Chapter four: Board Meeting~
"I'm telling you the truth! How many more times do we have to go over this?"
She's the only one standing out of the nine people in the board room, the unnecessarily long U-shaped table giving off the same feeling as one would imagine a boa constrictor wrapping its way around you and then suffocating you to death.
The various company representatives - two women, the rest men - all have the same air about them; self-driven, self-centered, and self-absorbed. They're hearing her but they're not listening. Or rather, they're not hearing what they want to hear. And if there's one thing Ripley can't stand, it's being made to feel like the only child in a room full of adults. And she is most certainly not a child.
"As many times as we need to," Van Leuwen, head of the board, replies. He clearly enjoyed having the upper hand. "Think about it from our perspective; a lone survivor of a ship that she destroyed, along with the rest of her crew-"
Ripley snaps. "I told you, they were already dead!"
"-and survived nearly sixty years of hypersleep to top it off? That's pretty far fetched in and of itself, but then you..." he pauses to sift through the papers of her formal report. "...you claim this...creature, this...alien, killed off your entire crew."
"Yes." She says firmly.
Another board member, a man to Leuwen's left, chimes in. "No offense, miss Ripley, but how can such a creature exist and the company not know about it by now?"
She can't help it as her nostrils flare, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides. "It's in. My fucking. Report."
"Yes," one of the two women speaks up. "And it says here that you originally found the creatures on planet LV-426. That planet has been thoroughly investigated over the years and no traces of any alien derelict ship has ever been discovered."
Oh my god. She was never going to snap on that ship, or in that escape pod, with the alien. She was going to lose it right here, in this blue-lit board room talking to these thick-skulled company marionettes.
"Look. You asked me what I saw, and I told you. Not one word in those papers has been falsified or exaggerated. I don't know how many different ways I can retell the same goddamn story."
Leuwen purses his lips - what is it with company people doing that? - and in a most unsatisfied manner, closes the book on her report. "I'm sorry to say, but I speak for all of us when I tell you we're just not convinced. I hereby strip you of your officer status as well as your pilot's license, indefinitely. We'll also require that you get a psychiatric evaluation once a month, and you will be given a therapist which you must see once a week until further notice."
Ripley's mouth falls open, offended to the very first degree. "What, you think I'm crazy? I told you what happened, I told you what's out there! What am I gonna do for a job without-"
The door behind her slides open, an almost musical entrance, and a man who matches her height walks in along with another, much shorter man. The short one is clearly just another company sock puppet, she can see it in the very way he carries himself. The tall one is not wearing a suit like all of the others present, but a gray-blue jumpsuit that is standard for the average working Joe. His eyes are kind, but she learned years ago not to trust first impressions.
Fifty-seven years, to be exact.
"Who the hell is this?"
"This is Carter Burke." Van Leuwen proudly responds, and the short man automatically straightens up to give her a used starship salesman smile. "He will be your caseworker for the time being. And that is Lance Bishop-" Bishop nods at her, a much more subtle courtesy. "He will serve as your guardian and work in tandem with your therapist."
She scoffs. "What, like a babysitter? To run back and report every little thing I do and say? No thanks."
"It's not an option, Ripley." At her expression, the head of the board smiles nice and wide. "We'll expect that first report within the week. In the meantime, there's plenty of work to be done on the station. I'm sure you'll be able to find something. Good luck."
"But wait," she insists, a final attempt to tilt the scales in her favor. "What about LV-426? You said that it's already been investigated, multiple times? Can I see the reports?"
"Well, there's no need," Van Leuwen smiles. He'd been ready for her question. "We've had people living on that planet for the past twenty-five years and not one complaint about any 'hostile organism' as you put it."
Her heart disappears into her stomach. "What do you mean? People? What people?"
"Why, terraformers." He explains. "They go in, set up atmospheric processors to make the air breathable, and slowly turn a given planet into a humanity-friendly habitat. Takes decades to do. We call it a 'shake-and-bake' colony."
He rises from his seat and sidesteps her to make his exit along with the others, but Ripley quickly intercepts. "How many? How many colonists are down there?"
"I don't know. I'd say sixty, maybe seventy families. Now, if you'll excuse me."
He moves swiftly past her, and already, Ripley can feel the culmination of sickness forming in her gut. Families. Not just people. Families with mothers and fathers and daughters and sons. Son of a bitch. Weyland-Yutani...how could you?
Finding the decency to close her mouth, Ripley recoils from the shocking end to her forced mandatory meeting and turns to leave, only to find Burke and Bishop blocking her path. Burke stands awkwardly and attempts a friendly greeting and wave, but it fails miserably, and Bishop says nothing, opting to stare at her instead.
Ripley shakes her head and rolls her eyes, all but storming out of the room as she moves past them.
Unbelievable.
