David rubbed his face, swearing softly under his breath.
"This is why we frisk our prisoners, Mr. Aaron," Harold said.
"I'm sorry," said his second in command. "It's been years since..." He stared at Sarah, looking sick. "We haven't admitted anyone in a long time."
"Would...anyone care to explain?" Clemens asked.
Aaron stuffed his hands into the pockets of his fur trimmed jacket. "I think...crazy would be an apt description."
"Yeah," David muttered. "Crazy."
Clemens gave him an expectant look. "Care to expand on the subject?"
David reddened. "My, uh, wife, isn't human. Her tongue..."
He trailed off, shaking his head. "I guess she got jealous." Then, looking flustered, he blurted, "This isn't my wife."
The doctor raised an eyebrow, looking look like he didn't believe him. He pried Sarah's mouth open, poking her tongue with a tongue depressor. "There's nothing I can do, I'm afraid. The damage is permanent. The wound has already been cauterized, so there should be no risk of infection, provided she maintains adequate oral hygiene."
"You're not convincing me of your innocence, Ms. Kenney," Andrews growled. "In fact, this is exactly the kind of erratic behavior I'd expect from the Sandbox Sniper."
Sarah closed her hand in a fist, extending her middle finger. "Phud yoo."
Harold laughed. "I believe you've chosen the wrong organ to mutilate, Ms. Kenney!...unless you've committed to a vow of silence..."
His mirth disappeared, and he just looked disgusted.
"Can you fix her, Zadoori?" David asked.
The Abreya shrugged. "We may be able to rejoin the two halves of her tongue with some Prock, but the procedure requires special tools and suspensor equipment. I would need to take her onboard my spacecraft."
"Out of the question," Harold grumped. "Until we receive word back from the authorities, you bring the equipment out here, and do your operation here."
"I donthwana oberadun," Sarah said. "I haph seshy abeya dung."
"She's sick," David said. "She needs serious psychological help."
"It's far, far too late for that!" Harold replied.
"It's odd that she'd cut her tongue instead of the door lock," Clemens said. "The device appears to be strong enough to cut through steel cable..."
"That reminds me..." Harold snatched the laser out of Dillon's hands just seconds before the prisoner pocketed it.
He turned to face Clemens. "Where is your patient? I gave you a direct order to keep her here until the rescue ship arrived!"
"She was concerned for her crew," the doctor said calmly. "Apparently there was an outbreak." He gestured to me and Julia.
Harold frowned. "I'm not certain I understand."
"These creatures. They reproduce by depositing eggs into a live host. The eggs...later develop into a sort of tube worm, such as you see before you, erupting quite messily from the victim's chest area. If you want to see an example of the damage they can do, I suggest you pull out Cadaver 167."
I could tell Harold wasn't going to check. He seemed already convinced, staring like he expected me to tear him open at any moment.
"It wasn't my fault," Newt whispered from under the bed.
"I know," I muttered.
"To be honest, the woman told me it was Cholera," Clemens said. "That was, until we examined the body."
"You are in no danger," I said, holding up Julia. "This one was born from your new patient."
Sarah nodded, pointing to her crotch. "Thees nie baby."
That earned her more disgusted looks.
"She's right," David said. "That one wasn't a chest burster. I saw it come out. Of her."
"What about the big one?"
David shrugged. "I don't know."
"You still shouldn't have allowed that woman out of bed," Andrews growled. "You're a doctor, Clemens. You know what Cholera looks like."
"But it's not Cholera. This is something worse, and I wouldn't have been able to identify it, had I not brought Ms. Ripley along."
"The woman needs to be restrained. We can't have her parading all over the prison! Something will happen!"
"You needn't worry. I'll take care of it."
"You'd better," Harold said. "Just because the men have taken up religion doesn't mean they're any less dangerous."
"I said I'll take care of it!" Clemens snapped.
"I want periodic updates on the woman's status every twenty four hours! If there are any changes, you are to inform me immediately!"
Clemens nodded sardonically. "As you wish."
"Sarah," I heard a voice groaning. "What are you doing here?"
Thonwa had removed the oxygen tube and now sat up straight in bed, staring at the new patient.
Sarah proudly flashed her injury.
"Why did you do that for?" Thonwa cried.
Sarah shrugged, which was awkward due to the restraints. "I wunnud Dawida ligge nee."
Thonwa got up, sitting on the edge of Sarah's bed.
She squeezed the girl's hand. "Oh honey. You don't have to mutilate yourself to get someone to love you. You have a God that loves you just as you are, and somewhere, out there, I'm sure he's made a male just for you, who will love you no matter what you look like."
Sarah nodded, but looked sad. "You sing Dawib wiw be dad mam?"
"Dearie," Thonwa said. "David is married. You must find your own male."
She pouted. "Bud I wan Dawid!"
"Sarah, you can't always get what you want. But have faith, and keep your eyes open. The Lord will provide you with what you desire."
"I bethire Dawib," Sarah moaned, looking away.
Thonwa's shoulder plates drooped in disappointment. She climbed off the bed. "Has anyone seen my Remtodi?"
Zadoori brought her things out of a nearby drawer. "I would still recommend you rest a little while longer. Your physiology is not as strong as a human's. These injuries take time to heal."
"Well," Harold said. "Our sniper appears to be fine Mr. Aaron, would you please escort our guest to her suite?"
His right hand man nodded, exchanging Sarah's restraints for handcuffs.
"Waith," Sarah protested, struggling against the man vigorously enough to rattle his dog tags. "I wanth Thasgtwibilig da reab me nee stowwy of Yoshephh."
Aaron frowned and shook his head, pulling her out of bed.
"She wants a bedtime story," I explained. "I told her about the story of Joseph and now she wants me to read it to her."
Harold sighed heavily. "Fine, fine! Read her a story! Just hurry it up!"
Once nice thing about that particular infirmary was the ease in which one could find a bible. I picked one off a bedside table and read Genesis 39 to 41. I didn't have time to read all about how Joseph got into the household of Potiphar, so I gave her a brief summary.
Harold didn't have the patience for it, and stepped out of the room until I finished. Clemens likewise disappeared, in the direction of the morgue, perhaps to check on Ripley. He came back soon enough, when I was on chapter 41.
Aaron stayed put, but he was rolling his eyes, perhaps wishing he could go get his Dianetics book without having his prisoner running away. The others in the room listened appreciatively, like children at Christmas story time. I found it flattering.
The superintendent returned to the room, looking a little impatient.
David marched up to him. "You're going to have to tell your prisoners to take a rain check on the play. You're carting one of our actors off to Solitary, another's still recovering from a beating, and the third has run off, doing who knows what."
"That is not my problem, Mr. Barnes." Harold frowned at David for a moment, then let out a chuckle. "If you're truly lacking in ideas, I believe I did hear something about a princess doing a dance."
Barnes shuddered. "No way."
The Superintendent shrugged and walked out.
"I think I can help." Dillon had been eavesdropping the whole time he'd been there, pretending to read the bible.
"Thanks," David said. "But I think we'll have to cancel the performance."
"What performance?"
The Ripley woman had spoken. Everyone turned and stared.
She stared back. "What the hell is all this?"
`Princess' marched up to her, offering his hand. She didn't take it.
"Hi. We met. I'm David Barnes. Intergalactic Missionary League."
When she didn't shake, he retracted his hand, introducing his fellow missionaries.
Ellen put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at him. "You said you saw xenomorphs on other planets. Tell me what you know."
David sighed. "We visited Wuxrinus one time. The things had overrun the place. Wuxrinus used to be filled with Abreyas and large herbivores, but when we arrived, there were only a couple settlements left. We left there in a hurry. The survivors we took to the cavern planet Delos. One of them was incubating a Ss'sik'chtokiwij egg at the time. We lost a bunch of people."
She pointed to me. "Yet you let this one live."
"You don't understand. Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik made an Ichythus. The Christian fish symbol. That's like seeing a Bengal tiger writing the Lord's prayer on a grain of rice or something. I admit, I was scared at first. I thought maybe Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik would try to tear my face off or something, but in my heart, I was feeling like the Apostle Peter before the conversion of Cornelius, seeing all these unclean animals and saying I would never accept any of them, and God saying `What God has cleansed, you must never call common.'
"So I risked our lives to meet with this strange creature."
"She was praying when we found her," Zadoori said. "I found that to be a very good sign."
"Do you know where they came from, at least?"
"No idea," said David. "Where does the platypus come from? God just...came up with a weird idea."
The woman sighed. "I was really hoping for a place, a planet, the origin of these things."
"I admit I'd like to know that bit of information myself, but unfortunately I don't."
"Do you have anything to fight them with?" The look of determination on her face told me she intended to wipe all of us out of existence.
David seemed to catch that vibe right away. "We're a missionary ship. The only weapons we have are spiritual." He gave me a nervous glance.
"Where do you come from?"
"Saint Louis."
She laughed. "And how did you get here? With all these aliens?"
"I told my pastor I wanted to be a missionary. And a week later he's handing me the address to an abandoned property with a cloaked spaceship in it. It's been...interesting."
"I can only imagine."
Ripley frowned at me, but made no comment except to inquire about my curious paint job. She kept eying Thonwa with suspicion.
"Dusaq," the Cijmabsan said with a friendly wave.
"I've never seen an alien of your species before," Ellen said. "How does your kind reproduce?"
A small antenna flared on the front of Thonwa's face. If she could blush, I'm sure she would have. "That's a very private and personal question. But if you must know..."
She pulled a pink tentacle out from under her head scarf, showing it to the woman. "I fertilize the male of my species, and he in turn deposits the impregnated eggs into a special breeding pool. Sometimes I like to warm the eggs with my mouth."
Ellen shuddered. "Thank you. That was...informative."
"Any time." I suspected Thonwa was smiling.
The woman approached our nonhuman doctor. "...Zadoori, right? We didn't talk much before...I did hear something about a bible league..."
Zadoori nodded. "I am relieved to see you in better health..."
He gave Clemens a sideways glance. "Your treatment appears to be effective."
"And what are you?"
"I'm an Abreya. I can show you an educational module, if you'd like."
"That's...okay."
"Okay. Story time is over." Aaron pulled the handcuffed girl to her feet.
Ellen rushed over to her, mouth hanging open. "I thought there were no women in this prison!"
"We're waiting for a transfer order," Aaron said. "She won't be here long."
Ms. Ripley looked the girl in the eye. "Hello. What's your name?"
"Thaara," came the slurred answer.
"Sarah?" Ellen repeated.
Sarah nodded. "I thut nie dung." She waggled her severed tongue.
The woman blanched. "Oh God."
"Her name is actually Florence, not Sarah," Aaron said. "The file said she shot twelve kids in a school playground. She used a sandbox like a duck blind. And that's just her childhood."
Ellen suddenly looked a lot more uncomfortable. "Guess that explains the tongue."
"The woman is mentally deranged," Clemens said.
"Yeah. I got that." She locked eyes with the young woman. "How did you hatch xenomorph larva in your body without it killing you?"
"Thyee thame oudda my fahyina," Sarah said proudly.
Ellen screwed up her face in disgust. "What!"
Sarah opened her mouth to explain, but the woman blurted, "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
As Aaron pushed Sarah out of the room, I heard her cry, "Thoggie!" and then I heard growls and frantic barking.
I'd heard the Rottweiler making noise earlier that day, and the day before, but it was a more spirited playful sound. Now it seemed almost...worried.
"I thought I told Murphy not to let his mongrel in here," Clemens complained. "We do operations in here. Pets are a contamination hazard. We shouldn't even have extraterrestrial life forms in this room. Will someone take responsibility for this animal?"
The canine scampered up to Dillon, pawing on his leg and whining.
Dillon scratched it under the ear. "Hey, Spike! What's going on?"
The dog whined, wiped its nose on his leg, and barked.
It kept on barking.
He rubbed its head. "What's wrong, boy? Where's Murphy?"
The dog whimpered, but couldn't physically tell him anything.
"You're not dealing with Lassie," Clemens said. "It probably just has a mild intestinal upset." He cleared his throat. "If you please..."
Sarah wanted to stay and pet it, but Aaron shoved her out.
"I'll come see you later!" I called after her. "I'll tell you about the dog!"
She disappeared before I could get a reply.
"He doesn't bite, does he?" Ellen asked.
"Naw," Dillon answered as he rubbed the dog's head. "He wouldn't hurt a fly. Of course, he knows all of us..."
Ellen knelt beside the dog, stroking its coat. "Somebody needs a bath..."
When she took her hand away, she found it wet with blood. "I'm afraid it's something more serious than stomach upset."
Clemens raised an eyebrow. "So you're a veterinarian. You never cease to surprise me."
"I wasn't talking about the dog." She showed him her hand.
Clemens rubbed his eyes, looking weary. "Just perfect. Another shanking." He sighed. "So much for the honor system."
Murphy had been last seen in the factory exhaust tunnels, big round orange things resembling something a subway car would pass through. I suspected they conducted heat from the plant, for, unlike the morgue, you could not see your breath. They may have been filtering it into the cafeteria and other places.
Murphy's task had been scraping grime off the tunnels, perhaps to improve air quality, so that's where we searched.
Frank and Rains formed one party, because they were close to the man and knew where he'd go. They'd handled Spike before, which made our search that much easier.
Clemens had to come along, to provide medical assistance if Murphy was still alive, and serve as something called an `M.E.' if they didn't. Ripley came with him, due to Andrews' request for her constant supervision.
I volunteered my services as well, bringing my larva along.
David had kitchen duties, so he couldn't help. "Thank you, but I've seen enough gore," he had said.
Spike found Murphy's boot and a pile of grungy cleaning supplies on the floor of one of the tunnels.
When Rains sent him ahead to investigate the man's scent trail, the dog turned around a corner and we never saw him again.
Since we no longer had Spike to guide us, I continued where the animal left off, following the scent from tunnel to tunnel.
My olfactory sense organs told me this was the work of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, the same one from the EEV. The more I followed this trail, the more I began to recognize disturbingly familiar scent markers.
What scent told me with absolute certainty was an impossibility my rational mind refused to accept, that someone from LV 426 had somehow survived the tremendous atomic explosion and came all the way here.
I have heard stories of non-smoking women smelling odors from their dead husband's cigars years after their spouse's demise. Men detect perfume. When I smelled the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, I simply had to believe it was just that, a ghost...or a trick of the mind.
I decided to ignore the scent, focusing my energies on the human instead. If there actually was a Ss'sik'chtokiwij with him, I would find them both, without all the misleading smells.
The trail stopped abruptly at a fork in the tunnels. I had no idea where to go. The entire prison complex, factory and all, was ten miles square. I could be looking forever.
Up until this point, the entire team had been following me, because I looked like I knew what I was doing, the searches down other tunnels abandoned. I could hear Clemens interviewing Murphy's friends to see if anyone had reason to kill him.
"Why are we stopping," Harold demanded.
"There's nothing here," I said. "The trail just ends."
"Any sign of Spike?" Rains asked.
I shook my head. "I can double back..."
"We've wasted enough time here as it is," Harold groaned. "We'll just have to wait until the body turns up. Clemens, return the woman to the infirmary."
The doctor gave him a curt nod.
"So you're just going to leave him to die," Ellen said.
"We don't know for certain if he's dead yet. He may have treated his own wounds and run off. The infirmary was missing a quantity of bandages and other medical supplies..."
"He might have also climbed into a helicopter and flown out," Ellen said, dripping with sarcasm.
"Impossible. A helicopter would be far too big to fit inside these narrow tunnels." The man wasn't smiling, so I couldn't tell if this were humor, or a sign of mental deficiency.
"God," Ellen groaned. "Never mind."
Rains scowled at her. "Don't swear."
"Anyhow," Harold said. "There's nothing more we can do. Let us depart."
"Wait," Ellen said. "Those bodies from the crash. They have to be cremated."
"Impossible. We're keeping them under ice until the rescue ship arrives."
"I wasn't aware we had ice," said the doctor.
"It's a figure of speech, Mr. Clemens. Mostly. I once left a cup of coffee in the morgue...frozen solid."
"Ah yes, the ice storm. Not quite that cold presently."
"No, not yet. But give it time."
"How is that possible when you have two suns?" I asked.
"Greenhouse effect."
"More like `bloody cold house.'" Harold broke into a coughing fit that sounded like laughter.
"As long as those bodies remain in your morgue," Ellen warned. "You put this entire prison at risk for infection."
I understood the deception. When the two men looked to me for verification, I nodded in agreement.
The foundry was a hot place. Although the official cover story was that the Order only maintained the facility and "kept the pilot light going," the sure were heating up a lot of raw ore.
Dillon said they did the refining primarily for keeping the machinery in order, heating, and in-house projects, I couldn't imagine what use anyone in that prison would have for hundreds of tons of molten lead. Someone had to be still conducting business.
For the interment, we stood on an observation platform overlooking the smelting vats, the molding equipment, the vast tank of molten ore, white hot and flowing like the surface of the sun.
A good number of prisoners attended, Rains, Frank, the cook, and the men from the choir, among others.
The egg headed reverend from the prison church presided over the ceremony. The homily was nice enough, quoting Psalm 23 and 1 Corinthians 15, but it lacked heart. His smile seemed fake, his tone and manner condescending. He didn't know the deceased, and it showed. Only Andrews seemed completely satisfied with it. Of course, no one ever gives such things a critique.
Also, his comments about "Committing the bodies to the void with a glad heart" and "What a joy for them to depart this world" probably could have been better phrased, for you are never glad to lose a loved one, but you can be glad that they are in heaven.
Dillon came forward after this, giving a speech that was a little more inspiring, about the passage in John 12 (the part about how a seed must die to create fruit), how children belong to the heavenly father, and how the soldier would receive his commendation from the Lord, reiterating the passage from 1 Corinthians as he described how the saved will someday receive new imperishable bodies, free from pain and disease.
Near the end, he added an unnecessary comment about how he hoped the works of the deceased would be sufficient to compel the Lord to come down and meet them halfway with His grace. David, clearly annoyed with the man, spoke up next, commenting that faith was a work, and he believed the two poor souls were in heaven with Jesus.
This caused an uncomfortable rift between the prisoner and David, but Thonwa covered it by singing Jesus, You Have Come to the Lakeshore.
As the pair of shroud wrapped bodies were dropped into the molten liquid, the alien missionaries sang The Old Rugged Cross, and the prisoners joined in.
I noticed Ellen's nose bleeding during the ceremony, but when I asked her about it, she just said it was the change in humidity. "In the past, I've had to buy humidifiers."
I accepted her statement at face value, but there was a faint smell to her that made me wonder if something else were going on. I couldn't tell for certain among all the factory odors.
"Ripley," Newt said to her. "I'm really sorry I, I mean, Rebecca had to die."
The woman paled. "How do you know that name!"
Newt opened her mouth to answer.
Ellen looked at me with annoyance. "You told her, didn't you?"
I fumbled for words, which made it seem like a yes.
"Anyway," Newt said. "I didn't want...her to die." She looked down at her little claws. "I didn't want this body exploding out of her chest. It just happened. I wish I could have just stayed in my old body, with you. I don't want to be like this."
Ellen's hands clenched into fists. "You killed my little girl!"
"No!" Newt cried. "That's not what I'm saying!"
"That's exactly what you're saying!" Ellen shouted. "You said it yourself. You exploded from her chest! You're a soulless monster that destroyed an innocent child, and now you're under an insane delusion that you're somehow her. But you're not her! You will never be her!"
She picked up a pipe wrench. "You want to be Newt? How about I knock you into the (God condemned) molten lead with the real one?"
The prisoners backed away as the woman swung the pipe wrench. Even Harold and Aaron stayed back, watching with morbid curiosity.
Clearly none of the human population cared whether a Ss'sik'chtokiwij lived or died, and may have even preferred it dead.
Thonwa, Zadoori and David crept up on woman, attempting to stop her, but she only brandished the wrench at them. "Stay back! This is between me and the killer of my child!"
I nodded to them reluctantly. The last thing I wanted was to make Ripley feel more threatened.
"Ripley, don't hurt me!" Newt cried. "I'm your friend!"
"You're no one's friend!" Ellen growled, hitting the larva like a baseball.
Newt flew from my shoulder with a shriek.
I heard a loud clang, and my friend disappeared.
"Newt!" I screamed. "No!"
Newt was no longer a child. She was a Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva. Because of this, her hard exoskeleton protected her from the trauma to her brain and other bodily organs. It also helped her to be in full mental capacity when that armored body rolled over the side of the observation deck.
Her small hook shaped claws allowed her to catch a section of the platform grating before falling into the smelting vat. "Ernie! Help!"
"Newt!"
I rushed to my friend's aid, but Ellen was already swinging at her with the wrench.
Another advantage of Newt's larval form was her ability to propel herself, rocket-like, into a victim's body.
...Or, in this particular situation, over it.
The wise thing would have been to run away from Ellen, but Newt still clung to an intense desire to be loved and accepted by the woman, so she stayed, cowering in one spot.
"Please, Ripley!" she cried, sniffling uncontrollably. "Don't hurt me! I love you!"
"You don't deserve to live!" Ellen yelled. "You're just a flesh eating space maggot!"
The woman raised the wrench to strike her, but I blocked the wrench with my arm.
"Out of my way!" Ellen said.
I shook my head sternly. "I can't let you hurt Newt."
The woman's face reddened like the molten lead. "That thing is not Newt! Newt is dead, and that (God condemned) tube worm just admitted responsibility!"
I stepped between her and the larva. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."
"Shut up and move aside! I can and will go through you if necessary!"
I refused to budge, so she struck me in the face.
I did not resist her.
When she came back with another strike, I blocked it, but did not go on the offensive.
There was no point. I could easily gut the woman like a fish if I wanted to.
She struck me again and again.
In annoyance, I shoved her to the deck, knocking the wrench from her hands.
"You need to go. The child you once knew is no more, and I'm not going to let you harm my friend for the sake of petty revenge."
Groaning, the woman sat up, reaching for her weapon.
I stomped on it, hissing angrily. "Go!"
Ellen got to her feet, fixing me with a cold glare. "This isn't over."
She stomped away from me, pushing through the crowd of onlookers.
Newt crawled up into my arms, sobbing as she nuzzled against my exoskeleton.
"I'm sorry," I said, smoothing her carapace.
"It's okay. She's just sad. Sometimes my dad would get drunk and hit me, but he still loved me, and we'd later do fun things together. I think Ripley still loves me too." She paused. "She called me her child. The old me, anyway."
"She was willing to kill you, to avenge you."
"So she still loves me."
"In a way. But the concept of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij with a human soul is a difficult thing for anyone to accept."
We found David in the kitchen, making patties, rolling some meat-like substance into bits of plant matter resembling onions and a neon pink liquid. "Yulmiru. They kinda look like...a hairy pig had sex with a dung beetle. This stuff is a little tricky, because it changes consistency on you, depending on how long you cook it with certain ingredients. If you're a novice, you'll end up with crumbled ground beef or a hamburger."
I watched with fascination as the patty slowly developed a thicker, finer consistency.
"Good Lord," said Rupert. "You just changed ground chuck into steak!"
"With a little practice, you guys will be able to do it too."
Since we couldn't figure it out, we ended up serving hamburgers of varying grades of quality, with buns made from Pathilon ingredients. There were complaints about the latter, due to them appearing to contain worms, but David explained they were a feature of a naturally occurring grain.
After the prayers had been said, and the food distributed, I noticed a brown double chinned figure in the doorway. The man scowled at David, the smoke from the hamburgers reflecting off his glasses in a way that heightened his angry appearance. "I have a bone to pick with you. I didn't appreciate how you told everyone that they can laze about, do nothing to further the kingdom of God and still go to heaven."
"That's not what I said."
"It's what you implied," Dillon said.
Mr. Barnes sighed heavily. "You're a Calvinist, or from that school of thought. I get it. Tell me something. What's lazier than assuming that God creates certain people to be thrown away?"
"But He doesn't! You're clearly misinformed about the whole concept of redemptive grace..."
I cooked while the two butted heads over theological matters.
At long last, Mr. Barnes told the man, "You're hungry. Why don't you have a nice hamburger, and we can get out our bibles later and compare notes?"
Dillon sighed through his nose. "All right. But you're wrong. I'll prove it to you."
"Let's just agree to disagree on the subject. At least, until we have a little bible study."
"I'll be at my table, praying for your soul."
"Great! I need that."
Dillon shook his head, walking out.
The cafeteria had a fair bit of noise to it, despite a few vows of silence.
The sound, however, ceased halfway through the meal, all heads turning towards the entrance.
The Ripley woman had arrived. Her head had been shaved, and now she boldly strolled into the cafeteria, among all the men. Prisoners crossed themselves at the sight of her.
When she approached the counter, she acted like I wasn't there.
The woman took a burger and a glass of orange Tang, seating herself at Dillon's table, between the man with the teardrop tattoo and bald Billy Burke (at the moment ruining the taste of his food with cigarettes). An awkward situation, made more awkward by the fact that she had to share a bench.
The atmosphere there appeared to be tense, but I couldn't hear what they were talking about. I suppose she was unwelcome there, but she went ahead and ate with them anyway.
As she was finishing her food, the doctor came by, and the two of them left together. I sensed a rather close friendship developing there, which was good, because the woman clearly needed someone.
I and Rupert cleaned up while Mr. Barnes had a little discussion with Dillon, the two furiously thumbing through bibles to point to various passages. Oddly enough, it was Barnes who ended up doing the most nodding. I'm not sure who won, but they shook hands about it.
David marched up to the serving window, calling to me. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, can you do me a favor and get Naumona and Mara to come in? We're going to do the play again."
"The one about Lazarus?"
He nodded.
"I thought that wasn't going to work."
"We'll improvise."
I found both females outside by the shore, Big Bird playing hopscotch with the children, Naumona observing. The children had drawn the board crudely with sticks in the dirt, and now amused themselves skipping across it.
As I approached the game, Big Bird hopped up to my end, grinning at me. "What do you think, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik? I've been practicing random and erratic pitching. The children appear to enjoy it."
"That's very human, Big Bird. But what happens if you get too good at failing?"
Big Bird froze in thought. "Most individuals prefer that they win. Losing a game gives the other player a sense of adequacy, possibly expertise. For this reason, few complain about an opponent who is skillful at failure, as long as the failure appears natural, and is slightly different each game."
I nodded. "You were playing with a handball earlier. Where did you find that?"
"I located the ball in a locker near the vineyard. An ideal choice due to its solidity and interesting imperfections that cause semi-unpredictable rebound action."
"What did you do with it?"
She shrugged. "I gave it to Spike."
Smelling moisture, and noticing that her jumpsuit looked a little dark in places, I brought my face close to the android. "Why are you damp?"
Oxana hopped up to us. "She went swimming!"
"I thought robots aren't supposed to swim. Won't you short out?"
"I am a synthetic human," Big Bird corrected. "Be respectful. To address your question, I have very good waterproofing. It may interest you to know that the spaceship Sulaco has been recovered from the Tlazolteotl. It took me a fair amount of time underwater, but I was able to turn the vehicle into a kind of...motorboat."
I stared at her. "You can do that?"
"Yes. Although the Sulaco is quite massive, I sealed some damaged portions and modified the engines to allow for aquatic propulsion."
She grinned. "I have made several interesting mistakes throughout the process. For example, several large portions broke off, and the engines are now inoperative. They nearly `died' halfway to my destination, stranding me in the bottom of the ocean, but I have transcended those difficulties. The vehicle is currently beached in a location convenient for salvage operations."
"That's great, Big Bird."
I told she and Naumona about the play.
"I can't," the Abreya said, pointing her tail at her children. "I have to watch these two or they'll get into trouble."
"I do not think the play is that long. Could Pillow watch the children for awhile?"
She sighed and thought a moment. "I have heard it is dangerous in there. What does Zadoori think about this?"
"He will be in the play. Perhaps you could ask him."
Our performance would not have won a Tony award. On any planet.
Well, David said certain communities on Pathilon would have erupted in thunderous applause, but he showed a recording of something called The Kardassians to some of them, and they loved that, too.
When Julia and Newt saw all the prisoners watching them, they got stage fright, changing their minds about being `the crowd.' I explained that `the crowd' was a background role, and nothing was really required of them, but they still insisted on sticking close to me, and staying off the stage.
After that incident with Ripley, I suppose I couldn't blame them.
"We can play Lazarus's pets," Julia had said.
"I don't think Lazarus had any pets in the tomb."
"What about rats? They like to eat dead things. We could be like pet rats!"
I frowned. "I don't know..."
I hated to make her sit this one out, especially if she could discover joy in theater, so I decided to just let her tag along and do what she wanted, as long as she didn't ruin the performance by adlibbing dialog.
Picking a weird looking alien with a beak and a prehensile tail to play Jesus probably wasn't the best casting decision. Dillon originally requested the role, but Zadoori insisted on doing it, to "Demonstrate what the IML is capable of."
The moment David narrated his entrance, and Zadoori stepped out on center stage, the entire prison fell dead silent, the crowd staring in horrified silence.
The silence became even more pronounced when they saw a giant extraterrestrial ladybug playing Mary, the original synthetic actor having abandoned her role to do an interpretive dance.
As the play progressed, offended murmurings began.
My cell, the one with the melted door lock, served as the `tomb' for this little show. David hung blankets over the door to hide me from view. A gap along the side allowed me to watch the audience.
To my surprise, Ellen and Clemens had joined our audience, the doctor covering his mouth, the woman rolling her eyes, appearing to be trying very hard to suppress laughter. The acting was that bad.
At last, she let a chuckle slip out, causing the doctor to drop his hand and start laughing as well.
This prompted some giggling, but most of the audience could understandably find nothing funny in Christ raising the dead, so they just maintained a tense silence.
I found the audience response so disconcerting that `Jesus' had to command me out of the `tomb' twice before I emerged in my orange alien bandages.
The moment Ellen recognized me, and saw the larvae trailing behind me, the smile disappeared from her face.
The prison erupted in angry murmurs, booing and yells, to the point in which Andrews had to climb up on stage and shout for their attention. The noise continued until he announced the abrupt end of our show.
Once they had mostly fallen silent, the Superintendent turned to face us. "Thank you...Intergalactic Missionary League. That was...deeply disturbing."
I heard some yells. It seemed like people wanted our heads on a pike.
Andrews waved them to be quiet. "It has come to my attention that this organization is not, as I originally supposed, a professional performance troupe."
"You got that right!" someone hollered, and laughter broke out among the prisoners.
"Therefore," Andrews continued. "It is with a heavy heart that I must insist that this group refrain from such public entertainments for the duration of their stay at this facility. My humblest and most sincere apologies to anyone who wishes for an encore. From now on, they shall be limiting their creativity to the kitchen."
The applause was thunderous. People whistled. There were calls for David to come out in his `dress,' but he flatly refused.
Clemens applauded with them, but seemed a little uncertain.
As we dispersed, a few prisoners came up to us and said our show was hilarious, but those people were the minority.
Rupert called our program "moving," but I think he was just being nice.
For their own safety, I escorted Thonwa and Naumona back to the Iberet to rest, then I, Zadoori, David and my larvae retired to `the tomb' for the night.
Xidsusa 2
Bedtime was officially 22:00. Our play put it closer to 23:00, but no one seemed to mind. The bothersome part was being awakened four hours later by a series of sharp knocks on our cell door.
Aaron's jowled face appeared under the light of a crude torch. The prison had some power, and some electric light bulbs, but he apparently didn't want to disturb the other prisoners, and they didn't have flashlights, it seemed. "Which one of you claims responsibility for the Sandbox Sniper?...Sarah?"
"Don't look at me," David groaned. "I only picked her up."
Zadoori only snored.
I sprung to my feet. "What happened?"
Aaron sighed. "I have to show you. It's kind of difficult to explain."
Despite expressing his reluctance, David followed me to Solitary, though at a cautious distance.
The moment I approached the door to Sarah's cell, I could hear scratching noises. Someone had left the observation slot partway open.
When I peered through the opening, I could see walls covered in thousands of strange algebraic equations, and a female figure rapidly carving brackets, symbols and numbers like some kind of human engraving machine.
David looked in. "Good Lord."
"Dammit," Aaron growled. "I took that fucking nail away from her! Where does she keep finding them?"
He threw open the cell door, stomping up to the obsessive chiseler. "Sarah?"
She spun around, her eyes glassy, staring at nothing.
"...If D equals 4478..." A tiny nail fell from her cramped, trembling fingers, clattering to the floor. "Let E equal A open parenthesis M plus X times B. Close parenthesis. Close bracket."
Somehow she managed to pronounce all this perfectly with a damaged tongue.
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed in a dead faint.
Aaron stuffed the nail into his pocket, frowning at me and David. "What do you make of all this?"
"I don't know," I said. "It looks like a formula. Maybe the DAMBALLAH group was trying to develop humans with highly advanced knowledge, and this is the result?"
"I'm not sure that's what it is," David said. "A lot of this looks like programming script, like something out of a video game."
"So you're a programmer?" Aaron asked.
David shrugged. "I dabbled."
We decided to bring in our expert to make an official determination.
The android let out low whistles as the examined the symbols. "Intriguing."
Big Bird read another line and chuckled. "How quaint!"
"What is it?" Aaron asked.
"It is a secret room to be illegally inserted into the Learning Town virtual reality environment." She frowned at one of the lines. "...There is a section missing."
I told her what I thought Sarah had said earlier, but she said it was invalid code. However, something similar could fill in the gap.
Big Bird brought out the holographic movie device. Once the android had read the code on the wall a few times, and deciphered a few indistinct symbols (Sarah had gotten tired near the end), she took out one of her eyes, plugging a cord into the empty socket. The other end of the cord she affixed to the projector.
Aaron looked horrified, but David only seemed uncomfortable.
A hologram of a square room appeared on the floor. With its lack of color and decoration, it resembled an unfinished dollhouse, one with a ridiculous amount of doors.
The center of this digital construct contained one office swivel chair, a floating screen, and a giant gray floating blob with a happy face.
"What the hell is this?" David asked.
"A better question is, `what it isn't,'" said Big Bird. "As you can tell by the exposed code, the objective of this room is to pierce the illusion of the simulation."
"That explains the doorways and the monitor..." David pointed to the smiling gray blob. "But what's that about?"
"It appears to be an assistant program."
"I don't get it. She's not in a simulation. Why would she go through all the trouble of carving all this on the wall?"
"That I cannot tell you. However, the human brain has often been compared to a computer. Perhaps the psychological impression of Learning Town has become so deeply embedded that she thinks she's still there, and has built this room to protect her damaged psyche."
"Why hasn't she gone nuts like this before?"
Big Bird put her eyeball back in. "She's never been alone before."
David brushed the hair out of Sarah's face with a thoughtful expression. "It's a shame she's a deranged serial killer. She's kinda cute."
"I've had that same thought about a lot of female prisoners I've met," Aaron said.
We returned to `the tomb' once more.
The moment David climbed into his bunk, he let out a shriek loud enough to prompt prisoners in other cells to tell him to shut up.
My larva had curled up on his pillow. "Julia! Don't do that!"
She purred in amusement. "I am sorry. This bed is soft, and I wish to ask you a favor."
He swallowed. "What...kind of favor?"
"I wish to share minds with you. I have tried Sarah's, but what I saw left me greatly confused."
"I'm...not sure mine will help."
"Were you born in a lab?"
David shook his head. "No. Not that I'm aware of, anyway."
"Then it will help."
"She is right, David," I said. "Once she sees the value of human life through your eyes, she will be less likely to think about hurting humans."
"So...no pressure?" He picked the larva up. "What do I do?"
"Put me up to your face," Julia said.
David shuddered in disgust at the worms, but he got over his fear quickly, lying flat on his back as the larva penetrated his nostrils. The two made faint noises as they dreamed together.
When he came out of it, I saw tears flowing down his cheeks.
The day began a little earlier than I wished. I'd missed it before, but the prisoners had a daily prayer time in the mornings. A scary looking British man named Troy banged on our cell door, alerting us to this fact.
We followed this man (who incidentally had a vague resemblance to rock and roll legend Sting, without hair) to the assembly hall, wherein we witnessed Dillon leading group prayer.
Dillon hadn't mentioned it to us before, he and a group of friends were responsible for The Order of Patmos.
Their prayers expressed very ordinary concerns, prisoners with medical problems, family members they worried about and hadn't seen in a long time. They prayed for Andrews, for the correction of David and our missionary group. And for Murphy, of course. Following this, we had a bible study.
When the meeting concluded, I helped David in the kitchen.
Samelor, a type of Pathilonian caviar, can be scrambled like chicken eggs. It comes out transparent green, but it has the same consistency and texture. The prisoners couldn't taste a difference. The sausages, however, tasted a little medicinal, and weren't everyone's favorite.
David, it seemed, had warmed up to Julia, for now he cooked with her on his shoulder. "You know, little girl, if all that stuff I saw in your mind was real, then I was wrong about...Sarah."
"Why would it not be real?" Julia said. "It's just as real as all those things you showed me."
He frowned, scooping `eggs' onto a plate. "You mean the stuff I didn't want to show you, but you barged in anyway?"
"I make no judgments about what you do with your own genitals."
David reddened. "Man, shut up! Get off my shoulder with that stuff!"
Julia did not. "I understand your love for the Pillow female. You enjoy her company, you have gone through the elaborate difficulties of the marital ritual, and you have attempted to breed numerous times. But she has also violated your sacred covenant with this stranger's infant.
"You have expressed doubts that your two species can even combine successfully. Would it not be better if you found a human mate?"
David had no immediate answer for that. He just scooped eggs on another plate. And another.
At last, he said, "Look. She's cute. I admit it. And...after all that stuff I saw, I can even maybe understand the tongue mutilation. But I can't. I do not take my marriage vows lightly."
"Are you certain?" Julia asked. "Because we both know what you did in the storage room."
David scowled at her. "I'm beginning to think you should have horns."
"What do you mean?"
"You're perched on my shoulder, telling me to do wrong, like a demon in a cartoon." He shook his head. "That thing we did in storage...that was a mistake. I sinned. I can't let that happen again."
"What if you and Pillow are never able to reproduce? What then?"
David sighed. "I don't know. I mean, somehow got it to work."
"I saw this in your memory. Mr. Gannon's DNA has been altered. You told me this yourself. You said he could have been simply an Abreya born on the wrong planet."
"Well...I'm really hoping that theory was wrong."
"Is this what faith is?" Julia asked. "Hoping really hard?"
"Um, sometimes it is. But it's a hope that is backed up by what God is, and who He is. His character."
"I see. You mean that God will do what is loving and provide you with every need." She paused. "But having a half human Abreya baby is not a need."
"I know," David groaned. "But I still long for it with all my heart."
"Why? Pillow's first child was not yours."
Looking troubled, David flipped the not-quite-sausage.
"Supplies!" someone shouted.
The prisoners carried several large cargo bins into the dining hall, hexagonal crates stacked on six wheeled carts, all with the letters U.S.S.M stenciled on them.
Rupert hurried out to meet the men. "What's all this, then?"
Kevin, a young man with a bulbous head and a severe overbite, spoke up first. "It's food from the big ship. There's a ton more of it in the hold." He set a container on the floor, showing the cook the frost covered container below it. "We picked out the best ones. Salisbury steak. The waterproof seal isn't even cracked!"
"We've also found bread," said a prisoner resembling Patrick Stewart. "Sliced wheat bread, dinner rolls, hamburger buns."
"We've got mashed potatoes," Kevin said. "There's even gravy to go with it. It's like Thanksgiving!
"Sounds much better than soylent," said the bushy browed Patrick Stewart twin. "Or that strange alien food, doesn't it?"
"Excellent, excellent!" Rupert cried. "Let's get these into the store room."
David and I helped carry the materials down a back staircase within the pantry to a concrete lower chamber, scraping the aluminum wall sheeting a few times along the way. Although not a great refrigerator (it had only one feeble air conditioner unit), the place was cold enough, and Mara had previously put in a small cooling unit, which made it a bit colder.
The shelves that weren't empty contained soylent, or powdered milk, or skinned rats in plastic bins. Dry staples, such as rice, Tang, soylent and hard bread got stored upstairs. We shoved aside metal shelving units, putting the items away.
As we carried the containers of gravy, meatloaf, chicken nuggets and other items down the stairs, I heard a female voice calling, "Dawib! Thasgweebilig!"
David got so startled that he dropped a crate of hamburger patties on his foot. "Sarah?"
Aaron lead the young woman down the staircase, free from handcuffs and other restraints. "I have good news and bad news. Good news, she's not the Sandbox Sniper. Your serial numbers only matched a killer in our database due to an unfortunate coincidence.
"The bad news is, she's a clone belonging to the Weyland corporation, so she still isn't permitted to leave. She is to be confined in this prison until the recovery team takes her back."
David stared at the girl. "So that whole story about the lab was true!"
"I told you the memory was real!" Julia said from the lid of the hamburger crate.
Mr. Barnes frowned. "Wait. We're out in the middle of nowhere. How did you find out so fast?"
"There's a rescue ship two weeks away from this location," Aaron said. "They must have picked up the signal somehow."
David stepped over the crate, taking Sarah's hand. "I'm sorry. I really thought all that awful stuff about you being a killer was true. I'm, uh, happy they were wrong."
Julia climbed up on his shoulder, smiling at the woman. "He likes you."
David reddened. "I'm married." He scowled at the larva. "Would you stop trying to play matchmaker?"
Sarah grinned at the two. "Yoor phrens!"
"We shared minds," Julia said. "It was very interesting. I learned how sad it can be when a human dies, and how joyful one gets when they are in love. I saw many beautiful things. I also saw some things that embarrassed him, such as moments of deep sexual awkwardness with Pillow as they attempted to employ a device..."
Despite the fact that Julie could have easily taken a bite out of his hand, David covered the larva's mouth. He probably wouldn't have done something so dangerous, had he not been so angry. "That's enough, Julie!"
Sarah giggled. "I'n glath weer bag sugeder."
She hugged David, tried to kiss him on the mouth, but he pulled away in disgust when their lips touched.
"Aaron," Harold called from the top of the stairs. "Come quickly. There's been another incident in the tunnels."
His assistant frowned. "Did we ever find...what happened to the other one?"
"Not yet, but now we at least have a suspect! Our eyewitness states our killer is a dragon!"
If that was supposed to be funny, I didn't see him smile or anything. The man had a very strange sense of humor.
Aaron turned around, eying me with suspicion. "And what did this `dragon' look like?"
We found our `eyewitness' on a bed in the infirmary. His face was a mask of smeared blood, his green clothing torn and bloodstained.
When he saw me enter the room, he screamed.
"Is this your `dragon,' Mr. Golic?" Andrews asked.
The skeletal faced man knitted his brows together as he examined me. "Yes."
"Yes?" Andrews repeated, his expression a mixture of relief and smug delight. "So this was the killer?"
"I think..." Golic scowled at me. "Wait. No. The one I saw was bigger. Not...colorful."
"Bigger?" I and Harold said in unison.
"No clown paint," Golic agreed.
Harold frowned. "And it wasn't the spotty red thing or the tube worms."
"No. I told you it was big."
"Can you show me?" I asked.
Aaron shook his head. "Thwaka, he's in a hospital bed."
"I put him there," Harold said. "To treat his hysteria. He's fine!"
"I twisted my ankle!" Golic stammered.
"He'll live."
A series of long dungeon-like corridors lay beneath the central prison complex, punctuated every few yards by triangular doors with bracers constructed to look like the Christian Chi Rho symbol. Our eyewitness led us down a few of these corridors, waving around his sparking flare in the dark like a fearful caveman.
We turned a corner, and he refused to go further, pointing a trembling hand to blood spatters along the ceiling. "That's where Arthur died. And Rains over there."
Newt pressed her shell close to mine. "I don't like this."
I petted her head. "You have nothing to fear. It is merely another Ss'sik'chtokiwij."
"What if it knows I'm...human inside?"
"It won't." Newt wasn't really human anymore, but I didn't want to depress her more than she already was.
Finding a trail of blood, I motioned for the others to stay back. "I'll go check to see what's down here. If it's nothing, I'll come back for you."
Harold sighed, but gave me a nod. "I'll give you ten minutes. Beyond that, you're on your own."
"I'd give that thing five, if I was you," Golic muttered.
"I think that thing will do fine without any of us," another man said.
Andrews only shrugged as he stared into the dark.
I followed the blood for a few yards, sniffing around for signs of humans, trying to ignore the ghost scents I kept uncovering.
Finding nothing dangerous, I turned around, intending to report back to the others, but at that precise moment, I heard slow heavy breathing.
I spun to face the source of the noise.
A large domed head emerged from a doorway, its powerful jaw distending. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik? What are you doing here?"
My mouth hung open in surprise. "Grandmother?"