ERNIE 073

by Akktri

An autobiography of a Xenomorph.

103. Alternate: Spirits in Prison 2

Note: "Spirits in prison" is a side plot, which is why I tried to condense it into one chapter and add new chapters to the end of this story. Unfortunately, the chapter was too long for FF's server to handle, so I had to start this new chapter. Again, this technically "never happened", it's just an alternate story where Newt becomes an alien, and Ripley's behavior makes absolutely no sense.

[0000]

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.

[0000]

The prisoners panicked and fled the cafeteria, nearly trampling me to death in the process.

As I backed into a corner, Ripley grabbed me by the arm. "Take me to your spaceship."

"It's not mine. If you want off the planet, you're going to need to speak to one of the captains."

"I have something else in mind," she said cryptically.

"Fine. Let's go see the man in charge."

On the way out the doorway, we bumped into Dillon.

The man stared at my companion, desperation clear on this face. "Ellen, you obviously know something about these creatures. What do you suggest we do?"

Ripley sighed. "Hide. Find some place that's completely airtight and stay there. Avoid any areas with holes or gaps in the walls larger than a golf ball. Either that, or go outside, where they're easier to spot."

She swallowed. "And don't cut them. Set them on fire, melt them, but keep your knives in the drawer."

The man's eyes widened. He quickly ran to Postlethwaite, relaying the information.

When I tracked David's scent up a corridor, I beheld a strange sight: Grandmother, seated on the floor before a cell, with her claws folded (1).

David sat on a bunk with his bible open, looking very pale as he explained John 8 down to the last detail, including what adultery consisted of.

The moment Ripley saw Grandmother, she gasped and pressed her back against the wall.

"It's okay." I pointed to David. "Look."

Grandmother glanced at me, then returned her attention to the reader.

I stepped around her, leaned into David's cell. "Interesting lesson choice. The adulterous woman. Struggling with guilt?"

David sighed.

"When me and Pillow first got married, we didn't have much. We'd buy...this won't mean anything to you, but they were Onxuyzo legs. They were luxury foods, but we couldn't afford the good ones, so ours was mostly shell." He shook his head, staring at the floor. "I'm a lowlife sleaze."

I didn't know what to say to that. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but the Ripley woman wants...something from your ship."

"I told you, we don't have any weapons."

Ripley pushed past me, glaring at the young man. "Bullshit. I want to see for myself."

We were a strange procession going through that prison, David and Sarah at the lead, Ripley and I in the middle, Grandmother behind us, and a group of worried prisoners behind. Ripley constantly looked over her shoulder at Grandmother, Grandmother answering with a nice smile (which looked threatening despite her best attempts) and a wave, or "Hi."

David cried continually the moment I told him about Zadoori. Sarah wrapped her arms around him as they walked, but she was crying too. This was their state when they emerged from the building.

"Hey!" I heard Aaron calling from behind us as we crossed the outside yard. "Where are you going!"

"I'm looking for tools," Ripley called back.

"I'm coming along. We can't have you running off."

"Run off?" she laughed, pointing to the Iberet. "In that? I'd have to be insane!"

Aaron gave her a look like he suspected insanity.

Grandmother spun around and hissed at the man, causing him to jump back.

Ripley laughed. "Maybe there's a use for that thing, after all."

Grandmother purred in amusement, despite the insult.

From our vantage point, I could see down to the beaches. A mile or so down the shore, there stood a massive angular looking spaceship, half submerged in water, sections of it cut open and exposed to to the elements (2).

The Sulaco, I guessed.

The EEV was nowhere to be seen, probably due to being taken to some salvage yard within the prison.

We continued on, Grandmother close at my biomechanical heels, Newt climbed over my shoulder, into my arms, looking troubled.

"What is it, dear aunt?"

"You know what it is, Ernie. Why does she have to come along?"

I held her close to my shell. "Grandmother has changed. You saw how nicely she behaved with David. She seems eager to learn all she can about Jesus, and help humans. Please, Rebecca. Forgive her. Do as our Lord commands and love your enemy."

"I can't. I hate her, Ernie! She killed everyone!"

Grandmother was crying. "I'm sorry, child. I really didn't know what I was doing. I didn't understand your people, or your ways, or how I was hurting them. Please forgive me."

"No," my little friend said coldly.

"Newt," I scolded.

"I can't forgive her! I can't! She's done too many evil things!" Newt crawled out of my arms, scampering away in the direction of the prison.

Julia gave chase, muttering something to her, but I couldn't hear what she said.

Newt fled from her, stopped a few yards away, crying by herself.

I wished to comfort her, but I had more pressing matters to attend to, lives to save, and Newt had chosen to run from me, rather than seek comfort in my arms.

I decided to leave the larva alone and come back once Ripley had examined the ship. I thought she needed time to sort things out, doubted she would go far.

"Well, anyways," I told Grandmother. "I'm happy you finally know the Lord."

As we approached the Iberet, a metal eye on a stalk popped out of a panel near the entry hatch, a loud lion-like voice growling, "State the nature of your business."

"Mara, relax," David groaned. "The prison is under attack. We're checking to see if anything onboard can help."

Silence answered him.

"Hello?"

At last, Mara said, "One of your companions is a highly dangerous xenomorph from LV 426, a queen unit which singlehandedly wrought the end of the Hadley's Hope colony."

"She said she's sorry," David explained. "It won't happen again."

Silence.

I stepped up to the eye. "I understand this is a missionary ship. Missionaries are required to follow the words of Jesus, including forgiving one's enemy."

A longer silence followed.

At last the lion voice said, "I am experiencing an emotional complication, one that cannot be rapidly resolved. Allowing the creature entry will endanger the lives of the crew-"

"And we'll endanger twice as many standing out here with our thumbs up our asses!" Ripley shouted, banging on the hatch. "Open up!"

The hatch lowered immediately.

The moment Ripley climbed onboard, her whole body tensed up, eyes bulging in nervous dread. Her head snapped back and forth, her pupils darting back and forth in the direction of every sound, as if she expected something to jump out and bite her.

"It's safe," David said as she jumped back from a humming machine.

Upon seeing Grandmother, Mrs. Barnes let out a yelp, like one would hear from a dog if you accidentally stepped on its foot. She clutched the baby tightly to hear breast as she gawked at the big Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Grandmother smiled and waved.

"W-who's that?" Pillow stammered.

I introduced her, and she calmed down a little.

"Mara, close the hatch," David called.

The entry ramp shut behind us. With Grandma in the room, it was a very tight fit.

"This craft isn't going anywhere," Aaron asked nervously. "Is it?"

David shook his head. "Not yet."

Pillow turned to face her husband, her face blushing blue. "David, I am with egg. I did a test. This one's actually yours."

"That's...great!" The expression on his face said that it was less so.

"You...seem displeased."

"Oh no," David stammered. "I just...find it hard to believe."

"I can show you a chromosome sample if you like. Of course, in a couple weeks, we'll actually get to see the fetus developing..."

"Capamfe." Mr. Barnes placed a hand on her shoulder. "I...great. It's great." The enthusiasm wasn't quite there.

"David," she said. "Hua gazu ruhd hib gecar con foqirug yirua, chik jupe pisoqo narun moqo komua."

The young man looked like he'd just been slapped. "I know. I...just need some time to think about this, okay?"

He backed away, around Grandmother, opening the entry hatch.

"Where are you going?"

"I, uh...need to pray. About...this."

"That is a good idea, husband. Let's pray together."

David frowned. "I think I need serious guidance. I, um...I'm going to pray with Dillon."

"Serious guidance!" she cried indignantly, but her husband was already marching down the ramp.

The female's expression of puzzlement became tinged with suspicion when she saw Sarah departing a few moments afterward.

The hatch closed on its own, a safeguard against the worms.

"What's going on out here?" Naumona said sleepily from a doorway. "The hatch keeps opening and closing."

Her eyes widened when she noticed the gathered crowd.

"I was just searching your spaceship for weapons," Ripley said, tugging on a wall panel. "What do you got back here?"

"Donated clothing," said Mrs. Borkin. "I'm not sure what you think we have, but you're not going to find it." Ripley tried the next one. "Choir robes."

The woman sighed. "And the one next to it?"

Ceremonial supplies for the Lyuntaaz holiday."

Ellen pulled the panel and found little black hats, white dresses, and a tentacled creature in a tank.

She held up a leather dress, frowning at the rings and chains attached to it. "S&M is part of your holiday."

Naumona looked puzzled, but Pillow seemed to know exactly what she meant. She blushed blue again. "It's not like that. We wear the chains to remember the Todroc enslavement."

Ripley rolled her eyes, groaning in frustration. "God. Don't you have anything useful in this tub?"

Pillow let out a guinea pig growl. "Can you please explain what's going on?"

I told her about the worms.

"Your doctor friend is dead," Ripley said.

David's wife whined like a puppy dog, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I won't believe it," Naumona whimpered. "I won't!"

"Fine. If you want proof, his remains are on the infirmary floor. If those things haven't eaten the rest of him already..."

A puppy dog escaped Naumona's lips. "What can we do to help?"

"I need something that senses motion. Cages. Traps. Flammable materials. Any sort of laser beam or microwave device you can find."

"I'm not sure I have exactly what you want," Naumona said. "But I'll try my best to find you something."

Naumona led Ripley around the ship, showing her various things.

The kitchen didn't yield much of use. Laser knives that would only multiply the worms, food, cooking utensils, alien adult beverages, dishes, a refrigerator and cooking devices that had no immediate strategic value, like a box that could cook eggs over easy, scrambled and hard boiled, or a blender that could turn noodles.

Ripley found a powerful fire extinguisher, an incinerator (it couldn't be removed from the wall), but wasn't impressed with anything, except a dusty lifeform tracking device buried under a stack of bibles in a compartment.

Downstairs, she found medical tools, but they either sliced things, were too small, or were permanently attached to the ship, like the medical scanner or the mechanical arm that made casts.

The vehicle actually did have a battle station, but it existed solely to protect the craft from space debris. When Ripley asked about the cannons ("rock crushers"), Naumona explained that they were destroyed in a brutal sandstorm on planet Ozmukwo.

They did have defensive scanners,but it was superfluous with an artificial intelligence accessing that very same data.

"Do you have forcefields?" Ripley said.

The answer was no, or they'd still have cannons.

"Is that all you've got?"

"Ma'am," Naumona said. "This isn't a Klingon Star Destroyer or whatever you think it is. We're on a mission of peace."

"What else do you have?"

Naumona took Ripley to crew quarters, and the woman ransacked Mr. Barnes' bedroom.

She only found clothing (a pretty assortment of Wigheshes), a collection of books, alien and terrestrial, incubator supplies, marital aids, entertainment devices and some picture albums.

Pillow had been watching the moment Ellen started rooting around, putting things back where they came from. When Ellen paused to stare at a saddle, Mrs. Barnes turned blue, blurting, "That's for riding animals back on my home planet...mostly."

"Your husband has some very strange ideas about what to do in bed," Naumona remarked.

"Who said anything about using the bed?"

Ripley dropped the object in disgust, wiping her hands on her pant leg.

"So you were serious. No guns. Anywhere. Period."

"Well...We do have one..." Pillow opened a panel in the floor, taking out a gray box shaped device. This she slid over her hand, demonstrating how it could be operated by squeezing a handle inside. "It doesn't shoot. We never bought the firing module."

The expression on Ripley's face could have been either disappointment or suspicion. "And yet you fought creatures like Ernie before."

"We had help. We didn't keep the weapons because they were loaned to us by the military. I thought we wouldn't need them. How would it look like if a missionary vehicle traveled around loaded with dangerous weaponry?"

Sighing, Ripley got up, stomped back to the main room.

"You want something to eat?" Pillow called after her.

The woman glared at her for a moment, then gave her a nod, seating herself. Pillow set the baby in a high chair, prepared something in a cooking device.

The entry hatch suddenly slid open, and Thonwa came marching up the ramp with Zadoori's body in her arms. She laid him gently on the floor.

Naumona let out a canine wail, dropping to her knees as she cradled the victim.

Pillow stopped cooking and rushed to her side. When she saw Zadoori, she let out a sob, and the two held each other, weeping in each other's arms.

A group of prisoners clomped up the ramp, with Dillon at the lead. "We've lost five more men. Turns out there is no safe place."

He was right.

Just a minute after he had said this, a prisoner shouted something, and a white head burst from Thonwa's stomach, spreading its toothy mouth flaps.

During Ripley's tour of the craft, she had witnessed the operation of several helpful appliances, including the fire extinguisher.

It was a strange machine, like a small black mechanical spider with a bagpipe balloon for an abdomen. The legs clamped around your wrist as you squeezed a trigger beneath the spider body.

This device Ripley brought forth the moment the worm emerged from Thonwa's stomach.

Pillow stepped in front of her. "Stop! You'll kill her!"

"She's already dead!" Ripley growled.

She shoved Pillow out of the way, blasting the Cijmabsa with a cloud of white foam. When the fog cleared, the worm looked like a scary ice sculpture.

"Someone pull that thing out of her so I can freeze the rest of it!"

No one volunteered.

"Don't everyone jump up at once!"

Out of frustration, Ripley reached for the creature, but I stepped in and yanked it out of my friend's belly.

The worm's rear section wiggled, threatening to snap off its front end and reproduce. I would have held on to it, but Ripley just about blasted me in the face, so I threw it to the floor and let her freeze it completely.

The woman surprised me by snatching it up with her bare hands and rushing into the kitchen.

At first, I wondered if she intended to warm up the stove and cook me a fantastic meal, you know, braised worm with mushrooms, cilantro and butter, but she instead dunked the creature into the incinerator, pushing the button.

The smell was disgusting, mostly because it was burned.

"Quick!" Pillow cried. "Help me grab Thonwa! It may not be too late!"

Naumona had been grieving, but composed herself enough to assist Pillow in carrying her Cijmabsa friend to the med lab.

I attempted to help, but Pillow said, "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I appreciate it, but I need you to watch the baby."

"Baby?" I cried in disbelief.

Her expression was serious, so I answered, "It would be an honor!"

I rushed into the kitchen, checking on the child.

An adorable infant, like a kitten combined with a baby. His opossum tail curled around the high chair as he stared at me.

Of course, the baby started crying, even when I smiled, waved, or made monkeyshines at it.

I glanced over a counter and suddenly noticed Grandmother assisting the two Abreyas with the carrying of Thonwa's body. I had to fight the disruptive urge to applaud her.

At the front of the group of prisoners, there stood a man of distinctly American appearance, southern, by the facial features. Long face, dull heavy lidded eyes, square jaw, nose and ears smaller than his European fellows. He had a box carved in his forehead, apparently a swastika that had been corrected with additional lines. I guessed him to be an ex Not See.

It would have been nice to learn more about this gentleman, but his life ended abruptly when a worm tore its way out the swasti-box.

Ripley was quick to blast the man in the face the moment the worm showed its head. Since I was otherwise occupied, she yanked the worm out of the man's skull cavity by herself.

The worm turned out to be only half frozen, and it had a mouth on both ends.

When it emerged from the victim with a mouthful of gray matter, it soon noticed its feast being taken from it. It turned its unfrozen head in Ripley's direction, snapping at her face.

Instead of a scream, she let out an anxious cry like a cave woman fighting a tiger. The creature shrieked and bit her neck, drawing blood, but again, the woman's reaction wasn't terrified surprise, rather something like, `Damned sabertooth!'

She slammed the worm's head against the kitchen counter, making the baby scream. The incinerator came open, and in went the worm.

It seemed the machinery hadn't been designed for that kind of abuse, for this time, after the usual barbecue, the device made angry whirring sounds and a huge cloud of black smoke came billowing out.

"Shut that hatch!" Ripley shouted. "We don't want any more company!"

"I'd be glad to oblige," Dillon said. "But I don't know how any of this stuff works!"

"Allow me." Big Bird made a chirping sound with her mouth like one of those keychain car locking systems, and the hatch closed.

"Are the worms gone?" Ripley called.

"I don't see any!" Dillon said.

Ripley turned her attention to the crying baby.

She smiled, lowering herself to the boy's level. "Hey you. What's your name?"

The little ball of fur only let out a meowing Canada goose sound, flashing his split tongue.

The woman rubbed the child on the head. "Guess we'll have to work on that, won't we?" She picked him up, staring at the prisoners milling around in the Iberet's living room.

They numbered about a dozen, making me wonder where the rest of them went. Did they die, or were they all hiding somewhere, fighting off worms?

Grandmother's butt stuck out of the tunnel leading to the medical bay. I thought she would end up like Winnie the Pooh, where we'd be hanging towels from her legs, but then I saw her crawling backwards up the ramp.

Pillow squeezed around her, stomped up to Dillon, interrupting the man in the middle of his prayers for the dead. "Have you seen my husband?"

The man blinked in confusion. "This isn't your husband here?"

Pillow shook her head. "That's Zadoori. My husband is David Barnes. He went to go pray with you about some things."

Dillon smiled. "That's news to me! Of course, I always knew that once I corrected his wayward and errant theology, he'd come back to me for guidance."

Mrs. Barnes's face flushed blue in anger. "That modthwamp lied to me!"

I sighed and shook my head. "He was a fool to run out there alone. I hope his prayers include a request for God's protection. For him and Sarah."

"The moment I catch up with him," Pillow growled. "He'll need another prayer against me!"

Golic grabbed the alien. "We've got to get out of here! Isn't this a spaceship? Take us somewhere away from here! Anywhere!"

"I forbid you taking these prisoners one foot off of this planet!" Aaron protested. "There's a parole process! Many of these men haven't served their full terms! You don't want to let them loose on some random space station! Who knows what damages they could cause?" (3)

"You're not so squeaky clean yourself, Aaron," said a tall black man with a snake tattoo on his forehead.

"Maybe so, but I've served my term. I'm due to release upon the next inbound ship."

The men murmured at this.

"Right or wrong," Dillon said. "The man has a point. These worms are a sign of God's judgment. We should accept it as such, and not try to run away."

"Yeah?" Snake Tattoo Man said. "Then why don't you go back in the prison and show us how it's done?"

"You people enjoy yourself doing that," Golic stammered. "But I'm not leaving until someone flies me off this rock!"

Pillow sighed. "Not without my husband. He's still out there somewhere."

"If he's out there," said Snake Tattoo. "He's dead now."

"That's because you have little faith, Boggs," Dillon scolded. "That young man is a believer. If his faith holds true, he will live."

"And if our faith holds true," Pillow argued. "We'll rescue him instead of leaving him to his own devices like a bunch of Mennonites."

Golic slammed his fist into a wall panel and it popped open, spilling a pile of space suits, an Elric board game, and a rubbery bifurcated appliance onto the floor. The last object he picked up, chuckling as he flipped its oddly shaped tentacles. "Huh! I wonder what this is used for!"

"Give me that!" Pillow growled, blue faced with embarrassment.

The moment she snatched it out of his hand, Boggs had a knife pressed to her throat, probably stolen from some shelf or cabinet in the room. "We're leaving here. Either you will help us, or you will die."

Pillow dropped the rubbery thing at once. "All right. Fine. I'll see what I can do."

Boggs released her, but curled her tail in his fist, refusing to completely let go of her. Ripley made no move to help. I could see she wanted to leave too.

"Mara!" Pillow said. "I need you to take us off this planet immediately!"

The android intelligence had been silent all this time, but now she spoke through the speaker system. "I'm sorry, Pillow. It is against the law for me to transport prisoners."

Boggs clamped his fist tighter around Mrs. Barnes' tail, chuckling a little. "Is that really your name?"

Pillow just glared at him.

Swallowing, the Abreya addressed the ship again. "We are in danger. We must...override that protocol."

Silence answered her. Boggs traced a line across Pillow's neck with his knife.

"Mara," Pillow urged. "Time is of the essence."

"You are requesting this transportation under duress," Mara said. "As stated before, I cannot comply. It is illegal to transport prisoners in this craft without governmental authorization."

"Hallelujah!" Aaron muttered. "Someone's talking sense!"

"You fail to realize that I'll kill this bitch if you don't," Boggs growled at the ceiling.

"I understand your physical expression of emotional distress, but in order for this vehicle to go anywhere, it requires a set of authorization codes from Zadoori Borkin."

Boggs frowned. "You mean that dead thing on the floor."

"Affirmative."

He snorted. "Surely there's some sort of bypass! Who else knows the code?"

Mara paused. "David Barnes."

Boggs looked blank. "Who?"

"She's talking about our new chef," Dillon said.

Boggs glanced at the closed hatch in disgust. "Shit."

The man suddenly stiffened, collapsing on the floor.

Big Bird stuffed the taser into her jumpsuit pouch. "There. I believe this resolves the conflict."

Pillow pocketed the man's knife. "I believe it does."

"Can I see that taser?" Ripley asked the android. "I'd like to try it on those worms."

"An inefficient earth device. I doubt it would be sufficient for their destruction."

"Yes, but it could buy me some time."

Big Bird nodded, passing the item to her.

"Big Bird," Pillow said. "I need your assistance with Thonwa's surgery while I go out to look for my husband."

"Is the patient currently stabilized?"

She nodded. "The environment is hazardous outside. May I recommend the manufacture of improvised weaponry before this undertaking?"

"That's a good point," Ripley said. "I'd like some improvised weapons myself."

Pillow sighed. "All right, but hurry!"

The Abreya raced past Grandmother to the area below deck.

Big Bird offered Ripley a square black object. "I found this sonar and motion detector in the Sulaco. Perhaps you'd like to have it?"

I recognized it as one of the devices the Spacemarines attached to their weapons. Imprecise things, really. Didn't tell you if a creature lurked on the ceiling, the floor, or right in front of you.

Pillow had shown Ripley how to operate a far superior device already, so the woman eyed the little screen with its horseshoe shaped grid and blinking lights with disdain. "I've had enough experience with those things to know they aren't any good."

Big Bird nodded. "I agree. We still have a Cugciku onboard which gives a much more precise picture. Still, this antiquated device performs adequately for simple one stage lifeform sweeps..."

The android appeared to pick up Ripley's indifferent expression. "I see you are already familiar with the Cugciku. I will bore you no further."

She marched into the kitchen, opening the incinerator with a socket wrench and a whirring motorized screwdriver. Fortunately, the worms were ash, so this activity posed no danger to anyone.

"What are you doing with that?" Ripley asked.

"It may interest you to know that flame weapons can be constructed out of the ignition and fuel elements of these and other devices."

The woman smiled. "I think I've just found a new best friend."

Big Bird stared at her. "How interesting. Who are you referring to?"

"Never mind," Ripley groaned.

"Oh dear. It seems I have committed a social blunder. How unpleasant."

"You're fine...Big Bird. Just keep doing what you're doing."

The android pulled a metal cylinder out of the machine. "You refer to me as a best friend?"

"Maybe," the woman sighed. "If you can get us out of this thing alive, I'll definitely think about it."

"Ah. A conditional friendship. Very well, I accept the terms. They are not unreasonable, considering the circumstances..."

I suspected Big Bird was somehow related to the MacGyver person I heard about, for she somehow constructed an impressive blowtorch with only incinerator pieces, a sink sprayer, and some strange looking cooking tools.

The torch was a clunky weapon, bearing similarities to actual earth blowtorches, a heavy cylinder and blasting nozzle.

At about this time, Boggs had recovered from his shock treatment. I heard Dillon scolding him as the group of prisoners encircled him, glowering. They must have come to some sort of agreement, for he nodded and stood up, tidying up the room.

This included the bodies. He carried the human to the side of the hatch, covering him with his coat. Zadoori he covered with a quilt he found in a storage compartment.

As the android worked, the children came up to the kitchen, the boy taking the baby into his arms. "Mom says for me to take Logan downstairs."

"His name is Spock," Sharad said.

"Is not!" Oxana protested. "It's Logan!"

"Maybe you should take it up with your mommy," Ripley said gently.

"My mother's dead," Oxana said.

Sharad frowned. "He means Naumona."

"He's not her baby."

Ripley rolled her eyes. "So this is what I've been missing all these months."

"Still," the girl continued, oblivious. "She's right. We should ask Pillow."

The two disappeared down the ramp.

We rejoined them a few minutes later, when Big Bird built a second flame thrower out of a medical incinerator in the lower level.

Thonwa's surgery appeared to be going passably well. Naumona and Pillow had already used the mechanical arms to do some good procedures.

From what I heard, the worm tore through an important, but non-vital organ in the Cijmabsa's body, and the others could be fused shut.

As Pillow operated, the children came up and asked her about the baby's name, but she told them, rather gruffly, that they'd have to wait until Mr. Barnes got back.

Big Bird built a few more devices, another ice blaster, this one crafted from a cryogenics unit, a sort of pager that chirped when a lifeform got close, and a trap that hypothetically roasted a worm like a hot dog.

I know all of that sounds time consuming, but Big Bird moved quite quickly, assembling them all in a matter of minutes.

I soon found myself upstairs with Ripley and Pillow, arms full of devices, watching the entry hatch lowering to the ground.

Boggs, who had been observing us during the manufacture of these weapons, asked to have one. Pillow wasn't sure it was a good idea, but we had Dillon's assurances that nothing bad would happen.

"Besides," Boggs added. "What good would it do me to kill my bargaining chip?" So he got a flamethrower.

The sky outside was dark. Thunder rumbled, lightning striking in the distance.

Not a drop of water, though. The wind blew dirt and dust across the landing pad and prison grounds. I detected a fine mist from the water behind us, but it was mostly grit. Rather odd after the recent rainstorm, but I suppose it had missed a few spots.

We descended the ramp, Boggs and Ripley with the flamethrowers, I with my hot dog maker and motion sensor, Dillon and Pillow carrying the fire extinguishers.

Big Bird yelled over the storm, "Go easy on those torches! They may overheat!"

"Now she tells us," Ripley muttered.

As we marched across the landing pad, a round headed man with a face like the Shrek goblin came running out. Fat nose, plump face, pointy eyebrows, missing front teeth.

The man stopped about halfway to us, gasping and panting for breath as he glanced at us, then stared back.

When I glanced behind him, I could see what he'd been running from.

From one side of the prison entrance to the other, the worms came rushing out in a flood.

With a scream, the man once again broke into a run...straight for the Iberet.

He tripped over a rock, fell, then vanished beneath a swarm of wiggling white bodies.

The worms kept coming.

"Let's pray these things don't overheat," Ripley muttered, shifting her weapon into position.

[0000]

1. I revised the previous chapter to include the description of the queen's size in relationship to the hospital ward. I originally had it in this chapter, as an afterthought.

2. Continuity for "Peacekeeper":

From our vantage point, I could see down to the beaches. A mile or so down the shore, there stood the massive angular shape of the Sulaco. It looked much less intimidating after the wreck, half submerged in water, sections of it cut open and exposed to the elements.

The EEV was nowhere to be seen, probably due to being taken to some salvage yard within the prison...

3. This could be an interesting plot-serial killers loose on Pathilon, but again, I'm trying to stick to the rough outline of Alien 3. Plus, it seems the demand for my writing has pretty much dried up.

[0000]

"What about me?" Aaron asked. "Where's my weapon?"

Big Bird smirked at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to fashion any other weapons. As it stands, I had to omit certain safety features, in the interest of expediency."

"Please tell me these aren't important safety features," said Ripley.

"Very well. These aren't important safety features."

The woman shook her head in frustration. "Never mind. We're probably going to die anyway."

"That is a statistical probability. Mr. Aaron, I would highly recommend reducing the amount of casualties by keeping yourself and your men behind the weapon carriers."

The man frowned. "I don't see we have much of a choice."

The flame throwers worked astonishingly well. I admit I had been a little skeptical when I had seen the pitiful test jets, but Big Bird's caution wasn't unmerited. Boggs' blowtorch belched out flame like a dragon, reducing swaths of killer worms to blackened ash.

Julia clung to my back like a human child clutching her mother's apron strings. It's just as well, I guess, she wasn't a great fighter. She kept behind my body, avoiding both the worms and Ripley. I couldn't blame her, after the incident with the wrench.

Ripley took a few cautious steps forward, adding a little dragon fire of her own.

That being said, the worms did not die easily, for half their roasted bodies attempted to break off and kill when the first portion burned. My companions had to be quite thorough.

The worms, having some small measure of intelligence, frequently broke ranks. When they did, Pillow and Dillon would freeze them, or I would clamp down the `hot dog cooker' until the creatures stopped moving.

"I thought I told everyone in that cafeteria not to cut those things!" Ripley growled, torching a few more.

"You do know there are giant exhaust fans in the basement level, don't you?" Dillon said. "Ones with big sharp spinning blades?"

"Oh God."

Julia hung from my shell, staring fearfully at the worms, even when we burned a swath through them.

Through our combined efforts, we reduced a swarm of more than five hundred to one hundred, but that was where the trouble came.

Boggs, still intensely focused on blasting fire at the creatures, suddenly let out an anguished yell. "Hot!"

The shoulder straps Big Bird had made for the fuel tanks were difficult to remove. The man couldn't just drop the tank.

"You are overheating," Big Bird said dispassionately. "It is currently unsafe. Please remove the flamethrower from your person and distance yourself from it."

The warning came too late.

With a sudden dull pop, like a car backfiring, Boggs was reduced to a mound of bloody entrails with legs. A group of worms swarmed over his dead body, stripping it to the bone.

Ripley rushed over, blasting the beasts with fire.

Her device must have overheated too, for the next moment she hurled it at the remaining worms.

The weapon exploded, sending bits of blackened worm everywhere.

The woman shakily caught her breath, casting the android a suspicious look that made me wonder if they were still "best friends."

Dillon and Pillow descended upon the remaining worms with their fire extinguishers, freezing them all into ice sculptures, their terror obvious in the excessive use of spray. I commenced roasting the sculptures with the cooker, sincerely hoping I wasn't the last line of defense.

Big Bird snatched Pillow's device from her hands, turning a knob on the side of the device. Out came a spray of black goop.

"Tebdong has a petroleum base," she said as she coated several worms. "And the contents of these weapons share properties with liquid oxygen."

Something flashed. I had to jump back from my cooking worm-dog as a huge bonfire spontaneously burst around us. My companions cried out in alarm.

At any rate, that took care of our enemy, so we all calmed down a little. It appeared, for the time being, that we were safe.

Ripley took out the lifeform detector. "We need to check if there are any more of those creatures hiding in the prison, maybe see if anyone's alive in there." She frowned at me. "Speaking of which, you and your friends need to find...your captain and leave as soon as possible. There are men coming who would love to dissect you for their military projects."

I nodded. "Thank you for the warning."

Pillow dug a communicator device out of her outfit. "If my husband isn't dead, I'm going to kill him."

She punched buttons around the screen. "To leave me and the baby alone with all this going on! What was he thinking!" The Abreya grumbled something else in Wava.

The device showed a topographical map of the prison and surrounding area. A red dot blinked in one of the squares.

"I've tried calling him several times, but the little Wusu isn't answering! Once I get to where this blip is located, we're going to have a talk!"

"Before or after you kill him?" I asked.

She just scowled at me.

Muttering something about being tired, Grandmother curled up outside the ship's entry hatch like a very large dog.

We followed David's `blip' into the prison, Ripley walking beside me, sweeping for lifeforms.

Ripley detected no signs of lifeforms, human or otherwise. Twice she consulted with Big Bird about it, asking if the device were broken, but the android could find nothing wrong.

David's blip led us to the prison chapel, but we saw no sight of the human anywhere, live or dead.

Pillow reached behind a pew and found a second communicator. "Sneaky kavorkteb modthamp! This is just a trick!"

Casting a bored glance at the altar, Ripley seated herself on one of the pews to rest.

"Jesus Christ!" she shouted, leaping to her feet.

Despite us being in a small church, this exclamation didn't quite sound like a prayer. Still, I unthinkingly crossed myself.

Big Bird and Dillon rushed to her defense with their weapons, but they relaxed when a small voice said, "Go ahead and do it. I'm tired of living."

Dillon nodded me over there. I found a larva curled listlessly in the pew.

"Newt," I said. "I am glad you are unharmed."

She didn't respond.

Upon hearing the dead child's name used in such a way, Ripley scowled at me in disgust, hands on her hips.

"You are alone?" I said. "Why?"

"David told me to put his alien phone in here."

"You seem...troubled."

Newt only sighed.

"It's Grandmother, isn't it?"

For a moment, she appeared to stare at the bench. "Ernie, is it okay to hate God?"

"I...believe it is okay to be upset with God...hatred is more about doing evil to hurt someone."

"But that's just it, Ernie. I want him to be hurt. For what he did to me. I didn't ask to be born in this body! I don't want to be here! He took me away from mommy and daddy and forced me to live with a bunch of criminals and your evil grandmother! And you!" She started crying.

Ripley stomped away, pretending to stare at the altar.

I reached out to comfort the larva, but she shied away. "God is a meanie. I hate him!" she sobbed. "I hate him!"

"His will is hard to understand. It is like the joke about the five hundred pound gorilla."

"He sits wherever he wants?"

I nodded. "And does whatever he wants."

"Then God is mean."

"Not to our spirits."

Newt sighed.

"He does what is best for us. It is not always what we want, but it is always what we or somebody else needs."

She seemed unconvinced.

"Newt, if God didn't put you in that body, you wouldn't be here right now, to convict Grandmother of her sins."

Newt just stared at me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

Pillow sat next to her, stroking her head. "Do you know where my husband went, dearie?"

"He didn't tell me. Maybe Ernie can find him. She's really smart about that."

I nodded. "I can find him. Do you want to come along, Newt?"

"Is your grandmother going to be there?"

I was going to correct her, saying that she was her mother, but I decided not to. "She might be, but I'll protect you."

She turned to me, then Mrs. Barnes. "Can Pillow carry me?"

I think I saw pity in the Abreya's goats' eyes. She gave Newt a solemn nod, picking her up.

"You smell nice," the larva purred, snuggling up against her chest. "You're soft, too."

"Umuacik," Pillow replied appreciatively.

"You guys do that," Ripley said. "We'll search the place for worms...and something else to destroy them with."

Half the men followed Ripley, hoping that her lifeform detector would lead them to the captain or something of equal importance. The others trailed Pillow and I.

I traced David's scent back outside the prison, across the wasteland.

Sarah I found skipping rocks by the shore, a pretty terrible idea, considering how all that noise could attract deadly predators. "Did you stop the worms?"

"Perhaps," I said. "We're searching the prison to make sure...where's David?"

She pointed to the wreckage of the Sulaco. "It's boring. He's just praying."

"It's okay to be boring sometimes."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik...Would it be too strange for me to marry both you and David?"

"Yes it would!" Pillow yelled. "You'd best forget you ever had that idea, you simple minded lidjuca! I don't mind you marrying Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, but David is mine! Dead or alive!"

"Okay," Sarah groaned like a child being told not to play ball in the house.

Upon hearing a chirping sound, Pillow pulled out her communication device, speaking to someone in Wava, breaking into English at odd times. "Is it infected?" After listening for a moment, she said, "They would look like spores. If it's infected, you'll see them growing around the wound, and you'll need to inject a dosage of wajkojic."

Naumona's muffled voice rattled something else off.

Pillow sighed. "Give her a shot of mudlayac. I'll be back in once I locate my Wusu brained husband."

But Naumona kept talking, and apparently showing something on the screen with a type of video chat. Pillow waved me on.

The interior of the Sulaco looked like a submerged metal cave, the floating islands of furniture reminding me of archival footage of the Katrina disaster.

The control room lay in the frontmost area of the craft, a computerized sort of airplane cockpit. The computers, of course, had no power, save or one rather useless looking one with a sparking wire.

The floor near the hull breach was dry, but it slanted down into deeper and deeper depths as you neared the rear portion. Someone had left the pressure doors to the room open, creating a picturesque sort of gated harbor effect. I followed David's scent through them.

The last time I really swam, it had been inside a sewer, so traversing this submerged vehicle was a novel experience for me, rather refreshing and relaxing. Newt and Julia, however, didn't agree, for they had never swam before at all.

Newt, in fact, hadn't even swam as a human. The two rode on my back like I were a log ride, and even that was too much for them, so I ended up setting them on a projecting portion of a bulkhead.

I found David seated on a cabinet in a darkened service corridor, staring at the submerged floor with his hands folded. "How's the water, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik? Enjoying the swim?"

I treaded water below him. "Pillow sent me to find you. I thought you were going to pray with Dillon."

He sighed. "I only said that because I didn't want to tell Pillow about the affair."

I dug my claws into a storage compartment to rest from paddling for awhile. One of the drawers felt loose, so I moved over one. "Your wife still appears to love you. Although she had threatened to murder you, I believe it is in jest. If that is what you fear, I will protect you."

David chuckled a little, then abruptly dropped the mirth. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

I shook my head. "I am not familiar enough with this type of social interaction to know if it is wise to interfere. The female is quite possessive."

The young man smirked. "That she is."

He stared sadly into the water. "I...love Sarah, but I loved Pillow first. If she's telling the truth, we apparently have an egg on the way. I can't keep both of them. Who am I supposed to stay with?"

"I do not know. But the bible generally states that you are to reproduce only with the one you are married to."

"But if Pillow finds out, she'll want nothing to do with me. She'll want a divorce, and then I'll have nobody."

"Jesus didn't have a wife. He married the church. I do not know how to help you, but I suspect the consumption of something called humble pie may be required. I'm assuming that is a metaphor."

David nodded, looking a bit insulted.

"You have two children now. Pillow may require parenting assistance."

"And what if Sarah suddenly becomes pregnant? I mean, I guess it's kinda unlikely, considering how we got interrupted, but I've heard that interrupting things doesn't always equate to birth control..."

"I have no answer to that. Although I believe even Hagar in the bible received some form of material compensation before being sent away. Child support...is that the correct term?"

"Yeah. I get what you're saying, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, but what if Pillow's lying?"

"She offered to show you something to prove it. I cannot imagine how something like that could be fabricated, or why."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, why didn't you talk to me like this before?"

"Because I didn't understand what was going on, and I didn't know that Pillow was going to bear your egg."

David was about to say something, but the moment his mouth opened, I heard a quick splashing sound, like a small highly agitated alligator, and a white body wiggled into view.

I hadn't detected the worm due to the water, and it seemed to have slipped past my larvae before they could do anything about it. Although Ss'sik'chtokiwij are shark-like in our sense of smell, my head hadn't been under water long enough to get a good trace until I got the visual.

As the creature darted hungrily towards the human on the cabinet, I leapt upon its slimy back, wrestling it in the water. "Get out of here!" I shouted to the others. "Hurry!"

The young man dove into the water, wading quickly to the cockpit. It seemed counterintuitive, but oh well.

I wrestled the creature for an entire minute before noticing how the cabinet drawer had drifted all the way out. Figuring it best to get this thing out of the way until I could find a way to destroy it, I wrestled it to the drawer as it made attempts at boring through my face plate.

I stuffed it in, and shoved the drawer `to.' Not closed, mind you, `to.' The drawer sloshed with water and the creature's head kept getting in the way.

The worm's head popped out and bit at my claws, but I slammed the drawer shut on its head, beating it down with my fists, over and over until I could at last hammer the drawer closed.

I heard a solid click, and the drawer stayed in place, impassively enduring the frenzied banging of the creature without once jostling open. I gathered my young and hurried after the human.

David had been seated in the captain's chair, staring anxiously at the pressure door. He sighed in relief when I came out. "Is it gone?"

"Yes. Why did you stay here?"

"I was afraid to face Pillow. Maybe if you came with me..."

I was a little annoyed to be included in a marital squabble, but I humored him, leading him back out to the beach, where his wife stood, arms crossed, tail angrily snapping.

David stared at his wife. "I can...okay, I can't guess."

"There you are!" she shouted. "You picked a fine time to leave! A man nearly slashed my throat! Thonwa almost died! Where were you all this time!"

David swallowed. "I was praying."

She crossed her arms. "You could have done that on the ship! Instead you tell lies and put everyone on the ship in danger! You weren't even with Dillon!"

David glanced at me for support, but I only shrugged. "Pillow, look. I'm really sorry. I..."

Before he could finish, Sarah wrapped an arm around his shoulder, proudly announcing, "Me am Dawib hab thex!"

I thought that sounded a little garbled, but David's wife got the idea right away. Her eyes welled with tears, her face flushing blue in anger. She raised her hand, slapping Sarah across the face.

With her whole body trembling, she looked David in the eyes. "Tell me you didn't. For the love of God, please tell me you didn't!"

David winced, appeared to put up his best apologetic face. "Pillow..."

The Abreya slapped him violently, stepped back, breaking into puppy dog whimpers, tears rolling down her cheeks.

David approached her, reaching out to provide consolation. "Pillow..."

"Don't!" she snapped, backing away further. "I don't want to hear your excuses! Just...stay out here and screw your developmentally challenged girlfriend and leave me alone!" Mostly to herself, she added, "I got a patient to save anyway."

Pillow turned her back to him, sobbing uncontrollably as she marched up the shore.

David ran after her. "Pillow, wait!"

"Don't talk to me!" she screamed.

I trailed the couple, sincerely hoping the worms hadn't heard all that noise.

Now, after the incident with the worm in the flour crate, the prisoners had understandably avoided the Sulaco, and even now, after seeing David emerge from hiding, the men kept their distance from the vehicle, a few of them muttering, "Let's see if he'll board his ship now" as they followed close on David's heels.

Pillow stomped past Grandmother, raised her hand to knock on the entry hatch, but then stepped back suddenly as it came down on its own.

I gasped in surprise when I saw who came hobbling down the ramp.

In addition to Mrs. Borkin and the android, I saw one of the children, looking miserable, and a figure with a red polka dotted shell.

I hurried over to see what was the matter.

"Pillow!" Naumona cried. "You must stay away from here!"

She burst into tears, hysterically sobbing something in Wava.

"Calm yourself," Pillow urged. "You're not making any sense!"

"It's Oxana! He's dead! There was one of those flesh eaters in the algae tank!"

"Show me the worm," I said. "I'll see what I can do."

The Iberet's oxygen supply derived from a massive tank filled with blue plant matter floating in a nutrient solution. In its pure state, it smelled rather like carpeting glue.

The tank resembled the interior of a clothes drier, though covered all around with tube shaped light fixtures. You accessed it by a pressure door, a set of windows and a pair of video monitors giving a picture of the interior.

A little body in a Wigesh floated on its back in this tank, his chest and face ragged liquid filled holes.

The abundant omnidirectional fluorescent lighting, so good for the plants, illuminated all too much of the dead child's carcass. I confess I was making mental comparisons to beef stew.

"I told him to check the PH balance," Naumona sobbed. "I thought the air smelled a little funny."

"Warning," Mara said over the intercom system. "The hatch to the fubalca system has not been secured."

This point was illustrated well enough when the tank door burst open, and a slime covered worm latched its fangs into my face.

[0000]

Upon seeing the creature attacking me, Julia ducked down my back in fright.

I ripped the worm from my shell, bashing it against the walls.

I briefly considered eating the thing before a voice behind me shouted, "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, throw that thing down and get back!"

I did what I was told, and a blast of fire reduced the worm to ash.

For a moment, I feared the fire would ignite something in the tank that would reduce us to ash, but oxygen is not inherently flammable, especially with all that water in there.

I glanced in surprise at the figure wielding the flamethrower. "David?"

"I found this in the Sulaco." He squeezed the trigger to show off.

Nothing but black smoke puffed out. "Shit, I guess it's out of fuel or something."

"David! Umuacik!" Julia had picked up some Wava lessons during mind to mind contact or something, apparently.

I thought I saw some resentment in the young man's face as he looked at her. "Gutico abukos."

"Are there any more of those flamethrowers?" I asked.

David shook his head. "This one was jammed behind a bulkhead. If there's anything else down there, you'll probably have to go scuba diving. Nice trapping that worm, by the way. I think it's in there for good."

"Perhaps I should go scuba diving. But first, I believe we should check on the other humans."

The two Abreya females had been watching from a doorway.

David turned to face Pillow. An uncomfortable silence passed between them.

Naumona must have failed to notice this subtle interaction, for she put a hand on Mrs. Barnes' shoulder and said, "Pulsa Pillow Siqsari Barnes, I humbly request your husband as Nevxupa, as per the rite of Remvuaf."

Pillow appeared to be deeply disturbed, eyes widening in surprise, perhaps dismay. "Naumona, this really isn't a good time for that."

"What if there never is a good time? What if this is the last time we can talk about this?"

Pillow sighed and crossed her arms.

"Pillow Siqsari, my children, Sharad, and the one growing in my yuxhauba, they need a male to rear them. Please understand that I make no claims upon your husband sexually. I only ask to claim what you promised during your wedding in Bencap."

David was cringing, backing against the wall, trying to make himself shrink out of view.

Pillow sighed and nodded, looking uncomfortably at her husband. "I must warn you, Naumona. Having him as a father may be like having none at all."

David pressed himself further against the bulkhead.

"There is a saying in Corrovoz that goes thusly: `A child does not ask for much in a father. Breathing and a pulse will do.'"

"They also say that a Hobnora breathes constantly, and it occasionally eats children."

Naumona was not deterred. "Even the worst father can raise a great man, or woman."

"With Ponai, God, all things are possible," Pillow agreed.

I thought I heard David sub-vocalizing something about a moral high horse, but it was unclear, and the females ignored it.

Pillow put a hand on Naumona's shoulder. "Mugunumiol ticoh mugunumua, brifoquipiiol ticoh brifoquipiua. Guki ruhd remvuaf junenora venteveh de jufaeoia con alat."

"My husband is your husband," Naumona repeated. "My children your children. May this remvuaf unify our bonds of friendship and love."

The two females cried and held each other.

Gregor, that man who vaguely resembled Billy Burke, stepped up behind them. "Is the worm dead?"

Naumona and Pillow nodded.

"Is that the last one, or are other ones in here?"

"No," Pillow stammered. "That should be it. At least, on the ship."

The moment the words escaped her lips, the man grabbed her, pressing a glowing knife to her throat. The prisoners had been wandering anywhere they wanted to in the ship, so it didn't surprise me to discover one had a weapon. "This is all very touching, but I'd like to leave this planet before more of those things come crawling in. I understand you need authorization codes to fly this machine, but that's our pilot right in front of us, is it not?"

David reluctantly nodded.

Golic, of course, had kept his word and stayed aboard. "Can we leave now?"

"Shut up," Gregor snapped. "All in good time."

It seemed, in my absence, the prisoners had coerced David to let them into the Iberet, for I detected no look of surprise on the captain's face, like he expected this to happen. "Can you at least wait for my friends to get back?"

"Your friends are dead," Gregor said matter-of-factly.

David frowned at the android standing nearby. "Big Bird?"

"I am sorry, David. Martial arts are not part of my programming, and Ellen Ripley has the taser."

"Let's continue this conversation in the cockpit," Gregor said.

David had a flamethrower, but he didn't want to fry his wife, and her neck would be sliced long before the flames could burn the attacker to a crisp anyway.

From my current vantage point, I wouldn't be of any better assistance than he, nor would my larvae. I mean, I could have potentially sent my larva to attack Gregor when his back was turned, but I didn't want to teach my children to kill, or brutally injure.

At any rate, Gregor obviously didn't want to kill the female if he didn't have to, and I hoped for a change of heart.

Also adding to my hesitancy, and although I'm ashamed to say it, was my selfish desire to see the universe, with or without Grandmother and our friends.

In the control room, David set aside his flamethrower and got in a pilot's seat, typing in a series of symbols into a computer attached to the chair.

"Authorization codes accepted," Mara said. "I do not approve of this operation, but I understand the physical threat and its associated emotional implications." Then, a little unwisely, perhaps, "Please do not harm her, Mr. Gregor. She is my friend too."

Sighing, David disengaged the tail operated steering yoke and strapped himself in, activating the steering controls. Thonwa limped to the chair nearby, to serve as copilot.

The vehicle hummed to life, its screens displaying a panoramic view of the prison and its environs. David rolled a track ball on his armrest, and we slowly rose above the building.

Our view tilted skywards. I felt my weight shift beneath me as the vehicle shot over the concrete cube, soaring into the clouds.

All of a sudden, the lights went out, the screens darkened, and we felt the effects of weightlessness, on account of our rapid descent.

"What's going on!" Gregor shouted. "In case you forgot, I have a knife!"

"Primary engines are inoperative," Mara said. "Secondary systems have malfunctioned. Unable to sustain flight or continue course. Prepare for emergency landing."

"No! Not acceptable!" Gregor tightened his grip on Pillow. "You take us off planet this minute or I slash this bitch's throat right now!"

"The Iberet is currently experiencing a technical event. Slashing the throat of Dr. Pillow Barnes will not affect this vehicle's performance. Please brace yourselves for a hard landing."

Gregor's facial features tightened. "You really want me to slash this thing's throat, don't you?"

"Considering the circumstances," David said. "I think you'll be sparing her a lot of pain."

"David!" Pillow cried in alarm. "How can you say that!"

"It's true, honey. When this ship crashes down, there's a chance we'll break every bone in our bodies. He might be doing you a favor."

"Oh God," Gregor cried. "Please tell me you're not serious."

"Don't swear," Golic said.

David gestured to his console. "Look at the screen. If I were faking a malfunction, you think I'd choose to do it like this? If you guys know how to fix a spaceship engine, be my guest."

Gregor would have replied, but at that precise moment, our vehicle hit something with an earth shattering bang.

I and my larvae have hardy frames, but for my companions I feared the worst.

Fortunately for us, the ship came equipped with a sort of airbag system.

Upon impact, a substance like marshmallow foam burst from panels along the walls and floor, a mass of thick swelling cushion shielding us unseated passengers from damaging injury. It smelled strongly of naphthalene, but one couldn't complain.

"I thought you said we'd break all our bones," Golic said.

Our captain undid his restraints. "Yeah? Well, it's not like I ever tested the safety features or anything. I really wasn't sure they'd work."

"If this is a trick, someone is going to pay!"

Our vehicle had encountered a building, as evidenced by the odd downward slant, and the mostly intact front end.

The only way out of the cockpit was up, so we climbed the spongy padding, into the connecting corridor.

I used my claws, but the material was gummy enough for humans to ascend with little difficulty. We would have used the ladders, but the foam covered every surface in the entire room. The prisoners, unfamiliar with this type of situation, knew no better than to follow our lead.

Only Thonwa had problems getting up, due to her injuries. I helped her through the room the best I could, but she was just too heavy, especially when clawing through thick safety padding. I ended up setting her down on the side of a console.

If she had been human, we would have been forced to leave her there, but Thonwa had wings, and extra limbs (sort of). The back of her shell opened, ladybug-like, the large red-black halves flapping rapidly enough to propel her through the air.

A foot below the door, she let out a feeble wheezing sound, latching onto the alien airbag material with her working limbs. I tried to help her up further, but I only got her inside the door frame.

When an earth ladybug dies, a sort of black tail projects from its rear end. I thought for sure I'd see something similar pop out from behind Thonwa any minute, but she kept moving, slowly but surely, like a half crashed spider escaping a boot. Sad and pathetic, but not nearly as sad as a human with similar injuries. She could `hold her own', to a certain extent. "Go on ahead," she gasped. "I will be fine."

I did what she said, mostly because she had wings and there were pads to cushion her if she fell.

Algae and nutrients flooded the corridor above, giving it the appearance of blueberry syrup coated marshmallows. The substance made it challenging to navigate without slipping. I shouted a warning to Thonwa.

The roasted worm came down through the sludge in the form of blackened grit, like grounds at the bottom of a batch of bad coffee. The dead child was likely slumped against a wall somewhere, the stream of liquid not quite enough to carry him into the corridor, at least not yet.

Up we went through cryogenics, climbing the ladders on the walls for better purchase. The tanks looked strangely skewed from the bad parking job.

I found Sarah in the main room, holding Pillow's baby in her arms as she bounced on the emergency foam. It reminded me of Alice in Wonderland for some reason.

The baby loved all that bouncing, but Sharad, hanging from a nearby ladder, shouted, "Stop that! You're moving the ship!"

Indeed, she had. The craft had made subtle shifts the whole time we'd been climbing, but now we knew why.

Sarah bounced again. "Don't be silly!"

I heard a loud crack, then we all got shaken and jostled, enough to make Sarah and the baby cry out in fright.

Giving Sarah a look of pure hatred, Pillow snatched her infant out of the young woman's arms, placing him on her back. The child's grip was quite tenacious, especially with his growing tail, so his mother could carry him while climbing headfirst down the floor, exactly like an opossum.

David climbed down after her, also headfirst, but one could tell it wasn't as natural for him.

"I'm still angry at you," Pillow said.

"I know," he sighed. "Look, if you want a divorce, I understand."

She stopped climbing. "Maybe I don't want a divorce. Maybe I want my children...our children, to have a father."

He opened his mouth to say something, but his wife spoke first. "If we ever get off this planet, and get back home, we are getting a nennop, and we'll figure out what to do with your human plaything once and for all." She pushed a button on a bulkhead, and the exit hatch cracked open, scattering chunks of concrete as it lowered into a darkened building.

Our trajectory had taken us near the end of the prison complex, somewhere around the back of the foundry. As we stared into the concrete tunnel, the ship shuddered lower.

The corridor was warm, probably somewhere above ninety degrees, due to our proximity to the refinery. We had crashed well within the air conditioned living area, but I could still feel the sweltering heat rising up through the hatch.

The boarding ramp, oddly enough, had built in footholds. I found this strange until I noticed Pillow's glove-like shoes grasping the handles in monkey fashion, thumbs curling tightly around the interior bars to avoid slippage. I suspect those same footholds got used when walking upright in places with little traction, such as a snowy or swampy planet.

"This reminds me of our honeymoon on Qeksavu," David muttered as he gazed at his wife's hindquarters.

The blue tinge to Pillow's face indicated that she wasn't oblivious to the staring. She snapped her tail in anger. "Yes, and I distinctly remember you swearing to me that mine would be the only tail you'd ever chase!"

David sighed, falling silent.

The human made structure around us did not host as many conveniences as the ramp. Due to our terrible parking job, we didn't land next to a ladder or anything else we could easily climb upon.

This did not deter Pillow. She jumped from the ramp with her hands spread, somehow sticking to the surface like she'd applied superglue to her palms.

Puzzled, I asked David about this miracle.

"It's like sweat. Certain points on Abreya hands secrete a sticky resin. They secrete twice as much when they're afraid. It makes a lot more sense than sweating lubricant." He frowned at his own hands as he said this.

Naumona jumped across after her, crawling down the wall.

Pillow climbed onto a big metal pipe, one riveted together at regular intervals, and wet with condensation, the baby instinctively shifting his position with the mother. Pillow reached out for her husband, her tail and feet clutching the metal tightly as she stretched her arms. "Jump!"

David swallowed. "You promise you won't drop me?"

"Did I drop you at Qeksavu?"

"That was before."

"I should, but no. We both presumably share the same Lord, and my children still need a father. It's not that far to the floor, but give me some credit."

David jumped, and he almost didn't make it. Pillow's hands grabbed him, but it seemed she had trouble holding on. "You gained weight."

"It's all those delicious isgormos you fed me while I was warming your boyfriend's egg, honey." David frowned. "Oh God. No wonder you were so nice to me. It's like the Big Bouquet of Flowers."

"So where's my guilt gift?"

Mr. Barnes rolled his eyes. "Oh. I'm sorry. We're out in the middle of nowhere. I'll just drive down the street and buy you something!"

"I could drop you right now."

The ship groaned, sinking down another foot, the boarding ramp tilting awkwardly.

"Can we possibly move things along?" Aaron cried. "Before we all get smashed in this wreckage?"

Casting her husband a frustrated glance, Pillow helped him to the floor, handed him the baby. When she climbed back up, I joined her on the wall, helping Sarah and Aaron down.

Newt and Julia, it seemed, had some practice with climbing, for they managed to scale the wall passably enough to make it halfway to the floor before losing their grip and falling off. Neither got hurt.

Noticing Newt purring in enjoyment at the activity, Julia said, "See? Not everything about being a Ss'sik'chtokiwij is bad!"

I almost thought I saw Newt grinning. A little. "I guess you're right..." The smile faded.

Sharad came down afterwards. Her footing, although a little uncertain at first, proved to be nearly as good as the other females'. She only lost her grip twice as she scrambled her way to the floor like a squirrel.

The ship settled lower as I and the Abreyas helped Aaron, Golic and Gregor to the floor, pieces of the roof crunching noisily down around us as we worked. A chunk of masonry bounced off my shell, almost making me drop a prisoner.

Then the worms came.

Unsurprisingly, our passage had not gone unnoticed. We had made an incredible amount of noise.

There were only four worms, but they moved fast. Things did not bode well.

"Quick!" David pointed in the direction away from the creatures. "Into the factory!"

He, his wife and children (including newly adopted daughter), and a handful of others rushed that way. I didn't have any weapons with me, so to buy my friends some time, I resorted to picking up the worms and hurling them as far as I could down the corridor.

Julie tried to help by attacking one, but the worm tried to eat her head. This so scared her that she cowered behind me.

As a plump faced prisoner raced to join David and the others, the Iberet crashed down into the floor, reducing the lower half of his body to a bloody pulp. He screamed so loud that a person standing inside the Sulaco could have heard him.

The deafening noise and raining debris appeared to startle the worms, indicating at least a rudimentary self preservation instinct. They flinched and reversed course, stopping a few yards distance away, to safely wait out the collapse.

Gregor ran to the crippled man's side, his expression drawn with worry. "Eric! Are you okay?"

The victim's face was pale, probably due to blood and oxygen loss. It seemed that part of his lung had been pinched or crushed, for he coughed blood and could barely speak. His little eyebrows knitted together in pain. "H-help me. Help!"

The moment the rumblings and debris slowed to a stop, the worms appeared to regain their confidence, pursuing their prey once again.

Before I could stop it, a worm shot into the crushed man's mouth, emerging from his brain a second later.

"Eric!" Gregor shouted, drawing a laser knife from his pocket.

I tensed up in alarm. "Put that away!"

Gregor ignored me. The moment the worm came out, he stabbed it squarely in the middle of its head.

Although the attack delayed the creature for a moment, it soon wiggled itself free. Gregor jumped back as a thing with four dangling hunks of attached flesh came rolling out. It rather resembled a banana peel made from an old Rocky Mountain oyster.

Fighting a mangled worm wouldn't have been so bad, but to my absolute disgust, it rubbed itself against a jagged skull fragment, expanding its wound until it came away as four wiggling pieces. As soon as these came crawling after us, I threw them down the corridor with the others. They traveled further than the others, due to their lightness.

Naumona had failed to join the others before the spaceship fell, and was therefore stuck in the worm corridor with the rest of us. Looking fidgety and frustrated, she stood among the prisoners, watching me battle the worms.

In a foolish but well intentioned attempt to help, she grabbed one of the worms, attempting to toss it down the hall.

Sometimes it's best to have your palms sweat lubricant. The worm never left the female's hand. In her fearful panic, she reeled back and did a baseball throw, but the worm never came loose.

The creature drilled through her bicep, ate through her chest, and tunneled out through her skull. Her dead body dropped to its knees, as if in prayer.

"Christ," Gregor muttered. "We're fucked."

"Forgive him, O Lord," someone said.

Aaron retreated, pressing himself into a corner, between a wall and the crashed ship.

Golic crossed his chest and bowed his head, uttering a real prayer. The man with the sideways nose and cowl took his hand, praying with him. A Hispanic man with gang tattoos joined him.

Gregor, out of ideas himself, took Golic's other hand. "Hail Mary, full of grace, pray for us sinners, now in the hour of our death..."

I have never thought about praying to the Virgin Mary. I always considered her nothing more than a mortal host body for the son of God, currently too busy enjoying her eternal rest to bother herself with answering any sort of prayer, including the outcome of sports events.

For this reason, I believe the Lord must have answered Golic's prayer first, whatever it was that he said. We literally received `help from above.'

First came a noise like a finely tuned lawnmower with a tank of high grade fuel. Then, a large red and black body descended on buzzing wings from overhead, smiting our squirming foes with a rain of fire.

Thonwa had found the flamethrower.

After she'd burned two worms to ash, Thonwa's wings gave out, and she fell to the floor. A deadly worm zoomed up to her, just inches from her face.

My fellow bug alien (I'd say `arthropod', but that isn't entirely accurate) appeared to be highly fatigued. It seemed that her damaged organs, whatever they were, were vital to her movement.

Two of the remaining worms reared up to strike her in the face. I ran to her, but doubted I'd be able to reach her in time.

It was fortunate that she had some life left in her.

Thonwa had only feigned unconsciousness, like the man with the rocket launcher at the end of that one Rambo movie, for suddenly she popped up with her flame thrower, frying both worms to powder.

Seeing her job completed, and all the worms dead, Thonwa closed her eyes and slumped on the floor, as if dead.

Worried, I turned her over. "Thonwa! Are you all right?"

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik..." After an unsettling delay, she gave me a nod. "I'm fine."

Her ragged breathing concerned me. "Are you certain? You seem less than fine to me."

She caressed my dome with her claw. I suppose she would have smiled if she had the right facial features to do so. "I must apologize for my nudity. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

I glanced at the pink reproductive tentacles twitching around her head. "No. Not really."

She sighed. "A pity."

Hearing a slithering sound, I instinctively flinched, but when I glanced back, I only saw Big Bird wiggling through a narrow gap between the crashed spaceship and the floor. The gap was so small hat she couldn't even move her arms. The android wiggled on her belly, making silly hissing sounds with her mouth. "I'm a snake."

She squirmed into a sitting position, untied a rope from her ankle. A metal box had been affixed to the other end. "I brought a medical kit."

She carried the kit to Thonwa, examining her wound. "Your sutures are loose. Let me fix that."

"You don't know how to operate on a Cijmabsa," Thonwa protested.

The robot nodded. "That was true eight minutes and thirty five point eighty seven seventy three seconds ago, but I have since discovered an instructional chip on Cijmabsa medical care, which I have just inserted into my brain."

Thonwa only groaned.

Big Bird did appear to have the appropriate medical skills. She took out some futuristic gadgets, needle free syringes (somehow the drugs could be introduced without puncturing the vein), a type of staple that could be tightly secured without damaging the surrounding flesh, and a medical version of that sewing tool I'd been shown. I watched her work appreciatively. I really had no idea how to assist her.

I stared in surprise as Gregor knelt down beside the Cijmabsa, placing a hand on her chest. He looked like a nervous kid trying to pick up a tarantula. "Shakazulu, I want to apologize for what me and my buddies did to you. You...have an unusual appearance, and I guess...we got a little squeamish."

It wasn't a great apology, but Thonwa still placed a claw on him, gasping, "I forgive you, brother."

Golic knelt down next to her as well. "I'm sorry we called you the Demon of Pestilence. I know now that you are the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, the Angel of Pestilence, sent by the Almighty to punish the wicked."

He placed a hand on Thonwa's shoulder. "Please spare us from the second bowl of wrath."

"You're misreading Revelation." Thonwa closed her sets of eyes. In a rasping gurgle, she added, "You don't even know what you're talking about."

"I think we should go find Dillon and the others," Gregor muttered.

I nodded, glanced at Big Bird.

"You may leave," the android said. "Your medical contributions are negligible."

Julia butted me in the side. "Mom, if Thonwa dies, can we eat her?"

"No, honey. It is not a loving Christian thing to do."

Thonwa's eyes cracked open. "It's okay, Julia. As long as I am truly deceased, I would not at all mind you consuming my lifeless carcass. It is only a physical tent for my immortal spirit." She coughed. "It would be an honor." She closed her eyes again.

"You think the others are okay?" I said.

Although the medical procedure could be potentially fatal, and one mistake could kill the patient, the synthetic human replied with the dispassionate calm of one putting together a jigsaw puzzle. "They are safe and uninjured."

Beckoning to my children, I padded ahead down the corridor, searching for human scents.

Obviously, Ripley and the others hadn't passed that way, so I sniffed around blind for a few yards, ever alert for any sign of worms.

Catching a strong familiar smell, I halted in front of a sturdy looking door, knocking below the loop on the Chi Rho. I figured I'd be well received, if only for the simple fact that killer alien worms don't know `Shave and a Haircut.' The prisoners stood behind me, waiting expectantly.

The door slid open to reveal a bald unsmiling woman and a group of men among rows of fuel drums. "Is that a flamethrower?"

Not "Hi" or "Hello," just "Is that a flamethrower."

Gregor idly flicked the igniter on said weapon.

Before I could answer, he shot a demonstrative burst in her direction. "Does it look like one?"

"Jesus!" she shouted. "First you and your friends try to rape me, and now you point a blowtorch at me in front of five thousand gallons of combustible material!"

Gregor set the weapon down. "You're welcome."

Newt stood on my shoulder, her expression reflecting an intense desire to regain that mother-daughter relationship they once had.

Ripley noticed immediately looked away, and would continue to avert her eyes from the larva every time she stared, like a prom queen shunning an unwanted admirer.

The woman and the prisoners had been `holed up' in a room that resembled a cinder block. The place had a strong petroleum smell. The prisoners rubbed their heads, as if suffering migraines, apparently from the fumes.

Ripley picked up the blowtorch. "Have you seen any of those worms?"

I told her about the attack. "I believe we are safe, for the moment."

"What about that young woman?...Sarah? Is she all right?"

I nodded. "She's with David and Pillow."

Ripley pointed the weapon far from the barrels and pulled the trigger. Only smoke came out.

"You think we can maybe pour some of that combustible material in the reservoir and...refuel?"

Ripley furrowed her brow. "I don't know..."

"Can't we just...stand around in the foundry and wait for the worms to come?" Jude asked. "Grab a few wrenches and cricket them into the molten lead?"

"And how long would we be waiting?" Aaron challenged.

"It's a nice idea," Ripley said. "But it won't work."

"Wait," said the man with the crooked nose. "Who made you the leader?"

Dillon stepped forward. "It was me, Morse. This woman knows more about space organisms than anyone else in this whole prison."

"What about that Barnes kid?" Gregor asked.

"He doesn't strike me as leadership material. This woman's actually seen battles."

"That's right!" Newt cried. "When I was human, she rescued me from the big queen!"

Newt climbed down from my back, scurrying up the woman's leg. "Ripley, I know you still love me. Can't you just look past my outside and see the little girl from Hadley's Hope? I'm still here! Please say we can at least be friends!"

The woman narrowed her gaze, kicking the larva into a wall.

With a cold, merciless expression, she picked Newt up, squeezing her carapace in her fist. "Listen, you little flesh eating parasite! You are not that little dead girl, and you are not my friend! You will never be my friend, and if you so much as touch me again, I'm going to stick you into one of those barrels and drop in a match. You got me!"

Newt coughed and sneezed in sorrow. "Yes, Ripley."

Failing to understand the display of emotion, the woman dropped my friend like a hot rock, wiping her hands on her pants. "You had better pray to God that that isn't contagious!"

"It's not," Newt sniffed. "I think you've already found a cure for loving and friendship!"

[0000]

Newt hid behind my back for safety. Julia nuzzled her close, to comfort her.

Ripley stared at me uncomfortably. "Nothing against you, Ernie. I've just had a lot of bad experience with creatures like your friends, and I don't want any crawling on me for any reason."

"I understand."

She frowned. "I don't think you do."

"Make her say she's sorry," Newt said.

Rolling her eyes, Ripley answered, "I'm sorry your little friend had to climb up on my leg. If it had just kept its distance, this ugly incident would have never happened...Also, does it absolutely have to call herself Newt, or can she call herself something else instead? I'm okay with `Bert' or `Steve' or anything else, but not Newt."

So. The `non apology apology.'

"No," said Newt.

"I know how you used to like Harry Potter," I said to the larva. "How about Hermione? Or Naomi? Naomi starts with an N, and it's biblical..."

"I don't like the Judds," Newt said.

"I'll have to remember that when I have a music player. But Hermione's fine, isn't it?"

"Why can't I keep my real name?" she moaned.

"You can, little one. This is more like a nickname, or maybe a code name like they have in spy movies."

"That's dumb. I shouldn't have to change my name just so she won't hurt me."

"Perhaps. But she's not going to accept you otherwise."

Newt sobbed quietly on my shoulder. Julia tried her best to be supportive, but she could only do so much.

I stroked Newt's head as I watched Gregor loading the flamethrower with something called quinitricetyline.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Ripley said.

"We're as good as dead anyway," the man muttered as he siphoned more fuel into the weapon's reservoir. "It's a choice between having your brain ripped out and skin grafts. Skin grafts are really sounding good right now."

As all of this exchange took place, Thonwa came limping up to our group, Big Bird walking slowly beside her, providing support. I waved to the wounded one, receiving a feeble wave in return.

"Have we come up with any plans yet?" Aaron asked. "Any strategies to stop these things?"

Ellen gave him a nod. "They can't eat through metal or stone. That's one thing we've got over them. We only need to seal off their exits, trap them somewhere, and pour in a few gallons of quinitricetyline."

"And how are we going to do that without them tearing holes in our heads?"

"We'll have to seal off a perimeter and force them back into a corner. It's the only way."

"I thought you were going to find where they lived and burn them up," I said.

"We are. Once we drive them back into their nest, we'll hit them hard."

"And what if they don't have a nest?"

"Then maybe they'll just be gone. Either way, it's an improvement."

"This prison stretches for miles in every direction," Aaron said. "There's more than six hundred air ducts and twice that many pipes."

"Right." Troy held up one of the lifeform scanners. "And this thing only has a limited range."

Gregor closed up the flamethrower. "This doesn't look like nearly enough fuel, either."

"Look," Ripley said. "These things are mostly coming out of mouse holes and old abandoned pipe systems. Like I said before, we pump a little fuel down each one, light a match, and see what burns up. All we need to do is seal off an end or two..."

"With what?" said Dillon.

The android, who had been treating the Cijmabsa, now paused to examine her handiwork. Ripley tapped her on the shoulder. "You don't have any wielding tools in your vehicle, do you?"

Big Bird shook her head. "I dismantled them to create flamethrowers. But on a positive note, it should be very simple to create a barricade with the existing pieces from our vehicle, once we find the proper equipment."

"What about those closed circuit cameras? You're a synthetic human. Surely you know enough to fix them, right?"

"I believe it is possible, but it would require special photography equipment. Substitutes may be manufactured in a fashion similar to Benjamin Franklin's invention of the eyeglass, but I require specialized tools to even commence that operation."

"Surely you can rig up something with the tools you have."

"Perhaps, but I also need to thoroughly inspect each device to determine its fault, possibly dismantling parts of the wall to access the connecting cables. We may not have enough time for a complete repair of this type, plus the worms are small and may elude detection on camera. I recommend first erecting worm resistant barriers."

Ripley sighed, turning to face Aaron. "Your salvage shop obviously has metalworking tools, or you wouldn't have been able to do a chop job on the Sulaco. We just need to seal off the area and work our way out until we trap those things in their lair."

"You're going to have to close off the junkyard. There's too many places to hide."

"I'm sure we can figure out something."

"Our lifeform detectors should be sufficient to alert us to danger when seeking barricade materials," the android said.

Ripley frowned. "I'll leave that to you, `bird.'"

"Wait," said Bent Nose. "I've seen Thwaka fight off those things on his own. Why don't we just send him out for the tools and hide back here where it's safe?"

"I just thought you guys didn't like breathing fumes."

"There are worse ways to die."

Ripley gave me a nod, her expression reminding me of the way a dog owner looks when they're waiting for their animal to sit on command.

When I didn't move, she gave me a dismissive wave. It made me feel used.

Still, my Master told me to serve, and I had actual lives to save, so I obeyed.

I couldn't easily fit beneath the Iberet, and it looked ready to topple and crush anything beneath it, so I took a roundabout path through the laundry room.

I found David and his family crouching between a pair of massive industrial driers.

"Are those things gone yet?" the man asked me.

"Not sure. Where were the men that followed you?"

His wife pointed to the door. "Outside, maybe in the desert somewhere."

"Perhaps you should go there. I'm not entirely certain you picked the safest place to hide."

"The desert isn't much safer. What do you recommend, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

I told him about the room with the fuel barrels and they departed.

I quickly made my way to the salvage yard, and after a frantic search through a plethora of tools, encountered the torches I came there for. I rushed back to the others.

David and his family now stood worriedly around Thonwa, who now rested against the rear wall of the room, appearing to enjoy the chemical fumes like they were a floral scent.

Big Bird took the torches to the Iberet, setting about constructing a barrier from the ship's outer hull, to hopefully block the end of the corridor.

It was a good idea, but Big Bird started work a minute too late. I flinched as a serpent-like body emerged from the back of the android's stomach.

She continued to work on the barrier, reacting to her injury like someone who had only received a paper cut. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, could you please get that?" She used the same tone you'd use to tell someone else to answer a phone or a door chime.

I dove caught the worm by the tail, but it slipped through my claws.

A second attempt at its capture resulted in its escape. I could only struggle to keep up as it darted after my hiding friends.

The thing approached the door to the hideout. Someone had failed to close it, possibly for ventilation.

"Worm!" I shouted. "Look out!"

Gregor marched out with the flamethrower. "I got this."

He gave the worm a good dose of activated incendiary chemical, turning the beast into dust.

Unfortunately, the quinitricetyline in those barrels shared more similarities to the fuel they used in spaceships than they did the classic napalm. Not only that, but it was highly corrosive. I guess the chemical had been designed to clean up atomic spills of some sort.

Don't ask me how it happened, but the fire jumped back inside the flamethrower, like a kid foolishly squirting bug repellent from a squeeze pump bottle upon a lit match, and in a split second Gregor more or less had a container full of fire strapped to his back.

The device burst, the man's clothes blazed, and he became Johnny the Human Torch, screaming and flailing his arms. The very picture of hell.

"Drop and roll!" Ripley shouted.

The man tried to comply, but the location of his `drop' proved to be unfortunate.

Due to circumstances outside everyone's control, the flaming weapon landed next to the door of the chemical storage room.

The occupants of said room had mere seconds to run to safety. In some cases, even less than that.

The flamethrower `popped.' I would say `exploded,' but it wasn't that dramatic.

The dramatic part was the result of this `pop,' for the flames landed on a rather wet looking barrel, and a flash zipped up its side, igniting the lid...and the gallons of chemical within.

The entire room became an enormous fireball, erupting into the surrounding hallway. Prisoners screamed as they caught fire and collapsed dead on the floor.

I've already met with Jesus twice. The moment I felt the blast, I thought I'd go to meet him permanently.

Somehow I escaped, with my shell and both larvae intact.

A lot of things had happened in the space of a minute. It took me another minute to piece it all together.

David, Pillow, Sharad and Sarah were absent. Whether they were hiding in the desert or getting eaten in some prison room, I did not know, but they got spared from the conflagration.

Others were not so lucky.

Frank, the nice man who had pulled Ellen from the wreck, happened to be closest to the blast. He didn't make it.

`Ted,' the shark mouthed man with the teardrop tattoo, also bore the brunt of the explosion. I learned his name only because his friend Gregor kept shouting for him to get away from the barrels and roll on the floor.

The others lived, but suffered first to third degree burns.

Ripley got spared from the worst of it. At the last second, Thonwa spread her wings and buzzed the woman out. The woman remained intact, but fire destroyed the outer portion of my friend's shell. Nothing fatal, but it seemed she would never fly again.

The fire sprinklers came on, drenching everyone in a mixture of water and foaming fire suppressants. Newt and Julia trembled so badly I had to take them in my arms and clutch them to my chest until they calmed down.

The men began to bicker, the conflict between crooked nose (Morse) and Aaron the most pronounced. It seemed ideal to them to simply give up and wait for the rescue ship, either hiding somewhere outside or in the fire extinguished barrel room.

Ripley suddenly doubled over, leaning on a wall for support.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She straightened, taking several deep breaths. It sounded like she were breathing through a straw. "I'm fine. I just...need to find the EEV and get checked out by a medical scanner."

"Are you sure that's safe? I mean, there are worms."

"I'll manage."

"The infirmary is nearby. Why don't you just find Pillow and have her check you out? She is a doctor..."

Ripley shook her head. "Thank you, but no. Even if I trusted her, those things could easily drop on me from the ceiling..."

"What about Big Bird?"

"I don't trust her, either. Not after that `twitchy' Bishop unit I ran to on the Nostromo. Pulled a Manchurian Candidate and choked a man to death with a rolled up magazine. Version Two saved my life, but I can't expect that courtesy again, from any synthetic."

"Okay. Good luck."

"I'll come with you," Aaron said.

"Thanks. I think I will need someone..."

She continued unsteadily down the corridor, Aaron following close behind, anticipating a fall.

I found Sarah, David and David's little family gathered in an art room across from the morgue, speaking to Grandmother.

Not the most secure room in the prison, but it did prove rather featureless and airtight in places. Tables had been pushed aside to accommodate for Grandmother's large body, but a few remained, and I could see the basic sort of crafts the prison allowed, or allowed years ago, judging by the dust. Crinkled watercolors hung by paper tape so shriveled that it threatened to drop them from the walls. Oil and chalk pastels, mostly still lifes of a potted plant that had since turned brown and fallen inside its vase, and a handful of clay pots that had probably been fired in the refinery. Some ingenious person had even crafted a few glass items, I suppose making use of the plentiful silica that surrounded the facility. I had nobody with me to interpret these things, so I could only conjecture about each item's history.

The closed circuit camera was alive and working, as previously mentioned.

"You have to tell her eventually," David said to Grandmother. "She's not going to be happy, but she needs to know."

What were they talking about? I wondered as I crept through the doorway. I didn't ask, but I wondered.

"Will she forgive me?" Grandmother asked.

"I...honestly, that's kind of hard for anyone to forgive."

"Except God," Sarah added.

"Yes," said Pillow. "God has already forgiven you. As he has already forgiven my husband."

Sarah, seated next to Mrs. Barnes, away from David, suddenly looked very small. "I spent most my life in a tank. I seriously didn't know that there was anything wrong with sleeping with another woman's husband, if you really loved him..."

"Miss Sarah, you are the only person in the history of mankind who can legitimately use that as an excuse." Pillow cleared her throat. "Which is why the onus of blame rests squarely on my husband's shoulders. He failed to resist temptation, and correct the morally weak."

"Forgive..." Grandmother scolded. "Please."

She spun around to face me. "I heard a noise. What's happening out there?"

I told her about the worm, and the quinitricetyline, though not using its proper term, because I was uncertain about how to pronounce or even spell the substance on paper.

"Why don't you just eat them?" Grandmother asked.

My jaw distended in dismay. "Eat them? But I thought that would kill me, or turn me into another worm possessed Ssorzechola."

Grandmother shook her large head. "I would have made the suggestion sooner, but I really don't care for the taste, and I guess I was a little full from lunch. Okay, maybe not that. I guess I just dreaded having to eat those things again. I already had a few outside that flying machine a few minutes ago." She belched, looking upset to her stomach. "I really hoped you could eliminate them by some other means, but it solves the problem of our hunger..."

"The Lord provides..." I was feeling a little peckish myself. My stomach rumbled. "For both of us, it seems."

"You appear to be right about the Bird Lilies of the Field, granddaughter."

She had her parables mixed up, but I was pleased that she at least got the idea.

"Can I eat too?" said Julia.

"You probably will have to eventually. Let's go visit Ripley at the EEV. She'll probably be happy to hear the news. And twice as happy if we find something there to eat."

"Should I come along?" Grandmother asked me.

"No. I believe there is greater need for you among the other humans. The worms are likely headed their way."

I must apologize for my lack of insight. If I had only discussed all of this with Grandmother sooner, a lot of people would not have died. There also wouldn't have been much of a story, but that's beside the point (1).

There's a lot of things I could have done differently, throughout my life. I certainly would have saved a lot more human lives on LV 426, but I guess I'm not as smart as I'd like to be. Maybe it's all that brain damage I've experienced, taking its toll. Or maybe it's just a weakness in my genetics, like how Grandmother can let herself get shot out of an airlock twice in a row.

I found Ripley stretched out in her underwear inside the EEV's cryo pod.

The pod had been cannibalized in my absence. I had noticed this during my previous trip to the `chop shop', but now, as the woman used the machinery, I could tell that much had been dismantled. Before, you would have been unable to simply walk up to the opening and climb into a pod.

Aaron assisted the woman, pushing buttons on the medical device. A lighted mechanical bar slowly traveled up the length of her body like a flatbed scanner element in an old computer.

"Ripley," I asked. "Do you believe in God?"

She let out a bitter laugh. "If there is one, he's a real asshole. No loving God would have allowed half the shit that's happened in my life to take place. And I'm not just talking about myself. All those innocent astronauts, colonists, marines, even children, for Christsakes! And now these (God condemned) worms! Where the hell is God in all of this? Why didn't he do anything to stop it?"

I sighed, not knowing how to respond. I was never really good with this type of apologetics. "Perhaps you were not meant to save those people. Perhaps you were instead sent save the souls of the enemy. For the Lord."

"Xenomorphs," she scoffed. "For Jesus."

"Yes. Like Grandmother. You see, the message of salvation has already been presented to those humans you spoke of. But my family..."

Ripley rolled her eyes. "I'd much prefer they all go to hell."

"Perhaps the Lord thinks differently."

The woman looked away. "All the more reason why me and the Almighty are not on speaking terms."

In contrast, Aaron, whose religion (Scientology) teaches him that he's an alien anyway, actually appeared to be inspired by the thought.

A worm slithered around the corner of the EEV, giving Aaron a start. "Jesus!"

Ripley tensed up, shrinking back into the cryo pod like it were someplace safe to go. "God!"

I grabbed the worm and took one great big bite, as if tearing off the end of a sub sandwich. I ate quickly, before it could regrow itself.

I would compare the taste to salmon, earwax, and moldy bread. Not for the faint of heart.

"I thought you were going to give us some!" Julia complained.

"I will, children. But not here. I don't want to put the humans in danger."

Ripley glared at me. "All this fighting and death, and you can just eat them?"

If one were able to see a Ss'sik'chtokiwij blushing, this would have been a perfect time. "I'm sorry. I was...afraid to try. I have instructed Grandmother to start eating the others." Then, to avoid offense, "Other worms."

The woman smacked her face. "I suppose I should be thankful that we've found a solution at all."

Aaron returned his attention to the pod's monitor, staring at the image with bewilderment. "What am I supposed to be looking at here?"

"Dark blotches around the rib area. Signs of internal bleeding from hairline fractures. Injuries to the base of the skull. They usually show up as dark patches or white lines."

Aaron's eyes narrowed as he moved the scanner upwards. The image was blurry, a dark pulsating shape overlapping the woman's rib cage. "I don't see any fractures, but there's something else..."

He nervously turned his head in my direction, stared at Julia. "I think you've got one of those inside of you."

The woman's skin, already pale under the harsh fluorescents, dropped another shade of pigmentation. "That's not possible."

Aaron's face already dripped with sweat, but I think I detected a bit more coming down.

"What's it look like?" Ripley asked.

"Horrible."

"It can't be that ugly," I muttered.

The woman sat up. "I have to see."

Aaron swallowed. "You don't want to look. Believe me, you don't."

"Freeze the image. I want to see."

She told Aaron how to do this. All three of us stared at the display.

"Oh God," she whispered. "Jesus Christ." Knowing you're about to die does put one in a prayerful mood.

"Amen," I said.

She adjusted the picture, and the body of a perfectly formed little Ss'sik'chtokiwij came into focus, with its small dainty claws, plump body, and adorable little tail.

Ripley bowed her head and wept.

If a human walks into the maternity ward and gazes at all the babies, the general reaction is to `squee' at all the cuteness, and look rather strangely at those who don't. I experienced a similar emotion here, prompting me to commit a social faux pas.

I smiled, placing my claw on the screen. "Awww..."

The woman turned to face me, giving me a look that could curdle milk.

My smile faded. "...I'm sorry."

Ellen picked up a spanner, waving it threateningly at my head. "You! You did this to me!"

"Ripley, how could I possibly place that larva inside you? (2) You left me for dead on LV 426! I'm only here by the kindness of David and his friends!"

She backed away from me, her fist clenching tighter around the handle. "It was your mother, then. Had to be. She's the only other adult xenomorph in this prison."

"She's my Grandmother. My mother's dead."

"Thank God for small miracles." She turned the spanner around in her hand. "Where is the bitch now?"

"I dropped her remains into a volcano."

Ripley sighed in annoyance. "I meant your Grandmother."

I swallowed. "Oh. You really shouldn't. At least, not until she devours all those worms..."

The woman dropped to her knees and wept.

"It serves you right!" Newt growled. "Maybe once that Ss'sik'chtokiwij bursts from your chest, and you have this body, you'll know how badly you treated the friend you almost died trying to save!"

Ripley raised her hand in Newt's direction, slowly extending her middle finger.

She got dressed, casting me a look of pure hate as she stomped away.

Concerned about the new infant, I located Grandmother and asked her about it.

The big Ss'sik'chtokiwij swallowed a particularly large juicy worm. "So I left a few details out of my story. I mean, if I'm going to all the trouble of laying an egg in the small one's body, it goes without saying that I would lay one in the larger host as well." She sighed. "I must admit, it was done from an unforgiving heart. If it were possible to take the larva back, I would."

She gave Newt an apologetic look. "That goes for both of you."

I patted Grandmother on the shoulder. "I know the feeling."

The next hour or so was basically `meal time' for us Ss'sik'chtokiwij. I and Grandmother hunted down the worms, sharing them with each other, and the larvae, Grandmother eating a considerable quantity.

It was a little tricky feeding the larvae, but they understood the worms had to be eaten with haste, so we only had one minor incident, merely resulting in me being a bit fuller than I wished to be.

In our absence, Big Bird had patched herself up. She now scanned the pipes and ventilation systems for worms. She informed me that Ripley had been asking questions about me, checking the facts of my story.

A bony, goony looking man named Postlethwaite took the android's other scanner, and between them, they uncovered the worms I and my family couldn't quite locate on our own, luckily without the loss of life or personal injury.

Ripley tolerated all of this as a means to an end, but she stalked Grandmother from a distance, fixing her with the cold killer's stare, like the man from the movie Death Wish.

Grandmother tried to make amends by apologizing. "I am sorry I laid that egg in your chest, Ripley. I wish I could safely remove the larva from your body, but I cannot. I don't know how."

This only earned her an icy stare and a pair of angrily trembling fists. The woman's heart had hardened like that of Pharaoh in the bible.

Alas. Moving on.

Nobody wanted to use the infirmary, of course, so the burn victims lay in prison cells while Pillow treated and bandaged their wounds.

David now stayed close to her, holding the baby, keeping Sharad out of trouble. Sarah, feeling estranged, chose to tag along with me.

Satisfied for the time being that the worms were being taken care of, Ripley and Aaron returned to the superintendent's office to send out an emergency distress message, or maybe cancel one. I was too busy to observe the activity, but the woman came out looking furious, like they had sent a message she didn't want sent. Aaron just looked guilty.

I asked the latter what was going on.

Once out of the woman's earshot, he muttered, "She wanted me to tell the rescue ship to go away. They're ten hours from here, but she thinks someone is going to use you and that thing in her chest as a biological weapon. I'm just supposed to lie and say we have an infectious disease."

He shook his head. "I have a wife and child! I go home on the next rotation!"

I went to check on Grandmother and found her sprawled in the back hallway, groaning from a bloated stomach. I tried to ask Pillow if she knew anything to treat such a malady in a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but she was busy talking to Ripley about the impregnation.

"I'm not sure how I can help you," the Abreya said as she treated Gregor's many burns. "The Iberet is a wreck, and the surgical equipment you need is permanently attached to the ship. Maybe Big Bird could pull it out, but you might die before the machinery is in working order."

Ripley sighed. "Don't you have a portable unit?"

Pillow shook her head. "Not for the delicate type of operation you're describing."

I could see desperation in the woman's face. "What if we climb up inside the wreckage and I strap myself down to something? Could you do it then?"

"I'm sorry. Only Zadoori knows how to operate that machine. I don't want to kill you."

"I'm going to die anyway."

Pillow didn't answer. She only put her hands on her hips, snapping her tail in frustration.

Ripley glanced at David, but he only shrugged.

"What about Big Bird? Would she know how to operate it?"

"I'm not sure."

The android, who had been in the middle of blocking off a vent, stopped her work to contemplate Ripley's request. "That is not part of my programming."

"Then what the fuck good are you, then?" the woman shouted. "(God condemn) it!"

Finally, a specific object to be condemned. Although I didn't agree that a poor unborn Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva deserved God's eternal punishment, grammatically, it was correct.

The woman stared at me now. "You're the expert on these things. Is there any way you can, I don't know, coax the thing out safely? Make it crawl out a non-vital organ or something?"

"I'm sorry. Even if I knew how to do that, I'm afraid you would still die."

Refusing to take no for an answer, she returned to Pillow, now busily treating Morse's burns. "Like I said, I'm dying anyway. Either I use the machine in your spaceship, or I take a knife and a pair of pliers and do the operation myself."

Ripley looked so deadly serious when she said this that Pillow could only nod and do as she asked.

Thanks to Big Bird's hatchet job on the vehicle, we easily found a way into the wreckage.

David and Big Bird came along to provide whatever limited assistance they could, Sarah and Sharad following us, only to observe, and hold the baby.

As we passed through the living room, I grabbed another quick bite. We'd missed a worm. With so much food in my belly, I thought I would burst a seam.

The lab, of course, was skewed in an inconvenient angle. We helped the woman into a standing position on the table, strapping her down, or rather, sideways. Big Bird and Pillow then set about activating the computer systems necessary to run the equipment.

"Warning," Mara's voice said via the intercom. She sounded rather sickly, like a broken tape recorder. "Electrical system at thirty five percent capacity. Not advisable to perform surgical operations on current supply."

"Then reroute the power, dammit!" Ripley cried. "I want this abomination out of me now!"

"Power has already been rerouted," Mara said.

"Then use the damn thing on low power! A creature is about to tear its way out of my respiratory system. Death by malpractice will be a blessing in disguise!" (4)

Big Bird gave Pillow a look that said no, but David and his wife disagreed, so they activated the robotic arm.

All the machine did was make the angry whirring sound of a paper shredder ruined by overloading and staples, emitting a smell like an overheated electric mixer. The arm came forward, but only twitched back and forth in front of the woman (or above, if the floor was aligned that way), broken watch hand style. Big Bird made several attempts to fix it, but to no avail.

The woman swore, then sobbed in despair(3).

Since nothing more could be done, I departed.

We found Dillon waiting patiently outside. "How did it go?" (The man had been briefed on the situation beforehand).

Ripley stumbled out. "Not so good. You can probably guess that from the fact I'm still up and walking around." She sighed. "Listen. I've got a favor to ask. Can I speak to you in private?"

Dillon nodded, and the two walked away. I thought it rude to follow, so I didn't pry.

Pillow snatched the baby out of Sarah's arms like the girl were diseased, or a criminal, turning to face her husband. "Honey, you have to name this child. The children keep calling him Yoda and Geordi and all sorts of other ridiculous things. He needs to have a good Christian name."

David looked unsettled.

"I know he's not yours, but if we're going to make this marriage work, you'll have to be a man and step up to duties like this. Besides, this one's easy."

"Nathan," David said without hesitation.

Pillow stared at him. "Is there...any particular significance to that, or did you just pick that at random?"

"Nathan the prophet rebuked King David for the sin of adultery and the killing of Uriah the Hittite."

"Ah. I remember that story." She looked thoughtful. "You've been thinking about this some time, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Still can't think of a name for mine..."

"They're both yours," she said with an edge to her voice.

He nodded uncomfortably. "I meant, our second one."

"What do you think about Quana?"

"That's...a good one. You certain it's going to be a girl?"

She nodded. "You know, I was going to name the boy after the Quaceb prophet Yars. Or Gom the patriarch. Nathan is better."

"We can always use Yars as his middle name."

"Nathan Yars Barnes," she repeated. "It's beautiful."

David cringed. "Now that you say it out loud, it sounds kind of stupid."

She turned blue in indignation. "Why."

"Gom just sounds better."

The blue faded from her face. "Oh. You meant the name itself sounded stupid."

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again.

"Yeah," David stammered. "I didn't mean..."

Pillow smiled a little. "Forget it."

"Look. If your heart is set on Yars, we can keep it. It's not that stupid."

"Yars was a holy Abreya. And it sounds better if we go by tradition and call him by his Abreya name, Pulsa Nathan Yars."

David rolled his eyes. "But then you're making it into a middle name!"

"Have you forgotten Wava sentence structure so quickly?"

"Okay, okay. So he still keeps Nathan as his first name. But we've had this conversation before. I'm not taking your last name. I'm the man, so it stays Barnes!"

"Relax, Mr. Sexually Insecure! I was only referring to your son."

"Sexually insecure! What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

The female's face took on the expression of a contestant on Jeopardy trying to figure out the Daily Double. "...Masculinity? Is that the right word?"

David nodded, looking somewhat less angry. "Oh. I suppose it's all right..."

I decided to do a patrol for future meals. A prisoner had found me an oversized metal case that would serve nicely as a lunch box. Along the way, I passed Grandmother. She remained where I'd seen her last, sleeping off her big meal like a human after Thanksgiving.

As I stared, listening to her snore, I heard a voice saying, "Now I know why she didn't attack me. I'm part of the family now."

I looked up at the woman. I still thought she looked better with hair.

Grandmother awoke with a start, turning her head toward the source of the noise.

Ellen knelt next to the big Ss'sik'chtokiwij's head, unafraid. "You've been in my life so long, I can't remember anything else." By that statement, I can only assume that she encountered our kind prior to even her visit to LV 426. Perhaps Grandmother's stories were right.

She leaned closer, practically pressing her face up to Grandmother's mouth. "Now do something for me. Do what you do best. Kill me."

Grandmother shook her head in annoyance. "Can't. Too full."

"Kill me!" Ripley screamed in her face. "Kill me!"

When Grandmother refused to act, Ripley pounded the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's shell with her fists.

Grandmother just groaned and gave the woman a gentle shove, sending her sailing into a nearby wall. (5)

Ripley asked God to condemn Grandmother to hell. For a human who didn't believe in God, she sure swore oaths in His name a lot.

The woman grabbed my claw, whispering conspiratorially. "Ernie, I need to speak to you alone." The look in her eyes implied that she wished to meet outside of Grandmother's range of hearing.

We stepped into a nearby store room. For some reason, she didn't seem to care that I had brought my larvae along. "I need to ask you a big favor. There are men coming to this prison, men that want to use you and your...grandmother as weapons for the government. I need you to take grandma to the foundry and push her in. If you can't do that, just act like you're showing her something, and, I don't know, trip her or something."

"How can you ask me to do that!" I shouted. "She's my own flesh and blood!"

"Don't think about that. Think about all the human lives you'll be saving. Lives that will be tragically lost if your grandmother sticks around long enough to get captured by that organization."

"She's sworn not to hurt anybody. She loves Jesus. How about I just take her out into the desert and hide?"

"They'll find you. This is the only way."

I shook my head. "I'll have to say `no' on that!"

"Fuck. I was hoping we would be able to do this the easy way, with your help, but I guess not. Regardless, Ernie, Thwaka, whatever you call yourself, your grandmother is going to be in that molten lead, even if it means me dying in the attempt."

"It's been nice knowing you."

She glared at me. "Just for that, when I finish with your grandmother, I'll have a special place in that lead for both you and your little friends." Ellen stiffened her back, fixing me with a fiery glare. "See you in hell, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"

She stomped off before I could find out how she learned how to pronounce my name.

This exchange troubled me deeply. I wasn't sure what to make of it. Did she really intend to harm Grandmother? If so, how did she intend to accomplish such a colossal feat?

From what I could best understand, her last battle with Grandmother required the use of a walking automatic forklift, and the quinitricetyline was all destroyed in the explosion. This lead me to wonder what sort of primitive implement she would employ to attempt such an impossible undertaking. Certainly Grandmother would never stomp into that hot foundry on her own volition!

Let's just say I found it very difficult to take this threat seriously.

For the moment, it seemed we had run out of worms. My lunch box was still empty. I, Julia and Newt laid down next to Grandmother and rested while Big Bird sealed up the gaps in the walls.

Newt appeared to be warming up to Grandmother. Although not quite at the point of hugging her or being too close, she tolerated her in the way a kidnapped child tolerates a captor who does nothing but treat them like family for the duration of their abduction. A wary, uncomfortable sort of friendly respect.

Sarah tried to lay down beside us, but she found our exoskeletons too hard for her liking, so she folded up some blankets against Grandmother's stomach and rested that way instead.

Someone shook me awake. I looked up and saw Andrews' digital camera pointed in my face.

Why was Ripley taking a picture of me? I wondered. I couldn't imagine myself to be a worthy entry in her scrapbook of happy memories, nor her social media website, assuming she even had one.

My only guess was that maybe she intended to `blow the whistle' on some Weyland operation, and I was proof. "Say `aah'."

I obeyed before thinking about it. Once she had taken her snapshot, she made a rolling motion with her hand. When I failed to comprehend, she added, "Make that thing come out."

I extended my suaakudsi, and she took a picture. "What's this about?"

Instead of answering, she just gave me a dirty look and marched away.

I was tired, and thought the pictures were of no importance, so I returned to my rest.

Sudden cries of alarm awakened me.

When I rushed to investigate, I found the bodies of the three men Grandmother had killed when she first arrived, lined up in a row inside a store room. Prisoners stood staring at them with uneasy expressions on their faces. Unease, but not terror, because they were killers.

The victims had been mostly consumed, but after her conversion, Grandmother had an attack of conscience and left their faces untouched. It looked very bad for Grandmother and me.

"This was from before my Grandmother accepted the Lord," I told the men. "She no longer follows that sinful path."

Gregor, now swaddled in bandages, eyed me with suspicion. "Was Reverend Jim part of this `sinful path'?"

My jaw distended. "Reverend...Jim?"

"The prison chaplain," Ripley said, leaning in the doorway. "Big guy. His body is in that little supply closet across the hall from the church."

I could only frown in dismay.

Ripley locked eyes with Aaron, stabbing a finger in my direction. "You know how I told you earlier that destroying these things wasn't a priority?...It just became a priority."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Aaron asked. "I mean, what if there's more of those worms hiding around somewhere?"

Ripley was unconvinced. "What if that's the last of them, and Thwaka's friends suddenly get hungry?"

She showed him a camera photo of my suaakudsi. "What if you've got your back turned on one of them, and this goes through your head?"

Aaron stared at me in horror, cautiously retreating. One by one, as Ripley passed the camera around, the other prisoners did the same.

Facing all those distrustful stares, I wanted to run out the door and hide elsewhere, but shoving my way past that hateful woman would only reinforce the violent bloodthirsty image she had created for me. Instead, I backed into a corner.

"My people are fully capable of fasting-" I protested. I would have said more, but I got interrupted.

"If that's true, explain the prison chaplain."

I could not. Grandmother never told me about this one.

"I will discuss this with my Grandmother. She is still a young Christian, and requires godly correction."

"I agree to that! As soon as I find a good weapon, she'll receive all the correction she needs." The woman marched up to me, hands on her hips. "Tell you what. I can't let the Weyland people find you or your family alive, but I'll make you a deal. You stay out of my way, and let me destroy your `grandma', and I'll ensure that you and your friends die in a quick humane fashion."

With that, she left.

I rushed out, telling Grandmother what had just happened. Ripley wasn't present, probably because she still had to find a weapon.

Grandmother, still being full and sleepy, didn't exactly have full coherence. "Let her try. She has no fake exoskeleton or boom booms. What's she going to do? Beat me to death with a rock?"

"You are right. I have heard that even those fire extinguishers are used up." I paused. "In addition to those three men and their dog, I have been told you killed another. A large human, a fat one, with no hair."

"They all have no hair."

"Yes, but this one was separate from the others you killed."

"That was from before. When I converted, you told me to finish eating the other ones. I wasn't sure if you meant that one too, so I left him mostly intact."

"I am pleased to hear that, Grandmother. I would not have been happy if you had returned to your old life of sin. Are you certain there are no more victims?"

Grandmother nodded. "I would not dishonor my Lord by taking another human life."

I pressed my shell against hers. "I am happy to hear this."

I brought Julia into my arms, gazing at her with concern. "Little one, I have been so busy that I have not yet shared minds with you. I fear you do not understand the full meaning of Christ in a Ss'sik'chtokiwij context."

My daughter purred, amused by my worry. "You fear that I will murder a human out of hunger or misguided religious beliefs, like Sydjea."

My mouth fell open in shock. "Why, yes," I stammered.

"You need not fear, mother. You went through a lot of trouble to give me a death free birth. This is not something I take lightly. In addition to this, I have shared minds with the best human evangelist on planet Pathilon, and have already been instructed that man was made in the image of God. It is for this reason I will never take a human life. Also, I have seen what Ss'sik'chtokiwij have done in Wuxrinus and Delos, and it is terrible. I am sorrowful to ever know the name of Zobaruc."

Grandmother let out a deep sigh, like she were somehow familiar with the name, but when I asked, she just shook her head and said, "I do not remember much. It is only a vague memory implanted by the socmavaj that laid me (6)."

"Mother," said Julia. "Is it really true that if a human male lies on his back during the act of sexual reproduction, the offspring he produces will automatically be female?"

I stared at her incredulously. "Who told you that?"

"It was among David's thoughts."

"I...do not believe that human chromosomes are that simple to select. I have heard it is quite difficult for certain couples to produce male offspring, no matter what they do."

"Oh."

Although it somewhat disturbed me that Julia was learning such bizarre superstitions, I was content enough to know that she at least understood the more important things of the faith. To make sure she knew everything important, in fact..."Do you believe in Jesus as your Lord?"

She nodded. "Why would I not? This...being is the defining force in David's life. It explains so much of his behavior, with the exception of his sexual affair. Jesus' lessons that there is more to life than merely eating and killing and reproducing is profound. I am happy to be among other Ss'sik'chtokiwij who feel the same and can help me grow in the faith."

I hugged her.

"I ruined David's marriage, didn't I?"

"No. I think David did."

"But I was the one who brought David and Sarah's minds together. I experienced Sarah's memories, the years of isolation, the loneliness...When I joined minds with David, I had few memories of my own to bring, but many of hers. She had fantasies. About reproduction. He saw them. I could sense that these appealed to him."

"That certainly didn't help. Especially when you played matchmaker. But it it is David's fault that he did not resist temptation."

"He was so certain that he and Pillow could not reproduce..."

"Yes. To be honest, I still do not know if such a thing is truly possible. I would not say that Pillow is lying, but she may be genuinely mistaken."

Julia shrugged. "With God, all things are possible."

Ironically, after a short nap, the man we had just discussed came rushing up to us. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, how many people has your mother killed?"

"A lot," Newt said.

"But only four in this prison," I added in her defense. "She is a changed Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Those were the last humans she will ever killed."

David stared at me like I were a tough algebra problem. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, but there are a total of seven bodies."

I glanced back at Grandmother in alarm. "Let me see them."

Three bodies lay arranged in a neat row outside the infirmary, all looking rather suspicious.

We were the only ones present at the scene. The prisoners, I suppose, had already viewed what was there to view.

Their faces had been badly burned, or, more accurately, melted, rendering them unrecognizable to other prisoners. They had holes in their heads, similar to what a suaakudsi would make, but nothing looked quite natural.

"Were these bodies cleaned?" I asked.

David looked even more puzzled. "What do you mean, `cleaned'?"

"Where's the blood? There's no sign of struggle. And their skin...It's oddly pale."

He summoned Big Bird to investigate.

"These bodies show signs of decomposition inconsistent with a recent Ss'sik'chtokiwij attack." The android leaned over a victim. "They are all in late stages of rigor. Also note the lack of defensive wounds. Furthermore, the residue of this acid is oddly clean for Ss'sik'chtokiwij saliva."

She pried open the corpse's skull a little, peering inside as indifferently as one would look into a purse. "It is as I thought. The victim died of brain cancer. The wounds you see were created posthumously. I suspect someone has been dressing up cadavers."

As she knelt to examine a second body, a bullet ripped open her skull in a spray of milky white coolant. She stiffened, tunelessly reciting the words to the Siamese song from Lady and the Tramp.

"Whoa!" David yelped, jumping to his feet. "Shit!"

At the end of the hallway stood a group of bald figures in shabby clothes, all armed with assault weaponry.

"That's not fair!" David cried. "They can't have guns!"

"Where did they get these guns from?" I asked.

"Dunno. Maybe something washed up on the shore?"

I was about to respond, but just then someone up the hallway shouted, "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"

I ducked a half second before a burst of automatic fire came rattling for my head.

[0000]

1. Yes, this is an idiot plot, they could have saved lives just by eating the worms, but like the Aliens plot I wrote, if Ernie had been better at her job, the abundance of living colonists would have completely destroyed the canon plot, and left me in a confusing wilderness of flat characters. I'd have to flesh them out, and in doing so, they'd mess up the story and not know how to end it.

I could probably write some stories about this, but it would take forever, and I wouldn't be able to write anything else. Plus, well, the barrels of stuff have to catch fire for some reason. Anyways, the biggest complaints about the Ernie story came at the beginning of the Alien 3 plot, or before it.

2. Alternate ("Peacekeeper") paragraph, for preserving continuity:

"...I was with David, and the Iberet was orbiting LV 426, picking up Big Bird and Sarah!"

The woman frowned.

3. Alternate plot idea: They successfully remove the larva.

4. Honestly, that kind of death would probably make more sense than the ending I originally wrote.

5. For this scene alone, I'm leaving most of the story as-is. Refer to the Dream Neighborhood chapter for a list of alternate plots I've put on the permanent back burner. Especially take note of the "Too Many Flat Characters Left Alive" section.

6. I could potentially do a full-on story about this one and Abreyas sometime, but again, there's too many of these and not enough time, or interested readers.

[0000]

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.

[0000]

The time of relative freedom had ended. I sensed the snare circling about us the moment Mr. Weyland appeared in the foundry. But now, as we gaped in stunned silence at woman's dead body, I could feel invisible cords snapping taut.

Mr. Weyland approached me slowly with his arms raised. His wound looked nasty, and I told him so.

"Your wounds don't look so good either," he said in his characteristic deadpan voice. "We'll both get treated the moment we get onboard the ship."

I introduced myself, then my larvae.

"You speak surprisingly well for a xenomorph."

I thanked him, but when he asked for an explanation, I could only answer, "It's a long story, and we're all wounded."

"You're right. We'll have plenty of time to talk about that later."

The man practically fell over on his back.

At first, I thought this to be the result of his wounds, or an overreaction to what I said, but then I noticed Grandmother standing behind me.

"Is that thing safe?"

"She's my grandmother," I said.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Grandmother belched loudly. "Those horrible worms."

"You are not in any danger," I said.

"Is David okay?" Grandmother asked.

Weyland nodded. "He's fine...and so is your English."

"Thank you. What about the young one? Is she well?" She frowned at her bullet wounds. "I'm hurting."

"We should continue this conversation on the ship."

Morse and Golic were still alive. While we talked, Golic had his wounds bandaged, so now he limped out of the exit under armed guard, with Morse supporting him.

Meanwhile, the Asian man and a pair of white suits picked up the woman's body, gathering up the pieces.

Weyland waved to the exit. "Come with me. The sooner we get on the ship, the sooner we can help your friends."

"I'm not sure I should come with you," I said. "I don't appreciate people sticking probes in my brain."

"You're just going to have to trust me. There's nothing for you here, and you're bleeding. Winter is coming, and you'll be the only one tending the furnace. What will you do when the food supply runs out, and no more shipments arrive? Are you going to continue breeding rats?"

"The Lord will provide." I seriously could have done it. I can read. I can figure out how to breed rats, fix wounds, and stoke a furnace.. It would work (1).

A little iron edged into Weyland's voice. "Let me phrase this differently, Ernie. That ship isn't going to move without you and your grandma onboard. You refuse to move, you, grandma, and your friends die from their injuries."

I sighed and nodded. What choice did I have?

I could have run. I could have just let them die. I probably should have. But Mr. Weyland seemed like an interesting person, and I wanted to know more about him. Sure, his men killed just about everyone in the prison, and even now he had guns pointed at me, but he seemed to be rather decent with my friends. He hadn't even wanted to hurt Ripley.

Saint Paul was able to use his imprisonment to great effect in converting his jailers. Even if Weyland did commit the horrors Ripley described, Saul of Tarsus used to be just as bad before he saw a vision and the Lord turned him around.

Plus I wanted to see my friends again.

So I limped after him, following his group out of the prison, where the ship awaited.

Weyland's vehicle was called a `Highliner', a massive machine with a curiously inefficient design, like a capital letter T laid on a horizontal, a huge barrel-like portion forming the cross piece.

Instead of using the landing pad, they had parked on a dusty field nearby. Even the brief storm did nothing to stop the gusts of grit and sand.

I got led up a boarding ramp, into a large cargo hold, filled with unlabeled crates, weaponry, and a cluster of all terrain vehicles. I could have used something there to escape, but again that wouldn't help my friends, and I would have bled out. (2)

Ladders led up into a secondary store room, a lounge, and a small office. People stared at me as they went about packing things up.

They led me across a closed bomb door, into a laboratory filled with medical supply cabinets and computers.

Its doors were blue bulletproof glass with a caduceus printed across them. A cluster of glass tanks at the rear resembled the type of equipment researchers at the LV 426 facility used on socmavaj.

It also held a wide array of scientific devices, large illuminated magnifiers, electrostatic free stations, wiring and soldering tools, and lockers containing just about every conceivable earthly chemical compound.

A narrow walled in corridor ran along the outside of this surgical theater, through which Morse got led. Golic, in the meantime, lay on a crash cart, watching an older Indian woman pulling bullets out of his legs.

Mr. Weyland took this opportunity to summon another doctor to patch up his own wounds.

I found Pillow and a long nosed brunette woman with glasses standing over an examination table, both clad in scrubs and surgical masks, operating on Sharad's liver.

I watched with breathless anxiety as the doctors worked.

The eyes on Sharad's eyestalks, spread on pillows, drifted closed as she breathed from an oxygen mask.

Her dalmatian spotted body lay half covered under the bright surgical lamp, the incision area shaved to prevent infection from her hairy body. She never had to shave her body, despite the lice problem, the child hadn't been inside the premises long enough for that to be a concern. Her long opossum-like tail and monkey feet twitched under the blue covers.

"I thought you were going to go to a surgical station," I said.

To transfuse her alien patient with the necessary type of blood, Pillow had an IV stuck in her wrists, which she kept elevated as she instructed her companion how to navigate the nonhuman body. Not the best idea, even with a tail propping her up in a standing position. "We have the equipment here. Mrs. Hannigan here is a qualified medical surgeon."

Pillow leaned over the table, looking faint. "Don't make the incision just yet. You first need to...clamp off the tugocna loddoca."

Mrs. Hannigan was brown haired, apparently of Germanic descent, clad in blue scrubs. "Please, Pillow. This isn't the first damaged liver I've excised."

In the meantime, human scientists put bibs under me and my grandmother to protect the floor from acid, plucked bullets out of our exoskeletons, patched things up with a type of solder.

Mr. Barnes eyed his wife with concern. "You should eat something. There's a box of Nutter Butters in one of these cabinets..."

"Thanks, honey, but I don't want to infect the incision site." She glanced at Weyland. "Where's my blood? I told your friend to get the emergency supplies."

Weyland, still being treated for gunshot wounds, activated a communications system on the wall. "Mr. Yutani. Were you notified of an emergency blood supply?"

After a period of silence, the Asian man's voice replied, "We're searching the wreckage as we speak. I've just extracted the cadaver of a small child alien."

"Oxana," Pillow gasped.

"We've found a medical room," Yutani continued. "We should have the blood in a moment."

"I wish there was something I could do," David said. "But I'm not medically trained."

"I have an idea." Weyland pulled a gun-like device from a cabinet, loaded a cartridge into it.

Before Pillow could utter a word of protest, he shot something into her neck.

"What!" the Abreya shouted. "What did you just do!"

"Relax. I just gave your blood supply a boost with some sugar, vitamins, proteins and electrolytes."

"You'd better pray I'm not allergic," Pillow growled.

"You're welcome."

"Where's Thonwa?" I asked.

Pillow shook her head. "She's in cryogenic stasis at the moment. I can't operate on two aliens at once, and I don't trust these...people with her biology." She glanced at me and Grandmother. "Mike, you shouldn't be letting anyone in here. There's a contamination risk."

"I'm afraid the large one won't be able to squeeze through the side corridor," Weyland said. "And the refrigeration unit is in the rear. Do these xenomorphs have any medical training I should be aware of?"

Pillow laughed. "None whatsoever. Unless you count the healing power of prayer."

David raised an eyebrow.

I folded my claws. "I'd be happy to oblige."

Mr. Barnes and Grandmother joined me, petitioning our Lord for his aid.

All of a sudden, Newt started crying. "Why did she have to kill herself for? They could have saved her!"

"I don't know," I said. "But the woman was very bitter."

"There might be a way to bring her back," Weyland said. "I'm not going to promise anything yet, but I think there might be a way."

"She got shot to death," I pointed out. "I'm not sure I'd want her back in that state, even if it were possible."

The man didn't respond.

[0000]

Mrs. Hannigan cut into the bile duct, or whatever that is that conveys fluid to the Abreya's second liver.

The vehicle rocked slightly as it rose into the air, making me worry about mishaps with the scalpel.

The guinea pig faced humanoid leaned on the operating table, clearly feeling the effects of blood loss.

The worriment was clear on her husband's face. "You want me to hold something? We might be able to, I don't know, get you a sports bottle or something with a sports drink or Pedialyte in it..."

"You just want me to drink like a guinea pig."

He chuckled. "A sexy guinea pig, maybe. Anyway, it's better than getting another shot in the neck, right?"

"I can get her another," Mr. Weyland suggested. "There doesn't seem to be any allergic reaction."

Pillow growled. "No."

"How about a nutritional shake? They're very good. I take them whenever I'm too busy to eat. What flavor do you want? I got vanilla, chocolate and cherry..."

Pillow sighed. "Cherry, please."

Weyland motioned to one of his labcoated assistants.

A short labcoated African American woman with a bun hairdo brought forth a large bottle that looked suspiciously like a pet feeder.

Pillow rolled her goat's eyes when she saw it. "You have got to be kidding."

David took the bottle, lifting it to her face. "Would it help if I said I've always secretly fantasized about doing this?"

His wife's skin flushed green with embarrassment. "Not...really." Then, in a lower tone, she growled, "I'm going to get you for this!"

With a grin, David put the `straw' end of the bottle to her mouth, and she slowly lapped up the shake.

"This is making me so hot," he teased.

In the meantime, Mrs. Hannigan cauterized something. From my vantage point, I could see the smoke, but not much else. My two larva sat quietly on my shoulder plates, as fascinated as I was about the procedure.

Now that the bleeding had stopped, I cradled Pillow's first baby in my arms. He was an adorable ball of fur, tail and a face like his mother. Nathan should have screamed at me, but the boy seemed oddly at peace in my bony arms, pressed against my exoskeleton. Julia and Newt stood on my shoulders, smiling at the infant.

Sarah paced the floor, her face expressing the same anxiety that everyone else felt.

Grandmother stood behind me. Her large exoskeleton could barely fit in the tiny space, but she made herself as small as she could. "I do not understand what they are doing. How is the removal of an organ from this little one going to allow her to keep living?"

I explained to her how it worked.

"That is strange. When I remove organs from a creature, it always dies."

"It is a complicated interrelationship of organisms. Simply removing something can be fatal. New bonds must be formed in order to keep the others functioning."

"So theoretically I could take only part of a human away and eat it, and it would still live."

"It would not be a loving Christian thing to do. But yes, theoretically."

She paused in thought for a moment, watching the females work. "Can I have that liver when they're done with it?"

I stared at her. "I thought you were so full that your belly hurt."

"I am. I was hoping they could save it for later."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Weyland said. "This female's liver is a valuable scientific resource. It needs to be studied. But if you want livers, I'm sure something can be arranged." He glanced at Newt and my other family members. "For all of you."

"Please tell me that's not as creepy as it sounds," said David.

"Really," Newt agreed. "I might be in an alien body, but I'm not going to start eating people!"

The man coughed. "Not human beings, of course. We have a wide range of different animals to choose from."

Grandmother nodded. Newt just looked glum.

"You trust me," I said to Weyland. "I and Grandmother are strong and powerful, yet you do not put us in restraints."

"I watched how you acted when my soldiers came in," he said. "You did not harm a hair on their heads. Then, of course, I noticed how the prisoners were still alive, and they weren't frightened by you."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's a good gal," David said. The informality of the statement made me smile.

"Another thing that reassured me as well: You'd recently eaten. A predatory animal is far more dangerous when it's hungry."

"And what if I were hungry?" I said.

Weyland shrugged. "I have brain cancer. I already know I'm going to die. You'd only change the when."

"And this is how you plan to spend your last days? Doing scientific things with aliens?"

"Could you imagine," Weyland said. "If there's some technology, a chemical, or some organ in your body that eradicates cancer? Do you know how amazing that would be?"

I reacted how you might imagine a person would if someone were asking for your vital organs. I bowed my head and looked away. "I suppose this explains your DAMBALLAH organization."

"To a certain extent."

Sarah kept accidentally bumping into people and getting in the way, so a pair of nurses led her out of the room.

For a moment, all was quiet save for the mechanical machinery and the clicking of Pillow's feeder bottle.

"Honestly, this is kind of a turn on." David muttered, making her blush. She elbowed him.

"Is this blood loss going to be bad for our baby?"

Pillow stopped licking and sighed. "I keep silently praying it won't, but Sharad's life must come first. If she dies, I'll never forgive myself."

Her goat eyes narrowed as she watched the human doctor operate. "Careful, Susan."

"I know what I'm doing," she shot back. "It's only a doubled liver. Your bodies aren't as different as you think."

I glanced at our gracious host. Weyland's doctors had stitched up and bandaged the gunshot wound to his arm, so now he sat on a bench, eating Nutter Butters to regain the lost blood sugar.

"Do you believe in Jesus?" I asked him.

He swallowed a morsel. "I believe the historical figure existed."

"That's a start," I muttered.

I could tell, for some reason, that this discussion depressed Newt, but she didn't tell me why.

The set of glass doors at the end of the room slid open and a square jawed soldier in a gray uniform marched in bearing a plastic IV bag full of blue liquid the color of fabric softener.

"Sir!" the man said. "Is this what you were looking for, sir?"

During the last few minutes of the operation, he had brought in a bag of red human blood, then black, both from my friends' spaceship, but neither one correct for our patient.

Pillow glanced back, then sighed in relief. "Guep! Yes. That's it, praise God!"

She quickly exchanged her vein for the bag, hooked it onto a hanging rack, and slumped heavily into the nearest chair.

Weyland offered her a Nutter Butter, but after she ate it, she demanded, "More."

She consumed a whole box, washing it down with the contents of the bottle, feeder `straw' removed.

When she saw Mrs. Hannigan putting the liver in a surgical basin, she leapt to her feet again, staring into the incision site with worriment.

"It's stitched and sealed together," Susan said with some annoyance. "It's been cauterized. She'll be fine. Vitals are still stable. There's a reason why doctors are generally not allowed to operate on people they're close to."

"It can't be helped. I'm the only alien doctor here." She brushed Sharad's hair away from her forehead. "I wish I had the tools from my ship. This procedure is so barbaric!"

"You have nothing to worry about. After undergoing similar procedures, people have survived, and moved on to resume their active and fulfilling lives."

I and Grandmother were still full from lunch, but now I had other concerns.

At Fiorina 161, I normally went to the bathroom in the dusty soil outside the prison. I hadn't gone for awhile, and my larva had similar issues. I mentioned this to Weyland, and he brought us some glass tanks.

"My apologies," he said. "But I would like to get some urine samples."

"Your people took plenty of samples on LV 426," I said.

"Those samples were destroyed. There may have also been new health developments. My doctors check my urine all the time to see if there's a medical problem."

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. We don't have a privacy screen."

I pointed to the one above Sharad.

"...other than that one. Please don't contaminate the patient."

Despite the humiliation, this was twice the respect and formality I normally got for such things in a laboratory setting. I shrugged and gave my sample.

He collected samples from Grandmother and Julia. Embarrassing, yes, but we understood the situation. Even Newt was okay with it after she wrapped her small body with a towel.

"Mr. Weyland," I said. "May I ask you another question?"

"You're an intelligent alien presence," he said. "There's very little I wouldn't tell you, or, at the very least, reply to."

The doctors closed the wound, then watched the patient for awhile.

Morse and Golic had already been taken away. Mr. Weyland said they'd been put in cryogenic stasis. He told me it would be a challenge to refrigerate Grandmother, but since our voyage could take months, the necessary machinery had been prepared.

"Where are we going next?" I asked.

Weyland took a booklet out of a cabinet, handing it to me. "You can read, correct?"

I nodded, scanning the glossy pages.

It looked like an apartment brochure, with scenes from a park, and luxury bedrooms.

"We get our own homes?" I asked in surprise. "With washing machines? I don't even wear clothing!"

"I'm sure you'll find some use for one," he said with a warm smile.

"That's awfully nice of you," I said.

Newt had been reading over my shoulder. "No kidding! It's almost like heaven!"

"Sounds too good to be true," David muttered.

"I find it easier to get results from my subjects if the conditions are more...amicable."

David let out a derisive snort. "Like butter from `contented cows'?"

"Actually, that's not a bad description."

"Mr. Weyland," David said. "As great as your offer sounds, I'd like to go back to some semblance of my actual home. I'm originally from Nebraska...If it's not too much trouble, could you please drop me and my friends off there?"

Our host shot David a pained facial expression. "I'm sorry. That's out of the question...unless you want to go alone."

David frowned. "I...I can't do that."

Weyland raised his hands in a way that nonverbally said `I offered.'

"So we're actually your prisoners."

Newt sighed, shook her head.

"I prefer `detained foreign ambassadors.'"

"And how long are we being `detained'?"

"That I do not know."

"I thought customs wouldn't allow the importation of extraterrestrial lifeforms," I told the man. "The Ripley woman said that's why you had men trying to impregnate her with larva."

He sighed and nodded. "We've recently found ways to bypass the problem."

"How?"

"I can't tell you that."

Pillow staggered to her feet. "We have to help Thonwa."

Our friend had been injured in one of our previous battles. Thonwa was a large insectoid creature, with physiology similar to my own.

Not identical to my own, but similar. She has a striking resemblance to a ladybug. Her reproductive organs are attached to her head, she has a proboscis, and she reproduces by laying eggs in a special pond, but we both have exoskeletons.

David pushed his wife back into the chair. "I know. I love her too, but you need the strength. Eat some more food, at least!"

"She could die!"

"She's in cold storage, baby."

Pillow let out a little puppy dog whimper.

David hugged her. "C'mon, my little space rodent! You did a good job with Sharad. Thonwa only needs a few stitches redone. You can afford to rest a little and take a breather. It's okay."

"You'll never get away with this, earthman!" she muttered with a slight smile.

"You were good once, Zoranna," David said. "The power of this kiss may be just enough to break the enchantment of evil that holds you!" It appeared this was some sort of role playing he often did with his wife.

"I am the mistress of evil! Kisses have no effect against my power!"

"That's because you've never been kissed by Rick Rocket, Master of Space!"

Pillow giggled. "Do your worst, Rick Rocket!"

They kissed.

"Oh brother," Weyland groaned.

Newt looked...depressed, maybe envious of the couple. I guess she saw something she'd never have.

The ship had a sort of dining area, but Pillow didn't want to leave Sharad's side, so they brought her a turkey sub sandwich and waffle sticks and pickles. They knew she was pregnant, so they were very understanding of her weird tastes.

David took the baby from me, feeding him with a bottle. I carried my larva over to the patient, watching her sleep.

The eyes on Sharad's fleshy eystalks cracked open slightly. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" she croaked.

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, which is a little challenging with chitinous claws.

The female smiled and squeezed back. "David just adopted me. You want to be my aunt?"

"I'd love to be your aunt," I said.

"Can I be her sister?" Julia asked with excitement.

"I think she'd like that."

"I'd like to be her sister too," said Newt.

Sharad's eyes closed, her smile fading as she drifted into a calm, healthy slumber.

Mrs. Hannigan checked the patient's vitals for another moment before announcing, "She should be fine. The monitors will send me an alert if there's been an adverse change." She paused. "Can I hold your baby?"

Pillow gave her a weary smile and nodded.

The woman cradled Nathan to her chest, stroking his fur as she muttered baby talk to it.

"Are you a pediatrician?" David asked.

"No," she said. "Veterinarian. I did work for a private medical practice once, but I always wanted to work with animals. Nobody seriously pursues a career in xenobiology. I just kinda fell into it."

"You seem good with kids."

The woman only shrugged, handing the child back to his father. "When's the last time he's been changed?"

"We have diapers onboard if you need them," Weyland said. "They're really intended for chimps, but we're not carrying any right now."

David grimaced. "As insulting as that sounds, I think that would be good."

So Mrs. Hannigan helped Mr. Barnes change the baby on a small animal operating table nearby.

Weyland sighed, pointing to Newt. "Your friend...She claims to have transferred her consciousness from a human body into her current larval form. I'd like to reproduce the results, if I could. How was this transfer achieved?"

"I died," Newt blurted.

"I know what you're trying to do," David said. "But it won't work. Sarah tried to do the same thing They interfaced brains, but they kept the bodies they had."

Julia scampered down my arm to talk to him. "Host mommy tried to make me do something I couldn't do."

"What happened to Newt that didn't happen to Sarah?"

"From what I hear, Newt was near death," David said.

The larva nodded. "I saw Jesus."

"Yeah. So...What happened was sort of a miracle."

"I don't believe in miracles," Weyland said.

"The band Hot Chocolate does," David joked. "Are you saying you don't like Hot Chocolate?"

"I prefer tea," the man said with a smirk. "So you think the child's death trauma could have provoked a mind-body transfer."

"...Maybe."

Weyland gazed longingly at the larva.

"Whoa," David blurted. "Before you do anything hasty, Dr. Mengele, I have to warn you: We're only assuming, by faith, that that little girl is still with us."

I nodded. "As much as I hate saying it, there's a possibility that this larva only believes she is Newt, and the real Newt is gone, to heaven."

"Hey!" Newt cried. "That's not true!"

I saw the man swallowing a lump. His neck was baggy enough to make the motion quite visible. "You're saying the larva could be merely delusional."

"Yeah...so before you...do anything drastic..."

"I'm not delusional!" Newt said. "I'm still me!"

That didn't help anyone's case.

Weyland sighed. "I'm not as bad as Ellen Ripley said I am. You obviously trust me a little, or you wouldn't have let me take you onboard."

"Well...you didn't try to kill Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's Grandmother..." David agreed.

"This kind of mind-body transfer, at worst, seems to have as much value as uploading your consciousness into a synthetic."

David visibly cringed. "...At best?"

After a thoughtful pause, Weyland said, "A last resort."

He fell silent, lost in contemplation.

Mrs. Hannigan left the room to take her break. After she left, the doors at the end of the chamber opened, and a tall half Caucasian Japanese woman came in, bearing a tablet computer. With her long face, slight nose and almond shaped eyes, I thought the woman would be a good choice for actress in an alien invasion movie. "Sir, the samples are all adulterated. We can't seem to separate the alien and human chromosomes."

Weyland waved at her dismissively. "Keep trying. That specimen had a rare genetic marker not present in the ones we have here. Human cell regeneration in the sample could be the key!"

"I could lay another if you want," Grandmother muttered, but Weyland ignored her.

The woman nodded, returning to her station.

"I wouldn't," David said to Grandmother. "They'll just use the eggs for war. To kill people."

"Mr. Barnes," Weyland said. "Don't you want your country to have fifty states again?"

"What," David said. "You gonna float California back up the surface?"

"No, I was referring to The Colonies, currently designated The Thirteen Pillars."

David shrugged. "I could do without election primaries and baked beans."

"So you don't mind having Sharia government."

"Christians have lived under oppressive governments for centuries. The government collapses, and we just keep trucking along."

"So the risk of being beheaded doesn't bother you at all."

"Not if my sacrifice can save a soul for Jesus...What are you willing to die for?"

"A better world," Weyland said.

"So it's not just a catchy slogan on a plaque."

Weyland made no reply to that.

I glanced at the doors. "Where's Sarah?"

"She's been placed in cryogenic stasis with the others. It'll save time when we dock with the ship."

Being a doctor, Pillow knew a great deal about refrigerating our other injured friend Thonwa. The normal intravenous solutions used to maintain vital functions in humans were inappropriate for a Cijmabsa. I don't remember all the particulars, but I do know she insisted on putting extra nitrogen, and glass cleaner was to be introduced to the line.

She must have done it right, for our patient was brought out of refrigeration, alive, and the Abreya could proceed with the operation right away.

Pillow sucked in her breath as she saw the damage, but she remained calm and confident.

Thonwa's eyes, on horn-like growths atop her head, groggily glanced around the room.

"Do you know the proper procedure to knock yourself unconscious and maintain life functions during a prolonged cryogenic freeze?" Mr. Weyland asked me.

I thought about it for a moment. "No."

"Don't ask questions like that," David said. "You're making me nervous."

"This isn't a human being, Mr. Barnes. I doubt we can use the same chemicals."

I asked Grandmother about it.

"When I was drifting in space years ago," she said, referring to the incident with the Nostromo. "I made my body go into hibernation."

"So we just have to wait for you to do that," Weyland said in a disappointed murmur.

"Actually," Pillow said as she stitched up her patient. "We've successfully put Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik under a few times to treat her injuries. I believe I can give you a list of chemical solutions. They're somewhat similar to what I used on Thonwa, but the ammonia level needs to be increased to a larger volume, and there's literal antifreeze involved."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Planet Wuxrinus," she sighed. "We learned many things about how not to kill your kind, as they were killing us."

"Good," Weyland said. "That should make things much simpler."

"Is that Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Thonwa moaned.

Since nobody was warning me about contamination risks, I stepped around to the creature's uninjured side and held her claw.

"Hey, good looking," she said, smiling with her eyes and proboscis. Her reproductive tentacles twitched around her head. "Is everyone out of danger?"

I nodded.

"What about the prisoners?"

"Only two survived. They're in cold storage."

She squeezed my claw. "We should go out on a date sometime."

"Our reproductive systems are incompatible," I said.

"I know."

She fell asleep.

Pillow finished with her, then consumed a quart of ice cream as her patients rested.

I heard a bump as our ship docked with a larger craft. None of us went anywhere, though, because we were concerned about our patients.

Pillow had a communication device, which contained an electronic bible. David read a few passages aloud, in English and in Wava, the language of the Abreyas, and we sang some songs. Our patients appreciated this, and even sang along a little.

David, Sharad and Thonwa had dinner. I fell asleep.

When I awoke, the two patients were gone, apparently gone into cryogenic stasis already. That left David, Pillow, the baby and my family.

The noise of conversation had awakened me.

"Those tanks have safely transported chimpanzees for months," Weyland was saying. "I don't see why they can't transport your baby."

"He's not a monkey, Mr. Weyland. He's an Abreya child!"

"I understand that, but the physiology and size are similar. There have even been talks about using them for human infants."

Pillow clutched her husband's hand. "Kadmarre, our son should be fine. We only need to make some slight alterations to the fluids."

David nodded. "I hope you're right." He paused. "But what about you? You're pregnant!"

She paused. "What about me? I'm pregnant."

"It's been done with pregnant humans," Weyland said. "We have methods."

"We're docked to another ship," I said. "Can I see it?"

Weyland shook his head. "There's a quarantine protocol. I'm actually going to need to go through decontamination before I can get into a pod myself."

Mr. Weyland had built a large room in the bottom of the Highliner to contain my Grandmother during her trip. It looked like a meat locker with a glass door. Gray diamond patterned metal, air conditioner units, large tanks of liquids.

Far from being frightened of Grandmother, Pillow treated her like your average ordinary human hospital patient instead of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij twice her size, lifting plates on her exoskeleton and plugging acid proof tubes into her with a polite friendly manner. She knew exactly where the veins were and everything.

"I have your fluids set up just right," she told her. "You'll just go to sleep for awhile, then we'll be on earth or wherever we're going."

"That's what Ripley told me before I died," Newt muttered darkly.

Grandmother flinched, looking like she were about to panic and bolt out of the chamber. "Is this true?"

"Grandmother," I said. "You were her cause of death, remember?"

When Ellen Ripley was escaping from planet LV426, she only thought that she had ejected Grandmother into deep space. Hours later, when Ellen and Newt were unconscious in cryogenic sleeping pods, Grandmother had laid an egg in the little girl's chest. She would have gotten Ellen too, had the malfunctioning spaceship not thrown Grandmother into a separate area of the craft and trapped her there until the vehicle crash landed on Fiorina 161.

Grandmother's shoulder plates drooped. "Oh."

The Abreya checked the tanks, stretched out the tubes, examined the pumping equipment.

"Pillow," Grandmother said. "I'm glad I didn't eat you."

Pillow stroked her shell. "I'm glad you didn't either."

David petted her as well.

"Good night, Grandmother," I said.

She rubbed her face plate against mine. "Good night."

Julia gave her a quick nuzzle, but Newt refused.

"Am I so terrible, little one?" Grandmother asked.

Newt didn't reply. No one could blame her. Grandmother had killed the girl's human body. Of course, her new larval body had suffered abuse at the hands of the Ripley woman, so her hostility had been dampened somewhat.

Grandmother sighed.

I thought for sure that Newt would hold that grudge forever, but as we turned to leave the chamber, I heard her muttering, "Good night."

More cryogenic units stood forward from Grandmother's compartment, a vast gray room illuminated by fluorescents and rows of computer screens displaying vitals. The vertical cylindrical tanks stood like pillars along the walls, misty with cold fog. Through the frost, I could see some of the occupants, human popsicles in their underwear. A row of smaller ones lay empty nearby.

Pillow had prepared a tank for me, but I wanted to see my small ones off first, so she set about fixing them up for Newt and Julia.

The experience was novel to Julia. She didn't mind the treatment. "I feel like an astronaut!" she declared cheerfully.

Newt, however, was so terrified that she refused to go in. "That's how I died! I don't want to go through that again!"

"What if you don't die?" I asked. "What if it's perfectly safe and you're worrying about nothing?"

"And what if I'm not?"

I pressed her to my exoskeleton, stroking her shell. "Newt, you saw your mom and dad last time. Wouldn't you want to see them again?"

She coughed and sneezed in sadness. "But what if they don't recognize me? What if I end up like I am now, or even worse?"

I hugged her, kissing her on the dome.

"You must trust God, little one," I said. "`For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"

Newt trembled. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"I'm sorry. Humans may get scared if you're running around the ship on your own. It's better to do things their way. We're all going to have to do it eventually."

"All right," she sighed, looking like we had just signed her death warrant.

With that, we put her in the cryogenic chamber.

I think Pillow would be lying if she said she put my larvae in stasis first out of politeness. I'm pretty sure she still worried that it wouldn't work for Nathan.

Still, when the glass tube closed on Newt, she surrendered her child.

Mr. Weyland and one of his medical people adjusted one of the small pods, as per Pillow's specifications, and the child was placed inside.

Little Nathan cried at first, but the parents sang to him, and gently fitted him with the necessary tubes, and soon the pod was closing, enveloping the child in white mist.

Pillow kept her hand pressed to the glass the whole time, her expression betraying feelings of worriment, sadness, even.

"I'm putting my trust in your archaic equipment," she told the man.

"And I'm putting my trust in your undocumented medical expertise," Weyland replied. "Let's hope at least one of us is right."

"I'm putting my trust in Jesus," David said.

"I am too," Pillow said. "But if I had to trust something to put our son in suspended animation..."

David nodded grimly.

The next one to go into cold storage was myself.

At my present stage of maturity, I stood about the same height as a human being. I worried about damaging something with my spiny tail, but both Weyland and Pillow said I had nothing to worry about. It was a little uncomfortable for me when she pulled my plates back and stuck in tubes, but soon everything was set up, and I found myself getting drowsy.

The tube closed around me, and the cold set in.

"Have a good sleep, friend," David said.

They couldn't see my eyes, but sleep eluded me for a few moments, and I had nothing to do but groggily observe the things happening around me.

Having put everyone else alien to bed, so to speak, it was Pillow's turn. Looking pale, she activated the tank nearest the baby, which happened to be between two frozen lab assistants, preparing it for the physiology of a pregnant Abreya.

Weyland glanced at the tanks, then to her. It was clear what he expected.

In addition to Weyland, the Barneses were accompanied by two medical technicians. The Abreya female had an audience.

"Do you have a privacy curtain or something?" David asked Weyland.

"I don't see the point. You'll just end up on display anyway."

"Maybe we can just turn around-"

Before he could complete the sentence, Pillow was pulling off her romper and glittering silver underthings, climbing into the tank.

"You wore them?" David stammered.

Pillow blushed green. "I didn't expect to be in this situation. I know how you like it when I wear them."

"I know this won't fix anything, but I'm sorry. About the affair and everything."

She gestured to him with her tail. "Come here."

The two kissed passionately for a moment.

Weyland cleared his throat, impatient.

David pulled away.

"Hua chikalat," Pillow said as she climbed into her tank.

"I love you too."

The tank closed, wreathing the Abreya's figure in white.

We did have to turn around for David. His build was not impressive, and his briefs were not exactly clean, so maybe he had a point. Mr. Weyland, for one, commented that it it `Wasn't something he particularly wanted to see.'

At this point, the chemicals were kicking in. Consciousness escaped my grasp.

The last thing I heard before passing out was Weyland telling one of his staff people, "Once properly indoctrinated, the young ones could be a tremendous help in our war efforts."

When I awoke, it was warm, and I no longer stood in a cryogenic tank.

I had been placed in a concrete cell, one wall made of some durable sort of glass, with a thick metal sliding gate, and a food slot at the bottom.

Beyond the glass, I could see a small observation lounge with a padded bench, a Coke machine, and a computer kiosk. I guessed the place lay underground somewhere. I couldn't see outdoors at all.

Mr. Weyland slouched on the bench, frowning at something on his cel phone.

After watching him do nothing but click buttons for a moment, I groaned and sat up.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Rosedale Manors."

I frowned at the gray walls, the barren floors. They had provided me with nothing, no possessions of any sort, like a zoo animal in a cage. Nothing new to me. I had spent the majority of my life in similar cages. What bothered me more was the broken promise. "I thought you said we'd have houses...with washing machines."

Mr. Weyland shrugged. "I lied."

ERNIE WILL RETURN IN "ELLIE 074", A NEW STORY IN THE FANFICTION NET ARCHIVE

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1. There's some potential in an alternate plot about Ernie staying on Fury 161, but I don't have time to write it.

2. Another alternate plot idea.