Several species of insect have been known to continue the act of reproduction, even after the male partner has become decapitated. Black widow spiders, cockroaches, and, I believe, the preying mantis.

When the worm first entered the room and shot towards Mr. Barnes, I thought for sure a similar scenario would play out, the pleasure of their sexual activity being too great for them to stop for any reason, no matter how sound.

Fortunately, Sarah cared too much for her mate to allow that to happen. With a surprising amount of speed and accuracy, she dismounted her partner, drew a laser knife, and sliced the worm in half just seconds before it could penetrate David's skull.

The creature flattened on the floor and lay still.

David craned his neck around, screaming when he saw what was there.

"You peed," Sarah said casually.

Indeed, he did. I imagined he would have some interesting conversations with the sanitation crew.

"It's a response to fear," David stammered, pulling down his skirt. "I thought you were going to stab my head. Let's get out of here."

"Whath da rudth?" she purred.

David cocked a thumb at the dead worm behind him. "That. I don't want to be within ten feet of that thing."

Sarah groaned in frustration, zipping up her jacket. "Oh aw ride."

"Guard the stairs," David said to me. Then, as an afterthought, "Please. I need to change. I mean, get changed."

"Could you not change in a different room?"

The young man sighed. "This is a prison. The last thing I want is to titillate the prisoners."

Sarah giggled when he said the word `titillate,' another sign that she was not mentally mature enough to be in a sexual relationship.

"...And I really don't want her to t-give them the wrong idea." I opened my mouth to make a suggestion, but he blurted, "Before you ask, no. Can you imagine what Pillow would think if she saw me leaving the ship in jeans and a t-shirt and returning in a pee stained Wighesh?"

"Yoo cud thay dat yer gay," Sarah said with a grin.

David scowled. "No."

As I and Sarah climbed the stairs, David muttered, "You should put your jumpsuit back on. Those men..."

The young woman nodded, hurrying to the dufflebags.

"Wait!" David cried, but Sarah only tarried a second next to the worm carcass before returning to us.

"Id oday. Da fing eth dyin'." She changed back into her dingy old clothes.

"I am sorry I interrupted coitus," I said to David as he pulled on his underwear.

He laughed. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, are you fucking kidding me? You just saved my life! I could have died! Tonight I'm going to be on my knees thanking God you interrupted it! No matter what anyone tells you, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, if a man and a woman are about to die, if the building's on fire, whatever, it is your God given right to interrupt."

"Id wath willy me dat thafed your life," Sarah said, zipping up. "I thaw ith gumming."

"True..." David hiked up his jeans. "I was only telling Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik about his rights...her rights, I mean. It's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

"Oh." She sniffed, wrinkled her nose. "Yoo need a thowah, Dawib. Yoo be stinghee."

Mr. Barnes pulled on his shirt. "No way. What if I drop the soap?" He stuffed their other clothes back in the bag. "Besides, being stinky is a prison survival tactic."

We hurried back into the hallway.

Sarah gazed at David appraisingly. "Yoo loog beddah imna dreth."

David blushed. "I...know. But this isn't a good time for place for...another fashion show."

He furrowed his brow. "Wait. Where did you get that knife?"

Sarah pointed to the bag. "Id wath in see coad."

"Why would Pillow have that in her pocket?" he wondered aloud.

"I knew you and host-mommy liked each other," Julia said with a purr. "You make host-mommy happy. Does she make you happy?"

David swallowed, turning red. "Um..." He apparently couldn't find the words.

"Will you marry her now?"

"Um..." David stammered. "It's not exactly that simple. I'm married to Pillow."

Julia nodded. "Yes. So now you can have two wives!"

"Bigamy isn't legal..." David frowned. "Of course, my marriage isn't recognized on earth..." He shook his head violently. "No. I can't do that. Pillow would never go for it."

"Get a divorce, then," Julia said.

David cringed. "That's just it. I don't want to be like those kinds of people..."

You're a little too late for that, I thought, but didn't say it.

"But you and Pillow can't reproduce," Julia said.

He rubbed his face in frustration. "Yeah...but it's also love, and friendship, and intimate physical contact..."

"But you'll never be a family without children."

David had no response to that.

He frowned at me. "Do you judge me, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

"Only God judges."

David looked irritated. "Then what do you think? What is your opinion about the situation?"

"I think...the worm is dead."

David seemed even more irritated now. "But what about us? Me and Sarah?"

"Well, I believe, at worst, you are committing adultery."

He looked hopeful. "At best?"

"Fornication. The bible doesn't say that a marriage between a human and a nonhuman is valid, but your actions toward your wife cannot exactly be described as loving."

David reddened. "Thank you, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. You, uh, gave me something to think about."

He stared sadly down the corridor. "I can't help but feel guilt about not stepping up and taking responsibility for that baby, you know, being a father." And then, in a lower tone, he muttered, "Lord, we don't even have a name for it yet."

"I doubt anyone else will accept the job. At least, not here. I doubt even I would be appropriate."

He breathed a heavy sigh.

"Iuh dage gare o' id!" Sarah said cheerfully. "I wub babieth."

David rolled his eyes. "Thanks, but that's like The Hand that Rocks the Cradle."

Sarah made a confused noise.

"It's an old film. The point is, it's creepy, and socially..." He fumbled for the right word, but apparently didn't find it. "...Bad."

She frowned.

"What should we do if there's more of those creatures?" I asked.

"I don't know. That laser knife worked pretty well. Maybe...we should get some more off the ship. It might be nice to have anyway, considering the creeps we're hanging with..."

"Do you have any other weapons? Perhaps a flamethrower? Ss'sik'chtokiwij have been known to eat creatures like that, but I have had difficulty..."

"We only have torches for wielding. Maybe you should look in that ship that those things came in. The...Sulu, was it?"

"That is an idea," I muttered. "Have you seen Big Bird around anywhere?"

He shrugged. "I think she's playing outside."

David took Sarah's hand, leading her down the corridor. "C'mon. Let me take you back to your cell," I heard him muttering as they departed.

"No! Not solitary again! I'll do anything! I'll never try to have sex with you again!"

"Sarah, I meant, our cell. Where the missionaries are staying."

"Oh."

"So, Newt..." I said "Grandmother told me a story about what happened after you left LV 426. She said many things that seemed vague and hard to follow, possibly even some things that aren't true..." (1)

"That's no surprise," Newt muttered in a cold tone.

"What really happened? In your own words?"

Newt's story pretty much sounded like some of what you the reader may have heard before, down to Ripley calling Grandmother a dirty word. And, of course, Newt didn't know what happened to Grandmother after the airlock incident, so she was no help there.

I told her what happened afterwards, (at least, what I heard), and Newt looked disgusted.

(2)

"Newt," Julia said. "I just came to the realization that you are, in fact, my grand aunt."

"I don't understand."

"You are Grandmother's child, which would make you Ernie's aunt."

Newt started to cry.

"No, no, no! It's okay. I am very happy to have you as a grand aunt, and to know my relationship to you at last."

Newt sighed. She had already made her feelings quite clear on the whole subject.

"I'm sorry you couldn't remain human. But at least you belong somewhere. You're family now."

"I had my own family," Newt sobbed. "I had a mom and a dad!"

Julia pressed her shell against her consolingly. "I wish to understand. Let us share minds."

Newt shook her head. "No. I...I'm not comfortable with that."

Julia nodded. "I will not pressure you to do this. I only wish to comfort you."

Newt nuzzled her. "Thanks."

I found Big Bird walking in circles outside the building.

The prisoners had set up something called a `thinking garden', in which one walks around in maze-like concentric circles of rocks. A person was supposed to enter this circle with a problem on their mind, ruminating about it as they drew closer and closer to the center, presumably arriving at the conclusion at that point.

The android stopped at its center, staring at her feet like she hadn't quite reached a solution yet. "It didn't work. I walked through the entire pattern and I still don't know what my purpose is."

"How long have you been walking?" I asked.

"Two minutes."

"I think you have to walk slower. A human being cannot juggle thinking and walking as easily as you."

"What is your purpose, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" she asked me.

"To serve God."

"That is...not very specific."

"The Lord created me to be an all purpose instrument. I serve differently depending on the situation. I thought I was going to be busy making new outfits for the prisoners, and instead ended up an actor and a chef."

The robot froze in thought. "I see."

"Big Bird, the Sulaco is an army ship. Did you see any weapons onboard?"

She nodded cheerfully. "Oh yes! And they were quite heavy. You'd be surprised at how quickly the vehicle moved once I dumped them all into the ocean!"

My jaw dropped. "You...dumped the weapons...into the ocean."

She nodded. "You will be in no danger of attack."

"Wonderful," I groaned.

"Do you believe you're in danger?"

"I...don't know." I told her about the worm. "If there are more than one, we are all in trouble."

"Perhaps you should speak with the prison superintendent. He may have access to something that can protect you against more of these `worms', if they make an appearance."

I gave her a grim nod, marching back into the building. The android trailed close behind, out of curiosity.

When I knocked on the door to the superintendent's door, I found it swinging open under my claw.

The Ripley woman stood before the desk, carrying on a very serious discussion with Harold and Aaron. "Look, I've seen the (God condemned) thing lurking around in the basement! You have three men missing, two bodies on your kitchen floor, and I think that thing is responsible for all this. All I'm asking for is something to fight it with. What do you have that we can use?"

Harold shrugged. "We have fire axes, flare guns, maybe some kitchen implements. It wouldn't be much of a prison if it were full of armed felons, now, would it?"

"How do you keep the population under control, if you don't have anything to control them with?"

"It's called the honor system, Ms. Ripley. And it's worked quite well for a number of years..."

Ripley sighed. "I heard you brought in the Sulaco. That was a military ship, full of guns. Where are the weapons?"

"Oh Lord. That's the last thing we need."

"Not to worry," said Big Bird. "After deducing that possession of such devices is hazardous to human life, I dropped them all into the bottom of the ocean."

Ripley spun around, staring at the android in horror. "You didn't!"

Big Bird shook her head. "How do you think it got here so fast? I had to dump a large amount of useless weight."

Harold seemed to be very pleased indeed.

"Useless weight!" Ellen repeated in shocked disbelief. "More than a trillion dollars worth of weaponry? Useless?"

"Felons are not to be trusted with military grade assault devices," the android said.

Harold clapped appreciatively. "Here, here."

Ripley smacked herself in the face. "God. What about the shuttles? Do we at least have them?"

"The vehicles, I'm afraid, are too saturated with ocean water to fly, without extensive work. But if you desire transportation, I'm sure our captain will accommodate..."

Ellen visibly shuddered. "No thank you." She rubbed her forehead like she had a migraine. "We have to do something or more people are going to die."

"Why don't you take that up with...your friend?" Harold suggested. "I believe Thwaka and his associates have access to certain equipment, possibly some information that may assist you to this end..."

She glared at me. "Okay...Thwaka...where are you hiding the queen?"

I knew better than to tell her. "My grandmother has nothing to do with this. She has changed. As I told you before, the men in the kitchen were killed by a large worm. You can see an example of its species on the floor in the morgue. Our clone friend Sarah killed it, but I fear there may be more."

"All right, then," Ripley said in a skeptical tone. "Let's go see this `worm.'"

I led the woman back to the scene of the attack, the superintendent and aide following closely behind, to satisfy their curiosity. Big Bird, of course, had the same motive.

The worm had vanished. The only thing I found on that concrete floor were rumpled blankets, a pair of panties, and a urine puddle. "That's not good."

"No. It's not." Ripley crossed her arms, scowling at me. "All right, Thwaka, Ernie, whoever the hell you are. Enough games. Where is the queen?"

"Grandmother has promised never to kill another human," I said. "She was once my enemy, but I have forgiven her for her great and many sins. I can only wish for you to do the same."

The woman's expression was hard, unyielding. I saw no glimmer of forgiveness in those eyes. "Your `grandmother' and I have an old score to settle. You don't want to help me find her? Fine. But don't fucking get in my way!"

She stomped back up the staircase.

Hearing the sound of vomiting at the top of the stairs, I rushed to investigate.

I found Ripley doubled over, leaning on a rail. Harold and Aaron stood around her with concerned looks on their faces, Aaron with his arm around her back, supporting her.

"We should take her back to Clemens," Harold muttered. "It's hard to see on these dark stairs, but I think I saw blood."

We returned to the infirmary.

"Wait," the woman protested as the two men helped her into a hospital bed. "I can't afford to be lying down right now. People's lives are at risk."

"You're not helping anyone when you're spitting up blood," Harold said. "You might as well let the doctor take a look at you."

Clemens stood over Golic with rubber gloves on, muttering something about a prostate infection and antibiotics, the prisoner hiking his pants up as he listened.

"Would it kill you to shower occasionally?" Clemens glanced rather uncomfortably over his shoulder, likely realizing a little too late that they should have used the privacy curtain for the little exam.

He hurried to us. "What seems to be the trouble?" he said as he tossed his gloves into the biohazard bin.

Harold told him about the incident.

"Are you certain you saw blood?"

"I'm not entirely sure. It's a black iron staircase."

Clemens probed the woman's stomach, and she showed sensitivity there. He pressed a stethoscope to her chest, told her to breathe.

The more he listened, the more his face contorted in puzzlement. The man pulled the stethoscope away, staring at it like it were defective. "This is going to sound silly, and it's probably irrelevant, but I don't want to rule anything out just yet...have you been experiencing any cramping, or excessive bleeding?"

Ellen glanced with discomfort at her audience, prompting the doctor to wave Harold and Aaron away, and pull the curtain closed around her. I also retreated a little, out of politeness.

"What's going on?" Newt whispered to me.

"I don't know."

"I...I had a nosebleed during the funeral," Ellen told the doctor.

"How about periods?"

I could see the shadow of Ripley's head turning to look at mine, then I guess she decided to ignore me. "I...haven't been awake that long..."

"I told you these questions would sound silly, but I thought I would ask anyway."

Golic came to the curtain, asking about antibiotics. Clemens hurriedly gave him some.

Instead of leaving, Mr. Golic returned to his bed, cowering and staring nervously at the ceiling, as if his `dragon' were coming for him.

The doctor returned his attention to Ripley. "Now, I hear you've been vomiting. Has this been happening frequently?"

"No. "But I have been nauseous a lot. I thought it was just the food."

Clemens chuckled. "I admit, the symptoms are similar...have you felt dizzy at all? Maybe a feeling of vertigo?"

"Now...that you mention it. I thought it was just the difference in gravity."

"Increased urination?"

Ripley rolled her eyes. "You think I'm pregnant."

The doctor shrugged. "As I said, I don't want to rule anything out. Tell me, have you been with anyone...before here?"

"...No. Not for a long time."

Apparently done with the private matter, the man pulled the curtain back,

He unlocked a cabinet, bringing out an ampule and a syringe.

"What's that you've got there?" Ripley asked.

"Just a little cocktail I've put together. I think you may still be feeling the effects of incomplete cryogenic stasis. This may help you recover."

He stuck the needle into the ampule, drawing out a dose. "I must ask you again. Are you positively certain you are not pregnant?"

"Clem, I've given birth before. If I were pregnant, I'd know."

"Well..." he squirted bubbles out of the syringe. "If you ever have any doubts, we do have a sonogram machine..."

"Why do you have one of those for?"

"My dear, a sonogram can be used for more than just examining a fetus."

"There's a bar code on your neck. You mind explaining?"

"I was at a party," he deadpanned. "It was a wild night."

The expression on the woman's face said `You're joking.'

Clemens looked askance at me, but did not send me away. "It happened on a space voyage a long time ago. I was drunk. I'd been assigned to administer medication to the crew, but I prescribed the wrong dosage. A hundred men died because of me. My license got reduced to a 3C, and I was sent here.

"I got used to the crew, so I stayed when the others left. The way I figure, I am so well acquainted with these men and their medical histories that I have much smaller chances of making serious mistakes...at least the type of mistakes that got me put here in the first place."

He brought the needle to the crook of her arm. "Do you trust me?"

Ellen gave him a reluctant nod, and Clemens administered the injection.

A section of the ceiling gave way, and a massive dark body dropped into view.

"The dragon!" Golic shouted from the other end of the room.

Grandmother frowned at him. "You again!"

Golic gasped, covering his ears. "The tongue of dragons!"

She purred in amusement as Golic dove beneath his bed.

I stared. Grandmother's immensity has often been overstated. She isn't quite as gigantic as many humans have described. Although much larger than a human or your average Ss'sik'chtokiwij, she stood no taller than maybe two humans put together, though she did have considerable girth. Even so, her size was, in fact, much less than before, due to her accident. The crown and additional plating added a lot to her body mass.

Also, the infirmary isn't that small, especially in the ceiling area, so she had space enough to move around, if she laid flat, which probably was the case. I imagine the door would have been a bit more challenging to navigate.

The large Ss'sik'chtokiwij sniffed around the beds, baring her fangs when she discovered who lay on the bed near the end.

She drew nearer, her great body knocking over carts and cabinets as she passed through.

Ripley screamed when she saw the dark shape looming over the footboard. "Oh God! It's the queen! You've got to get me out of here!"

Clemens took out his forceps, stabbing Grandmother in between her plates. She shrieked, and acid sprayed the man in the face.

"My eyes!"

Grandmother grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the floor.

"Grandmother!" I cried. "Forgive him!"

With a disgusted snarl, she threw the man down.

"I'm sorry," she pronounced carefully in English.

I helped Clemens to his feet. "It's okay. Grandmother has changed. What can I do to assist your medical treatment?"

He didn't respond.

Although one of his eyes appeared melted, the other still worked. It looked at his patient in worriment.

For a moment, the big Ss'sik'chtokiwij just stared at the woman, breathing heavily. Ellen moaned with fright.

Grandmother leaned over the blankets, sniffed deeply, shook her head. "For-give me. I am a sinner."

"What?" Ellen cried in surprise. "You speak English!"

"My granddaughter has taught me the way." Grandma sighed, pulling the forceps out of her body. "I am sorry I hated you. I am also sorry I killed so many hoomans. I did not understand the pain I caused. I also did not understand the love of Jesus before."

Ripley let out a bitter laugh. "I liked it when you didn't talk. Now you're no different from the (God condemned) zealots that bring guns into churches and blow away abortion doctors in the middle of service, or the fucking pedophile priests!"

Grandmother flinched at the accusation, though she obviously couldn't understand it.

"So what's your game now? Convert or be impregnated and die? Or do you require your followers to get impregnated in order to get to heaven?"

Grandmother snarled angrily. In Ss'sik'chtokiwij she said to me, "She makes me angry. Can I please kill and eat her now?"

"No. Not everyone will forgive you. It is to be expected. Only Christ truly forgives. You must forgive in return."

Grandmother wept a little in frustration. "This is hard, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

"Jesus didn't say it would be easy. Let it go."

Puffing like a dragon, Grandmother climbed back up into the ceiling.

A few moments later, Zadoori came rushing in, followed by Harold and Aaron.

"We heard a noise," the Abreya said. "Is everything all right?"

Clemens washed his face to dilute the acid. "Ordinarily, Mr. Zadoori, I'd tell you to leave, for your business here is done. But considering the circumstances...could you be a gent and get me some ointment and bandages?" He dabbed his face dry, wincing as he did so.

Zadoori frowned, examining the remains of the man's right eye.

"Forget it. It's gone."

"I have tools in my ship that may be able to heal your wounds better," the Abreya suggested. "With much less scarring."

He glanced at Ripley questioningly.

The look on her face was `No.'

"Thank you, but I'll stick to what I'm comfortable with. One tends to look up to a man who has scars."

The Abreya gave him a disapproving shake of the head, but humored him with the rather primitive human form of first aid.

Noticing a yellow bottle on the floor, I asked Clemens, "Can I have this?"

"What do you want it for?"

I uncapped it and took a swig. "Ahhh."

He rolled his good eye, shaking his head.

"Hold still," Zadoori said. "I'm trying to put this on right."

"I am sorry," I said to the victim. "Grandmother did not intend to injure you."

After a long fuming silence, Clemens spoke. "It was foolish of me to attack. Although I am not happy about my situation, it would not be reasonable to hold a grudge, any more than I would hold a grudge against a North American grizzly bear, or a great white shark." He interrupted Zadoori's work, clamping down his own bandages, cutting off the loose pieces. "I would be more than happy to coexist with this creature...provided we both stay on separate sides of the prison." (3)

He seated himself by his patient's bed.

"That thing needs to be destroyed," Ripley said.

Clemens shrugged. "I stabbed it. I wasn't aware that its blood was acidic."

She sighed. "You don't know what that thing is capable of. Back on LV 426, it laid thousands of eggs and killed more than two hundred colonists."

The man smirked. "It did apologize."

Ripley did not look amused. "Do you blame me for not trusting it?"

"...No."

"I'm sorry about your eye," she said.

Clemens gave her a wry smile. "Oh, I don't know...I think I may get a glass one, perhaps one with a happy face or a little red bullseye. What do you think?" (4)

She laughed.

Zadoori put away the bandages. "It appears as if you will be in need of my services for awhile."

"Now don't be smug about it," Clemens complained.

Zadoori put the ointment and `cocktail' away. "My apologies. This is your infirmary. I volunteer as nurse, so I will humbly submit to any and all orders you may have in the medical-"

He never finished the sentence. As he was closing a cabinet, the back of his head exploded in a spray of blood the color of fabric softener.

A worm creature emerged from his brain, shot down and bored through his back. The Abreya collapsed dead on the floor.

"Zadoori!" I cried, staring at the victim in horror.

As the worm tunneled its way through my friend, I noticed, out of the corner of my vision, a second worm dropping down from the ceiling. It rushed snake-like across the concrete with alarming speed, bearing straight for the soft bodied humans in the corner of the room.

Ripley scooted to the head of her bed, pressing her back against the wall. "Oh God! He was right! Those (God condemned) things are real!"

She glanced anxiously at the doctor. "Jon. Andrews said there are fire axes around here."

"This is an infirmary, Ellen. We don't keep them here." But the man's good eye widened. "I have an idea."

Clemens ran to a cabinet drawer, cursing under his breath as he fumbled with a set of keys. The creature darted his way.

By the time he had the key turned in the lock and the drawer open, the thing slithered over his shoes.

In a flash, the man whipped out a long bladed surgical saw, chopping the creature in half.

It stopped moving and lay still.

Clemens let out a sigh of relief. "Well. That appeared to be simple enough...Now we only have to kill the other-"

No sooner had these words escaped his mouth did the worm suddenly wiggle back to life.

In two independently moving pieces. It appeared the creature reproduced by division.

"I've made a mistake," Clemens muttered.

The top half of the bisected worm stood upright, and in one movement that seemed to defy physics, shot straight through the man's forehead.

"Jon! No!" Ripley screamed.

Set off by the noise, the bottom half of the worm shot across the floor to claim a victim of its own.

I knew I had to do something fast. But what? I couldn't just tear the creatures in half, or I'd make more.

For the time being, I decided upon distraction. As one worm slithered toward Ripley, I pounced, clenching it in my claws. "Go!" I shouted to the woman. "Go now!"

Ellen stared at me for a moment, her expression reflecting...gratitude?...Newfound respect? But she didn't linger. She fled the room quickly, leaving me with the task of disposing of these dreadful creatures.

"Children!" I called to my larvae. "You must try to stop the other ones!"

"Okay, mom," Julia said, scampering off.

Newt, however, didn't seem so confident. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"No," I said. "But Ripley needs our help."

That proved to be persuasive enough. She gave me a grave nod, hurrying after her `younger cousin.'

As the creature snapped at my face plate, I was struck with the sheer impossibility of my predicament: Any sort of clawing attack could result in the creature reproducing. The possibility of tiny killer worms, or a second Ssorzechola, was not something I wished to risk. This is also why, despite Mara fixing the kitchen garbage disposal unit, I hesitated to `In-Sink-Erate' it.

I thought about simply eating the creature, since worms like these, allegedly, were the type that my relatives devoured, but what if I were wrong? These things could rupture body cavities with effortless ease. I could visualize my armored stomach cracking open from the `indigestion' and watching a worm crawl out.

I spat acid on the worm, but all it did was sort of peel it.

In desperation, I cocooned the thing to the floor.

I glanced back at my larvae, and found them empty handed, empty clawed. They seemed ashamed, their heads bowed.

"They got away," Newt said. "They were too strong."

"Even the little one?"

Julia shook her head. "That one got away first."

I spat another glob of cocooning slime over my captive worm. "We must warn the others."

I traced the woman's path down to the cafeteria, where she stood before a crowd of roughly forty prisoners. Mr. Andrews faced her, his loud voice booming through the chamber as he continued a discussion I'd missed the first portion of.

I paused by the entrance, uncertain whether to join the crowd or leave quickly.

"So. Five prisoners," the man was saying. "And now the doctor, and those tube worms are responsible! I knew those creatures were trouble the moment they came in that accursed ship!"

Thonwa waved to me from one of the tables, but I retreated outside, preferring to hide around the corner and eavesdrop.

Briefly I wondered how the Cijmabsa could survive in such a hostile crowd, but then again, she was by herself, no larva, and she had a proboscis for a mouth. Also, they had already beaten her half to death once, hardly fear inspiring.

I spotted Big Bird near the back, but she was distracted with...whittling, of all things.

"I'm afraid it's more complicated than that," Ripley said to the man. "These aren't `Thwaka's' tube worms. These worms reproduce when you cut them, and they can dive right through a human head like it's paper. I've never seen any of his friends do that."

"Ms. Ripley," Harold said. "You were just playing cricket with one of those creatures earlier, and now you're defending them. What prompted the sudden change?"

"Oh I don't know," she said sarcastically. "Maybe seeing one of those things rip through a doctor's head? Don't get me wrong, I have no love for Thwaka and his family, but there's a hierarchy of things that we need to destroy, and that `dragon' as you call it, just dropped a couple ranks on the terror index."

"Have you any evidence of these other worms, Ms. Ripley?"

The woman was temporarily caught speechless. "Isn't the evidence of the bodies enough?"

"All that proves is that you should have disposed of Thwaka's little friends in the molten lead."

Thonwa stood up. "How incredibly prejudiced you are! Simply because Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik bears young that resemble a deadly creature, you automatically assume that they're to blame!"

"Why, Shaka Zulu! You seem quite upset. Perhaps these `killer worms' are yours? We never have seen what your offspring looks like..."

Thonwa clenched her fists. "You locjotom, you narrow minded pig headed boob!" She stomped out of the room.

No, I thought. Maybe I shouldn't go in the cafeteria.

"When are we going to eat?" `Billy' called. "We haven't had a bite since that incident in the kitchen. Is someone going to cook, or should I just go downstairs and eat a raw rat?"

"We fast today, Mr. Gregor," Andrews said.

A collective moan traveled through the room.

"Now, back to the main topic of discussion..."

"You're not going to get a sample," Ripley said. "We can't even figure out how to kill them yet."

"I'm telling you, Andrews," Patrick Stewart guy said. "Thwaka's worms are not the culprit. I'd much prefer sleeping with four of those in my bunk than that thing that attacked Kingsley and Rupert."

"That's quite enough, Mr. Postlethwaite," Harold said.

"It was different," Jude said. "It came right out of the flour!"

Harold rolled his eyes. "Sounds like an ergot hallucination."

"Wait," Ripley said. "What flour?"

Jude told her about the cargo container.

"It's that (God condemned) Weyland company again!" she cried.

"Don't swear," someone muttered, but she ignored them.

"They must have been trying to smuggle those things down to earth to use as weapons!"

Harold tried to calm her down in his usual condescending fashion. "You're hysterical, Ripley. You're not making any sense. Why don't you go back to the infirmary and lay down for awhile."

"Why don't you go to hell!" she shouted.

Then, noticing the gawking and silence around her, she stammered, "Two people, individuals, just died in there. I'm not setting foot in that room again."

"...So what's your plan, Harold? How are you going to stop your inmates from getting killed?"

"We wait for the rescue ship, and see if they've brought along ammunition. I suspect our alien visitors have brought their own weapons, but I doubt they'd allow us to use them to destroy their own."

He frowned at the prisoners surrounding him. "Everyone back to your cells! I'm declaring this an early curfew until we get to the bottom of this. Lights out!"

The lights did `go out,', more or less. At least for him.

A white shape dropped through an open a ceiling vent, exploding out the front of Harold's head.

[0000]

1. Continuity: In "Peacekeeper" we don't need this paragraph. Skip to section (2).

3. Honestly, it may have been more realistic to write him angry enough to kill Grandmother, but I wanted to keep things at least a little bit close to the original plot.

4. This is a joke about Charles Dance, who played in both Alien 3 and Last Action Hero.