Disclaimer: The author does not own Aliens or The Thing.

Aliens & Things

by

CelfwrDderwydd

Chapter One: The Road to Hell

"We found something in the ice . . .

We found something, we found something . . .

We found something . . . (sobbing)"

-Last transmission, U.S. Outpost 31

Gorman grunted softly from his seat in the APC as he watched the video feed from the cameras of the dropship. The mist and rain of the atmosphere clouded and obscured the ground below. He narrowed his eyes as the towers of the atmosphere processor slowly faded into view. Next to him, Ripley watched the screens as well. She felt a pit in her stomach as a black plume of smoke gradually faded into their view. She swallowed as the colony complex seemed to melt out of the mist and rain.

There were several holes in the colony, smoke pouring out of them. Some sections of the structure were visibly collapsed. The pit in her stomach became a twisted knot as they surveyed the damage. Gorman frowned as they flew over the complex.

"Ferro, give me a slow circle of the complex," he softly ordered.

"Roger," the pilot replied. As the dropship circled the complex, they could see a hint of flame still flickering in some places. Gorman sighed as he glanced at the different monitors.

"Some exterior damage, most seems to be internal. Could be explosives' damage. Several fires still burning, some already out. Storm shutters are sealed, no visible activity," Gorman was slow and methodical, like he was making a report. Ripley's eyes flew over the monitors, trying to see everything at once.

"Some of the exterior lights are still on, so they still have power," she observed. Gorman nodded vaguely as he looked at a screen that displayed the landing field.

"Okay, Ferro, set us down in the landing grid. Immediate dust-off on my clear, then stay on station," he ordered. He looked at Apone, who nodded.

"All right, gear up, people!" he ordered as they flew down.

The dropship came down through the lashing rain and whipping winds, the lights of the dropship illuminating the gloom. The engines screamed as it came in and landed, the ramp dropping with a clank. The APC took off from the ramp and roared across the field as the dropship took off behind it. Inside, the Marines tensed as they readied their weapons, not sure what they would find.

"Okay, stay frosty, people!" Apone ordered. The APC rumbled to a halt and the door slid open. "Move it out!" Apone ordered as the Marines poured out of the armored personnel carrier. Weapons poised, they knelt behind barrels and crates as they looked at the complex.

There was even more damage than they had thought. A tractor sat nearby. The cab was a mess of wires and shattered glass. It looked like someone had taken an ax to it. Apone brought up a pair of binoculars and surveyed the area. Nothing moved, except for the rain and a few swaying wires and cables that dangled from the sides of the complex. Still, they were cautious, moving from one position of cover to another, as careful as if their every move was being watched. Drake and Vasquez covered their approach with their smartguns, watching for any movement.

The large doors into the colony were partly ajar, the access panel next to the door smashed hopelessly beyond repair. Apone groaned as he looked at the destroyed panel, then the doors. One of them was dented, badly. That was odd enough, given that they were made of carbon-alloy steel almost two inches thick, but the strangest thing, was it looked as if the door had been dented from the inside. There was a bloodstain on the doors, and not a small one, either.

Most of the blood that had been on the ground had been washed away by the rain, but enough remained to indicate that something bizarre, and horrible had happened there. Apone motioned for the other Marines to move up. "Hicks, Hudson, help me with this damn door." The three men grunted as they pulled.

The undented door slid open enough for them to squeeze through. The inside of the lock was even more of a mess. There was even more blood on the grating on the floor, a trail of it leading back to the twin doors into the colony interior. The doors were both open, as if in invitation. Vasquez squeezed through the main doors and took point, her smartgun at the ready.

The corridors were a mess. Rain was pouring through a gaping hole in the ceiling. A red warning light was blinking on and off. It was eerily quiet, the only sounds were the pattering of the rain and the echoes of their boots on the floors.

"Second team, move inside. Hicks, Drake, take the upper level," Gorman ordered over the radio. They could hear the footsteps of the other Marines behind them as they entered the colony. Apone frowned as he looked around.

"Sir, are you seeing this?" Apone asked.

"We are indeed, Sergeant," Gorman replied. Apone sighed as he looked at the damage.

"Looks like small-arms fire. Some explosives damage . . ."

"What do you think, Sarge? Seismic survey charges?" Hudson asked quietly. Apone groaned as he looked at a particularly large hole.

"Not this one. Looks like something smashed in the roof. This was done from the outside," Apone observed. Vasquez tilted her smartgun up at the hole, careful and watchful as they passed underneath the gaping hole. More red warning lights blinked at intervals in the halls, broken wiring hung down here and there, some popping and sparking, but otherwise, the halls were silent.

"Hicks, Hudson, use your motion trackers," Gorman ordered. Hudson brought up the device and watched the display carefully.

"Nothing. Not a damn thing," Hicks muttered over the radio.

"We need to cover more ground. Split up and search in teams of two," Gorman ordered. Apone nodded and motioned for Hudson and Vasquez to take one hall.

XXX

Back inside the APC, Ripley, Gorman, Burke and Bishop watched the monitors as the Marines made their sweep. The upper level was the same as the lower one, if not worse.

Some of the hallways looked like they had been scorched by fire. The area Hicks and Drake were passing through looked like there had been a very big fire there. The whole hall was blackened, from the floor to the ceiling, and everything in between. They glanced around, trying to watch everything at once. Ripley's stomach was doing flip-flops. It was worse than she could have imagined. Her throat was tight and a distinctive cold feeling was settling in her neck and shoulders. A feeling of growing dread was slowly gripping her.

"Sir, we've got a body," said Drake. All eyes were riveted to Drake's monitor. They watched as Hicks knelt next to the body of a man, sitting with his back against a wall. The cause of his death was both obvious, and gruesome.

A handgun was still in his hand, the wall behind him was splattered with blood, fragments of bone and pieces of brain tissue. Hicks sighed as he stood, looking around. The room was a mess. Desks and tables had been overturned, papers strewn all over and the triple-paned safety-glass windows were shattered. One almost-shattered window looked like something had tried to get inside, bending a large hole in the steel shutters in the process. There were marks all around the hole in the glass and carved into the metal around it. Hicks looked at the gaping hole and the marks. The light from his shoulder lamp clearly showed the marks in the metal.

"Jeez, what the hell did this?" Hicks wondered aloud. Ripley was almost trembling as she looked at what were obviously claw-marks. Her breathing was uneven as she looked at another one of the monitors, the one displaying the video from Vasquez' headset. She and Hudson had entered a room that was as charred and burned as the hallway had been. Absolutely everything was burned beyond recognition. The wind whistled through the gap in the shutters of the window as Hudson explored the room.

"Man, this place is burned to hell," he murmured. Vasquez looked around the room. She looked down, and noticed something was underneath an overturned table. She hooked the barrel of her smartgun under it and flipped it over. Whatever the small creature had been, like the rest of the room, it was burned beyond all recognition.

Before she could focus further on it, Hudson grunted as he shoved a door open with his boot. He groaned at his discovery. "We've got another body." All eyes were on Hudson's screen as he looked into a bathroom. A man was laying on the floor, a dried pool of blood underneath him. His right arm was missing from the shoulder down. Judging by the dangling muscles and tendons, it looked like it had been torn off. It looked as if the man had tried to brace his feet against the door, in order to keep the door shut. Gorman gave a tired groan at this latest discovery.

"All right, continue on," he ordered. Hudson and Vasquez left the burned-out room and continued their search of the halls. Ripley was breathing hard, fighting against her rising sense of panic. Burke noticed and softly patted her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah," she sighed. No, she wasn't okay. The feelings of dread were growing every minute.

"What the hell's this?" said Drake's voice. She looked up, and her blood froze as she saw what was on the screen.

Hicks was knelt next to a hole in the floor. This one, though, was different.

"I'm seeing this, all right. Somebody must've bagged one of Ripley's bad guys here," said the Corporal as he fingered the edge of the hole melted in the grating. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Burke.

"Acid for blood," he replied, looking as floored as she did, but not nearly as terrified.

"If you like that, you're gonna love this," came Hudson's voice. They looked and stared at the huge hole in the floor of the corridor.

XXX

The corridor was decimated. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, all of it was, quite simply gone. Hudson looked down the hole in the floor, Apone and Vasquez next to him. The hole went down, not just to the next level, but the one below that, and the one below that. The gaping hole had burned all the way down to the absolute lowest level of the colony, stopped only by water down in the maintenance level, the pipes above the water another casualty. Hudson's jaw hung open as he looked at the incredible damage. The hole was so wide, it would have taken an Olympic athlete to to jump it. The edges of the metal looked melted, but not in the same way the hole Hicks had seen. Apone grunted as he looked at the metal.

"Thermite," he observed. Hudson and Vasquez stared at him. The Sergeant glanced up at the hole in the roof. "Looks like somebody had one hell of a big firecracker," he mused. He frowned as he tapped his radio. "Second squad, what's your status?" he asked.

"Just finished our sweep. Nobody's home," Hicks replied. Apone sighed as Hudson spit down the hole.

"Sir, this place is dead as a doornail. Whatever happened here, we missed it."

"Late for the party again," Drake quipped over the radio. Gorman sighed over the radio.

"All right. The area's secured. Let's go in and see what their computer can tell us. First team, head for Operations. Hudson, see if you can get their CPU online. Hicks, meet me at the south lock. We're coming in. Gorman out." Hudson scoffed.

"Out is right," quipped the comm-tech. "I feel safer already."

"Pendejo," Vasquez muttered.

XXX

Gorman and the others had to stoop to get under what remained of the makeshift barricade the colonists had made as they entered the facility. The devastation of the colony looked far worse in person than it did on the monitors of the APC. It was chilly inside the colony complex, largely due to the massive damage to the wiring, as well as the destroyed windows and massive holes in walls and ceilings. The smell of smoke was omnipresent, even in areas that had not been touched by flame, it seemed. Ripley couldn't help a shiver as she nervously glanced around at the room.

Scorch marks were everywhere, large gouges could be seen in the metal of walls and ceilings. Broken pipes and pieces of metal were strewn all over the place. She carefully stepped around a large bloodstain on one of the walls and part of the floor. The metallic scent of blood, while faint, was unmistakeable.

"Well, looks like the Company can write this one off," Frost murmured to himself as he surveyed the damage. Gorman groaned softly as he took it all in.

"Sir." They looked up as Drake approached. The smartgunner stepped over some debris as he approached. "They sealed off this wing at both ends. Welded the doors, and they blocked the stairs with heavy equipment." Gorman nodded as he looked around.

"Any more bodies?" asked the Lieutenant. Drake nodded.

"Yeah. One poor bastard got caught in a pressure door. Cut in half. The other . . . I couldn't tell. There were pieces all over the place." Ripley couldn't help a shiver. Whether it was from the cold, or the growing sense of horror and dread, she didn't know. Drake frowned as he looked at a broken piece of pipe. "The funny thing is; it looked like they were trying to reopen the barricade, and in a big hurry." This made Gorman stop. He fixed Drake with a quizzical look. Drake showed them the other barricade.

Sure enough, it looked like someone had been hastily trying to cut through it from the inside. There was even evidence that whomever did it had been so desperate, they had touched the still-hot metal, and burned themselves. Regardless of what had happened, whomever had been cutting had succeeded in making an opening large enough for them to squeeze through.

"Must've been a last stand," Crowe muttered as he drew in a breath to squeeze through the narrow opening.

"Yeah, looks that way," Hicks replied quietly. Gorman groaned as he they approached the doors to the Medical wing.

"We should be able to cut through the Med labs to Operations. Drake, you take point," Gorman ordered.

The labs were no better off than the rest of the colony. Desks, cabinets and tables were overturned or smashed, papers and expensive medical instruments were strewn all around. There were plenty more bloodstains and scorch marks. Some of the lights flickered sporadically, while a few panels glowed with reserve power. Ripley pulled her jacket tighter around her as they entered the lab. She almost jumped out of her skin when Burke brushed her arm. He shot her an apologetic look as they entered the Med labs.

"We've got another body here," Drake's voice called out. Gorman gave a soft sighed as he approached.

The gathered Marines stared, dumbfounded by the charred corpse. Gorman motioned for Ripley to come closer and take a look.

"Is this one of those creatures?" he asked. Ripley suppressed a shiver as she came forward. As she stopped, she stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Gorman frowned at her silence. "Well?" She slowly shook her head, not at all recognizing what they were looking at.

"I don't know," she replied softly.

The body was charred completely black, as were the walls and floor around it. Several cans of kerosene sat nearby, empty. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't a human being. The face, or what was left of it, looked partially human, but twisted and distorted, the jaw not one piece, but two mandibles. What could be discerned of the eyes and brow looked human enough, caught in a rictus of agony. The thin, twisted arms were clutched tightly against its chest, the fingers elongated and malformed. The torso was thin and twisted, but some of the ribs were exposed, as if they had broken free. The ends of the ribs glistened white, almost like large teeth. The legs were equally twisted and misshapen. Gorman sighed as he glanced at the empty cans of kerosene.

"Whatever it was, somebody burned it up in a big hurry," Gorman mused.

"Jeez, what the hell happened here?" Frost asked no one in particular. Gorman motioned for them to keep moving.

As they approached a doorway, Ripley stopped dead in her tracks, frozen in shock at the sight that greeted her.

Seven tubes were filled with liquid, and illuminated by a violet light. Drifting within each tube was a monster she remembered all too well. They looked like skeletal hands with too many fingers, attached to a long tail, and sheathed in thin, translucent beige skin. Hicks came up behind her and stared at the monsters in the stasis tubes.

"Lieutenant," he called softly. When there was no answer, he called louder. "Gorman."

"What is it?" Gorman asked as he came over. Hicks simply nodded to the nightmares in the tubes. Gorman stared as he entered the lab, Burke following. Ripley stayed well-away from the tubes.

Burke glanced at her.

"Are those the same ones?" he asked. Ripley nodded. The Company rep moved closer, trying to get a better look at Ripley's boogeyman.

"Careful, Burke," she warned. The words had hardly left her mouth when the creature inside lunged against the glass, slamming its body against its prison with surprising force for such a small creature. Burke jumped back, startled. A translucent tube on the underside of the creature stroked the glass. Hicks chuckled softly.

"Looks like he likes you," the Corporal barely suppressed a snicker. Gorman was inspecting the rest of the tubes while Bishop was reading a torn, blood-stained paper.

"Hmm, this is interesting," said the synthetic, catching everyone's attention. "This report refers to these creatures as 'Ovomorphs'. It also keeps referencing something called a 'Polymorph'." Bishop flipped through the rest of the battered document. "I can't read the rest of it. It's too damaged." Gorman frowned as he looked at the paper.

"Anything else?" Bishop shook his head.

"No. Until we can access their mainframe, all we have are any written reports we might find." Gorman huffed as he looked around the battered lab.

"Yeah, right . . ." Everyone jumped at the sound of Hicks' motion tracker beeping. The four Marines spun, pulse-rifles at the ready as Hicks held the motion tracker, pointing it at the barricade. The beeping grew louder.

"Behind us," confirmed the Corporal. Frost, Crowe and Drake covered the doorway they had just entered. Ripley frowned as he looked over his shoulder.

"One of us?" she asked, a slight tremble to her voice. Hicks shook his head. Motion trackers weren't what one would call 'precision instruments'. They detected movement, be it friendly or not. Gorman tapped his headset.

"Apone, where are your people? Anybody in D-Block?"

"Negative. We're all in Operations, as ordered. You need us there?" Apone replied.

"Not yet. We'll keep you posted." With that, he looked at Drake. "Let's go." Drake nodded tersely as he swung his smartgun into position and took point. He and Hicks headed off towards the direction of the movement, while Crowe and Frost brought up the rear.

Hicks led them back into the labyrinthian steel corridors of the complex. He glanced down at the tiny screen of the motion tracker. The source of the signal was getting closer.

"Which way?" Drake asked, his gaze focused on the corridor ahead of them.

"It's heading right for us," Hicks replied as they neared a junction. They could hear footsteps echoing in the halls, bouncing around and merging with their own.

Suddenly, a form lunged around the corner. On instinct, Drake took aim, fingers on the trigger. Hick lunged with his pulse-rifle and shoved Drake's smartgun muzzle up as it discharged in a violent roar. The metal above the head of the shocked colonist exploded in a shower of sparks and molten metal as he turned and dashed back the way he came.

"Fuck!" they heard the voice echo. Ripley dashed after him.

"Hey, wait!" she yelled after them.

"Good one, Drake!" Hicks yelled as he dashed after Ripley and the colonist, the others close behind. Gorman tapped his radio as he ran.

"Apone! The signal is a surviving colonist! Tell your people to watch their targets!" Gorman yelled into his radio as he ran after the others.

"Roger," replied the Sergeant. Drake was lagging behind as he tried to keep up with the others, burdened by the heavy smartgun.

Ripley was about to round a corner when a jet of flame stopped her. Hicks grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back in the nick of time.

"Stay the hell away from me!" yelled the colonist, accompanied by another blast of flame. The others caught up and huddled near the corner as the flames died down.

"You don't understand! We're here to help!" Ripley pleaded. The reply was another burst of fire.

"Bullshit! You're infected, just like the rest! Come any closer and I'll barbeque your ass!" screamed the colonist. Drake frowned as he hefted his smartgun, ready to defend his squad.

"You want me to take care of this, sir?" Drake asked. Ripley looked at Hicks.

"He's scared. I wouldn't blame him. If he survived, he must know what went on." She looked at Gorman, who frowned deeply. He looked at Drake and shook his head. Instead, he tapped his radio.

"Apone, the colonist is hostile. He seems to be having some sort of psychotic episode. But he may be our only clue what happened here. I want you to try to get behind him and disarm him."

" . . . Roger," replied the Sergeant, clearly surprised. Ripley carefully peeked around the corner, ready to pull her head back.

The colonist was dressed in a bulky green jacket and gray cargo pants, his brown hair was messy and hung partly in his eyes. He was holding a makeshift flamethrower, made from a large oiling can for big machinery, with a blowtorch taped to it. Crude, but very very effective. His gloved hands were trembling as he aimed at the corner where they were hiding. They were surprised when Hicks stepped out from the corner, careful to keep a distance, his arms raised.

"Take it easy. We're not gonna hurt you," Hicks assured, even as the young man trained the flamethrower on him. Now that Hicks saw him, it was clear as day that not only was he frightened, but he was young. He'd bet a month's pay this kid wasn't over twenty. Hicks knelt and placed his pulse-rifle on the floor and stepped away from it. "See? We're not gonna hurt you. Put the weapon down, okay?" The young colonist backed up, his aim unsteady, but still threatening.

"I'm not falling for you Things' tricks! Back off!" Hicks noticed Apone, Hudson, Wierzbowski and Vasquez carefully approaching the colonist from behind. Hicks kept his face neutral as he took a cautious step forward.

"We're Marines, we're here to help." The young man frowned, his eyes darting to his side. Hicks paled as he glanced back. The next few seconds were pure chaos.

The colonist whirled, finger on the trigger as Hudson tackled him, sending them both to the floor as the flamethrower doused the wall in flaming fuel. Apone grabbed the colonist's right arm, trying to wrestle the torch out of his hand as Wierzbowski grabbed his legs.

"Get off me!" the colonist yelled as he struggled with surprising strength. Hudson was fighting a losing battle to keep a hold of the colonist's left arm. "Get away from me!" the colonist yelled as he managed to shove Hudson away enough for him to grab a short length of pipe from under his jacket. A pipe with a fuse. Hicks lunged and grabbed his wrist before the colonist could bring the pipe-bomb in contact with the flames. Frost jumped in, as did Crowe. Even with Marines literally piled on top of him, the young colonist still struggled like a madman. "Get off me, you Imitations!" he shrieked.

Hudson grabbed his pulse-rifle and brought the butt down on the colonist's head. He bashed him several more times, succeeding in knocking him out. The Marines untangled themselves, Apone standing up, the torch clutched firmly in his hands.

"Dietrich," panted the Sergeant. The medic approached and knelt, feeling the colonist's neck.

"He's alive," she confirmed. Hicks was holding the bomb in his hand. He looked at the home-made explosive and sighed. Hudson opened the colonist's jacket and whistled at the canisters of fuel and other pipe-bombs attached to his belt.

"Jesus Christ. This guy's a walking bomb," Apone breathed.

"Talk about firepower," Hudson joked. Hicks knelt and removed one the canisters from the unconscious colonist's belt. They noticed they were the same as the one loaded into the makeshift flamethrower. Hicks smelled it.

"Kerosene," he stated. Apone grunted as he took the sight in.

"Counting the one in this, that makes eight," observed the Sergeant, looking at the rough, homemade weapon. Ripley, Gorman, Burke and Bishop came up and looked at the unconscious young man.

His face was pretty dirty. He looked like he hadn't shaved, or even washed in weeks. His clothes were as dirty as he was. His jacket and cargo pants were stained with dirt and who-knows-what else. Even his brown leather work boots and gloves were dirty. A thin trail of blood ran from the side of his head, where Hudson had hit him. Gorman sighed as he stood with his hands on his hips.

"Well, let's get him back to Med lab," Gorman ordered. They nodded as they removed the weaponry and picked him up. Hicks and Hudson had his arms, Frost and Crowe had his legs. Gorman rubbed his face and sighed. "We're off to a great start," he muttered as they headed back to the Med lab.

"Boy, this guy's whack-a-doo," commented the comm-tech. Hicks grunted as he adjusted his grip.

"Yeah, no fooling," replied the Corporal.

"What do you think? Terrorist attack?" Crowe asked as they carried the colonist back to the labs. Frost grunted as he shook his head.

"You got me, man," he replied.

They were almost back at the labs when Hudson's motion tracker beeped.

"Great, now what?" Gorman sighed. Hicks carefully peeked around the corner, pulse-rifle held tightly. He gave a soft gasp and darted around the corner.

"Ripley!" he called. She found the Corporal kneeling on the grating, his shoulder lamp shining between some pipes and conduits. Ripley knelt and looked in. She stopped as she stared at the tiny, cowering form hidden there.

It was a little girl. She was filthy, her blonde hair matted and messy, her face stained by dirt and grime. Her hands held the plastic head of a doll tightly, as if it was a holy relic. She looked like a rabbit or a deer, transfixed and frightened by the bright light. As Hicks moved, the girl flinched, her eyes blinking. Ripley smiled as best she could, reaching for the tiny waif, beckoning as Hicks motioned for the others to join them.

"Come on out," Ripley said soothingly. "Nothing to be afraid of here." The girl drew back to avoid Ripley's fingers. With a grunt, Hicks reached for her with longer arms. "It's all right. Come on out," Ripley soothed. The girl edged away, but Hicks fingers almost reached her. The girl's eyes darted to the approaching forms of the other Marines. They grew wide when she saw the unconscious colonist they carried. Hicks' fingers were barely a half-inch from her when she violently smacked his hand with her doll head. The Corporal swiftly removed his hand as she scuttled under the grating. "Don't let her go!" Ripley yelled as she quickly stood.

"Where'd she go?" Hudson asked as they frantically shined their flashlights all around, trying to find her.

"Here! There she is!" said Bishop, illuminating the small form under the grating. The girl crawled frantically.

"Keep back! Don't scare her!" Ripley commanded.

"Hurry and grab her! We're gonna lose her!" Apone huffed. They were just in time to see the tiny feet wriggle into a vent.

"Damn!" Ripley swore as she dove after her. Ripley grunted with effort as she crawled through the narrow duct. The girl slammed a metal grate ahead of Ripley, trying to latch it. Ripley was fast enough to lunge and shove it open before the latch could click home. With a groan of pain, Ripley looked at where she was.

She was inside one of the colony ventilation systems pressure-relief bubbles. She was not alone, either. The girl was backed against the far wall of the roughly oval chamber. Surrounding them were piles of blankets and pillows, mixed with a collection of toys, stuffed animals, dolls, fake jewelry, books and food packets. The girl had scavenged it all from around the colony, everything she needed. Ripley glanced up at the large fan that was circulating air above their heads. It was more of a nest, she felt. Not unlike a pack rat's.

Ripley looked at the small girl, who was trembling and clearly frightened. Ripley noticed she was inching towards another covered duct. The girl lunged for the duct. Ripley managed to get her arms around the girl in a bear hug as she tired to escape. The girl struggled and fought, kicking and jerking in a desperate attempt to escape. Ripley's grip held. As the child struggled, Ripley saw something in the girl's hand.

Something other than her doll.

Ripley tightened her hold as much as she dared when she recognized the flare the girl was trying to ignite. A weapon, no doubt. "It's okay, it's okay. It's over. You're going to be all right now. Easy. Easy, easy. Shh," Ripley soothed, trying to calm the girl. The girl tired, and at last went limp in Ripley's arms, almost catatonic, and allowed herself to be rocked back and forth. Ripley carefully pulled the flare from the girl's grip. The girl's stare was traumatized and vacant, her eyes open but not really seeing. Ripely rocked the girl back and forth, whispering soft, soothing things to her.

As she whispered, she let her gaze roam the chamber until it fell on something laying on top of a pile of goods. It was a framed photo of the girl. So different, but unmistakable. The girl in the photo was dressed up in clean clothes and smiling, a blue ribbon in her combed and washed hair, her skin a clean, healthy pink. Beneath the picture, were letters, embossed in gold:

Second-Grade Citizenship Award

Rebecca Jorden

Ripley looked at the girl in her arms, who looked so tiny and so frail.

"Ripley? Ripley, you okay in there?" Hicks' voice echoed down the duct.

"Yes. Yes, we're fine. We're both fine. We're coming out, now," Ripley called back.

XXX

Back in Operations, the Marines were gathered around Hudson as he sat at a console. A wire-frame map of the complex was boldly displayed on the screen. Hudson was chewing some gum as he moved the map up and down, turning the three-dimensional image to and fro, his face creased in a frown as he concentrated.

"What're you scanning for?" Gorman asked as he approached. Burke glanced at him.

"PDTs," replied the Company rep. At the confused look on the Lieutenant's face, he clarified. "Personal Data Transmitters. Every colonist had one surgically implanted." Hudson blew a bubble of gum, which popped loudly.

"Except for the kid and the looney, zip." Gorman looked at Hudson as the comm-tech rotated and zoomed in on one section of the map, then zoomed back out.

"Anything on what happened?" asked the Lieutenant. Hudson scoffed at this.

"They got some damn good encryption here. Personnel logs and A/V files are all locked. I've been trying to hack it, but it's gonna take a while. And maybe some dynamite." Gorman looked at Burke.

"You know any of the access codes?" Burke shook his head.

"The colonists made them and put them in. We had no reason to think they'd have locked down their database. If we did, we'd have brought a Master Key Code," Burke replied. Gorman sighed and shook his head. Hicks puffed some smoke from where he sat off to the side. He glanced at the unconscious colonist, sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind his back and to the chair.

"You think he may know any of the codes?" Hicks wondered aloud. Drake scoffed, his lip curled in a sneer.

"Yeah, I doubt he's gonna be too hard-up to help us, man," replied the private.

They looked up as Dietrich walked up to the group, the colonist's jacket in hand as she explored the pockets. They heard a metallic jingle as she pulled out a large set of keys on a keyring. She set the keys on the console and pulled out the next item: a pocket soldering gun. A standard multi-tool followed. Lastly came two cards. One was a security access card, and the other was a colony I.D. Card.

"Sullivan, Matthew J. Maintenance," she read aloud, handing the card to Gorman. "Doesn't look like much of a terrorist to me." Gorman frowned as he looked at the picture, then at the unconscious colonist, Matthew. Indeed, he didn't look like a terrorist, or even much of a threat, come to that. Without his jacket, they could see how thin he was. Just like the girl. It still amazed them how much of a struggle came from such a scrawny figure. As they watched, he groaned, his head lolling to one side. They tensed as he finally came around.

He winced as his eyes fluttered open. He coughed as he lifted his head. His face still had the roundness of youth, but it was quickly being sculpted into a more chiseled look. They were surprised by his eyes. The left eye was a mahogany brown, but his right eye was pale, icy-blue.

Dietrich moved closer to examine him, and was surprised when he shied away from her. Not in an aggressive way, but like a frightened animal. He was trembling so bad, his tremors shook the metal frame of the chair loud enough for the Marines to hear. "Hey, it's all right. We're not gonna hurt you," Dietrich soothed as she reached out. No sooner did her fingers brush him, than he sharply jerked away, his tremors intensifying. He was shaking from the top of his head to his work boots. He was terrified. The Marines watched, bewildered as he continued to tremble.

"Let's leave him alone. We're just gonna give him a heart-attack like this," said Hicks as he puffed some more smoke. They reluctantly returned to the schematics, leaving the young colonist to tremble in the chair. None of it made any sense. Both he, and the girl were clearly terrified of them. Even if Matthew was a terrorist, it made no sense why he'd be trembling in fear at the slightest touch. The girl was little better. She hadn't spoken a word since they found her. Ripley was currently cleaning her up, sitting at one of the desks.

As they looked over the schematics, Gorman looked at Apone.

"What do you think, Sergeant?" Gorman asked. Apone sighed softly.

"Don't think the kid is a terrorist, and I doubt he killed everyone else by himself. Even if he did, where are the bodies?" Gorman frowned in thought. Apone's eyes never left the schematic as he spoke. "Something real bad went down here. Those kids were just tryin' to survive." Apone spoke as a man who'd see such things before. Gorman glanced at Matthew over his shoulder.

"Let's keep him tied up, just the same. Terrorist or not, he could still cause trouble," Gorman muttered, turning his attention back to the schematics.

Ripley approached, the girl, Rebecca, standing next to her. Ripley still held the damp washcloth in her hand that she had used to clean the girl's face. She looked down at her little charge.

"What's his name?" Ripley asked. The girl hugged her doll.

"Matt," she replied. At the sound of the soft voice, Matt looked up, giving a tired groan that sounded both tired, and pained.

"Hey, Newt," he softly muttered, his head drooping once more. Ripley looked at the young man for a moment before walking forward.

"So, you know her?" Ripley asked. As she drew close, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Careful," warned Vasquez. Ripley glanced at the smartgunner. "He freaked out when Dietrich touched him." Ripley nodded her head, stopping about an arm-length from him. Ripely looked at Newt, who was staying back about six feet or so, her look uncertain.

"Is he a friend?" Ripley asked. Newt hugged her doll, not answering. She seemed to study Matt, as if looking for something. The girl was silent for a few moments.

"Matt," she spoke softly, almost in a whisper. ". . . Are you a Thing?" Ripley blinked and frowned at the strange question. Matt coughed and raised his head, a purple-black bruise adorning his left temple.

"I . . .don't think so, but . . . I can't be sure," he replied, pain and fatigue clear in his voice.

By this time, Gorman and the other Marines had noticed Matt talking, and had gathered around. Gorman stepped up, lightly pushing Ripley out of the way.

"So, Matt, was it? Would you mind telling us just what, exactly happened here?" Gorman asked, trying to be intimidating. Matt looked up at him, tired, but unfazed.

"Hell paid us a visit," he replied. His voice and tone were tired, but the simple reply was ominous. Ripley couldn't help a shiver, deep down at that. Gorman frowned deeper.

"Look, we're here to help, but we can't do that if you're not willing to cooperate. Now, if you please, where are the other colonists?" Gorman asked with a more authoritative tone.

"Dead. All of them." Matt looked at Newt, who looked at him, still not sure of him. He didn't blame her. "Except for Newt and me." Gorman frowned at this.

"Come on, we're wasting our time," he huffed as they went back to the console, trying to think of something else. Ripley knelt in front of Matt and gently applied the damp washcloth to his face. He trembled at her touch, but not as bad as he had earlier. She tried her best to smile warmly as she cleaned the dirt and blood from his face.

"You and Newt are both very brave to get through all this," said Ripley as she carefully cleaned around the bruise. Ripley was still trying to piece things together in her head. It was clear as day the Aliens had invaded the colony, but there was something else. Something just as horrible.

"Matt, what happened to Jed?" Newt asked. Ripley glanced at Newt, then back to Matt. The look on his face was agonized, eyes shining with tears.

". . . I don't know," Matt replied, his voice small and tight.

As she was about to ask, Hudson's voice rang out.

"Yo! Looky-looky! Found 'em!" the comm-tech announced. Hicks stared at the screen as he puffed some smoke from his cigarette.

"Looks like a damn town meeting," mused the Corporal. At this, Matt drew in a breath, sitting up in his chair.

"Let me guess: The Processing Station, Sub-Level Three, right smack under the south cooling towers," Matt said coldly from where he sat. The Marines stared at him, wide-eyed at his exact placement. Gorman marched up and stood over him.

"And how would you know that?" the Lieutenant asked hotly. Matt was stone-faced as he held Gorman's gaze.

"Because I was part of a group stupid enough to go in there and try to rescue people," Matt replied. Gorman's right eye twitched with irritation. He looked back at Hudson.

"Can you tell if they're alive?" he asked. The comm-tech looked at the screen.

"No," replied Hudson. Gorman looked at Matt and gave a thin smile.

"Well, we're going to find out. Let's saddle up, Apone," Gorman ordered, watching Matt's face for any change. He was disappointed. There was no fear, no anger, no worry. Only resignation.

"Okay, people! You heard the man! They don't pay us by the hour! Let's move it!" Apone ordered as the Marines readied to leave. Matt just gave a tired groan and shook his head.

"Mass suicide, anyone?" he asked himself. Vasquez watched Matt for a moment before looking at Gorman.

"What do we do with him?" she asked, nodding her head towards him. Gorman frowned for a moment.

"We'll take him with us," replied the Lieutenant, catching Matt's attention. Gorman gave a thin, mirthless smile at the young engineer. "We can keep a better eye on him that way. Move out!" Matt sighed as Hicks and Hudson untied his hands from the chair, but not from each other, walking him between them like prison guards around a prisoner. Matt didn't fight or resist in any way.

As they reached the doors to the outside, where the APC was parked, somebody draped his jacket over his shoulders. He blinked absently as he looked up at Ripley, who smiled gently. For a brief moment, he smiled gratefully, before remembering where they were heading and frowned. When they exited the colony complex, they were relieved to find it had stopped raining. It was still very windy, though. Hicks and Hudson guided him in and sat him down in one of the bench-like seats and tied his hands to one of the metal girders. Hicks and Hudson sat on either side of him. Matt couldn't help flinching when the door slammed shut. Hudson chuckled as Wierzbowski started up the engine.

"Don't sweat it, kid. We can handle it," said Hudson, confident they would kick the extraterrestrial backsides of whatever was lurking in the Processing Station. Matt simply looked at him before turning his head to look straight ahead at the opposite wall. The young colony engineer remained silent as they drove towards the Processing Station.

Author's note: I can hardly believe it's been two years since I published this. I wanted to come back to this, but life and other projects and stories took priority. I didn't want to leave this to languish, so I decided to redo it and get the next chapter up. I hope this makes up for it.