Big Bird appeared to be a lost cause. She was essentially a toy robot with its batteries removed, frozen in a pose of medical examination. I supposed it wouldn't be impossible to stick her hard drive into a different body.

The prisoners advanced with their machine guns. Familiar faces, now turned against me. Julia and Newt pressed themselves closely against my shell for protection.

There was Gregor, head and neck bandaged in a way that made him look like a strange scarred version of Lawrence of Arabia, Postlewaite, Troy, Jude and the man that looked like the Frankenstein monster. Those people didn't disappoint me as much as the ones in the lead, those people I had closer associations with.

Aaron. Dillon.

And there, at the head of this armed phalanx, stood Ripley.

"Stop shooting!" David cried. "We're both unarmed!"

Ripley answered, "The fact that you're unarmed doesn't mean anything. I've seen those creatures kill an entire company of gun wielding Marines with nothing but their claws and teeth."

"Stay away from that thing, Barnes!" Dillon shouted. "This fight isn't with you!"

Mr. Barnes stepped in front of me protectively. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik is my friend! This makes this my fight!"

"You've been deceived. That creature is no one's friend. It's nothing but a bloodthirsty killer!"

"Yeah? Well, you're talking about hanging the cat that catches the mice! What sense is that?"

"The worms are gone, Barnes. It's time to clean house! You've got to understand, those things are not your friends! They kill people!"

"What happened to all this talk about them being angels?"

"Satan has angels, too. Lucifer disguises himself as a servant of the Most High to lead the faithful astray. These things only claim to be Christian, murdering our brethren in secret while putting on an outward show of piety. I've seen the bodies."

David pointed to the corpses on the floor. "I hate to break it to you, but these are nothing but dressed up corpses from the morgue. One of them actually died of brain cancer, not an attack."

"Where's your proof?" Ripley challenged.

David indicated the android. "You just blew a hole in her head."

The woman faced the prisoners. "He's lying. Those victims clearly died from punctures to the skull."

"Postmortem," David insisted. "There's no defensive wounds."

"Grandmother killed the other four you found before she became a Christian," I added. "She has since turned from that old sinful life."

"So you say," Ripley challenged. "But then, when your granny gets hungry, maybe starts laying an egg or two...What sorry excuse will you have for us then?"

"I wish she would just go away and let that thing eat its way out of her," Newt muttered. It was spoken in anger, but I agreed with her. It would have made things a lot more peaceful.

"You have lulled us all into a false sense of security," Dillon said. "You are not of God, but of Beelzebul." He loaded his machine gun. "Out of the way, Barnes."

"No," David growled. "You do not have in mind the things of God, but of men!"

Dillon raised the gun, aiming for me. "I'm not going to ask you again. Move!"

"You'd shoot a human being in cold blood to kill an innocent alien lifeform."

Dillon aiming at Mr. Barnes's head. "I've done worse. A lot worse."

David ducked as the man opened fire, shoving me backwards. It was lucky that Dillon and the other prisoners hadn't touched a gun in years, or my friend probably would have died.

"Let's go!" Barnes shouted, tugging my arm.

We ran.

Bullets ricocheted off the walls as we retreated down the corridor.

I crawled up the wall, darting from there to the ceiling and the other wall to avoid gunfire from several guns. I yelped as a bullet lodged in the back of my shell.

"I'm out!" I heard Dillon shout.

"Everyone!" said Ripley. "Conserve your ammo. The big one's priority. Postlewaite, comb the shore for more rounds."

The man nodded and ran off.

Still, they fired at me with greater and greater accuracy. David resorted to throwing pieces of concrete and random objects along the corridor floor to slow them down.

A few yards from there, we found Grandmother, sitting up, speaking to Golic.

"What do you mean, `Immortality is not yours to give'?" the prisoner asked her.

"I can only offer the immortality of Christ. I cannot physically make you live forever, or make you one of my species."

"You sit with the Almighty in heaven! Surely..."

Grandmother sighed. "I am not an angel! Tell me, do angels get upset stomachs? Or defecate?"

Golic gazed in awe. "A riddle! A proverb!" He appeared to be concentrating very hard on the question, like Grandmother had revealed to him some deep philosophical truth.

Grandmother would have said something to correct him, but at that time I and David came rushing down the hall, gun toting felons on our tail.

"Behind me!" Grandmother barked. "All of you!"

"But Grandmother!" I cried. "It's you they came to kill!"

"We need to hide!"

I nodded. "But where? They're backing us into a corner! The entire end of this hallway is blocked off!"

"You can climb over the ship," David said.

I responded with a shake of my head. "Big Bird already sealed that off. If we could climb over, so could the worms."

"Shit."

He rushed to a nearby Chi Rho door. "Quick! Through here! Mara, I mean, Big Bird, sealed off all the vents, but the pressure doors, you know, seal themselves, right?"

"Sounds reasonable."

He opened the sliding door, politely gesturing to Grandmother. "After you."

She rushed in, followed by me and Sarah. David shut the portal behind us.

Golic could have possibly joined us as well, but Grandmother pushed him into the hallway at the last second.

I threw some saliva on the locking mechanism, shorting it out. "This may buy us some time. How much I know not."

"Keep moving," David urged.

We hurried down an inclined walkway to the prison's lower level.

"David! David!" a small voice cried as we entered a corridor.

Sharad scurried to the young man, wrapping her arms around his waist. She was too short to reach much higher.

David's wife and the baby came along shortly afterwards.

"I heard gunshots," Pillow said. "What's going on up there?"

"A lynch mob. "Prior to her conversion, Shasharmazorb committed a few sins, and the prisoners are unwilling to forgive them."

It surprised me to hear him speak my Grandmother's full name, but I supposed the subject had come up during their bible studies...

"Where's Thonwa?" I asked.

"She's resting." Pillow let out a frustrated groan, "If only our medical machines were operational!"

"It would solve many problems," I agreed.

David glanced around the tunnel. "We need to hide somewhere. It's only a matter of time before they get a cutter and-"

Grandmother yelped as a bullet tore through her shell.

A second shot obliterated a section of rusty pipe bearing a striking resemblance to a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, erupting in a spray of slimy cockroaches. Not sure why there was a cockroach colony swarming inside that pipe. Perhaps it was part of the sewer system.

The bullets had come from Ripley's weapon, illustrating, perhaps, how human females tend to have trouble focusing during late stages of pregnancy.

We fled in the direction opposite the gunfire, through a triangular door that slid down and stopped halfway to the floor, refusing to shut all the way.

Thin waterfalls of moisture dripped down the concrete walls around us, adding new wet layers to already large bands of white fungus. This gelatinous icing of decay appeared to have fathered other types of sporozoa, for around the joints of pipes I could see growths of coral coloration, blossoming into the shape of pig ears.

We backed through another door, sealing the locking mechanism with acid.

The precaution did us no good. At the next intersection we found ourselves once more under attack. We turned a corner.

Our path concluded at a pressure door near the heated bowels of the foundry. Through a window of meshed security glass, I could see Thonwa, standing helpless as a tattooed tan-brown hand held a pistol to her head.

It was as if they knew we'd be coming that way, the bullets driving us to this particular stretch of hallway, and now they presented us with bait.

"Oh no!" David gasped.

Pillow started praying in Wava.

David grabbed her hand. "Andere. Amen."

The Latin American on the other side seemed to notice all this, for then he waved, beckoning for us to join him.

I reached for the door button.

"No!" David hissed. "We can't! It's a trap!"

"I know. But there is no greater love than one that gives their life for their friends."

I was afraid, but I knew this was something I had to do. I sighed, opening the door.

"Hey, chupacabra!" the gunman called to me. "We're going to do a little trade. You and su abuelita, you go into that room over there..." He pointed to a bright orange room, steaming from the heat of the foundry.

I found myself making unconscious associations to the fiery furnace of Daniel 3.

I folded my hands pleadingly. "Por favor, no hacen daño Abuelita."

He smirked a little at my lame Spanish. "You should have thought about that before you let the bitch tear up my friends," the man waved to the room. "Aquí. Rapido."

I bowed my head in sadness. "I will not hold this sin against you. The Lord forgive you, my brother."

The man pulled back the hammer on his gun. "Hey. You're kinda sounding like you want to see what this brains look like. Am I right? Because I'd like to see them too."

"But she saved your life!" I protested.

His response: "I know! I'm really hoping that you'll do what I say and get in that room, so I won't have to do anything I'll regret."

I, Grandmother, and our companions did as commanded, standing tremulously in the sauna-like corridor beyond.

The man waved to the humans. "Hey. You two. Go now. I only want chupacabras."

"No deal," David said. "These are my friends. I'm not going unless they go too."

The man gave him an indifferent shrug. "Your funeral." He pushed the door closing button.

To his credit, he actually did let Thonwa go. I could see it through the tiny window.

I heard the loud hum of machinery coming to life. A pair of floodlights flared in the far end of the chamber.

I glanced up and noticed something glowing and hot brimming above us.

Shots pinged off the nearby walls, chipped the concrete at our feet. The armed men were drawing a bead on us from a pair of doorways. They could have easily killed or crippled someone, but it seemed the intent had been to merely drive us backwards, toward the glowing thing.

The amount of forethought involved in this elaborate trap led me to believe that I had `napped' somewhat longer than I had originally suspected.

I and Grandmother stepped back. The men retreated, sealing us in our chamber of death.

The glowing thing appeared to be swelling, more than likely a ton of molten ore of some kind. I doubted any form of biological life could survive such a thing. Even a Ss'sik'chtokiwij would likely be baked in her shell, like a lobster dropped into a boiling pot. Even if one escaped the thousand degree liquid mineral, I could not imagine one living that long afterwards.

The lamps glared at me like automobile headlights, like a pair of glowing eyes in the far shadows. I was oddly reminded of the dragon Smaug from The Hobbit. I folded my claws, preparing for the inevitable.

"What are you doing, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" David cried.

"I prepare for my death. Our Lord said that if we wish to become his disciple, we must take up our own cross and follow him."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Martyrdom is like sex! You have to let it happen naturally!"

Pillow muttered something in Wava.

"What?" David said indignantly.

"Abukos. Nothing. I'm not going to ruin our last moments together."

David rolled his eyes. "It's only a metaphor."

The female grimaced in disgust.

I tried the handles of all the doors around me but they'd been locked, their red lights flashing angrily. I bowed my head in prayer.

"What now?" Barnes demanded.

"Don't pray for us!" Pillow said. "God will be sorting this out soon enough."

"I am praying for us to be delivered like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego from the fiery furnace."

David nervously wrung his hands. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, sometimes God gives us enough tools to deliver ourselves. Not always, but sometimes. You can crawl up the walls like Spiderman and melt stuff! Surely you can think of something!"

Only one door remained open, and it was blocked by an armed female figure. Training the gun on me and Grandmother, she called to my other companions. "The boy and girl can go. Bring your monkey friends with you."

Pillow flushed blue with anger. "Who are you calling a monkey...!" She faltered, doubtless struggling with the problem of answering an insult without sinning. "...You...space chimp?"

This actually made Ripley laugh, but it was a coarse, bitter one. "In a minute, it won't matter what you're called. Last chance. Go now, or stay here and die."

"Not without Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and her family."

David nodded, clutching her hand tightly.

Ripley stared at Sharad with a hopeful expression.

The little female only chewed the tip of her tail and backed away.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Sarah whispered. "I'm scared."

"I am too," I said.

Ripley waved to Julia's human `host mommy.' "You. Come over here. I'll keep you safe."

Sarah looked at me for guidance. I gave her a nod and waved her away.

The young woman gave me a quick kiss on the dome, hurrying to our captor's side.

"Finally! Someone with sense!" Ripley gazed at her appraisingly. "You seem to be a nice young woman. I'm sorry we had to meet under these unfortunate circumstances."

Pillow muttered something to Sharad. The little female hurried to the exit with the baby in her arms.

"You must carry on the mission," Pillow urged as the girl departed.

Sharad didn't turn around. I'm not sure she got the message.

"Go," Grandmother whispered to David. "I have a plan."

"I don't want you to martyr yourself," he said. "If you're going to die as a martyr, I'm dying with you."

"Let yours happen naturally. I promise to do the same."

She held up a claw, appearing to be attempting the Vulcan salute. "Spy Der Man."

David swallowed hard, nodding to her. "If you are certain you can find a way, I am too. God bless you."

He and his wife marched past our armed guard, disappearing into the corridor.

"Can I go too?" Julia asked.

I shook my head sadly. "I am sorry, daughter. It seems we are destined for genocide."

"Oh," she sighed. "Do you think Magneto can help us? I saw a recording where he escaped genocide with his great magnetic powers."

I frowned at her. It seemed all of this information had come out of David's brain. "Magneto is a fictional character."

"So that's a no?"

I groaned.

"At least I can be with my family again," Newt said darkly. "My real family."

"Is it a sin to strike a human?" Grandmother asked.

I stared at her, turned to face our captor.

Cogs slowly began turning in my brain. "As long as you do not strike...out of malice, or to kill...And you apologize properly afterwards..."

Ripley reached for the door button.

Noting what was happening, Grandmother cleared half the room in a single jump, enduring machine gun fire as she shoved the woman forcefully against the wall. "Excuse me," she said in passing.

I snatched Ripley's gun from her hands, rendered the weapon unusable by spitting on the muzzle, and closed the pressure door just seconds before a deluge of molten lead came rushing through the chamber.

I joined my friends in the corridor, hurrying down to a connecting tunnel.

We found our passage blocked by a group of prisoners with guns, one holding a pistol to Thonwa's head.

"There goes our trap," Dillon sighed. "What now?"

"Let's take a little tour of the leadworks," said a voice behind me.

Our `tour' proved to be rather cursory and short. The woman led me and my family into a V shaped metal channel within the foundry proper, ordering us, by penalty of Thonwa's death, and gunpoint, not to move from that place.

To David's family and Sarah again she granted amnesty, blaming the previous daring escape, I suppose, on Grandmother herself.

Once we stood inside this massive pouring mold, Ripley closed the door, borrowed someone's machine gun, shot the lock permanently closed.

A ladder stood to one side of this mold, which she and the prisoners used to access the upper level of the leadworks. David, his family and Sarah would have stayed at the bottom with Grandmother and I, but Ripley threatened them with the gun, forcing them all up the ladder. Dillon and her other companions covered us so that nothing untoward could be attempted.

Mr. Barnes would have put up more of a fight and stayed with us, but Grandmother persuaded him against it.

Halfway to the ladder, the man had stopped and said to her, "I'm not leaving without you, Shasharmazorb. If you and Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik are going to die, I will die with you."

In response, Grandmother shook her head. "This is not a natural martyrdom. Go. Save your family."

"I martyr myself to save yours," David said.

To this Grandmother answered, "Do not worry about us. As before, I have a plan."

"It's called dying," Ripley said. "And it's the only plan you're going to have if you value your friend's life!"

David ignored her. His eyes were full of questions, but he nodded, patting Grandmother on the shell. "I hope it works. If not, may we meet again in heaven."

"I doubt you'll see it there," Ripley muttered. "Unless you're looking over a lake of fire!"

David and his family climbed the ladder.

Thonwa, slowed by her injuries, still managed to follow, as coerced by gunpoint.

Now it was just my family and I, in the bottom of this metal ravine, staring up at a crowd of prisoners and powerless friends, like a strange inverted crucifixion scene, viewed from the cross.

"Do you really have a plan?" I whispered to Grandmother.

"Sorry. I just didn't want David to die."

Ripley shouted to someone poised on a pouring machine, waving for them to bring it over...

...To fill the channel with scalding thousand degree lead.

"Ripley," I called. "Whatever happens next, I want you to know that Jesus loves you."

She responded with a forced laugh. "Yeah? When I was ten, my two older brothers took me to the back of a shed and molested me with a screwdriver. Where was Jesus then?"

I suppressed a sob. "Convicting your brothers of their sin."

The woman paused to consider my words, and for a moment I entertained the hope that she might change her mind. "Not good enough," she scoffed.

Oh well.

The molten lead vat moved closer. And closer.

At a loss, I sobbed and started singing that great old hymn, He Lives.

My friends, apparently as helpless as I, joined in.

We watched anxiously as the pouring machine, brimming with glowing lead, made its slow progress through the foundry.

During a lull in the singing, I heard the tattooed man growling to his captive, "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Thonwa asked.

"Those things. Stop making them move."

The man referred to Thonwa's head tentacles. "I'm sorry Sam." They had spent enough time in close proximity for her to acquire her captor's name, apparently. "I can't help it."

"You can and will," he growled.

"When's the last time your genitalia did what you told it?"

Sam visibly shuddered.

Thonwa continued. "It doesn't help that you keep touching and rubbing things against them!"

Sam became so disgusted that his pistol distanced itself from Thonwa's head.

The Cijmabsa proved to be more spry than expected. The moment the gun moved away, Thonwa snatched it out of the man's hand, turning the barrel in his direction.

The weapon discharged, blowing one of her reproductive organs into a ragged stump of meat, dripping green-brown fluid, but it didn't slow her down. She only let out a sound like a caribou and whipped the weapon around.

In response, five guns chambered, muzzles pointing directly at her head.

The Cijmabsa raised her arms in surrender.

"Put the gun down!" Ripley shouted. "Now!"

Thonwa slowly deposited the weapon on the grated flooring, but her eyes weren't on Ripley, or the men.

She was looking above.

I followed her gaze just in time to see a plump female figure scaling the side of the pouring control station.

The Abreya darted out of view before anyone else could see her, presumably crawling up the sheer surface of a set of pipes on that side.

Ripley glanced about herself, searching the crowd. "Where's the monkey woman?"

"She said she had to go to the bathroom," Golic said.

The control station, a rusty metal cage suspended high above the massive open pool of molten ore, was framed on three sides by waist high railing. A steel box on one side controlled the huge oblong dumping container, attached to its bottom.

The machine moved by means of rollers attached to the ceiling, obviously the only way to move something that hot without melting the legs off.

They had only one man running the machine. Mr. Morse.

This man fell over and hit his head on the steel flooring of the cage when a pair of hands reached through the bottommost gap in the railing, yanking his ankles out from under him. The knock appeared to have been strong enough to render him unconscious.

As quick as you can say Jack Robinson, Pillow leaped into the cage, slamming her palm down on the emergency stop button.

The prisoners responded by opening fire, but Pillow was already hiding safely behind an electrical box.

"Wait! Hold your fire!" Ripley yelled. "We don't want to destroy the machine!"

She gave a signal to Dillon, and Mr. Barnes quickly had a gun pressed against his skull.

In the meantime, Kevin, a thick browed dull looking thug, knelt behind Sharad, pinning her arms as he held a knife to her throat.

"Pillow Barnes!" The Ripley woman called. "We have your husband and child! If you want them to live, I need you to reactivate the dumper!"

No response.

Pillow's baby did nothing but cry. Gregor tried to bounce and comfort it, but nothing worked.

"Can't someone shut that thing up!" Ripley snapped.

"Let me take it," David said.

Gregor passed the infant to him, and Barnes rocked it gently into meek silence.

"I know you're listening!" Ripley shouted to the control station. "I know you don't want to see anyone get hurt." Apparently I wasn't `anyone.' "A good Christian...girl like yourself wouldn't want to see anyone hurt, so why don't you get behind those controls and pour the lead like we originally planned?"

A pair of trembling hands appeared below the platform, then a fearful head.

The Abreya climbed back into the cage, frowning at the controls. "I don't know how to run this!"

"It's just left, right and pour! It's not that hard!"

"But!" Pillow protested.

"Figure it out!"

To be fair, the controls weren't that simple, but I think Pillow also knew an opportunity when she saw one.

"What are all these numbers?" she said, indicating a digital display.

"Those aren't important! Just push the right arrow!"

"Don't you mean left?"

"Whatever! Just push the damned button!"

Ripley suddenly doubled over and coughed up blood. "Stop playing games or your husband gets it right now!"

Sarah was so lost that she just silently cried and sucked her thumb. Such behavior looked odd in a woman of her age.

"Pillow, don't!" David shouted, guns still pointed at his head. "Save Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Have faith! You'll find a better man!...Lord knows you won't find any worse."

A sob crept into Pillow's voice. "Honey, you're not helping."

"Pour the lead!" Ripley hollered. "Do it!"

David shook his head. "Save Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"

"Can we kill some of them, mother?" Julia asked.

"They're going to kill us," Newt agreed.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but no."

Newt growled. "You think she can pour that stuff on Ripley?"

"You don't really want that, do you Newt?"

"I don't know," she whimpered. "I'm just sad!"

Kevin's knife hand was slipping. Although he still had a good grip on Sharad, he was thinking like a human, taking no account of the little female's tail.

This tail whipped up suddenly, snatching the knife out of his grip.

In one quick motion, she stabbed the man in the leg.

"Sharad!" David scolded. "No! You must forgive your enemy!"

"I'll forgive him once I'm somewhere safe!" she answered, running away.

Kevin didn't give chase, only yanked out the blade and tried to field dress the wound with strips he ripped off his shirt. I think he never wanted to harm the girl in the first place.

The block headed man who looked like he should have bolts sticking out of his neck, however, had no such qualms.

With the crack of automatic gunfire, Sharad collapsed to the deck.

"Live by the sword, die by the sword."

"No!" David cried, struggling against his captor.

"Sharad!" Pillow sobbed. "You bitch! She was only a child!"

Ripley's expression hardened like steel. "Pour the lead, Pillow!"

"You wicked and sinful woman! Is this really how you want to come before the throne of the Almighty at the hour of your death?"

"I never gave any order to kill that child. In fact, I don't really want to kill your husband, either." She stabbed a finger in my direction. "I only want these things dead."

"Why must you hurt them? What have they really done?"

"Everything. She killed every human being on LV 426. Your bible says that the wages of sin is death, and she has yet to earn her due."

"Jesus absolved her of her sins, Ripley."

"No. You absolved them. Not a single word in the entire (God condemned) bible says anything about saving the soul of a single fucking space alien, yourself included. This thing deserves death for all the destruction it's caused, and since God has failed to step in and take care of it, I will. And you're going to help me."

"No, Ripley. Shasharmazorb is an intelligent being, like me, and I will not murder her in cold blood just to satisfy your petty lust for revenge."

Seeing that this was getting nowhere, Ripley nodded to Mr. Postlethwaite. "Kill the husband, too."

"Drop your weapons!"

A group of figures in white biohazard suits rushed into the leadworks, armed with their own assault weaponry, followed by a similarly suited Asian man with mirrored shades...and...a Bishop unit.

Despite seeing all the aliens, none of the newcomers seemed to be surprised at anything. I guess they were either too jaded or too well trained, like the stone faced men with the funny hats who guard Buckingham Palace...or whatever that place was.

"I repeat," the Asian man said. "Weapons down. Hold a weapon, and add ten years to your sentence. Open fire, and you're dead."

No one moved.

"Is this what they call a Mexican standoff?" Julia asked.

I shook my head.

The man with the mirrored shades pointed to Sarah. "I believe that one's mine."

Gregor loaded a clip into his gun. "Come and take her."

He did not. At least, not then.

Aaron set his gun down, raising his hands high in the air. The Bishop unit gestured for him to stand next to him, among the white suits.

Troy, that European guy with vague facial similarities to Sting, set down his own gun.

"Men," Dillon shouted. "You know we're all going to die anyway, so before you give in, I want you to ask yourself, `How will I check out? Am I going to stand and fight? Or am I going to die on my knees?"

"No disrespect," said Troy. "But as warriors of prayer, wouldn't the proper answer be on our knees?"

"I meant begging, Troy. Begging. Do you want to die kneeling before mortal men? Or will you stand?"

Troy raised his weapon. "Stand, sir."

Bishop stepped forward, hands spread to show he was unarmed.

Julia and Newt climbed off my shell, scaling the wall to get a better view. I myself stayed put, afraid of causing the death of a hostage.

"Don't come any closer!" Ripley barked to the android. "Stay where you are!"

"Ripley," he said.

"Bishop."

Noticing that Julia and Newt now stood on the observation deck, I climbed up to return them to the molding area.

A couple prisoners fired at me, but the men in white suits shot the weapons out of their hands.

"Cease fire!" Weyland barked. "All of you!"

I crept onto the deck. No one fired at me this time.

"I'm here to help you," Bishop said to the woman.

"No more bullshit." Ripley suddenly clenched her stomach. "Oh God. I just felt it move."

"Ripley, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah. You're a droid. Same model as Bishop. Sent by the fucking company."

"I'm Michael Weyland," the man said. "I'm not Bishop, I designed him. I'm very human. The company sent me here to show a friendly face. To demonstrate how important you are to us. To me."

So...I thought. Not an android, but the actual model for all androids named Bishop. I supposed that explained the lack of robot scent.

I wondered, what kind of vain, self obsessed narcissist would model a million robots after his own likeness?...Such comments, I supposed, were better kept to myself.

Pillow waved to Grandmother, urging her out of the mold. The big Ss'sik'chtokiwij followed the instruction, but chose to climb off a catwalk leading toward the rear of the facility, disappearing from sight.

"Turn around and go back where you came from, Weyland," Ripley said coldly. "Or my men will shoot."

"You're infected," the man said. "I can remove the larva."

"Bullshit."

"You're wrong. I want to help. Ripley, we can take it out of you."

"How?"

"We have a surgical base set up on the rescue ship. Come with me. You can still have a life. Children, even. Let me help you."

"What guarantee do I have that, once you've taken it out, you'll destroy it?"

"You have to trust me. Please, trust me."

"No."

"Ripley, don't fight this. Look around. Yours isn't the only sample." He waved in my direction.

Ripley glared at me like she intended to kill with her eyeballs.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Pillow climbed down to the observation deck, examining her adopted daughter's wounds.

"Is she all right?" David asked.

Pillow sucked in her breath as she peered at the holes in the girl's abdomen. "I...I don't know. She...might be all right. It looks like it just hit her second liver."

"Thank God!" her husband breathed. "She won't need that until she turns twenty one."

"Thirteen."

"Twenty one."

"Honey, you know full well that Abreyas can legally drink once they turn-"

"Twenty one," David insisted.

"Fine," she sighed. "Twenty one."

Mr. Weyland frowned at the injured child. "I'm sorry your daughter had to get hurt. You're welcome to come with us and make use of our surgical base."

Pillow nodded. "Please. Take me to your ship."

Ripley scowled. "Don't. It's a trap."

Mrs. Barnes looked at her sadly. "And what have you been setting for us?" She shook her head. "This is my best chance to save her. I know she can live, but only if we operate immediately."

"We'll put her in a cryogenic chamber," Weyland said. "We'll get her to the station in no time."

Pillow nodded. "Thank you."

The man gestured to his people. The Abreya and her baby carrying husband followed a pair of suited figures out the entrance.

As they departed, one man pressed a gun shaped device against Pillow's neck. "This will only hurt for a second."

"Wait! What is that?"

The man shot it into her neck. "RFID tracking chip."

He shot one into Sharad and the baby, too.

When he came to Pillow's husband., the man hesitated "Wait. What about this guy?"

Weyland shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

Pillow pointed to the Cijmabsa. "Thonwa needs help, too. I'm a doctor. I can give her the proper treatment if she can come along."

"Gladly," Weyland said.

Thonwa got tagged and led away with David's family.

"You'll wish you'd been dropped in that molten lead!" Ripley yelled. "You don't know what torturous, Mengle-like experiments they'll do to you!"

"I'll take my chances!" Pillow called back.

Ripley turned her anger back on the company man. "It seems I have no choice."

Weyland forced a smile. "I knew you'd see reason."

"Yes." She leveled her gun at him. "Neither you, nor your men, can leave this building alive."

She raised her voice to a scream. "Open fire! Forget the aliens, turn your weapons on the soldiers!"

"You heard the lady!" Gregor barked. "Kill the men, take the ship!"

"Freedom!" Troy shouted.

A small war erupted, the air erupting with the rumble of machine guns, sprays of bullets, and muzzle flashes.

It wasn't a war, it was a slaughter.

The men from the scientific extraction team were trained soldiers. Dillon and the other prisoners were not. Few, if any, had firearms experience, other than some practice trying to kill a few aliens, and those with training, and those who had committed murder with guns, hadn't touched a weapon in years.

Three company men got killed, two wounded. I'm certain that some of the serial killers could have done nasty damage with a few knives, but none of them could get that close.

They shot Dillon in the chest several times. He fell backwards into the empty pouring mold. If the bullets hadn't killed him, the fall likely would have.

Gregor and Bolt Neck collapsed under a hail of bullets. Troy, Jude, Postlewaite, all dead. They only managed to kill one soldier by throwing knives.

Aaron clubbed Weyland in the back with a pipe, but a white suit mowed him down.

Amid the struggle, Weyland's people got what they wanted. Their clone, my friend, was now property, once again.

But what was I supposed to do? I didn't have any guns, and even if I did, they had the Barnes family already, and Thonwa, and were trying to save lives, more or less. I couldn't fight an enemy like that.

Ripley fired a few shots at Mr. Weyland, causing his arm to bleed profusely. A company man retaliated with a few shots of his own, but the boss, clutching his bleeding arm, screamed, "Stop! I want her alive!"

Golic collapsed as bullets tore through his leg.

Kevin fell dead.

The man with the Latin Kings tattoo and everyone else holding a gun. Dead.

You may have heard a story where Ripley faces down a single Ss'sik'chtokiwij, kills it with molten lead, then destroys herself to rid the universe of the last remaining Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva. It should be obvious to you that, in our present circumstance, such a dramatic self sacrifice would not have made logical sense. In addition to the baby larva on the way, Weyland still would have had access to me, Grandmother, Julia and Newt (1).

What really happened wasn't quite as glamorous.

"Fuck it," Ripley said, snatching up weapons from the fallen prisoners. "Should have done this to begin with."

To Weyland, she yelled, "I'm not going to let you win!"

The woman loaded and turned a gun on me.

The moment the muzzle blazed, I jumped out of the way, then broke into a sprint as a spray of bullets exploded behind me.

Weyland ripped a piece off his shirt, knotting it around his wounded arm. "Ripley! Stop this!"

The woman ignored him.

Out of self preservation, I leapt off the side of the observation platform, hanging from my claws.

Ripley swore at me, but remained undeterred, aiming at Julie instead.

"Ripley!" Weyland protested. "Stop! Think of all we could learn from it!"

"Learn from their corpses!" She opened fire.

I jumped up on the platform, snatching my larva out of danger. Bullets cracked into the plates of my exoskeleton, some superficial, others causing me to bleed.

I leapt out of the woman's line of fire, again hanging by my claws off the side of the observation deck, Julie tremulously clinging to my back.

Newt fled from us, hiding in a darkened corner, safe from Ripley, far from us.

Ripley stopped up to the ledge I dangled from, pressing the barrel against my face.

"Put the gun down!" Yutani yelled.

Ripley's first reflex, when given such an order, had been to pull the trigger.

I, however, had anticipated this, and having a tough shell, allowed myself to drop to the bottom of the pouring mold. Her ammunition clanged and sparked against the steel walls.

With an angry shriek, Newt darted out of a pipe, leaping on the woman with her claws outstretched.

Ripley whirled, turned the gun on her, but the weapon clicked empty.

She threw the screaming, clawing larva aside, raised her second gun.

Weyland may have spared Ripley's life for the sake of the larva in her chest cavity, and possibly friendship, but Mr. Yutani had little tolerance for the woman's hostile behavior. He made a fist, and his soldiers opened fire.

Dodging the automatic fire, the woman picked up more guns and ran to the ladder, pausing on the rungs halfway down to fire at me.

I tried to run away, but only came upon locked doors.

"Morse!" the woman shouted to the dumper above us. "Morse!"

A bald head slowly emerged from below the control console. "Ripley?"

She jumped to the bottom of the mold, waving him over. "Here! Bring it here!"

I whimpered when the machine, brimming with scalding lead, came groaning toward us.

A group of white uniformed men appeared on the edge of the platform, all aiming guns at her.

Mr. Yutani leaned over the ledge. "Call your man off!"

"No!" Ripley shouted.

"Call him off now!" the man repeated. "We can and will use deadly force!"

She only gave him the finger.

The Asian pointed at the dumper, nodded to his men.

Morse ducked as the machine guns peppered the control cage.

The machine sparked and stopped moving. Ripley told God to eternally condemn the machine, a request, if honored, would not likely help matters.

Grandmother dropped down into the trench with us.

"You should go," I told her. "It's not safe."

"They have deactivated the large hot thing. We are no longer in danger."

Ripley contradicted this by shooting her in the crown, just barely missing the big Ss'sik'chtokiwij's brain.

"Stop her!" Yutani yelled. "Save the creature!"

The men's shots had surgical precision, targeting the woman's arms, her legs, the act of crippling her the primary objective.

With a bitter edge to her voice, the woman growled, "You think you've won, Weyland, but those xenomorphs are going to kill you."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Grandmother urged. "We must flee. Before she shoots again."

"No," I said. "The woman is injured, and we must love our enemies."

"Would it not be better to love her from a distance so she can not harm us with that weapon?"

I gave her a reluctant nod, climbing the wall.

Instead of giving up, Ripley fought through the pain, staggering after us with guns blazing. Bullets struck I and Grandmother as we clambered to safety.

More shots exploded through the woman's body.

"No!" Weyland screamed.

Ripley gave him a bitter smile.

Bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, she propped the weapon up against her chest, more or less where the healthy larva still grew, forcing her weakened, trembling fingers to squeeze the trigger.

Two kinds of blood sprayed out the back of her rib cage as her body slumped lifelessly to the concrete.

Julia and Newt wailed and cried into my shell.

I kissed my larvae, patting their shells in a comforting way.

[0000]

1. My original ending is crap. Ripley isn't going to commit suicide if the queen and an adult and three larva are still alive. I simply can't use the same ending, as cool as it looks on film. If you prefer the original ending I wrote, the one where she foolishly drops herself into molten lead when all four aliens are still alive, read it in Becky 075 or the Dream Neighborhood chapter or Ernie 074, Item VI.