pushed enter, he immediately got a hit. "Florence Ann Kenney. Age 28. Sixteen counts of aggravated assault and battery, twenty counts of homicide. Additional charges include fraud, burglary, arson and vehicular homicide." His jaw dropped. "Christ, she was still going to elementary school when she got the first dozen!"

"Language, Aaron!" Harold hissed. "You know how the prisoners react to swearing." He leaned over the computer. "...Why, it appears we have found the Sandbox Sniper!...Didn't like the teachers, did you...Florence?"

"What are you talking about?" Sarah cried.

"It seems a pair of rather sharp scissors found its way into your art teacher's jugular."

"Bullshit!" David said.

"That's a fairly common reaction, Mister..."

"Barnes," prompted David.

"...Barnes. How do you think serial killers get away with their crimes so long?"

David didn't answer.

"...Because they don't act like a serial killer."

David's eyes bulged in horror as he glanced at Sarah. He slowly backed away from her. "Can I see the picture?"

The child in the digital image did not at all resemble the cloned children I was familiar with. I knew for a fact that this `Florence' could not possibly be Sarah.

The problem was, she was blonde, blue eyed, and Caucasian, and they didn't have a current picture.

"God," David breathed. "I can't believe it! I've been such a fool!"

"It seems you don't know your young friend as well as you think!" Andrews said smugly. "Where was she all this time?"

"I don't know. We found her in a lab in Hadley's Hope." He sighed, leaning up against a file cabinet. "They must have been doing experiments on criminals."

"That would explain the seven year gap," Aaron muttered.

"I...um...need to check the laundry." David hurried out the door.

Harold snorted in amusement.

Aaron frowned at the screen, shaking his head. "Eleven year old drug mules. How can these people sleep at night?"

Harold glanced at me. "It hardly seems like she needs your help to kill, Mister Thwaka!"

"Sarah was born in a tank. She is a clone. She has never been outside the laboratory facility until now. Your information is incorrect. I have seen what she looks like as a child, and it is not like your photograph."

"No offense, Thwaka, but over the years I have found the International Prisoner Database a far more reliable resource for accurate information than mere word of mouth."

"I've been framed," Sarah said.

Harold blew a raspberry. "I get that a lot."

He took several pictures of Sarah from various angles with a digital camera, giving it to Aaron to upload to his computer. "We're going to send this off the satellite to the appropriate law enforcement agencies for review. It will be their decision whether to leave her here with us, or pick her up for the women's colony on Mudang 5."

"Or the death chamber," Aaron muttered.

Sarah burst into tears. "I don't want to die! I haven't even lived yet!"

"I'm not saying anyone will sentence you," the man at the computer said. "I'm just saying it's a possibility."

Sarah wept. "A bunch of bad men try to do something sexual with me, and I get punished! I hate it here! I hate it!"

"Why don't you just...kill them?" Harold suggested. "You seem to be quite good at it!"

"I should kill you, you lying liar," she growled in low tones. "At least then I'd be punished for something I actually did!"

Andrews puffed out his chest. "Stronger men, and women, have tried."

Sarah sighed, glaring at the man with tears in her eyes.

"Sarah," I said. "The Lord blesses those who are persecuted for righteousness sake. I know your conscience is clean before God. You must keep it that way, regardless of what they think."

She sniffed. "Like Hissandra killed that man and made it look like you did it."

I nodded.

"There are countless `innocent people' in prison," Andrews remarked. "Logic suggests they cannot all be innocent."

The big man put Sarah in handcuffs, then shot her in the neck with a gun shaped device.

Sarah yelped. "What is that? What did you do?"

"It's a tracking chip. I apologize for the precautions, but you're a flight risk, and we need to know your location, in case someone comes to retrieve you."

"I already have one of those."

Harold smirked. "Then we won't have any trouble finding you, will we?" He clicked his teeth. "By the way, we've got a nice quiet room in solitary, if you're having trouble with the men..."