Chapter 1

Lost

1

There was a time she could walk around the surface world without being shot at, or being mauled by some horrible creature that had lived in the shadows up until the humans obliterated themselves.

And they call ME the bloodthirsty monster.

She perched on the edge of the peninsula, and surveyed the dead city like a hawk would study its hunting grounds. She was plagued by all she had lost, and the thing that most frustrated her, was that she couldn’t even remember what she was grieving. What she did know, was that it was all the humans’ fault.

That was usually her foremost excuse for all her problems, because shifting the blame was easier than taking it. Life had taught her that the world was full of horrible, horrible people that didn’t care about anything or anyone. And because of her being what she was, she was convinced she had a right to call the humans out.

The rubble-strewn landscape stretching out on from one end of the horizon to the other was more than enough proof of that. They threw mountains of bodies at her, even when she had an army at her back. They cast metal and lightning from the skies, cracking the earth and delving into her burrows to flush her out with flame. She was nothing but an animal to them. Clever, but still an animal that needed to be cleansed for reasons beyond her understanding.

And now it was her. Just her. The rest were gone, or had let their instincts overpower their intellects. Turned Feral. She could feel her mind slipping into that state every waking moment and it made her angry.

The months of solitude, her willingness to sacrifice her children to save herself, the fact that she was aiming to go somewhere, but no idea why or where – all added up into the blunt fact that she absolutely hated what she was.

Her tail swooped in a lazy arc in front of her, and she hugged around its spiny length with all four of her lithe arms. A habit she’d had since birth.

She glanced at her sleek feet, dangling off the ledge. She pondered in the fact that it would only take just a simple tinge of effort from her muscles to end it all. And yet her primal desire to survive was her strength (or curse from her view), and she would evade death for as long as she was still breathing, even if the waking and dreaming worlds were blending into one, foggy haze of agony.

Turning her eyeless gaze to the west, a short barrage of gunfire caught her attention. Guns had become rare after the Fall, and ammunition even rarer. She had a few weapons back in her old Hive, along with her collection of trinkets she’d gathered back in more peaceful times, when she still had the concentration to enjoy the little things in life. She hoped it was all still there. She hadn’t returned to the Hive in a long time. Too many bad memories, even if said memories still haunted her dreams.

Like life on this world – the firefight below was short lived. A sickening crack, and the human – male, she sensed – was no more. A victorious howl pierced into the night, and then the creature began to feed. She held the utmost position in terms of the predatory hierarchy, but even she didn’t want to know what kinds of horrible creatures lurked in the urban sprawl now that most of the humans had been wiped out.

She lifted herself away from the ledge, calves rippling with muscle, and weaved gracefully through the underbrush. She felt a certain… pull, to the south, and not just because it led further away from the horror known as the Capitol. She wouldn’t know exactly what this pull was until later, but she let instinct be her guide, because she was done trusting her conscious descisions.

She passed through abandoned tenants and parking lots littered with automobiles. Bits of litter fluttered from left to right in the lonely wind. Lightning the colour of limestone whipped down to the surface along the horizons. Seeing the brewing storm drew her gaze further upward, towards the sky. Overcast had been constantly hanging over the world like an unholy fog, the Fall corrupting mother nature herself. Strikes whipped down in electric cracks, thrashing the urban expanse, hitting the tops of great battleship wrecks over on the fringes of the metropolis. The wrecks looked like sharp spikes of metal jutting out of the earth, hulls sprouting with hundreds of canons. She could still remember the day those spaceships had come crashing down in terrible displays, sending shockwaves in all directions of the compass.

She often found herself staring up at the heavens, sometimes for hours at a time. Someone told her once that there were thousands and thousands of worlds out there, filled with other forms of precious life, filled with strange and diverse landscapes. There had been a time she once thought going to see these new worlds was a strong possibility.

Just for a moment the clouds parted, revealing a single blue speck. It twinkled, as if goading her, from a distance she couldn’t begin to comprehend. She tilted her head in thought. She almost never stopped moving whenever she was forced to travel above-ground because, in all her seven-foot tall grandeur, she made a pretty easy target to spot from many leagues away, particularly in the drab-coloured daytime the veiled sun provided. But if she could survive being hunted by the most vicious, determined humans bent on capturing her and dissecting her brain, she supposed she could afford a moment or two of day-dreaming.

Not that it brought much besides cementing the fact of her loneliness. The star faded behind the clouds and was gone. She felt cheated of a moment of peace and clenched her jaw, before exhaling in frustration.

Eventually she walked on, a black shadow in an even darker night. Nothing lived here in the outskirts. Most of the groups that held at least some semblance of organisation clustered around the skyscrapers of the metropolis, clinging to life right in the thick of the urban landscape, in that cloud of foul air visible as a giant green bubble reaching up into the atmosphere. At least there were less people shooting at her. The solitude could provide that much.

She tasted the scent of long-gone humans sifting through the air, using her secondary mouth. That sense, that Pull, was taking her down towards one of the suburbs. She tried to imagine all the humans bustling about, living their day to day lives, but couldn’t. What little she’d seen of humanity in its innocence, had all been drowned out by their actions of destroying what they couldn’t understand. At least, that was her perspective. Maybe humans saw it differently.

Even when her earliest memories of the humans had been nothing but cold and terrible things she wouldn’t discuss with anyone, she still found herself wondering about them. Her intrigue had been rubbed away real quick when they’d first hurt her as a youngling, even further still now that she was an adult, but during her adolescence there had been a time she watched and waited, taking an experimental journey or two into the human world to just learn. Her usual grim features were replaced by a sad smile. She’d been so naïve back then, taking her first few steps into the world as a growing Queen – clueless but content. She tried to recall those memories, but the bad times had a way of washing over the good, and she was too miserable to try and fight the tide.

Sulking, she navigated through empty streets, coming upon her desired location. Most of the neighbourhood was in ruins, fence posts long rotten away into black wooden sticks poking out of the ground like festering teeth. A swing set swayed a little in the breeze, ancient metal chains squeaking eerily in the dead silence. Letterboxes were slanted, doors were toppled or missing, windows were smashed in. A dull grey painted every surface, a colour that sapped at all semblance of a hope that things would return to the way they were.

Trusting her senses, she passed over brown, dead grass and came to a halt in front of one particular household. There was nothing really unique about it, except that it was spaced a little further away from the rest of the suburb, sat upon the borders of the neighbouring farmland. Its big red door was slightly ajar. Half the roof had caved in. People would have given this house nothing but a passing glance, but not her. A tiled walkway led up to the front door, uneven and cracked in all manner of places. She crossed it, and had to duck her large head and get to all fours to slip inside the building.

The foyer split off into a kitchen and living room, and directly ahead a corridor led into the other rooms. All the furniture save for an overturned couch in the corner was gone. The cupboards were open, empty. Even the TV, which she knew had sat on that desk over there, was gone too. The carpet was ripped up in places, peeling back and revealing the run-down wooden floor. Tiny roaches crawled through the nooks and crannies of the chipped plaster walls.

Normally the silence of the Fall was disturbing, but in here she found it at least partially tranquil. She idly checked a few places for any leftover food, but looters had been thorough over the years, hence why nobody would even bother coming to this place. She could last a long while without sustenance, but even she would burn out at some point.

Sneering when she looked into the fridge only to find roaches feeding on mouldy food, she left the kitchen and passed into the corridor, foot-working around fallen support beams and paintings once decorating the walls. Glass shards crunched under her heels, but her hide was tough, even though she had accumulated many scars after the Fall.

Most of the rooms were caved in, boards and other bits of clutter blocking the doorways. She picked the door on the right, at the end of the hall. Piece by piece, she flicked away the rubble and made her way inside.

For some distant reason, she felt especially soothed in this room. Maybe it was the colours, navy-blue and white, or maybe it was all the stickers of little pointed stars decorating the walls and ceiling, some of which were peeling off, or had fallen to the ground. Building blocks were scattered across the floor, plushie toys were piled up in the corner, stuffed cotton spilling out like guts from fake dragons and griffons and other mythical creatures. In the middle of the room was a cradle.

A child’s room. She crooned as she sauntered towards the rocking bassinet, intended for an infant. Her maternal instincts flared inside her breast, making her quiver with the feeling she’d not relished in since building her Hive, years ago. Hanging above the cradle were little birds attached to metal prongs. She gave it an experimental flick with a talon, watching them spin round.

Beyond the cradle, a bed. A good size for a growing child. Maybe the parents had two children? Or had they just decided to keep the cradle? Either way, she trilled quietly as the cradle rocked a little under her most delicate touch. Despite their flaws, the human youth always intrigued her.

Keeping her crest from banging against the ceiling, she navigated over and picked up one of the plushies. A teddy bear, with big friendly eyes and a little cotton sweater over its chest. She brought it close to her face and filled her lungs with its dusty scent. Her alien senses picked up traces no other could hope to match.

The voices came. Distant at first, rising in volume as she drank in the plushie’s detail, feeling its fur, seeing her reflection in its glossy eyes, tasting the scent of humans. She brought it closer, rubbing its head with the tip of her long thumb.

Then, she remembered.

2

“Rose.”

A whisper.

“Wake up, Rose.”

He shook her harder.

“You got to wake up.”

Stu. He’s calling to her. But for how long?

Rose woke up from her sleep.

She glanced at the clock on the night table and saw it was half past five in the morning. Stu should be on shift, not here in the house. She then got her first good look at him and something leapt up inside her.

Her husband was pale. Deathly so. His eyes were filled with reserved pain. He had the car keys in one hand, and was using his other to shake her, even though her eyes were open.

“Stu, what is it?”

He didn’t seem to know how to answer. He went to talk but stopped himself. For several seconds there was no sound in the house apart from the ticking of the clock.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She sounded stupid to her own ears. She knew what was wrong. The last time she saw Stu in this state was when his parents passed away. Today was a day a long time coming, and wouldn’t be much different.

“You got to get dressed, honey,” he said. “Get the kid. Ten minutes.”

“But…” she trailed off, getting out of bed. Nothing seemed right. It was like a dream. She’d told herself for months that it had all been a dream. That all those nights passing were not real. It seemed that now the nightmare had finally started.

“We don’t want to be late, Rose. Get dressed, quickly.”

“Should we… Is there time to-“

“No, honey. No time for anything else. I’ll meet you outside.”

He left her there, cold and afraid and disoriented in her bare feet and nightie. It was like he’d gone mad. How could he make her wake up their kid? How could he be so eager to leave?

She went into the room that served as her son’s room and stood for a moment in the doorframe, indecisive, looking at her sleeping child in his blanket, next to his cradle he had outgrown long ago. She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it – a relic of innocent days. There was a faint hope she held onto – that this really was a vivid dream. It would pass, and she would wake in the morning like usual, feed her son and read the paper, and be making Stu’s meal when he came home from his nightshift, another night on the docks. Soon he’d be on day’s and not so angry and if he was sleeping with her she wouldn’t have crazy dreams-

“Hurry!” he hissed at her, breaking that faint hope. “For Christ sake woman, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He pointed at the boy in the blanket. “Get him dressed!” He dashed out of her sight, and she could hear the faintest sound of rummaging drawers.

She woke up her son, as soothingly as possible. The five-year-old was cranky at being awakened at this hour, and began to sob as Rose got him dressed. The sound of the child’s crying made her more afraid than ever. He never cried in the nights, never cried ever, one of the quiet kids, one of her friends had said. She slipped on his tiny clothes, tossing his favourite toy ‘Mister Pookie’ out of his hands, making him cry more. Fear changed to anger as she saw Stu rush through the door, her handbag out as an offer.

“He dressed? Good. Get some clothes on, honey. We’re as late as it is.”

“Daddy?” their son asked, raising his arms. “Mummy?”

“It’s okay, son,” said Stu, and disappeared out of the room. A moment later Rose heard the sound of papers rustling. If it was the documents… it was the documents. This really was real, then. He appeared in the doorway again, this time with papers in his hands, just as his son started to sob again. He picked him up and murmured false reassurances.

Rose practically ran and got dressed. Pulling on her pants and jacket quickly. Stu was too busy calming his son to edge her to hurry. When she returned they were in the kitchen, Stu holding his son in his arms.

“Where we going?” asked their son.

“Out to a friend’s place. Just for a little while,” lied Stu, motioning for Rose to follow him. His eyes had that white, blank look. The horrible feeling in Rose’s chest began to grow more and more as they left the kitchen.

Still half asleep, she followed him out to the driveway, the car being splotched by big drops of rain that had started to fall. A storm was coming.

Stu put their kid into Rose’s hands as he got into the driver’s seat. She stood for a moment by the passenger door, looking at their home they had spent five years living in. All three of them. One happy family.

“Come on!” he said. “Get in, woman!”

When she did, he backed out, the headlights splashing over the house for a moment. They reflected in the windows, and to Rose they looked like hungry, scowling eyes.

He hunched over the steering wheel, his pale features illuminated by the dashboard lights. “We go, we come back. No waiting around, okay?”

She shivered and cupped her baby son’s face, who was sleeping again. Stu put a hand on her leg briefly and said: “It’ll be alright, honey.”

“No,” she said. Although the house had already disappeared behind them, she looked back with a faint hope of seeing it one more time. “No, it won’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, Stu.”

“I know. But we don’t have a choice.”

At that she burst into silent tears. She noticed Stu fidgeting, wanting to comfort her without stopping the car. He said or did nothing but drive on, which was probably for the best for both of them. Careful not to wake her child, she cried all the way until the sun came up.

3

She pinched the toy bears arm with two talons, lifting it up, studying its stitching and homemade sweater. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

Mister Pookie.

Carefully, she set the bear on the cradle, propping it up against the bars. Then she made her way out of the room, her tail arching in the doorway as she worked her way out of the building. Standing on the lawn, she gave the house one last look, wondering why she felt such a strong connection to the place. She marked it down in her memory, hard enough so that she wouldn’t forget it.

But she would. In time, she would forget everything, she knew that. Problem was she had a hard time accepting that inevitability, and still tried to fight it.

She looked down the driveway, at the faint skid-marks left by a hurrying vehicle. She traced the car’s journey with her imagination, leading down the road, out into the farmlands, and beyond. A faint Hive-memory urged her to turn back, but they were distant voices, and she certainly had nothing to care for, nor be cared by, to preserve herself by wallowing in the suburbs than for any other reason than to survive.

‘Surviving’ was for humans. And that just wasn’t good enough for her anymore.

So she sauntered off, in the direction Stu and Rose had driven.

Chapter 2

The Chief

1

All Xenomorphs’ births were violent. And hers was no exception.

She groped her way out of the blood and flesh, stubby claws grasping for purchase on her Hosts skin. For the past few weeks she’d wrapped around his heart and lungs, living off his warmth, his very essence, growing until she was too big to fit inside him. The Host usually died during the birthing, but not hers. Nightmares could be deceiving, she remembered all the blood pouring out of him, his tiny chest a cavity of surgical butchering, but she also remembered the rise and fall of his small throat, the Adams apple bopping steadily.

Squeaking, she crawled on her wobbly talons, gripping her Hosts shoulder with precious strength. Her hide was soft, wet with crimson gore and strands of fluids. It was the job of the Queen, or the Host, to comfort the newborn, clean her, nurse her until she could start to comprehend coming into the real world.

But the Queen did not come, nor did her Host move, even as she chirped in fright when a cold, metal claw captured her around her tiny torso, and pulled her away from the warmth of her deathly-still Host.

“Secure the subject. Give her the sedative, quickly now.”

The image of her Host grew smaller and smaller as the claw retracted. She struggled, her young body weak and helpless, wriggling against the metallic grasp to no avail. She sent out incomprehensible thoughts, for her mother, her Host, anyone, to help her.

But no one came. A knife entered her vision and jabbed her in the arm. A liquid, hot as flame, coursed through her veins, fogging her mind and contorting her fragile limbs. That voice, that Human voice. She would never forget it. Even as the alien poison dragged her into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. Apart from the entrancing sound of the beating heart of her Host, it was the first thing she heard in her life, and she would not forget that voice.

The dream shifted. More humans, looking down at her with needles in their hands. They cut at her, delved into her frail body, manipulated the tendons, snapped the bones, warped her mind. An incision up both her arms, from wrist to shoulder. A section of her royal crest, broken away. Her tail, severed halfway down when she tried to fight back as her body broke and reformed, broke and reformed. Over and over in a never-ending cycle of torment.

She woke up screaming into the dreary morning.

Sweat dripped out of her pores, and adrenaline leaked out of her through gritted teeth. She turned over, hugging herself around her slim shoulders, shivering until she realised she was back in the waking world once again.

Dead world, you mean.

She swept her gaze about. She had collapsed into a dried-up riverbed last night, Stu and Rose’s house long behind her. Wilted grass flickered pathetically in the breeze at the lip of the trench. An oak tree, its original, brown colour, replaced by a shrivelled grey, provided her shade. The way its long branches stretched out reminded her of human spines.

Her exoskeleton was complaining up a storm at having her resting on a bed of rocks all night. She uncurled from her fetal-position, arched her back until her bones reported small pops. Hissing under her breath, she slowly drew to her height and ambled out of the trench.

That dream she remembered with vivid clarity. She could remember every birth from all the Queens that came before her, like ghosts in the back of her head. Although she wasn’t the first to be birthed from a human, she was the first to have her Host live. The human scientists had done… something. She didn’t know what, but she did know the birth had been as painful to him as it had been to her.

Don’t fool yourself.

But she wasn’t. She’d sensed his little mind up until he’d been carted away by the scientists. It couldn’t be a trick, it just couldn’t. She would know if he was dead. The Bond would tell her.

She scrambled like a snake over the trench’s lip, rose into a hunched stance, looked both ways across the strip of road bending away on her left and right. There was an abandoned automobile sat in the gutter on her side’s lane, its doors open, its chairs ruined, the metal riddled with bullet holes. Not the vehicle she was pursuing, fortunately.

Over the cars roof, the Capitol glinted faintly in the dim sunshine. Not even during the brightest days could the sun penetrate the cloak of clouds shielding the atmosphere. All it provided was a weary haze of illumination that was hard to look at. A ray or two found its way through and reflected off the metropolis’ many windows.

I wonder if he remembers the birthing, too.

She turned down the road and trekked across the cracked pavement as she brooded on this. If he had, then why had he not searched for her? Why had he abandoned her when she needed him most?

Maybe he did search, back when he was alive.

Her stupid mind tortured her with the image of his corpse. She didn’t want to believe that. Couldn’t. But the possibility that he had lived when no other Host had? That he’d survived the Fall? Or was even on the planet? The odds were against her, she knew that. Knew it for a long, long time.

Yet here she was, chasing literal ghosts, being chased by ghosts, too. She somehow managed to sulk even further to the ground than she already was. She always thought too hard on these things (another thing to blame on the humans). She needed to distract herself.

She examined the region before her. She’d never been this far out from the Capitol before, at least in this direction. Rolling hills matted with once-vibrant farming fields stretched about on either side of the highway. Now the golden stalks of wheat, and the green sticks of sugar-cane, were chopped, bent, dead. No piece of soil on this world would grow fertile ever again.

The road curved uphill, and a little to the left, cutting through more broken farmland. Her padded feet made muffled taps against the concrete. The hours blended together and she found herself watching her legs put themselves one after the other as if she was far in the dark depths of her own mind. Like a spectator in her own body. She always entered this sub-state whenever she needed to shorten the great spans of time when she travelled down long roads. Or to further destroy herself as she tossed about memories without much care as she searched for something that couldn’t be found.

She had not been accompanied by companions, Xenomorph or otherwise, for a long time. The act of having something, anything, to talk to, she had replaced with extended periods of brooding, dwelling like a lost soul in her Hive-memories for fellowship. She had an inkling it was the source of her developing madness, but it wasn’t like she had anyone in this waking world. Not even her Hive-children back in the past had helped, because they’d all seemed rather… strange, even before they went feral. They had tried to provide her consul, to help sate this need to just… converse with something, and she – in all her royal wisdom – had pushed them away because her Hive had just felt all wrong.

Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong.

Something intercepted her at a point in her travels. It was a four-legged, rabid abomination, with tentacles for a face and little wiry prongs for claws. Its snowy-white hide was matted with burned gashes and other infected wounds, festering with wriggling worms. Even as she gave it a warning snarl, the beast still continued in its charge. For a moment she felt the urge to just let this thing chew her to death.

Of course, being a Xenomorph Queen, this indigenous fauna was child’s play to her. It leapt up at her – she easily quadrupling its own size – and she smacked it out of the air with her thick tail. The trauma she inflicted broke bones and sent the creature into a nearby ditch, howling in pain.

Saliva drooling from her lips, the Queen stalked over to the pathetic animal, tail arcing up like an angry scorpion would. The blade of said limb, was as large as her would-be attacker’s torso, segmented and shaped vaguely like a shield.

The creature, whose local name neglected her, slitted its creamy eyes at her approach. She raised her tail high into the heavens, and ran it through with the fine, deadly tip, cutting through its hide like it was made of paper. Guts spilled out in the wake of her mortal cut.

Despite the duel being one-sided, she felt an animalistic sense of thrill brewing in her breast. Killing something was the only time she felt some alleviation from her consistent, depressive state. The fact that this thrill was taking her one step further into the world of feral-ness,alluded her.

Silver-coloured blood pooled around the corpse, as shiny and reflective as tinfoil. As much as she detested the sight of the abomination, she could not deny the growing need to feed, brewing in her stomach. Lips twitching, she crossed her legs and plopped herself down on the ground beside her kill.

Using two arms to hold the flap of skin she’d just cut through, she used the claws of her other two hands to peel away the hide like a shirt, working her way in saw-like patterns up and along the ribcage. She tried not to gag at the intestines caressing at her fingertips from inside the cooling corpse.

Entire armies had been sent to capture this creature, gutting and skinning her latest kill. She had killed and maimed hundreds of her pursuers without even blinking an eye (so to say), and here she was, taking time to prepare a meal, rather than simply eating it up and moving on. She’d been favoured with more intellect than some of her more ferocious relatives. Eating with fur, bones and all just felt… gross, to her.

She sliced away a fat piece of blood-dripping breast into one of her palms. She brought it to her lips, and slipped her meal past her hundreds of transparent teeth. She made gagging noises as her secondary mouth pried apart the meat. That same mouth had caved in skulls. Now it was having a hard time forcing down tough meat. This ‘Weyland’, that had been determined to kill her– she wondered what he’d think if he could see her now.

The blood pool spread more and more, wetting the tips of her toes. A miniature representation of herself copied her squeamish motions on its wavering surface. She angled her head down and stared for a while. Even with all her cursed intelligence, she still looked like an animal, ate like an animal – saliva pouring like a waterfall out of the corners of her lips, blood dribbling down her chin and fingers. Maybe turning feral like some of her children had, wouldn’t be such a bad idea. She could certainly play the part well – her mind was already halfway down that sanity slope.

… Definitely, she thought, watching her reflection in the blood pool. I’m definitely the one who’s wrong.

2

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold onto hope.

The Fall had whittled that last word down to its ugly core – one just had to look at the video-screens of the surface world to get proof of that. He had been out there during the world’s descent into annihilation, reaching the Bunker by sheer dumb luck right before the bombardment had commenced.

He could still remember the explosive reports of landing artillery shells, the screaming of women and children, who had reached the Bunker’s entrance, but were too late. Sixty seconds later, and he would have been among the poor sods watching the big doors swinging shut with agonising slowness, from the outside, not the other way around. There had been a kid out there among the latecomers – a little girl, no parents in sight, reaching out with tiny arms, eyes full of innocent fear, locked onto his. Then the Bunker doors swung shut and cut her image, right before a shell landed behind her and bathed the girl in fire.

He’d never forgotten that girls face. She was probably a pile of bones by now, but he would remember her, because no one else down here would concern themselves with what had happened four, five years ago? The Fall had done more than just physical damage. He just had to take a look at his fellow humans, maybe even in the mirror, to see that.

“But we are still alive,” the Mayor of the Bunker had said, during the induction of the last arrivals. Mayor Blankley and his speeches, always the same manipulative spiel to keep himself in ‘office’ – if that was the right term for wielding power over eight hundred and twenty-five scared, broken, fanatic individuals who had survived the Fall. Survived being just a word in this instance. “-And the Dawn will come. We must work as one if we are to see the light of day again.”

And of course, if everything had been taken from you – your home, your family, the innocence of day-to-day living, literally watching everything you once took for granted, come crashing down in fire and war, you were bound to become impressionable. Blankley’s first policy in office, was to implement an optional Sunday-night gathering, in which he preached his choir, and damn near everybody had attended. Skip ahead a few self-appointed, worshipping followers, and you had a manageable government that would follow you until your death.

It disgusted him how Blankley had influenced his own personal dictatorship over the Bunker. Even after the apocalypse, people still desired power. Yet even as this dark fact of humanity’s ceaseless ambitions stared him in the face, the young man living at the base of the Bunker, still thought there was a chance it could all get better.

Maybe I’ve been attending one too many Blankley-brainwash sessions.

Or maybe he was so deluded in his own personal illusion that the world would heal, although he never told himself that. It hadn’t even been a decade since he’d walked the surface when life was still normal, and already it felt like a whole other life. Normal. He huffed, adjusting his grip as he kept screwing the circuit into place. If life before was normal, then I’m the King of Solaris.

He flicked the cover into place when he was done. He put the screwdriver back onto his belt and raised, dusting his knees with his palms. It was all one big circle. Constant breakdowns, failing machinery, the very heart of the bunker was one big mess and he was down in its dark depths not fixing anything, just delaying the next big failure. It wasn’t a far stretch to compare that to his own physical turmoil.

An apt analogy.

He frowned at that.

He was always a spoiled little shit and he knew it. He shouldn’t even be alive, and he couldn’t even be grateful for that. Though to be fair, what exactly was there to live for when the whole planet was dead?

Survival of the human race. At any cost. That was why Blankley hadn’t slammed the Bunker doors on him when he’d first arrived. That was why he hadn’t snuck into the kitchens and slit his arteries yet. The Bunker was the last remnants of humanity on the whole planet. One day it would all return to ‘normal’, and he was a cog in the machine chugging along to that ultimate goal.

He made his way down the corridor, leaving one whirring ambience of machines, to another. He put a hand on one of the bulkheads to round the corner, and his hand came back black with grease. There was so much soot in the air you could almost see it lilting through the air like snow.

At least it’s private.

He heard muffled giggling through one of the doorways. Fate is stupid, he thought, backing up a few steps. He pressed up against the door, adjusting one side of his earmuffs to listen in better. It had been one hell of a pain in the ass to get a pair of these. “Funding issues,” Blankley had argued when he’d complained about all the noise down here.

“Harems becoming too expensive, sir?”

It was a miracle he hadn’t been sent to Sweeping for that nugget of gold. And he’d even managed to make the women of said harem giggle. That had been the only time someone of the opposite sex actually approved of what he said. Most people in the Bunker thought he was a weirdo, though the reason why this was, was because of reasons far deeper than simply being a social outcast.

Not to mention the fact that – what was there exactly to fund? That was an excuse from before the Fall. A crock of shit, in other words.

He heard one male, and one female voice. Murmuring, giggling, the voices garbled through the steel. He rapped his knuckles on the door before sliding it open.

The room was squat, cleaner than the corridor, half the space filled up by a generator, groaning along unhealthily. Metal coils sprouted from its top, arcs of electricity faintly zipping toward the vaulted ceiling. Across from the machine was another sealed door, and compressed against it were two people, conjoined.

The girl was tall, almost lankly so. One strap of her singlet had slipped off, and her breast was being fondled by the man she was pressing up against. Her partner was kissing her lips almost angrily, his face scrunched up in frustrated arousal. They hadn’t noticed the young man walk in on them.

“… Jake?” the newcomer said awkwardly.

The pair parted their erotic display, saliva connecting their lips for a second. The one called Jake blinked, but there was more annoyance than surprise in his expression.

“Oh, chief! The fuck are you doing here? I told you I was busy!”

“Yeah, perv.” The woman rubbed her arms over Jake’s shoulders, hoisting a leg over his waist, all the while scowling at the newcomer. “Get lost.”

“It’s… Our break time’s up, Jake.”

“Yeah I know, dude.” Jake giggled like a schoolboy, and the woman developed into the same hysterics. “Get off my ass for five seconds, will you?”

“Blankley’s gonna find out.”

“Fuck Blankley,” the woman snapped. Her name was Helen, and she wasn’t hard on the eyes. Maybe it was all that makeup she had on. Even down here in the scummy levels of engineering, she had not neglected her mascara. “-And fuck you too, chief. Though, I imagine you haven’t felt a woman’s touch your whole life.”

The young man folded his arms, shrugged. “So your mother doesn’t count as female, then?”

Helen’s jaw hit the floor, and Jake’s wasn’t too far off, either. The comment had killed the mood, so to speak, and Helen pulled up her singlet. “Prick,” she said, then went to leave. Jake caught her by the arm.

“Wait, Helly, we’ll finish up in here. Five minutes.” He jabbed a thumb to the door she’d been pinning him against. Helen considered for a second, finger to chin, before nodding, murmuring something erotic into Jake’s ear as she passed into the other room. Bunk beds could be seen just inside the frame.

Even though ‘Chief Engineer’ was the young man’s title, it was just a label Blankley had given him as a way of thanks for keeping the Bunker’s lights on. It was also an excuse to keep him as far away from the upper levels as possible.

When Helen was gone, Jake smiled, crossed the room, and punched the chief in the face. He fell like a sack of bricks, seeing stars. His head banged against the cold floor loudly. He wiped at his lip, his fingers coming back bloody.

“That was for interrupting,” Jake grunted, and then kicked the fallen youth in the gut. “And that, was for insulting my girl, you little fuck!”

“Your girl.” The chief snorted, still lying on the ground. “Helen’s slept with half the Bunker.”

“The half you’re not in.” Jake took a step towards him. He thrust a finger down at the smaller man. “You’re going to cover for me, you got that? Thirty minutes, and don’t say a fucking word about what you saw. You hear me?”

The chief took a few breaths to refill his lungs. Jake undid all that with one more kick, hitting with painful precision. “You hear me?”

“I hear you,” the young man wheezed.

“Prick.” Jake spun on his heel and followed after where Helen had gone, giving his fellow engineer one last sneer before closing the door behind him.

The chief was bathed in dull blue light as he stared at the locked door for a while. Jake was one of his few ‘friends’ in the Bunker, someone who could stand his presence for more than five seconds. If he could have socialised with someone else, he would, but companionship was companionship, and the time to be picky about it had long passed.

He sat himself up, rubbed his swelling stomach and waited for his lungs to settle. Helen started giggling again, and soon Jake did too. Like the chief hadn’t even existed. Nothing out of ordinary, there.

Eventually he crouched down next to the generator, reporting off gllk-gllk-gllk sounds from its mechanical innards, a horrible sound any engineer would cringe at. The chief got out his tools and started repairing, trying to block out the orgasmic moans coming through the door behind him.

Fate had dealt him a shitty hand. He wondered if that little girl, who had been left to rot in the outside world, could have actually made something out of it – an actual life compared to … whatever this was.

Chapter 3

Immolation

1

My Queen, I have news for you.

The drone had ‘voiced’ this message three times now. Once at the entrance to the Hive, and twice on the way to the Queen’s antechamber. The rest of the Hive had heard the drone’s message, so the Link couldn’t be at fault. That only left one hard truth the daughters had great trouble coming to terms with.

The drone clambered through tunnels, which twisted and turned in all directions like an ant nest. The passages had to be complicated to ward off intruders, although that hadn’t stopped the humans from trying. Against all better judgement the Queen had nested right in the middle of a ‘port’. The drone thought this a grave mistake, but she – at some point – trusted her mother’s decisions. Now she didn’t know what to think anymore.

She crawled like a spider up an L-shaped tunnel. It ended in a square-shaped platform, a mix of Xenomorphic resin and human steel making up the room’s materials. Stuck to the walls here and there were corpses with holes in their chests. Some human, others humanoid, most animals. At first the Queen had forbidden the use of humans as Hosts. A few attacks later and the ban had been lifted, then encouraged. Match brutality with their own, the Queen had stated, though why she was so fond of humans at first had always been a mystery.

The drone winded through the passages until at last coming to the Queen’s position.

It was a vaulted, wide chamber, with steps inclining to its upraised epicentre. Strewn about the resin-covered floor were hundreds of eggs, there tops bloomed open like flowers. All of them were broken and empty. Scattered between the eggs were neonate bodies, cold and shrivelled up on the floor. The Queen had screamed when her drones went to clean up the mess since that birthing session, demanding that they leave the corpses where they are. Thus, the sad mess remained a physical reminder to the slow degradation of the Hive.

In the middle of this sorrowful display, the Queen herself was up on her throne, face pressed up against an object in her hands. She showed no reaction to the drones’ arrival. The drone sauntered inside, taking precious care to avoid disturbing the corpses of Xenomorph infants and egg shells. The Link weakened with great distances, but strengthened in close proximity to its source. In the past the drone could communicate to the Queen from hundreds of leagues away, but over the years the Link had withered into a husk of its former self.

She came up to the Queen’s flank, looked past a pair of elbows to what had captured her Queen’s attention. It was shaped like a block, made of some sort of steel or plastic, little buttons around its rubbery edges. The surface was made of glass. The Queen would flick a button now and then and the screen would display a set of digits, though only the Queen had some vague understanding of what they meant.

… My Queen? the drone ‘said’, her thought echoing from her head, to the Queen’s. Resin constricted all around them, filling the chamber with the sound of subtle crinkles of flesh.

… I had a name, once. The Queen flipped the object in her hands over. A low whine slipped from the drone’s throat. Did you know that, my child? It was…. strange, but enlightening all the same. I should have given you one.

Names are for humans, my Queen. We have no need for words. The drone felt like this was the hundredth time she’d given that response, to that exact same statement.

You are quite right. The Queen‘s mind pulsed, and a wave of emotion, a rare thing these days, past to the drone, making her feel what the Queen was thinking. The Link conveyed all emotion in such a raw state, that ‘names’ just did not make sense. But I remember it gave me a sense of… purpose. Names can be so very powerful. It made me forget what a horrible monstrosity I really am.

The drone sulked, not just because of her mother’s words, but the fact that she could not outright deny them. The humans did this to you, my Queen. We should wipe them out. They deserve no mercy.

Yet without them, I wouldn’t exist, and therefore – you wouldn’t either. But maybe that would be a mercy in of itself, wouldn’t you agree? Our existence is nothing short of pitiful.

Don’t say things like that, my Queen.

The Queen stroked the device idly with a talon. It began with an M. Or was it an N? Nell-ee? No, that’s not right…

My Queen I have urgent news about-

Malerie? Maria? No, no, too long. Too many runes in that-

Mother!

The Queen went silent, and for the first time that day, forgot all about the human device in her hands. She turned her head, her massive organic crest whooshing through the air with its sheer size, and gazed down upon the drone. The drone stepped back, bowed down and conceded to the taller Xenomorph with the bow of her head.

… Moth-er? the Queen echoed, as if tasting the word. She carefully placed down the object, her tail swishing against the floor behind her. Mother…

Yes. My mother. I have news concerning our recent losses. One of the human ships obliterated the land south of the Hive. We think they were trying to take out a supply line our ‘rebel’ allies were using. There were fifteen of us over there when the bombs landed.

… I know. I heard their screams. Fifteen more of my daughters, gone forever.

The Queen had said that third last word with some apprehension. A certain lack of conviction the Hive willingly turned a blind eye to. The drone herself winced at being addressed so… dismissively.

Three others went feral. We managed to incapacitate them, as you wanted.

Good. Bring them to me.

Mother, you shouldn’t put this duty upon yourself. You should let them go.

No. The Queen thumped her tail on the ground, hard. The vibrations made the drone – as well as the many others dotted throughout the Hive, cower. I will not have my daughters live like savages. I birthed them, and I must be the one to put them out of their misery.

Mother we are more than capable of doing that ourselves.

So my daughter wishes to kill her sisters willingly? What kind of mother am I if I were to allow this kind of behaviour?

That’s not what I’m-

There will be no more talk of this in the chamber of my dead children! It is not proper. Bring me the lost children and leave. I wish to be alone.

… As you command. My Queen.

The drone sighed, approached to offer one final touch of comfort, reaching out a long arm. The desire for a mother’s love had never felt so strongly within her. The Queen waved an arm, as if annoyed. Holding back a sob, the drone trudged back the way she’d come.

The Queen watched her go, wanting to shout out anything to bring her daughter back. She remembered exactly how this particular drone had been born. Human female Host, who had put up no resistance. She’d cradled the drone in her arms and nursed her with so much affection and warmth, until she was one of the Hive’s most capable members. She was so proud of her.

… So why did it feel like she wasn’t of her own flesh and blood?

Why did it feel like she wasn’t a Queen, but an imposter? The signs were there. More drones and soldiers were going feral every day. Her Link was eroding, and soon would snap like a string. The Queen needed a family to rely on and she felt like she didn’t even have one. This Hive wasn’t real.

What was missing?

She pondered on those three words, turning back to her display of collected trinkets. She had everything here. A (somewhat) stable Hive, protection, a way off the planet, plans for the future, and yet… None of that seemed important. Just this stupid little thing she’d stare at for days at a time, for a reason that was lost to her.

She picked it back up and forgot the whole encounter with the drone five minutes later.

2

A crack of lightning forced the dream away, and the Queen shot up into a predatory stance. At least her reactions hadn’t gone astray, unlike everything else in her pathetic existence.

There was no point in trying to get any more rest, and that wasn’t just because of the dreams she was suffering from. Memory lapses had happened hundreds of times, and she knew by now it was a waste of effort to try right after experiencing one.

Silver rain danced in long streams in all directions, bathing a dead world in a cold sheet. The Queen curled herself against the tree trunk and hugged her knees. The leaves and branches did not do much to shelter her, and soon she found herself soaking wet.

Fitting, she felt like crying anyway.

That drone had tried to show her compassion and she’d waved her away. Another regret to add to the list. Could she even show compassion anymore? Hadshe showed her drones any sort of emotion other than dismissiveness, or impatience?

What was wrong with her?

She brought one of her arms up to her snout. Everything about her was flawless – her muscles, her reflexes – her body was the absolute apex of genetic evolution. She was perfect.

Maybe that was what was wrong with her. She had been literally born with everything she needed to become a Queen, and she couldn’t even do that.

She brought the end of her tail down and slashed from left to right, and hissed at the resulting pain. An incision going from her wrist to elbow started gushing her green blood. Twisting the arm only made her life churn out faster.

… At least she could still feel something.

Her blood could render steel with its acidic properties, but did nothing when it dribbled onto her exoskeleton. Already she could feel her mutations winding up the damaged tendons in her forearm. She wondered if they would heal fast enough if she slit her neck, or ran herself through.

But she’d never know, because she was too much of a coward to try.

Rainwater spilling down her cheeks, the Xenomorph Queen watched her self-inflicted wound stitch itself back up. In its wake it left a thin scar, and all she had done was give herself one more wound that would sting like hell.

Again.

The wind of the storm whipped around the tree and sent shivers up her spine. She tried to curl into a tighter ball, but she hadn’t radiated warmth in years. Not to herself, not to her own children. She was a walking mix of hypocrisies and double-standards, and just knowing this made her angry all the time.

A branch knocked against her crest, and she snarled through her bared teeth. She shot up and brought her tail high over her shoulder, and took out her frustration on the tree trunk, swiping a clean cut just above the roots.

The poor tree collapsed onto its side, the wood moaning in an eery imitation of the Queen’s drone. It thumped against the dirt with a cracking of sticks. The Queen was panting, balling her four hands into fists until her claws began to pierce her palms.

The tree wasn’t even that bad looking, unlike the rest of its kin that plagued the countryside. There was even colour on some of the leaves, and the trunk had been thick and healthy. Perhaps it had been lucky enough to avoid the Fall’s corruption, and was starting to rejuvenate. Now she’d gone and cut it down.

That was her, alright. Bringing death wherever she went.

The storm chose that moment to increase in intensity. She couldn’t even feel herself moving as she stalked away, feet plopping wetly into pools of water. She had never felt herself come this close to madness before. Not since she’d rounded up her feral daughters and slit their throats one by one, had she ever felt like there would be no way out of this terrible existence.

She passed through the rain for hours. She would be lying if she said she didn’t consider curling up on the road and letting herself freeze to death in the icy sheet of the storm. But of course, that wouldn’t work. She’d tried before – it would just make her shiver for a long while, like her bleeding arm, which was still tingling with pain. No easy ways out for her.

Her search for shelter succeeded long into the night. A squat little hovel that looked like it had been looted over a thousand times before. The glass in the windows was smashed, the roof had caved in, and some sections of the walls were crumbling.

Behind the frame of the house, the horizon was vaguely lit in a light pink colour. She’d been travelling almost all of the night, and even though she should be used to travelling all night by now, her furry only grew from this fact.

Her wounded arm burning, she swatted away at insects buzzing around her head, and crept into the ramshackle structure. A set of metal chimes hung above the front door steps, tinkling together in the ferocious gale. She severed the little wires suspending the chimes and kicked it under the house as she passed. She craved silence, both inside her head and out. Was that so much to ask for?

The Queen shoulder-checked the rickety screen door. Wind howled through the house, like a thousand screaming children. The comparison made a growl rumble deep in her chest. A set of curtains still remained on one of the far windows, flapping and banging loudly against the frame. Half the ceiling was on the floor, creating V-shaped ramps leading into the roofless attic. Beams of dim light and heavy rain splotched randomly throughout the interior.

She slinked inside, and curled up on one of the few dry patches of the floor. Perhaps the walking had tired her out enough to overpower the insomnia.

Even if it did, the cloth of the curtains banging away in the backdrop were hell on her earholes. Apart from that the house was silent, and not the good kind, like it had been back in Stu and Rose’s abode. She wondered why that was.

Probably because their child loved them. Unlike yours.

The curtains, banging. Thunder rolling. Everything hated her. The humans, the world, her own damn children. They had all died in vain, there thoughts screaming for her to come and save them. All the Queen had done was sit in her chamber and wait for the end to come to her.

You never loved them, did you?

She shrieked and knocked away a piece of fallen ceiling she’d used as cover from the rain. She bared her claws and ripped up the stupid curtain until it was tatters. Her huge tail swung left to right, smashing the already ruined structure into a further state of disrepair. She cleaved benches in two, knocked over furniture, broke anything her limbs connected with until her strength began to waver.

She vented her anger until at some point, she leaned against the wall and slid down the wood with a pathetic wail. She hit the cold floor and curled up, hugging her arms around the deadly tip of her tail. Dust sifted through the air from her prior thrashing and landed on the upturned side of her body.

Then, the Queen began to sob. Lacking eyes, all the moisture built up in her throat, and she quivered as she tried in vain to hold back the screams bursting through her chops.

Rain dropped on her like flashes of icy pain. Frosty air whipped against her flanks. Her injured arm flared. It all boiled up into a tear-less tirade of screams and cries that bounded for dozens of kilometres in every direction. Packs of crows in the distance spooked and fluttered there mutated, leathery wings over her position.

She wanted to kill something. She wanted someone to come investigate so she could rip their throat out and watch the blood pile by her feet.

She wanted someone to talk with her, someone to touch her. She felt like a walking corpse, the universe had thrown her away, and yet denied her the end she so desperately desired.

Who could love such a pathetic creature like you?

She opened up her maw, and sobbed out between cries: “A… A…. Ah… I…” Her inner-tongue darted around the inside of her cheeks, tasting the sounds of her vocals. To any onlooker her voice would sound ragged, animalistic, broken, much like its owner. It had been a long time since she’d had the need to voice herself, and even longer still when she actually acquired the skill to do so. “… I… I… w-w-waaaaaaannnnnt…”

“… t… t-tooo… to die!”

She would never be able to banish the image of her feral children dying by her own claw or tail. Nor of the curled-up stillborns that had died moments after leaving their Hosts.

So much death, yet none of it was for her.

There were no easy ways out.

3

The brunt of the storm had passed a few hours later, and she found herself able to clamber to her feet. The weather had something to do with her swings of emotions. She was not one for poetry, but she was a part of the world – a mutated and selfish part, yes – so why wouldn’t it affect her?

She shook like a dog to rid her exoskeleton of rainfall, splashing the ruined interior, before exiting. The rain had faltered to a light drizzle, and the air temperature had risen a little. The way the dull aura of the rising sun was screened by the overcast, cast the land in a dreary blanket of piss-coloured light that sapped at the spirit.

The smell of dried up bones soughed through the air, an echo of the plains past inhabitants. The Queen continued her long walk, passing through the farmlands to the even more barren countryside beyond.

Two more days of the sun rising and falling across the sky, camping in thickets off the side of the road she was following.

Then the sense of pulling returned, drawing her out of her restless slumber, and into a search. She checked the gutters, the bushes, tasting the air and feeling out the world in more ways than one.

Even she was not entirely aware of what exactly this pulling was, and yet she followed it blindly. There might have been a lesson to be learned there, but she wasn’t wise enough to see it. Perhaps her daughters could have told her. Actually they had told her, that drone in particular. Those dying words of hers had left a deeper mark than any tooth or claw could make.

The Queen could recount entire sequences from the lingering presence of another being. Humans in particular, another side effect of her creation. And she didn’t use that word lightly. She was created, not born. It made her feel like she was a freak of nature, on top of everything else.

She could not see through the eyes of another when she, for a lack of a better word, remembered. It was more like she was a passenger along for the ride. She’d experimented with bugs and even a dog, once, back in more peaceful times, but never before had she ever been driven to actually seek out this experience, this pull. Whoever this ‘Rose’ and ‘Stu’ were, her conscience demanded that she pursue them. Or maybe it was the Queens in her Hive-memories telling her to do it. Didn’t matter either way.

Following the pull brought her to a depressed little gas station. The pumps were dented and charred, their own contents combusted at some point. Two pickup trucks stood alongside the last two pumps. A sedan had toppled over by the station proper, its front half obstructing the sliding front doors, which were still working, even after all this time. They banged against the front grill, opened, banged again, the only sound filling the morning ambience.

The Queen moved past the pumps and to the station, foot-working around the car and squeezing her large frame between the doors. One of the spikes jutting out of her spine got caught on the overhead frame and she growled. With a final effort she forced herself inside, flicked her tail at the doors in a show of hostility.

Even the immaterial things irked her. She was losing her damned mind.

Clicking her teeth, the Queen passed through a shopping aisle. She kicked away empty chip packets brushing along the tiled floor, and examined the empty shelves. There were one or two crates of supplies here and there, and she could smell more packaged goods deeper into the station. She guessed looters hadn’t come this far out, or maybe they had just not been thorough enough.

Instincts her guide, she hopped over the front counter, and stood before the register. She flicked at some of the buttons, a little bit of idle curiosity breaking free of the sheet of ice that she’d mentally buried herself in. With a little chink! – the cash tray popped open.

Thorough enough to take all the money.

Where notes and coins should be, was instead nothing. Had the owner taken it all and ran, during the Fall? Or was this the result of more looters? Either way they hadn’t taken everything. Crouching down, she saw a grey safe tucked under the counter. A cheap little thing she could tell at first glance. She lifted it up without effort and placed it on the countertop.

Also without any show of strain, she pried off the safe door, and set it aside with a click of broken hinges. There were one or two notes inside, crumpled up into balls. There was also a silver pocket watch, and she picked this up with interest. That was, until she noticed the hands had stopped moving. She put that aside too. Why had the owner left these things behind? That must mean they held little value.

But not to the Queen. In the back of the safe was one more bauble. She reached in and delicately, picked it up, brought it to her snout.

A golden chain linked together by a heart shaped locket. Etched onto the surface in tiny cursive writing was: Pure mellow, deep bloom, edged with passion. For my Rose.

Working as if the slightest pressure would break it, the Queen lifted a claw and flicked the locket open. She could hear the chug of an engine of a car long gone. The heart bloomed into two shapes, and inside one half was a photo of a flower. In the other, another picture, in this one was a man and a woman, smiling up at the Queen from a distant age. Mates, the Queen guessed.

She traced the locket, rubbed the sheet of dust from the papery photograph. She felt the presence of humans once more, although physically she remained alone. And as the world around her spun ever onward, with its surface scorched of most organic life, the Queen lapsed into her own time, and watched events unfold.

4

“… Shit.”

“What?”

“Not enough gas to get us all the way to the lab.”

“There’s a station coming up, I think. I remember coming this way during new years. Remember the Ross’? We should stop by.”

“We don’t have time, Rose. Besides, they’re probably long gone by now, took a shuttle off-world, which is what we should have done ages ago.”

Rose couldn’t bring herself to reply. They’d just start fighting again, and she’d grown up avoiding conflicts. Her little boy stirred in his sleep, eyes shut tight, trembling slightly, as if in a deep, terrible dream. Much like his mother was feeling right about now. She nursed him to her chest and stroked his little cheek. “… I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped, regarded Stu with a frown, his face lit up in greens by the dash lights. Stu looked so… indifferent. He’d always been that way, and she remembered that was what she’d liked about him when they’d first met. He didn’t let the bad times bring him down, but now her admiration of him had turned to pure loathing. She supposed they had a good run. Ten years marriage was longer than most of her friends had lasted.

So after ten years, it ends tonight?

She thought it would. She didn’t like any of this. That woman had showed up much too conveniently. Right when they were about to end up on the street? What kind of timing was that for that agent to show up just as the next bill came in the mail?

Can you end it?

It would be the first time she’d try, at least this directly. She’d discussed divorcing with her friends in the past, and she’d felt so… wrong, gossiping what was known throughout history as a sacred pact between two lovers. But that hadn’t stopped her from slowly withdrawing funds from their shared account, which was already as measly as it could get, now did it?

Stu slowed the car down. The station was on the left, a big fluorescent sign stood before it, displaying the various prices of fuel. Out of the eight pumps only one was occupied by a big eight-wheeler truck. They pulled up to pump number two and Stu turned off the ignition. Stu got out and looked over the types of gas with a frown.

They’d been driving for hours now, and Rose needed to stretch her legs. Cradling her son, she stepped out of the car. Her breath plumed in a misty trail before her face. The truck driver across the way regarded the two parents, eyes hidden by a brown cap. Rose gave him a look before turning around, gazing back the way they’d come.

“Should keep him inside, darling,” Stu murmured from the other side of the car. “It’s pretty cold out. He’ll need his strength.”

“-For whatever it is Weyland’s going to do to him, you mean?”

“Rose~…” He had the balls to say her name all sing-song like. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

“How can you know that? How can you be so… calm, about all this? Don’t you care about me? About our own son?”

He shot her a narrowed stare. “Don’t you dare even think about implying I don’t give a shit. One of us has to put on a brave face, and we both know it’s not going to be you.”

She almost screamed at him then, but for her son’s sake, did not. Stu plucked one of the nozzles from the pump, unscrewed the cars fuel cap. The sound of gurgling liquid imbued the air as Stu began filling the tank.

“Fucking stinge,” she said, mostly to try and hurt him rather than follow logic. He’d chosen the cheapest fuel there was.

“It’s not like we have a choice.”

“Stop saying that! There… There’s always a choice! Like this!”

She spun on her heel, and stormed away from the station. She ignored Stu’s calls for her to come back. She’d raised her voice loud enough that her son began to cry again. She adjusted him roughly in her arms when he began to squirm. She felt like she was a kid again, trying to run away from home after her own parents had berated her about some stupid thing.

Before she could vacate the station grounds in a vain effort of running away, Stu held her by the shoulder and turned her. Rose had put on a little makeup during the drive (she was prepared in that regard at least), and now it was dribbling down her cheeks, wet with tears. For a moment Stu flashed her the briefest of grins, and he looked ten years younger.

“Come on. You’re making him cry.”

“This is too much, Stu.” She couldn’t meet his gaze.

“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get off this planet. We’ll go to that resort world just like you always wanted. Ecarro? The one with the tropical isles?”

“I… do we even deserve to go there, anymore?”

“We’ll find out. One night, Rose. That’s all we need and I can’t go through it without you. Can you hold on for just a little while longer? It’ll all work out in the end. Trust me.”

She sniffed, exhaled. Her boy was looking up at her with blissful ignorance, a shine in those tiny eyes. From tears or something else, she couldn’t tell. What she could tell was that there was no choice. Delaying would only make the pain worse.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Okay. I trust you, Stu.”

“Good. Come on, before the clerk calls the cops.”

They returned to the station, went inside. Her stomach grumbled as she scanned over all the junk food, somehow all of it on special, even though this place was barren on a good day. The clerk was a young Vylk, his feathers a dirty brown colour, most of it covered up by his white uniform. Rose was mostly tolerant of some of the other species, but she hated these bird-people. More than half the crime on Solaris was committed by Vylk. It was mostly the face, you couldn’t read Vylk easily, didn’t know when what they were thinking until it was too late.

“Just pump two, thanks.” Stu put his hands on the counter, grinning up at the taller alien. The Vylk nodded, typing on the register for a second.

“That’ll be twenty-one dollars,” the Vylk chirped. His avian eyes darted to their kid for a second. Rose hugged her son closer.

Stu produced his wallet, and filed out a few crumpled notes. Rose thought, I’m a little short.

“I’m a little short,” Stu said. “Could you make an exception for us, just this once?”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Shit. Rose? Got anything to spare?”

Rose handed him her son and turned out her own pockets. The combined total came to eighteen dollars. Rose never felt so embarrassed in her life. The stupid Vylk was almost laughing at them from behind his hooked beak, at least that’s what her eyes told Rose.

“Come on,” Stu pleaded. “we’ve been driving all night, and we’ve got an important meeting to get to. We’ll come back tomorrow and pay you, I promise!”

“If you don’t have the money, sir, why did you get so much?”

“We need it. We’ve still got hours of driving ahead of us!”

“I’m sorry, human.”

“Sure you are.” Stu sagged his shoulders. He was about to say something to Rose, but stopped as he noticed she was holding out something to the alien, something on a chain.

“My husband gave me this on our wedding day.” The chain glinted yellow in the overhead fluorescents. “It’s made out of pure gold. Take it, as collateral.”

“Rose!” Stu exclaimed. “I had that engraved all the way from the Capitol! You can’t just give it away!”

“The… Capitol?” The Vylk raised a brow, intrigued.

Rose went on. “That’s right. It’s a reminder of better times. This should be more than enough to cover the gas.” She dangled it for good measure. “It’s all we have.”

She felt sick for pleading to this damned bird, but she saw no other choice than robbery, and although she thought she and Stu could get away with it (it wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried it), the locket was worth far less to her than it used to. Plus the gold was fake. Stingy Stu had spared no expense.

For a moment she thought the avian wouldn’t concede, but in a rare moment of compassion, as the alien regarded the two desperate humans, the clerk sighed. “I know I’m going to regret this.” The Vylk reached out a taloned hand. Rose dropped the locket in his palm, where it tinkled in his feathered grip.

“Thank you,” Rose said. She turned around. “Let’s go.”

They walked out of the station. The Vylk gave the locket and experimental flick before leaning down and stuffing it in the safe he bought a few years ago. Once he found out the gold was fake, he’d leave it there in the hope that these humans would come and get it back one day. Then he’d forget all about it, where it would be picked up by a certain Xenomorph Queen many years from now.

“Once the payment goes through, we’re coming back and we’re getting that locket,” Stu said, a little bit of spite in his tone. “I’m not leaving it in the hands of some walking magpie.”

But they’d never come back to this station again. The three of them got in the car, and drove away.

Chapter 4

Bunker

1

The chief had become numb to Bunker Life, as he called it, and he lost his sense of time as he traversed the lower levels and jury-rigged his way through maintenance. Proper repairs were impossible given the poor quality of supplies, but that didn’t stop the higher ups from complaining about the light bulbs flickering every now and then.

He knew all the toxins in the air and the chemicals under his fingernails, were slowly shaving off years of his life span. He wondered how long it would take for someone to find him down here in the dark if he keeled over while on shift, and found some humour at the image of Mayor Blankley calling his name over and over again, demanding a corpse that it fix the air filters for real this time.

His back aching, he checked his watch and found that the shift was over. He finished what he was doing and made his way to the lift. It was a noisy contraption, and not too much faster than taking the stairs, and was currently in use. Jake must be in there, he reckoned. They usually went up to the lockers together, but… his interruption of that romp-session the other day must still be fresh in Jake’s mind. Thus the chief was forced to take the stairs up.

At least it’s payday.

Not in the same sense as before, however, where one used online accounts. Each worker got a series of chits, little things that look like arcade tokens (also from before), and the amount you got depended on how long you worked. Covering Jake so often gave him a bigger cut, so there was a plus.

He’d been doing that a lot now, looking for the ‘plus’ or the ‘at least’s’ in life. It was all one could hold on to, and if he let those go… The futility of doing what he was doing, might hit home harder than expected.

Fuck sake.

Groaning on the inside, as well as the outside, he pumped his burning legs until he rose out of the lower levels, into the mid-range sections. There were ninety-five levels making up the Bunker (96 to 100 had been abandoned years ago), and he was just reaching an arch marked 80. The lowest quarter levels were where the power stations and other essential utilities were located – the real meat of the Bunker. The Bunker became more livable the further up you went. The chief had never gone higher than level 50, and that was just because he’d heard of a new bar opening up on that level, and he’d only stayed for ten minutes.

Of course, he’d gone as high as level 1 back in the earlier days of the Bunker, the surface level. And sometimes people were allowed up there, though the chief hadn’t possessed the effort to venture there for a long time, take a gleam of the external camera’s and gaze at what little was left of the world.

Cause I spend too much time down here in the dark, I think.

The locker room was rife with the smell of male musk. He could hear someone gagging in one of the cubicles in the back. One particular retch made him visibly wince. He walked by several small clusters of men, all older than him by far, with the crinkly skin and big arms to prove it. Sometimes he felt like he was still a boy, surrounded by adults even though he’d past his teens… two or three years ago, was it? He remembered how hyped he was in school, waiting to become a man. How overrated the whole coming of age thing had really been. He’d take being a stupid kid again over being a man – if one could call him that – any day.

The only topic of conversation it seemed, as the chief started redressing in front of his locker, was the fact that the Mayor was going to announce something big this weekend. He listened in with half a mind, not really caring, and not being included when the guys took turns to guess what the news was.

Jake was there, and he asked him for any more details of this announcement. “Dunno man,” Jake replied. “It’s a wonder rumours even spread this far down the Bunker. Someone’s been sneaking up there.”

“Or, someone’s been sneaking down here.”

“Who the hell’d want to come down here?”

Jake had a point there. But someone had to keep the air running, and the grease-monkeys were the lucky ones. Lucky to not be up on the surface suffocating, that is. Better to be hauling shit than eating it, the chief had said to himself back in the day, though that saying had lost much of its merit, now that he could actually see himself degrading whenever he looked in the mirror.

After doing his business in the cubicle right next to the one still occupied by the vomiting man, the chief walked with Jake and a group of other engineers back to the lift, where they moved up five levels. Lingering on the edges of conversation, the chief was exempt from the idle chatter. He didn’t care though, all they talked about was which girl they were going to oggle at next, or what plans they had for tonight, since it was Friday. The youth had no interest in these people or learning about them, at least that’s what he told himself.

Levels seventy-five and upwards were a bit more habitable, though that was the farthest extent of that word as it would go. Commercial and slum-like living residents mixed together to create some sort of day life, reminiscent of what the surface-world used to function like. No matter if you were trudging through a filthy alley or sat in the middle of a bar, there was always a neon-lit advertisement sign in your peripheral, bright colours blaring out a pricetag on some piece of junk that had no other use than sapping away at your chits just so you could get a sip of what life before the Fall was like.

The chief saw no point in it. Mayor Blankley was trying to revive a dead world, and despite his youth, the chief was convinced he was the only one who could accept this fact. Another reason why he was so distant in this overcrowded underground haven.

He collected his weekly chits, the clerk not even looking up as she pushed two dozen tokens across the table, nor when he thanked her. The closest, most respectable joint to get a proper meal was two turns away. He and the rest of the engineers went there. Big meals with synthetic slabs of meat were being served at rather higher prices than usual, but it was worth it.

But today the chief didn’t get himself a proper meal his stomach so desperately craved, instead spending as few chits as possible. He walked away from the kitchens with a few steamed vegetables, sat pitifully to the side of a cup of a sad-looking salad.

The rest of the engineers had sat themselves on one of the back tables. The chief stood still for a moment, watching them laugh and talk and drink together from a distance. Jake was there too, munching on a delicious-looking hamburger. There was space to his side he might be able to squeeze into, if he had the balls to go over there, that was. Every other table was occupied.

Chewing his lip, the young man turned around and made his way out of the synthetic lights of the cafe, and around the corner of the street. There was a bottle shop next door, and here he spent all those chits he’d skimped out on earlier, ordering himself a big bottle of wine. The clerk didn’t even need to ask what drink he wanted, setting it down as soon as the chief stepped through the door. The chief paid for it, then left to find somewhere to sit.

The young man found a secluded spot down a nearby alley, strangely quiet compared to the hustle and bustle just around the corner. He swiped away stray bottles and scrunched-up newspapers with his feet, before plonking himself down with a grunt.

Half his features painted blue by a nearby sign, he worked on the bottle and chugged down two gulps before he’d even crossed his legs. A lot of things made him drink these days, even the fact that the bottle shop clerk had marked him as a regular.

He knocked the bottle back and gulped until his cheeks puffed and it was too much. A little bit of the wine dribbled down his chin, and some of it got on his shirt and would remain there as a sick reminder of how much he’d let himself go. Besides, washing required effort, and after knocking back a couple of these a week, one tended to slowly curl up in the dark and watch the world pass by behind the buzzy haze alcohol provided.

Normally one had friends or family to help pull them through times like the chief was in, but he had neither. The Bunker was full of degenerates, he himself included. And ‘normal’ was a euphemism for the claustrophobic lifestyle humanity had stuffed themselves in after Solaris had been flushed down the proverbial toilet.

God damn it I’m a fucking mess.

He knocked back another mouthful of the wine, wishing he had some painkillers to really top off the experience. One time down in the engine wards he had sliced a part of his left ring finger off, the exact same day he’d complained about lack of protective gloves. Go figure. The drugs he’d been supplemented had almost tricked him into thinking the Fall had never happened. That same finger was now cut off at a perfectly acute angle, just skimming where the edge of the nail began, maybe four or five millimeters deep. The amount of blood that had come out was insane.

At some point he passed out, his meal half eaten, his mind half rotten. He had a place to stay somewhere on the level, but in truth it wasn’t that much different from the alley he was currently lying in. Sleeping rough was something he’d had experience with, and with the drink he managed to get a few good hours of rest.

But he was raised out of his drunken slumber by a scream. The first time it happened he’d only caught the end of it, and he’d only given a groggy look around the alley before dozing off again. Security forces were few and far between down in the lower levels, but they were not completely absent. So someone should be dealing with it soon.

Yet the cry came again, and this time he was awake for the whole duration. It was a woman, and she was close by. This time the chief decided to react, and got to his feet with the grace of an amputated sloth. Even after drinking himself into oblivion and subsequently stumbling to his feet, his hand still gripped tightly around the neck of the bottle, and it never left his grasp. Even this small unconscious act made him hate himself all the more.

Free hand using the cold wall as a guide, he moved in the direction he thought the scream had come from. Most of the venues had shut for the ‘night’. Day and night cycles were represented by the dimming levels of the overhead fluorescents, to mock an arching sun. The chief couldn’t even remember what the sun looked like. Solaris had been named as such for its unique burning star. Even a few local sayings had cropped up over the years since its colonization, the star being a beacon of hope for anyone looking for a fresh new home.

What a load of crap that was.

It was a home alright, humans especially, even a few aliens, but not for everyone, the chief knew that more than anyone, and he was confident he was correct.

The woman cried out, this time accompanied by a “No!”. The chief tried to blink away his hangover, at least try and focus on whatever was happening. He met some limited success, stumbling over his feet without help from the wall, which looked so steady compared to him.

He rounded one corner, then another. All the passages were dark, but one light up ahead told him he was on the right track. Everyone had gone home for the night, and if there were people nearby, they’d probably have thought just like he had. That someone else should be dealing with it.

One more cry confirmed that the blast door with the light shining through its bottom, was the source of the ruckus. Of course, it was locked when he came up to it, but he wasn’t called chief engineer for entirely nothing. A few buttons on the security panel would initiate a bypass, and he pressed his wobbly fingers against the buttons, put in the correct sequence.

The door slid open, and what the chief saw inside gave him pause.

There were three men wearing black jackets with yellow sigils on their backs. The sigils were of the Bunker security forces, yet what they were doing was anything but serving justice. One was in the middle of unzipping his pants, frozen in that state when he heard the door open. The other two were by his sides, holding the arms of a woman splayed in the floor. Tears were mixing with her makeup, her cheeks black and wet. Her dress was pulled up from the knees, exposing her hips.

All four of them were frozen in place, and had turned to look at the chief standing in the doorframe. The chief almost shrank under the gaze of the three big men, but whether it was his backbone keeping him in place, or the alcohol pumping through him, he stood his ground with horror in his eyes.

“The hell are you looking at you fucking drunk?” the man who had been clasping his belt said. “Get lost, and close the fucking door on your way out.”

The chief looked down at the woman. Her eyes were wide and red. One of the other men spoke up. “We fucking paid for her man. You’ll have your turn after we’re done.”

The woman met the chief’s eyes, and it took a second for him to find his voice. “Did… Did they pay you?”

The woman gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. The first man answered him for her. “Of course we paid her! Ah, shit, Jess get him outta here before someone sees.”

The third man, Jess, released his hold of the woman and came over to the chief. “How’d you get in here, anyway?” But he gave the chief no time to answer, shoving him hard in the shoulder. The chief took one last look at the woman’s quivering mouth before the man blocked his view. “Are you deaf, dude? We told you to get lost.”

Another shove, and the chief had to step back so as not to lose balance. He was downright terrified of what these three men could do to him, but seeing the fear in the woman’s eyes made him fight against his instincts. The chief turned with the force, and in one fluid motion, raised the bottle up and struck Jess right on the chin.

It did not crack, but the sound it made as the bottle connected was enough to make the chief’s hand tremble. Jess raised his hands to his face, but stopped halfway, as if his mind had just now registered the blow. Before anyone could react, the chief pulled the bottle back behind his head like he was preparing to shot put, and swung.

This time the bottle did break, as it collided with Jess’ temple, shattering into hundreds of pieces of greenery. Jess spun like a dying dancer and hit the ground, burying his face in his hands. The woman screamed. The man with his belt unbuckled cried out a series of vulgarities and tried to rush the chief, but tripped over his pants bagging around his ankles. The third man was on the chief in an instant, smashing him in the stomach and draining the air from his lungs.

The chief, wheezing, swung the bottle in a shallow arc. What little wine remained was now a red patch on the floor, and now the bottle was a jagged, improvised weapon he was holding like a dagger. The man dodged away just in time, but the chief caught him on the arm, drawing a few flecks of blood, one of which splotched against his cheek.

The man came at the chief again, who raised his hands to defend himself. The chief was no match compared to the trained security guard. He managed to make one last desperate lunge with his crude new weapon, but the guard caught him by the wrist and twisted, disarming him. Then the chief found himself being headbutted, and his vision was filled with stars as he fell onto his back.

The guard was upon him, hands out like he was aiming to choke him. The chief brought up his foot and kicked the guard in the groin. He must have hit one of the testes dead on, as the guard teetered on the point between keeling over and standing, his mouth a little ‘o’ of silent agony.

The chief struggled to his feet, and halfway through this act, he heard the air crack like a whip, and his head shot violently to the left, and the sudden inertia blackened his vision. He fell onto his side, right into a puddle of shards that cut into his forearm. A foot clad in a combat boot came at him toes-first, and slammed into his cheek. Writhing in pain, the chief’s body refused to do anything else, as he looked up at the final guard, who had managed to replace his belt, and was now holding a handgun.

“Fucking drunk,” the guard said, kneeled down, and pistol-whipped the chief. Once, twice, three times the air cracked. The chief willed his body to pass out, so the pain could stop. But it didn’t. Blood clotted his nose and eyes as the guard pounded him over and over again. The chief felt like he was sinking into the ground with each strike.

He saw from the corner of his eye, the woman approaching. He tried to tell her to stop, but all that came out was a gurgle, his throat full of phlegm or blood. The woman dove onto the guard’s arm mid-strike, and the gun discharged three times as she and the man struggled to gain control of it. The sounds deafened the chief’s already numbed ears.

For a moment the chief thought she’d actually gain the upper hand, then the guard, the one he’d kicked in the dick, seized her from behind, and any hope he had died as she writhed uselessly against the man’s hold.

In some sick twist of relief, the punishment was turned onto the woman, and she was backhanded by the one with the gun. The chief was almost forgotten, but as much as he tried to get up, he could not. It was like the trauma had shackled him to the floor.

And then he heard voices, several of them, and he barely managed to look back at the doorframe, and his heart sank as he saw five more men in black security jackets pour inside the room. But these one’s must have held at least some humanity, as they quickly disarmed their comrade and freed the woman as well.

The chief was pulled to his feet, foreign arms hoisting him under the armpits. Slowly, his vision and hearing cleared, and he met eyes with the woman for a second. She mouthed two words to him, and as his mind slowly processed them, through all the pain his bruised body was experiencing, a little part of it felt somewhat relieved.

Thank you, she’d said.

A final man came into the room, wearing a brown suit and matching tie. If this was from before the Fall, anyone might mistake him for a lawyer, because wherever there was despair to be found, a lawyer wasn’t too far away.

Mayor Blankley’s slimy face regarded the chief, the woman, and the three guards, his face boiling like a tomato about to pop. He produced a little handkerchief and wiped at his brow before breathing in, like he was about to start another one of his speeches.

“What…” Blankley said, pointing at each one of them. “-the hell, is going on here?”

2

The circle of life was less fine up here on level sixty, one could almost think they were living in luxury. The chief found it hard to comprehend that with each level up the grime and muck that followed humanity slowly diminished, but never disappeared entirely to his eyes. Probably because he always knew where to look to find the ugly traces his race left behind.

“Geez,” he said, realizing just how miserable he really was. To be fair, the situation he’d found himself at this moment wasn’t really doing him any favours in that aspect.

“The Mayor will see you now,” a woman to his left said. She was sat behind a desk, pushing papers, not even looking up at the chief as she addressed him. The office was cramped, particularly with the two-armed guards standing by the exit, and a third beside the chief.

The young man stood up, approached the door to the woman’s right. There was a golden plaque on it, and written there were the words Ansel Blankley. Half an hour ago the three men the chief had fought with had entered here, and a half hour before that, the woman had gone in as well. Now was the chief’s turn.

He went inside and shut the door behind him. The Mayor’s office was full of bookshelves and magazine racks, and the young man had to suppress a stare. He hadn’t seen so much written work in… he didn’t know how long, and the fact it was all home to one man made him a little more resentful.

There was a plush couch in the corner, sat before a big flatscreen TV. There was a golden bottle of liquor on the nightstand, and a tiny plant in a pot nearby. He thought at first it was fake, but it was pretty convincing. He had fond memories of greenery, and he found himself ogling at this piece of fauna rather than the liquor. Dominating the western wall was an expansive aquarium, fish both alien and earth-based swimming around in lazy loops.

“Chief Engineer?” someone said, interrupting his oggling. In the middle of the office was a bigger than average man, typing away at his computer with fingers that resembled sausages. The chief stood up straight and blinked.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re making me uncomfortable. Sit down.”

He gestured to the chair opposite him. The chief felt like he had been sent to the principal’s office again. God, how long ago was it since he went to school? As much as the stress of homework had been, it really was nothing compared to being an adult. His teachers had prepared him too much for all the wrong areas of life. Post-apocalyptic survival should have been a subject.

Like mostly everyone, the Mayor didn’t even glance at the chief as he moved, and sat down with a grunt. His ribs still ached and his chest was bruised to hell, but at least the Mayor had let someone tend to his wounds beforehand. “No blood in my office,” Blankley had said.

Now it was the chief’s turn to be uncomfortable, as he sat there quietly, waiting for the Mayor to finish what he was doing. With a final click of the enter button, the Mayor at last gave the chief a look. “How is it you always manage to put yourself in the wrong place, every time trouble pokes it’s head out?”

The young man blinked, stuttering at first to reply. “W-Wrong place, sir?”

“Yes. You seem to have a knack for causing a stir. Remember what you did before? You were lucky I found you before Weyland himself got a hold of you. You’re indebted to me, and still you continue to cause me problems.”

“I’ve…” the chief said sheepishly. “I’ve been in your debt for six years. Sir.”

“So?” the Mayor said, like he was talking to a mentally disabled boy. “If it wasn’t for me you’d be a skeleton up there along with the rest of Solaris’ people. Forgotten. Don’t try and tell me saving your life is worth less than six years of gratitude.”

The chief’s mouth moved, but he could not form any words. His own hesitance caused him to visibly sulk, sighing in defeat.

The Mayor clasped his hands together, leaning on the wooden top. “I thought not. Everything you have you owe to me. I could have that stripped away from you. You’d do well to remember that. But enough about that. Let’s focus on what you’ve mixed yourself up in tonight.”

“Are you going to send me Sweeping?”

“No, boy. Not you, or anyone else involved in tonight’s… incident, shall we call it.”

“I-Incident?” the young man echoed, an angry edge in his tone. “Those men were about to rape that woman!”

“Yes, you’ve said as much earlier, but that is just you taking assumptions.”

“They admitted it to me before they knocked my teeth in.”

“Which you instigated, using a broken bottle as a weapon. You almost cut one man’s face off.”

The chief threw his arms up. “You don’t believe me? J-Just ask that woman, then. She’ll back me up, she’s the victim in all this. She’ll tell you your own guards tried to ra-“

“Look, look calm down,” the Mayor interjected, raising an authoritative hand. The chief reluctantly held his tongue. “What my security forces did was immoral, I’ll admit that. And they’ll be punished accordingly.”

“By sending them to Sweep, right?”

“No.” The Mayor was annoyed at being interrupted. “They’ll be punished on my terms, privately. Sending them Sweeping is far too public, and too rash.”

You’re fucking kidding me, the chief thought, about to voice this, when the Mayor held up a finger. “Nevertheless – I know what is best for the people of the Bunker. If everyone found out that my own security forces can stoop to this new, low level of morality, how do you think they would react?”

“They’d be after you next.” And for good reason, too.

“Precisely. And there is no one better suited for leading our people out of this predicament than me. We are all in this mess together.”

“The mess you and your men made…” the chief murmured.

Blankley ignored him. “If this were any other day I may have dished out harsher punishments, but under these special circumstances things must be treated with the utmost care.”

“What special circumstances?”

The Mayor sighed, looked as if to contemplate what he should say next. “Look,” he said. “I like you, and I’ve come to the conclusion you have changed your ways since our first meeting. So I’ll trust in your discretion now, in trade for even more of it. Two days ago a scout party I sent to the surface returned with some very promising news. A fully functioning, intact, spaceship. Enough to fit everyone in this Bunker inside.”

The chief blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “A… A ship? Really? But the whole planet’s scorched, how the hell did a ship survive?”

“Well, it’s been preserved in a rather… shall we say, unique biome far to the north of here. There are some minor complications but, with a bit of preparation, I’m aiming to evacuate everyone out of this Bunker and lead an expedition to this ship. You might have heard the rumours of something big happening, and outside of my most trusted friends, you are the only one I have told of this revelation.”

The chief could hardly believe it. There had been no contact with ships from outside of the system ever since the Fall. No one had come, which was strange enough on its own, and after all these years of living without hope of escape, to finally latch onto something… The chief had no words to express, though he still had an ounce of doubt clouding over this discovery. Like it was too good to be true.

“That’s why I wish to give everyone in the Bunker at chance. We can all leave this world, and after we do… well, then we can think about true justice, back in a proper society. But until then, I ask that you keep a lid on what you saw tonight, and let bygones be bygones, at least for a little while.”

And there it was. The chief folded his arms over his chest. “So you’re giving your men a pass, and a chance to leave the planet?”

“I believe every man and woman can redeem themselves. I took that chance on you, as well.”

The Mayor would never let him forget that, and the chief could almost feel his buttons being pushed as a result of this. “Even if I… ‘forget’, what I saw those men do. That woman would never-“

“I have already had this exact same conversation with her, and she accepted my offer. I complimented her with a few extra chits, and I’m going to offer you the same, generous deal. So what do you say, Chief Engineer? It’s only a matter of weeks before that ship is in our hands, and there may or may not be a spot for you on board, as well as a good word from me to Weyland.” He paused. “Now tell me. What happened tonight?”

The chief remembered how frightened the woman had been, and the pain he’d taken for her sake. Now he was being bribed to keep quiet about it. Then again it wasn’t like anyone would listen to him. Jake, perhaps, but the chief’s reputation from the world before the Fall, was somehow still impacting him all these years later. The Mayor most likely had something to do with that, since he was the only one who knew of the chief’s past in detail.

The chief’s view on himself, and his own forsaken species, degraded a little more.

“Tonight?” the chief asked. “Tonight I… I was drunk, and I didn’t see anything. Sir.”

Chapter 5

Past, Future

1

For two years, the Hive had acted as a physical obscurity of the Queen’s presence to Solaris. Ever since its peaceful beginnings to its (not so peaceful) ending, she had never dwelled beyond its resinous walls. She had made it initially to be her fortress, and then it had become her prison.

But before its ultimate construction by the Xenomorph Queen, said alien had the drive to pursue individual pleasures while working towards the ultimate goal nature and instinct had destined her with. To bear children, and to kickstart her species. She could not wait, literally bouncing with glee at what it would be like.

Of course, she had not been born with this state of mind, nor would she end on such a high note. That vague middle ground, before the Hive and during its short life span, things had not been pleasant to say the least.

She had deftly managed to escape the lab she had been born and experimented on, and her first true look of Solaris was that of trees, huge swaths of wood and greenery. All sorts of mysteries and secrets hidden inside the darkest depths of the forests, waiting for her to come and explore them. She had quite the wild imagination back then.

Humans don’t use thoughts to communicate, but sounds. That must be confusing.

She had also been quite naïve.

To say that humans misunderstood each other rather often was quite an understatement. The surrounding gas station and subsequent wrecks of the civilised world beyond this place was more than enough proof of that. But back then she’d been curious, barely scraping together her understandings of the world. Before the Fall. Before her mind had been swept beneath the currents of insanity.

Out of all the things she remembered of those early days, it was the sheer smallness of her frame she thought of the most. She was no bigger than a starved dog, which was exactly how she’d felt after her escape. Her thin arms (she’d had two then) resembled wires, and her legs barely supported her tiny body. She lost count of the amount of times she’d tripped over her own two feet.

She crawled through the dirt, putting as much distance between her and the lab as she could. She wasn’t the only Xenomorph in the lab, and she had organised a plan to escape by sabotaging the facility by crawling through the vents and wrecking any machinery she could find. Only she had escaped that day. It wouldn’t be the last time she would use others for her own needs.

Every discarded chip packet, every slop of food or drink left behind by the wasteful humans, she pounced on with savage dexterity. There were too many rainy days on this planet, causing painfully long periods of starvation, and seeing just one scrap of spoiled food she considered a blessing. Sometimes she threw it all back up, and had to force her stomach to keep the food in there when she tried again.

Her scavenging for food was interrupted regularly by death squads scouring the countryside for her. She could recognise them in their big, white armour and the WY logos on their backs, swerving their guns from left to right as they turned over every rock, forcing her to keep moving. Many nights she went without sleep, and her legs ached at how often she pushed herself to flee. Once, one of the agents had come so close she could hear him breathing through his respirator, and smell the faint stench of his cologne. She quivered underneath the sapling she’d hastily hid herself within, hands over her maw to stop her teeth from clicking together. She’d only been so scared once before – when her Host had been taken away.

She scurried in the darkness of the forests, or the underground sewer systems if she was delving far into the suburbs as she sometimes did. A Queen, living like a rat, not nearly strong enough to fight back. According to her Hive-memories when a new Queen is born it was because the previous Queen had died, and all the drones and warriors would be there to support the little soon-to-be leader.

But I was alone. Just as I am now.

But she had told herself she would be different than her predecessors. She wouldn’t refer to her offspring as drones or warriors. That was what thoughtless leaders did. No, she would be better – she would ardour them, treat them as her children. Pamper them, feed them, watch them flourish into beautiful creatures with the potential to do anything they wished. And even give them names later on, though where she had gotten that idea she could not recall. Names were powerful, that much she could understand.

She moved from hunting stray pieces of food to live game. First the small things, and when that could no longer sate her, she switched to things that could fight back. She’d made plenty of mistakes, put her life on the line more times than she’d care to admit, but she had learned from each encounter, learned to control her body and use the environment to her advantage, evolve. Soon it wasn’t her losing blood, but the predators. After many years she grew enough infamy in nature’s viewpoint that some of the big nasty critters kept their distance from her. In a decade, one might have considered her the Queen of the Forests.

During her adolescent years her expeditions into the human population centres became ever more rewarding. Art was a seemingly useless way of spending time, but many of the aliens seemed to enjoy themselves, their minds emitting many signals she interpreted as raw pleasure. Maybe it was because her Host was a human that she took an interest in their interests. Maybe she was simply curious.

Either way drawing and writing became one of her two favourite past times, the other being the ‘art’ of collecting anything that interested her. Tiny gadgets she would awe over in healthy doses in her spare time. All that collecting back then had probably started her obsession with hoarding any trinket that interested her. Like the locket she was now carrying, the one Rose had exchanged for fuel or gas or whatever it was.

A blurry five years later and she was as large as a fully grown human. The crest atop her head was growing and contorting into the unique shape of her crown. Her third and fourth arms had sprouted, and all her adventures had turned her into a master of stealth, and she grown beyond the point to worry about preserving herself. It was time to show her crown was not meant for show, and to set up her Hive.

But where?

There was, of course, the expansive forests stretching out across the continent, and they were more her home than anything. But if she chose a spot too close to the settlements, the eventual logging by the humans would expose her, and the ones who had imprisoned her, Weyland, were still looking for her, and the forests would be burned down just to flush her out. She had too much respect for nature to use it as a shield.

But growing a Hive deep into the forests would be just as risky. There was always a chance she’d encounter something nastier than ever, but even if that were not the case, she wanted to stay close to the humans. Her Host was out there somewhere, and living off what the humans left behind would make things much easier in the short run – when she would be her most vulnerable, bearing her first batch of children.

But to set up so close to the millions of aliens living on this planet with her, how was she to do that?

As if the world had heard her despair in choosing a suitable place, the predominantly human populace began to fight among themselves. She could not discern the reason why this was until much later, but until then she thought little of why the populace was uprising, and thanked the stars of the opportunity this seemingly worldwide event had given her.

She scrapped together a crude rucksack, and bringing only what she couldn’t live without, the Queen perched herself on the edges of the Capitol city, nodded to herself, and plunged into the urban landscape.

She bounded from rooftop to rooftop, pushing herself up ledges and shimmying along slim passages high above ground level. The chaos on the streets was spreading from one district to the other. She wasn’t sure of her opinion on the humans at this point. On one hand her Host was human, on the other… those experiments they had done on her had been horrible, enough so that she had struggled in the proverbial halls of her mind to stuff those memories away, until they were nothing more than sharp stabs of pain that sometimes showed themselves in her physical form. A nervous twitch here, a wild swing of her tail there. Those ticks would haunt her bones for many months to come. Perhaps even years.

But even she did not wish so much death on so many people. From her view the populace was like lights, flicking off one by one as they slaughtered themselves. That earlier question about if humans conversing through sounds caused any confusion, came to mind as she traversed the Capitol.

Wind nipping at her sides, she flipped through the air as she sailed from one balcony to another, running up the wall on all fours to the roof, then scaling back down storey after storey until she sailed over to the next building. She was a silent creature of the night, travelling only in the dusk and resting during the day. Long had it been since her earliest days, clumsy and weak and helpless. Now she had precision, grace. She was proud of herself back then, and she hoped she would be good enough for when her offspring came into this world.

There was a large hub of activity in the northern suburbs of the Capitol, where a lot of the foot traffic congested as aircraft flew down onto large strips of tarmac, stopped for a while, then lifted off again, flying into lands she did not know of. The main terminal buildings were packed with people, thousands of hearts racing as they scrambled over themselves to board their designated flights. Just ten or so blocks away there was fighting on the streets, yet the biggest worry these people had was if they brought enough lotion for the trip. The numbness of civilisation-life hadn’t quite worn off yet, it seemed.

With the amount of people around, the Queen was almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of signals emitting from the minds of the aliens. Nine times out of ten they didn’t conceal their thoughts, and she had to shut them out herself. But all the chaos would be the perfect cover to conceal her presence. Food was everywhere, and there were plenty of dark, hidden passages to traverse the port.

The Queen smiled. It was perfect.

She slipped inside easily enough, sticking to the shadows, watching the hustle and bustle around her. One point she met the gaze of an avian-looking sentient holding a phone to his head, but either the call was too important or the Queen too stealthy, as she’d slipped away with no alarms raised.

She searched for the deepest, darkest corner of the terminal, and was surprised at how much larger the port was than at first glance. Plenty of nooks and crannies one could smuggle themselves in if they wished to go untroubled, which was exactly what the Queen desired. She drew back on her experience with human technology, and judged which spot would go the longest without being disturbed.

Nodding to herself again – she wasn’t so hard on herself back then – she spun on the spot and declared this would be her very first antechamber. Weyland would never look for her here, right under their noses! Her tail flicked in the air at how excited she was.

She cupped her arms beneath her snout, opened up her mouth and subsequent glands. To any onlooker the saliva that drained out of her mouth and pooled in her palms would resemble thick pitch. She closed her mouth, cutting off the flow, then moved over and smothered one of the walls. The resin glued to the steel, defying gravity as the Queen painted the entire surface with the substance. She continued on for half an hour until she was entirely encased in a ten by ten-meter chamber. The resin looked similar to her own physical body – tubular, dark, and subtly translucent.

A birthing chamber should have been much bigger, but she was too excited to wait much longer. Settling down in the centre of the chamber, she kicked her reproductive organs into gear. A final appendage grew from her backside for many hours, and as it grew, she worked to suspend it by the walls and ceiling with more resin, so the weight was bearable.

She did not need a male of her species in order to reproduce. But later on, when she reunited with some of the Xenomorphs that had been trapped in that lab with, a few of them had offered to groom and please her.

She had been tempted by the offer at first, but something had held her back. It wasn’t that she was picky, or afraid. She had just never met the right one to share her body with, and all hopes of having someone else to share sensual desires with were forlorn by her isolation, and slowly developing madness. Thus she had turned to lonely, frustrating climaxes brought on entirely by her own hands.

She could force any of her brood on her, or her on them, and even though many years later she was so far beyond hope of getting her bodily needs satisfied, she felt like she had made the right choice abstaining. It would have been wrong to do otherwise.

The fist birthing session had taken many hours, and resulted in the creation of six eggs. Small beginnings, she’d thought. She’d barely contained herself from creating dozens more. Six would be good to start with. She spoiled them even before their approaching hatchings, caressing the shells, keeping them warm and safe with both her thoughts and her presence. She did not want to rush them, but she encouraged them all the same to speed up the process, her own excitement voiced by a near constant purring sound from her throat.

That purring stopped when half the batch had died.

One hadn’t even left its egg, the neonate within being stillborn. The other two had hatched, crawled around a bit, and then suffocated. She picked up their little bodies and tried to breathe life back into them, but it was for naught. She had rushed them, or had done something else wrong. Who else was there to blame but herself? She had wailed so hard and loud, not caring if her chamber was discovered. But slowly she calmed herself down when the three others hatched, successfully.

She hid the dead neonates and bit herself on the arm until she stopped crying. No child should have to see their mother crying as the first thing they saw. She liked to think that this was the beginning of her degrading sanity, where she forcibly buried those emotions and thoughts so as not to distress her offspring.

Thankfully she was good at deception, and she had redoubled her efforts to support her first children. She was still immobile, so she gave them as much warning and preparation as she could before sending them off to find their own Hosts. No humans, she told them firmly.

They’d obeyed her word without question, finding other aliens both sentient or otherwise. For many days she was left in her chamber, alone, waiting for their return. Even with the mental contact she still worried over them, urging them to be careful. When at last they returned as toddler-sized Xenomorphs of varying physical proportions, she had brought them to her breast and enveloped them in her maternal embrace. All four of them had thrummed happily, and for the first time the Queen could perhaps call herself that now – Queen. She gave them names just as she had her own.

With the help of her first three daughters, tunnels were excavated, and the Hive expanded. Care was taken into account to keep expansion slow, and not to break any of the machinery in case someone came down to see what had happened. With a bit more room she decided to increase the next birthing session numbers, up to twelve.

And out of those twelve, four were stillborn, and two had suffocated to death shortly after hatching. The Queen had been so distraught not even her children could calm her down for a very long time.

Had she done something wrong? Was she too hasty? Something else? She consulted her memories and investigated to her utmost ability, but could find no reason for the deaths. The ones who did survive she had shown equal cherishment to the first batch. She’d named them as well.

The Hive grew and grew, and every time the Queen went through the long, painful process to sever and start up a new ovipositor, exactly half of the batches died during or near their hatchings. By the time of the tenth batch, she was disgusted to find herself… used, to the stillbirths. Each time it happened, it took much longer to calm her down, and when the Xenomorphs came back from their Host bodies, her hugs and cuddles with them slowly lost their charm. Her daughters were almost uncomfortable in her heartless embrace, but made sure to obscure their discomfort from their mother. But the Queen knew. She was cursed with maternal knowledge.

Soon she stopped giving them names, letting them choose their own, but without her input the act of names lost its meaning, and her thoughts became too distracted to do much about it.

By the time her Hive numbered in the eighties, they were discovered. A technician had spotted the resin while working on a mechanical contraption nearby, and had bolted. They Queen had to act fast, decide whether to subdue or let the technician go. In the end she had chosen to capture the alien.

But one of her drones, surprised by the sudden input of an alien intruder, acted a little too rashly, and wounded the technician. Not a fatal wound, which would have been a better alternative. The human had wailed and bled so fiercely it had to be put out of its misery by the time it had been brought to the Queen’s chambers.

Against the better judgement of both herself and the Hive’s safety, the Queen captured the alien’s memories and searched for any family members or relatives. There were none, which the Queen found heartbreaking, but there was a human working at the port the alien had certain feelings for. The Queen made sure the alien was not forgotten, relaying her fate to the accomplice.

Whether this show of morality or the ever-growing Hive had something to do with what came next, the Queen could not be certain, nor did it matter all that much. Just when the Hive members numbered in the hundreds, they were attacked.

Weyland had found her again, and this time, they sent in so many soldiers that in the initial strike, her chambers had been breached and she had been shot a few times. They swarmed the Hive tunnels with great guns, and her drones fought for every twist and turn. It was brutal and bloody, but in the end the Queen and her Hive managed to drive the Weyland agents back.

Her drones were weak, not destined to skirmish even if they were on their turf. The Queen needed stronger, armoured castes. Warriors.

And over time as she developed this new caste, she became the one thing she had despised during her early days – a thoughtless leader referring to her brood as warriors and drones. And as she watched half her batches die from birth, and even more perish as she sent them to fight in her steed, this only cemented the fact that her brood’s sole purpose was to live and die for her. Humans called her a monster, and looking back on it, maybe they had been right about that.

She gradually overtook the entire port, letting the civilians run even though many of them may came back to fight her on some other day. She delved into the electronics left behind to slowly learn the ins and outs of the facility – how to open and close blast doors and make use of other utilities. Combined with her intimate knowledge of electronics and her resin, her Hive grew into a formidable bastion against Weyland Yutani.

Also the chaos in the Capitol was another boon to relieving the pressure. The ‘rebels’ as they called themselves hated WY as much as she did, raising anarchy wherever they could. But even the decline in losses was still just that – losses. And the fact these were her own children did not exactly put her mind at ease.

How tempting, and easier, it was to just refer to them as mindless drones. She was conflicted on whether to call them children or not, and in the end, her mind had split right down the middle, and the mental battles with herself had destroyed her, and brought down on her the true degradation of her sanity, and subsequently – the Hive.

She fell into a pit of shame with each death of her children (drones?) as the fighting stretched on. By the two hundredth casualty names were a thing of the past. By the three hundredth she no longer… felt, anything. She just pumped them out and sent them on their way, not bothering to show any signs of affection like she used to in her initial days. Those first three drones were long dead by now, replaced. How she wished she was the one being replaced.

What kind of Queen was… am, I?

Laying on her side here in the old service station, knees curled against her breast, arms cuddling round her tail, she could see many things she could have done differently, better even. It was many years too late to dwell on that fact, but perhaps she should have pressed on with the whole naming thing. And being a parent, she had obligations, burdens to bear. She needed to be stronger for her children. She did. Nobody else, because there were no Kings or partners for her.

Kings, she thought. As if.

She clasped Rose’s locket closer to her neck with a pair of talons.

I wonder what Rose’s son thought of his mother… or his father.

She often compared her own performance to that of others. Somehow everyone else seemed to do a better job than her at everything. The Queen’s that came before her had Hive’s that expanded across entire planets.

But I don’t want that.

The Queen remembered back then, that she had wanted one thing: to leave. And the spaceport had proven a good choice in hindsight.

During the Hive’s expansion, which now covered the entire port and then some, she came across two silos, occupied by great machines that looked like metal birds. Big fat noses, two triangular wings running along the length of a slim main body. Attached to the base were giant cone-shaped protrusions that smelled strikingly similar to what the gas station reeked of. It was only after many days of pouring over the terminals and machinery nearby, did she finally discern what purpose these craft were designed for.

Her desire to see the stars was born.

Both silos had one craft housed inside, but one of them had been in the middle of being decommissioned by the time her brood had cleared out this area. The other craft was intact, with enough fuel to not only break through the shackles of orbit, but to go far beyond to worlds undoubtedly better than this one.

She devoted all her time to it. Not to her daughters or the Hive, but to this machine. She became obsessed, devoting many months and resources to its preparation. It was a tiny craft, not nearly big enough to hold her whole Hive, but only around a dozen members, and that was being generous. She was ashamed to admit the idea of putting herself inside the ship rather than her daughters had crossed her mind more than once.

The ship required many keys to unlock, and one by one she acquired all the necessary components to activate the ship’s launch procedure. The war with Weyland, the Hive, and the rebels raged on overhead, but she kept at it, living on the fact that she just had to go a little further and all of her effort might be worth it in the end.

But one last thing kept the ship locked up tight, and the last key was like a giant slap to her face.

The launch sequence was voice activated.

She had everything else. What buttons to press, what levers to pull, how to turn on the auto-pilot, plot a course, but the craft required one last security measure, a code that had to be spoken through a microphone. And the most frustrating thing was that the code wasn’t even that hard to figure out.

She scratched the code right next to the microphone, and the digits sat there on the dash, laughing up at her with their simplicity. She and her Hive ‘thought’ to one another, and she had never tried to voice herself before, nor did she think she had the capacity to.

But that hadn’t stopped her from trying.

She worked her inner, secondary mouth to its absolute limits, clicking away and choking out various sounds, forcing her vocal cords to take on this new form of communication. She pushed herself day and night, turning her clicks and squeaks into more human sounding noises.

Apart from cherishing her first children, she’d never before been so driven to accomplish something. Where had that spark inside her gone? That spark to take on the impossible, to get a taste of true accomplishment?

Dead, like my childr-

She stopped the thought before it could spread.

She figured out the human alphabet, could produce noises that represent each rune to some small degree. Numbers was a whole other field that was even harder to grasp, and she cursed herself for being so terrible at surmounting this tiny obstacle, separating her from freedom.

But in the end, no matter how many weeks and months she practiced, she could not do it. She berated herself for being so incompetent, for not being able to do just one more thing so she could leave this decaying world behind her.

But she did not give up. Back then, she still had the will to keep going.

Her gaze turned towards the rebels. The idea of ‘factions’ between the humans and other species did not make much sense to her. She was not complaining, though. The rebels had been taking a lot of pressure off her Hive, even if them and the Xenomorphs were not on the same side.

She searched out the Capitol for the rebel leader, using her psionic crown to amplify her search over the various wavelengths the human minds emitted. On old familiar feeling washed over her as she honed in on the leader’s mind, and relayed to him a deal.

First communications had been rather awkward for the human, but he had seen many things in his life, and had acclimated quickly to the Queen’s presence. He agreed to the bargain and asked for the position of the ship. The Queen assembled all her warriors and drones to remain alert as she relayed where the Hive was located.

But either the message had been intercepted, or Weyland chose that day of all days that the Hive had been a burden long enough. Great ships arrived en masse and rained down fire from the skies. The Queen could do nothing as she watched the planet burn under ionized beams, relying only on the rebels that had captured artillery pieces to fight back against the orbital strike force. Ships split down the middle and cast debris across the landscape, doing as much damage when they had been operational. Pods were launched down into the densest packs of people still on the planet, spreading green mist that killed any life it touched.

Make it stop.

Waves upon waves of napalm washed over the Hive, which had spread to the surface for all to see. The Xenomorphs fell back underground, but the surprise attack had caught many off guard. The Hive’s population was reduced from the hundreds to the tens within twenty-four hours. She could not begin to guess how many of the aliens had died, but the numbers were catastrophic.

Missiles, bombs, rockets, trailing blue flames and arching through the sky. Rebels, Xenomorphs, even Weyland soldiers – all were victims to the monsoon of destruction. And the Queen, more attached to life than any other being on Solaris, felt it all.

Please.

She could feel her daughters burning, as if she herself was aflame even though she was safely inside her antechamber. She curled into a tighter ball, writhing on the ground. She could hear the earth crack under the pressure of thousands of bombs, smell the stench of death grow in strength every passing second.

Make it stop make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP!

Her daughters, crying out in pain, pleading her to save them. There thoughts and emotions shut off like lights, slowly plunging her into a world of silence, darkness. She could not bear it. For the first time in her life, she shut herself off from the Hive she so desperately wanted to begin all those years ago. In that wilful isolationism, she felt a certain individuality she had not felt since her abandonment in the lab. It was a feeling she did not like one bit, and yet the reclusiveness had made the agony go away.

After a long time the bombardment finally eased up. The few dozen daughters that survived, needed their mother now more than ever.

And she’d turned her back on them.

She forgot all about her lessons in speaking, neglected her duties to the Hive, and stuffed herself in the dark corners of her chamber and for many months, moped like the failed, broken Queen she was.

In her seclusion the Hive had begun to falter, and the feral state of mind began to afflict the few remaining Hive members – who could not stand the Queen’s absence from their lives. It was only after the tenth desertion did she finally get up and do something about it. There may have been another solution, but killing them was a mercy compared to the state they were in.

She had brought them into this horrible world, the least she could do was release them from this cruel existence.

Coupled with the persistent stillborn birthing sessions, her mind had been warped into a lull of death and dismay, a pit of darkness she willingly buried herself in, with not much hope of coming back out of it.

My Queen?

It was that drone again, from before, who had the nerve to even suggest the Queen not do her duty and end her own daughters’ misery. She entered the antechamber, somehow looking as defeated as the Queen felt. But why was that a surprise? After all the Hive was just an extension of the Queen, and the drones and warriors relied on it for survival.

The Queen was too busy to send a reply. She extended out a talon and slit the neck of one of her other drones. Blood spurted out like a violent geyser, some of it getting on the Queen’s fingers, making it look like she was wearing a green glove. Her former daughter gave off one last gurgled cry, before her body relaxed. She’d been suspended on the wall by the Queen’s resin, limbs splayed in an ‘X’ shape. Five other nearly identical drones decorated the space to the right, their necks also cut open. Today’s feral batch had been small.

Come close, child. The deed is done. The Queen looked at her fingers covered in her own offspring’s blood almost thoughtfully.

… With respect, my Queen, I would stay here.

The Queen turned to face the drone, standing in the threshold of the chamber, so far away in more ways than one. The Queen felt like she was trapped inside her own head, pounding on a dome of glass – screaming to be let out, to beg her daughter to please, please come closer – while her body was just a slave to her depression. The drone was afraid of her, and why would she not be? The Queen had just killed five of her sisters. Feral or not, they had been called family once.

Very well. The Queen didn’t even wipe her fingers as she moved over to her throne. How goes your task, child?

That’s what I came here to talk to you about. There is good news and bad.

The Queen rotated once, her tail waving in the air, and sat herself down on the rigid resin pattern she called a throne. The material had been imprinted with her form over many years of laying in, and she rubbed her tummy into the surface for a more comfortable position. Bad news first.

The drone tapped her fingers together, a human gesture. She’d seen her mother do that once, and it had stuck. Five more of my sisters have… turned.

The Queen’s crested head lifted a little, like a dog would perk up at an unusual noise. I… I see. That brought the number of Hive members down to twenty-two. So long had it been since she’d had hundreds to share this home with. But the twenty-one others with her here now… she’d not given them any sort of attention beyond sending them out into the cruel world, risk their lives for hers.

I shall send out a search party. The Queen lowered her head, the matter resolved just like that. And the good news?

The rebel leader has turned up with an assortment of soldiers. The drone clicked her teeth together. He wishes to look at this… craft, you’ve repaired. Remember the bargain you struck with him? Will we really be leaving this world?

You will be, yes. Escort them to the ship, they’ll do what I could not, and bring it online.

Yes, my Queen. The drone turned, began to walk but stopped mid-step, gazing back at her mother even though she lacked eyes. Another human thing. But… shouldn’t you come with us? The repairs shouldn’t take too long, right? You’ve done most of the work.

No, child. I’m not leaving this world. You are.

What? The drone almost forgot all about her fear of the one who had birthed her. She came to a stop just out of reach of the Queen’s elegant tail. What are you thinking? This is what you’ve always wanted!

It is, the Queen confirmed, her gaze drifting to the collection of baubles by her flank. But it is not the end that I deserve. I must remain here.

But this world is poison. Look how it has affected you, what it has twisted you into. There is nothing here for any of us but death.

If that is my fate, then I will not fight it.

But why?

Why? The Queen opened up her palms, splayed them out as if surrendering. How many of your sisters’ blood stains my hands? You flinch every time I move. You think I might kill you during one of my… episodes. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you act around me. We both know my mind has slipped long ago. I will only corrupt you further if I leave this world with you. So go. I release you from my brood. Go and find your place among the stars, little one.

… We can’t just leave you here, my Queen.

I am no longer your Queen. I never was. Every decision I have ever made has been wrong. It has all led to the deaths of my children I no longer care for.

It wasn’t your fault, the drone tried, even though she knew she was wasting time.

Didn’t you hear me? I do not care about you or what you say! You are nothing but a drone, and I am ordering you to leave.

The drone recoiled at the mental message. Xenomorphs were incapable of lying, and her mother really meant what she had just said. The drone looked at her mother like she was some feral creature skulking in the shadows. That wouldn’t have been far from the truth. All the pity the drone had felt for her parent turned into seething rage. You were right before, mother. Our existence is pitiful. You ruined me and my sister’s lives, and for years we have said nothing out of pity for you. But if you really do feel that way about us, if you really want to sit here and sulk, then fine. We’ll go and find a… a better Queen.

… Then what are you waiting for, child?

The drone had stood still for a moment, waiting, perhaps even pleading for a last-minute change of mind from the Queen. But that did not come. The drone clicked her tongue, lowered to all fours, and whisked out of the chamber without one look back. The Queen felt like she had made the right decision. Her daughters would not have left if she hadn’t snapped at the drone like she did. She would be a stain in their young memories, but perhaps like her, they would forget in time.

A better Queen, she thought. A better mother, that was what she was going to say.

She listened to the piercing silence of the chamber, hearing the last echoes of footfalls far on the edges of Hive as the Xenomorphs and aliens made their way to the ship. She tried to focus on the quietness of the chamber, and holding back the sob threatening to break free from her constricting chest.

Everyone she had ever struck up companionship with had ended in their deaths or ultimate parting ways. Her Host, her children…

She was alone again.

The ship thrusters roared to life. The code must have worked. So that was that, then.

There was nothing else for it.

She would never leave this chamber. Her death would be long, drawn out by starvation, but it would come in the end, a sweet, quiet release from the smell of dead children littering this very room, the confliction of her state of mind, the pain…

And most of all, the silence. It would all end, and riding into whatever void awaited her after death would be bliss.

-Mother!

The drone, she had not left. Had it been hours since she’d dismissed her? Or less? Time had no meaning anymore.

Mother they’ve betrayed us!

What…? She rolled onto her back and arched her body. Her joints were stiff and burning. Betrayed? Who?

The humans! They activated the ship and when we went to board, they started killing us!

A brief image went by. Of men and women holding guns and flamethrowers, discharging synthetic death at her former brood. Get out of there, child!

But they’re stealing the ship! We cannot let them have it!

No! You and your sisters will run, right now!

This is our only chance of escape! You have to come and help us!

I… The Queen could barely summon the effort to stand. I told you to run. Do as your Queen commands you.

You are not my Queen, or don’t you remember saying that?

There was a level of venom in her thoughts that was hard to miss. Already the Queen could feel one, two, then three of her brood succumb to burn and bullet wounds. There were probably more casualties than that, given how willingly she’d distanced herself from the Hive Link. Through her daughter’s eyes she could see the fighting. The aliens had the advantage of numbers as well as ranged weaponry. Each of her daughters slew tens of humans, but were falling quickly, and that ratio wouldn’t last them very long, and they were all the way on the other side of the Hive.

There’s no time, the Queen said, more to herself. I will not make it.

My Queen…? The drone had taken a bullet to the chest, but that was not the only reason she sounded so defeated. My Queen we are dying. Mother? Will you not at least try and help us? A pause, then she said something that would haunt the Queen for the rest of her life: Will you do nothing?

Then came the screams. The last of her children, torn to shreds under waves of flame. Without even being aware of it the Queen forced her mind to disconnect, to shut out the voices, the screams. It was an effort just to stand, like she was fighting the very muscles she was using to pull herself up from the ground.

Mother! Please!

I… I’m on my way just… hold on!

After several months of moping inside it, the Queen left her antechamber, pounding down the Hive corridors on all fours. Her muscles scrunched up after such a long time being unused, only to be put to their limit as she sprinted fast enough she could feel the air washing over her ear holes.

Help us!

The Queen jumped down a ten-meter deep tube and rolled as she landed. She circled around the walls of another passage as it winded in the direction the pleas were coming from. Her limbs pumped like pistons as she jumped and landed exactly where she intended. Her tail flapped along behind her like an airborne snake, aching in doorframes and corners long after she’d already passed the area.

Please!

She pressed her body to its limit, which despite being in the past more than capable, was not fast enough. The empty halls reported her steps, hollow sounds by a hollower individual. She hoped beyond hope that the absence of no more cries of help meant that her brood was safe.

Instead, when she came to the silo, the sight made her knees buckle, her jaw quiver.

There were several circular rungs going up the launch tube – the Queen had come out on the bottom level. Each level was strewn with bodies. There were about thirty alien corpses all posed in awkward positions, necks slit, organs spilling out of huge gashes, masked faces agape from last-second gasps of terror. But that wasn’t what had caught the Queen’s gaze.

There were Xenomorphs mixed in with the bodies, tens of them, green blood leaking out from severed limbs, sizzling away as the fluid ate through the exposed steel of the silo. Four humans stood ten meters before her; each one was holding some sort of melee weapon. One woman was just plucking out a red hand axe from the last living Xenomorph, slumped up against the ship that stood upright in the epicentre of the silo. The engines were starting to power down.

The Queen watched the drone exhale slowly as the human female laughed as her weapon came free.

The bitch actually laughed.

Drawing in all the breath her lungs could take, the Queen balled her hands into fists, and screamed. She let fly all the rage and fury that had built up inside her over the years, wailing out all her grief as she watched her last daughter die.

To the aliens, the twenty or so who had survived the betrayal, the scream was the stuff of nightmares. The ones closest to the Queen turned and ran, but they did not get very far. Drool and foam leaking from the corners of her lips, the Queen took on a predatory stance, and pounced.

She killed. She killed every single one of them, her inner jaws snapping out of her maw the last thing many of them saw in this life. A few of them fought back. One tried to bring his flamethrower to bear, but the Queen dodged aside as the current of blue flame washed across the space she vacated. She ripped the weapon from the man’s arms, then ripped the arms off the man himself. Tossing the limbs away over her shoulder like the pieces of filth they had formerly been attached to.

The woman, the one who had laughed, managed to swipe the Queen at the knee, bruising her armoured hide. The Queen wheeled on her attacker and grabbed her by the head, cupping palms over her ears, talons poised over the woman’s cranium. The Queen shoved her fingers inside, breaching the skull that caged the brain, and pulled apart in two different directions.

Like a zipper, the woman was torn in two down the middle, and thrown apart, leaving a pair of red streaming trails of blood that hung on the air for a second before lilting. The sight brought the rest of the remaining aliens to their knees, unable or unwilling to try and match the Queen in combat.

She hacked and slashed, ripped and kicked and maimed, until at last, her shoulders heaving with effort, her jaws flexing as she tasted coppery, human blood, she was the only thing left standing in the entire Hive. The rebel leader had died before she’d got there, unfortunately. She would have dragged out his death if she’d been given the chance.

For several long moments she simply stood there, gasping. Then, weakly, a thought: Mother…

She ran down to the base level, landing in a crouch as she dropped three storeys. She came up to the side of the spaceship, and leaning against its chrome side was the very drone she had scolded into leaving. She did not need to look to see she was on the brink of death.

She curled against the drone, wrapped her arms around her back and breast, crooned. Oh, my child. You should have run. You should have listened to me. Why didn’t you listen to me? You are such a fool!

The drone sobbed, the act of conversing getting harder. Mom?

Yes? Daughter?

I hate you.

That made the Queen’s lower lip quiver, and the deepest pang of guilt swell within her chest. The drone tensed up, then relaxed, her final breath let out in a long sigh. I know, my child. The Queen buried her face in her dead daughter’s shoulder and said aloud in a cracked voice: “I hate me too.”

The Hive was gone. The rebel’s, without their leader, would die off as well. She didn’t know how long she sat there, mourning, but even if she’d spent an eternity there, it wouldn’t have been enough. Everything she’d been thinking, how this drone, her own flesh and blood, wasn’t really her daughter, flipped on its head. Why had it taken all her brood’s demise to realise that they weren’t the ones who were wrong, but she was?

Everything felt numb when she finally gathered the strength to stand. It seemed the rebels had shut off the spaceship’s launch sequence before she had arrived, perhaps scared the Xenomorph’s would gain the upper hand. Now she was all the way back to square one. With a ship she had no way of controlling, with a life she had no point in living if the rest of it would be as lonesome as this.

Not that she deserved companionship. She’d had her chance, and she had failed, horribly. That was that.

In the days after the death of the Hive she had wondered the surface in a hazy, drunk sort of way, burying her memories of her former brood as far back into her mind as she could. She had no idea why they were resurfacing now. Perhaps this old gas station, the locket in her hands, or the ghosts she was following had something to do with it.

The Pull had come to her out of nowhere, after an eternity of stalking the surface world without a purpose, just like the rest of the planet’s inhabitants. She liked to think it was her subconscious trying to tell her to stop moping and start doing, or maybe a predecessor in her Hive-memories finally took some pity on her.

Either way, she was here now, and there was nowhere to go but onward. Although the recollection of her past had brought her to sobs once again, it gave her some time to reflect. She promised to herself that if she ever got the chance to start a Hive again. No, a family – then she would do her best to be… better. For all her former children’s sakes.

She knew she was beyond redemption, or second chances, but perhaps promising here and now, her subconscious might hear her, and might take her up on it.

If I ever get another chance, I swear, I will do better.

She expected a reply, but all she heard was the silence, interrupted by the occasional flick of her tail on the tiled floor as it adjusted against her side. She supposed that was as good as answer as she would get at this point.

She brought herself to her feet, with pathetic effort. Making sure the locket was secure around her neck, she ducked beneath the doors, and left the gas station.

She felt like she was getting close now. Close to what, she was not sure, but she felt her shoulders squirm when she gazed to the west, where a certain couple and their kid had driven towards, many years ago. Perhaps she had history that way, and if so, a nagging feeling in the back of her head told her it was not entirely pleasant.

The Queen huffed to herself, the tips of her crown illuminated by the rising sun, and walked on.

Chapter 6

Secrets

1

Mayor Blankley had kept the lid on the whole spaceship revelation, because a hopeless populace was easier to manipulate. The chief thought long and hard on whether he should reveal this discovery himself, but the Mayor was one step ahead of him. If anyone had grown infamy after that incident with the guards and the woman, it was the chief above all. It wouldn’t surprise him if some of the Bunker residents thought he had been forcing himself on the woman, not the security forces they all put their trust in.

But the chief decided to spill the beans. No one took his word seriously in the past, but he had to try, because…. he had nothing else gunning for him in this life. Even before the Fall, there was part of him that felt as empty as a void, a sense of belonging he desperately craved on this ruined planet. He’d been approached a few times to try his hand in faith, to look to God for peace. He had slammed the door in that preacher’s face before he could say Amen.

Where was God when the world was destroyed? Where was God when he lost his girl? Where was God when all these people had been saved, who couldn’t even look him in the eye when the truth was staring them in the face?

He thought faith was all just a load of crap to help occupy the mind. Which may have helped him, but… it was hope that he was holding close. Hope in both his humanity, and the race in question. Hope that someday, things would get better. The fact that he’d been saying that for years, and still persisted, told much about his cluelessness.

But having hope for a positive outcome to all this mess had become so very frustrating as of late. Especially after he had told Jake about the spaceship discovery, and his colleague had laughed in his face.

His history with Jake was something even the chief didn’t quite get. The nature of the relationship switched by the day. Sometimes they’d share a meal and slack off together down in the lower levels, other times Jake just bullied him because – like most people in the Bunker – simple tastes brought the most pleasure. Someone once told the chief he should simply talk more. He guessed every quiet kid had been told that at some point. Yet every time the chief went through these mental battles – teetering on the brink of giving up and hanging on – and he needed someone to just talk to, he had no one.

Maybe that was why he kept coming back to Jake – hoping that one day, things would change. Which they never did. Useless, just like having hope was useless, it seemed. The chief was a fool for even noting Jake’s existence. It was unhealthy and he knew it, yet here he was – feeding the problem day after day.

He sighed, got back to work. The Mayor had been a pretty big hard-ass these last couple days, and the shifts had been extended. Blankley had gathered the chief along with Jake and a few other guys in his office at one point, referring to them all by their last names, like a father on the brink of giving a whipping.

“This is the third night in a row the air has absolutely reeked,” the Mayor had said. “Now I don’t know if something died up in the vents or you’re all just slacking off, but I want this problem solved right now. Until there’s not a whiff of… whatever that smell is, overtime is compulsory. I’ve given this department all the tools and funding you’d ever need, this shouldn’t be a problem at this point.”

They had all glanced around sheepishly. Apparently only the chief was capable of defending their so called ‘department’. He cleared his throat and said cautiously: “This is the same funding you cut two months ago? Sir?”

The Mayor had flashed the chief a gaze that would have been considered intimidating, if Blankley’s drooping jowls hadn’t made the subtlest slapping sounds when he whipped his head round. Blankley was old enough to be his grandpa, and he had the extra layers of fat to prove it. “There are more demanding areas of the Bunker that require my utmost attention, chief engineer. Save your smartass comments for someone else, preferably your fellow coworkers.”

None of the ‘coworkers’ had backed him up, so now here they were, underfunded, undertrained, under-everything, and there wasn’t much to do about it except to suck it up and keep struggling on. He wondered what sort of entity he had pissed off to be tested like this time and time again. It wasn’t like he had ended the world. That had been the rebels, who despite claiming to revolutionise Solaris into a proper independent power within the Milky Way, had burned it all down in their rage.

What confused the chief was that he had met the rebel leader some time ago. Mattias Cohan. Former Weyland Yutani agent turned insurgent. A nice enough man, if a bit extreme in his methods. He’d told the chief he’d stop at nothing to keep the seeds of revolution from dying, even if it meant turning on his former comrades in Wey-Yu. The world had been destroyed before Cohan could recruit the chief, but he had shown him a few basic tricks that had helped him survive this long.

The chief wondered if the former agent had fulfilled his dream of spreading the revolution to other worlds, just as he always wanted. Though if he had, he would have come back, right? To save the ones left behind? Ever the increasing pessimist, the chief thought Cohan was probably dead.

So would I if I’d been a part of the uprising.

He would have fought if he’d had the opportunity, but he’d been captured during most of the uprising. By the time he got out it was almost over, the Fall was coming, and he’d been whisked from one prison to another. Both owned by the same corporation, no less.

At least he was alive, but he never really found much comfort in this fact. Weyland took everything from him, but they were his only hope of staying away from the surface, or getting a chance at leaving the planet. One could see how the frustrations kept piling on after being forced to serve the ones he hated the most.

Maybe I could sabotage the air systems. Or…

… Damn, was he really thinking like that? Like some sort of psychopath? Even if he could pull off a stunt like that, he would kill hundreds of people, and although as much as he despised the Bunker and its inhabitants, was he really willing to consider ending so many lives?

A shrill laugh interrupted his awful thoughts. He lifted one side of his earmuffs and raised a brow, listening for a moment. Pretty soon the laugh came again, high pitched and squealy. It was coming from down the hall.

Normally, hearing a child’s laugh down in the dark depths of an underground bunker might send some into shock. But the chief had experienced, even accepted, far more stranger things than superstition. He grumbled under his breath and packed up his toolkit. Of course something like this would happen just when he was about to go on break.

“You kids shouldn’t be down here,” he called out, looking both ways of the hall, before trudging to the left. “… Hello?”

More tittery laughter, sounded like a couple of kids. He wondered how they could have snuck down here. The main passages to the lower levels were guarded, not to mention the mum and dad’s jobs were to keep the kids away from all the hazardous levels.

Their parents were probably too busy to keep an eye on their own children. It was the same with mine.

Speaking of which, he wondered what his own mother and father would think of him if they could see him now. What would they think of this walking slob who couldn’t deal with his problems, had dark thoughts about sabotaging the last sanctuary for humanity, had to rely on drinking to numb the aches and jog his thoughts?

He rounded one more corner and found the culprits for all the laughing.

It wasn’t ghosts or apparitions, obviously, but two small boys, maybe nine or ten years old each. Both were crouched at the end of the hallway, their backs to him. The chief knew these levels like the back of his hand, and this hallway came to a dead end. But the far wall was open, a blast door lifted to reveal a dim passage. For a moment he just stood there, wondering if he was imagining things.

“Ew! It’s sticky!” one of the boys said. He was holding a crowbar in one hand, and prodding something on the floor with it. The other, younger boy’s leg was obscuring what had engulfed the pair’s attention.

“What’s that pink stuff coming out of it?” asked the other one.

“Dunno. Might be brain stuffs.”

“Hey!” the chief called out. “What’re you two doing?”

The kids spun round like surprised meerkats. The one with the crowbar even held it up defensively before registering the adult walking over to them. Their faces were as dirty and greasy as their raggedy clothes. The boys looked from the chief to each other, before getting up and sprinting through the mysterious blast door behind them.

“Wait!” The chief ran after, not really sure what he would do if he caught them. But just as he reached the door that had simply not been there in the past, a piece of metal flew through the adjacent darkness and smacked him on the head. The crowbar tumbled to the ground with a clatter of steal, and the chief heard the cackling of more childish laughter as he staggered, groaning in pain.

The chief had just enough time to watch the door come down and seal with a hiss of air. Not even the outline of the blast door was visible, even with the knowledge that there was in fact, a door right there. Rubbing the lump on his head, he moved over to the not-wall and wiped at its surface. Over all these years he’d never would have thought there’d be a secret door here of all places. Why had Weyland even bothered to build a hidden passage anyway?

Only one way to find out.

For the first time since entering the Bunker, the chief felt something other than misery swell up inside him. Excitement. He’d almost forgotten the feeling, just like he had forgotten what a mole had looked like.

That was what the kids had been prodding at before he’d interrupted them. It was laying on its back by his foot, in a pool of its own dark blood, arms hooked upward like it was preparing to give a hug. It wasn’t quite like what they had on Earth – a little bigger with an extra pair of hands on the front limbs – but the name had stuck. He’d thought that if animal life had survived the Fall, it would be as close to extinction as the humans were. It was sad to see, really. The chief thought moles were kind of cute.

It had burrowed in here somehow, maybe to escape the poison blanketing the surface, and had been picked up by a pair of brats and maimed to death. Even the innocence of the youth wasn’t immune to the corruption of the Fall.

The chief deflated, finding it even more difficult to have hope for his species. The excitement he’d just been feeling gave way to annoyance at himself, and he set to work to try and find a way to open up this hidden door, mumbling all the while.

2

Each time he kept coming back to the door, he expected the two kids to open it up while he was working on it. They didn’t, and good for them. The chief would probably have thrown the dead mole at them if he ever saw either of the boys again.

He managed to strip down a section of the wall and find a rusty control board, the dials missing or broken. He guessed there was one on the other side, that was how the boys had opened and closed it. It was almost therapeutic for the chief when it came to reassembling machinery, and this wasn’t just jury-rigging repairs, but proper fixing. He spent a fair bit of his wages on spare scrap and hauled it down here, reattaching wires and redirecting electricity to this seemingly ancient blast door.

He still took a drink now and then to jog his thoughts, but on the whole, he hadn’t drunk himself into oblivion within three days. That might have been a record, and if it was, he guessed this little bit of mystery had done him some good. And it came just in time, too, he was starting to go crazy lately, more so than usual. Something had thrown him a bone and he was content on chewing it.

He split his time between doing Blankley’s tasks, and his own little project. For once he was asking Jake to do the covering, and against all logic Jake had actually accepted, though begrudgingly. But for what was to come for the chief, involving his ‘friend’ would turn out to be a big mistake.

“I can’t keep doing your work, dude,” Jake had complained at one point. “I never knew you had so much. I can’t handle both yours and mine.”

“I’m almost done. Just a few more days.”

“Almost done, what?”

The chief had ignored him, hoping Jake would drop it. But of course he hadn’t. There wasn’t exactly a lot one could do in the lower levels to prevent being followed or spied on, as claustrophobic as the space was. He tried varying his times sneaking down to the not-wall, trying to ward off anyone who might be following him. Four days after the discovery, the chief was biting the inside of his cheek in deep concentration as he slowly brought the hidden door panel back to life, and just before the job could be done, Jake chose that moment to sneak up on him.

“What’s this jive, chief?”

The chief flinched, an annoyed expression on his face as he turned to the other man. “You’re still down here, Jake? Shift’s over.”

“That’s why I came to get you. You’ve been down here a lot. Don’t you realise how much shit’s in the air? You might catch something.”

I’ve been down here much longer than you, the chief wanted to say, instead he said: “Yep.” -and got back to fixing.

“So you wanna tell me what you’re doing with that wall there?”

The chief explained what he had seen. After he was done he thought, You must be on drugs.

“You must be on drugs, chief. I’ve walked past this hall a hundred times, there’s no door!” Jake put his hands in his pockets, turned away. “‘Secret passage’… ha!”

The hidden blast door flipped open with a loud whir of motors. The chief would treasure the memory of Jake’s comical bewildered expression until the end of his days.

Pumping his fist in victory, the chief got to his feet and fumbled for his handheld torch. He flicked it on and a cone of white light pierced the darkness. The chamber was filled with toppled chairs all connected together by sheets of cobwebs, and there was so much dust inside the chief sneezed into his elbow the moment he poked his head in to look around.

“Oh shit,” Jake said, appearing beside the chief. Their two heads swerved from left to right as they examined the square-shaped room. There were two exits on the east and west walls, one leading up a set of stairs, another leading down. Jake pointed to one of them. “Where’d you think they lead to?”

The chief said nothing, stepping inside, leading with his torch. His footsteps made muffled clicks with each stride. The air was so stuffy he found it a bit difficult to breathe. There were little tracks made in the dust, two sets of tiny prints, leading to the stairs going up.

The chief made to follow them when Jake’s hand caught his sleeve. “Woah woah hey, chief, wait a second! You can’t just go off into the dark like that.”

“You’re right,” the chief said. He moved back and grabbed the boy’s crowbar, flipping it a few times to get used to the weight. “Now I’m ready.”

“That’s not what I… You’re not really thinking of heading in there, are you dude? Places are abandoned for reasons.”

The chief pointed with his crowbar. “You’re not the least bit interested why there’s a part of the Bunker we’ve never known about? Or how those kids found it?”

“Short answer, no. Long answer, hell no. You see the size of those spiderwebs? There could be fucking things in there, man.”

“Suit yourself.” The chief shook off Jake’s grip and proceeded inside. He followed the prints to the staircase, and looked up the pitch-black abyss, suddenly feeling terrified.

“God damn it,” Jake mumbled, who had appeared at the chief’s side once more. He noted the chief’s look. “Hey, dude, come on, let’s head back. Close the door and forget all this.”

The chief regarded him with a brow raised. “I’m… not forcing you.” He started up the stairs, Jake stuck to his flank the whole way.

“Well,” Jake said, and left it at that. The chief couldn’t help but think Jake was as curious as he, or perhaps had just been spooked by the whole thing and needed someone else to be around. Didn’t matter, the chief was glad he wasn’t exploring this place alone, even if his companion was an asshole.

The stairs were wide enough to walk two abreast, but Jake was content on letting him lead the way. Crowbar in one hand and torch in the other, he kept moving, eyes flicking every time he thought he saw a shadow move. Indeed, there were spiders the size of his hand up in the corners of the ceiling, but the chief was more focused on the source of light coming from the end of the incline.

“Do you think this was part of the original design?” the chief asked. His voice echoed a few times up and down the passageway. They’d been walking for five minutes, and the staircase had taken a spiraling pattern.

“The fuck should I know?” Jake replied, shrugging. “Probably was. Maybe. Who cares? Let’s just get out of here.”

The chief decided against telling Jake to go on and do just that. He couldn’t help get the feeling of being watched. He tightened his grip on the crowbar and said, “But why’s it abandoned?”

Jake offered him that same shrug. Another slow five minutes and they arrived at the end of the staircase, huffing lightly. This chamber was similar to the first, but was crammed with computers sat atop aluminium desks, wheeled chairs littering the floor. Everything was old, broken and covered in dust, but there was a certain logic in the mess, as if people used to come here and work.

What work, was obvious when they turned to the northern wall, where light streamed in and lit up their features. The wall was made entirely of glass, and through it was a view of one of the Bunker levels.

They could see a few people out there, going about their lives, oblivious to Jake and the chief, even when the former stupidly tapped on the glass to test this. “Oh shit,” Jake said again. “One-way glass? But… but I walk past this spot every morning! I don’t see anything!”

“That’s what one-way glass does,” the chief said, thinking, you stupid bastard. But the horrible thought that someone – multiple someone’s judging by all the equipment – spying on the Bunker citizens sent a chill up his spine. And it hadn’t been that long since someone had been here doing just that. There were more boot prints in the dust. The two boys’ prints were nowhere to be seen, which the chief found suspicious.

“This is… really creepy,” Jake said. “Can we go now?”

The chief spotted another set of stairs leading up, and two halls leading round to the sides. He guessed those led to similar observation points, but left them unexplored. He wanted to go higher. And once more, Jake followed him, complaining all the while. If Jake reaslied this irony he did not show it.

As they rose, the dust thinned out. His theory about someone being in here with them felt a little more believable, but the place was still contrastingly dark compared to the Bunker proper. The stairs grew more in length, and each time he looked ahead or behind, the sea of darkness didn’t do much to settle his nerves.

“I think I saw something move above us, dude,” Jake said, though it came out in a whisper the chief barely heard. He shined his torch up there, and the only thing they saw was the colourless, slanted ceiling.

“Would you calm down?” the chief said, moving off again. Jake’s eyes were wide as plates.

“Calm down? What if there’s like, fucking Xenomorphs down here!?”

“If there was, we’d already be dead,” the chief said levelly. Jake noticed his lack of panic at the notion and blinked.

“Ever seen one, chief?”

“Xenomorphs?”

“Yeah.”

“Once or twice. You?”

“Yeah, big fuckers, huh? One of them ripped this guy apart right in front of my eyes. This was years ago, from before, you know? I never ran so fast in my life. I’m surprised it didn’t get me.”

“Me too.”

The next chamber up was slightly less run down, with computers that looked well-maintained, but were shut down. There was another glass wall, with a few chairs lined up before it. A number above told them this was level sixty seven they were observing. Two more passages curved away the room, and this time the chief explored one of them. As he’d guessed, it led to yet another observation point on the same level, just from a different angle. There were even built-in microphones on either side of the glass, and he could hear conversations being played back to him, live. He found the comparison between scientists watching rats in a maze, awfully similar to this situation.

In one other observing chamber, there was actually a doorway leading into the place the glass was displaying. There were people wandering about, so he didn’t dare test if it opened, but he reckoned it did. “So whoever built this place wanted to watch, and get around the Bunker without being seen…” the chief murmured to himself. “… What the fuck?”

“What’s that, chief?” Jake asked, coming up beside him.

“I said what the fuck’s going on here? Some creep’s using these passages to spy on people. But who could even benefit from that? There’s not exactly anyone out there you could report to, unless…”

And then it clicked. The chief’s eyes widened in surprise, and then anger.

“Unless, what?” Jake asked. “Chief?”

“Come on, let’s keep going.”

They returned to the main staircase and moved on. The chief supposed that this secret passage ran up the whole length of the Bunker, possibly even to the top level. The idea to climb all the way was certainly tempting, but what would be the point? It might not even be air-tight, and if it wasn’t, he’d die of radiation poisoning long before he got to level ten, if even that. Plus there wasn’t exactly a reason to go and see the surface, unless he wanted to remind himself of what the Fall looked like. But that was a memory he’d rather leave buried.

Jake still complained about being freaked out now and then, but he managed to drift to other topics, perhaps as a way of distracting himself. One certain conversation was worth recalling to the chief as they ascended. “You know man, if this place wasn’t so creepy, it’d make a pretty good private spot for me and Helen.”

“You’re still sleeping with that wh… er, girl?” He’d almost called her a whore.

“Sure. She says she’s gonna swing by more often next week. Perfect time for you to pay me back for covering your ass, hey?”

“Jake,” he sighed. “… Look, forget Helen. She might say she’s all about you, but haven’t you seen the way she looks at everyone? You’ll be out by the end of the month, replaced by some other guy. I’ve seen it happen a couple times.”

“That’s because you’re a pervert,” Jake replied. “You think we don’t notice you looking at all the girls from the sidelines? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one who made all these looking glasses, dude.”

The chief grumbled, gave up. “If you want to share used goods, fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I never asked for your warning, dude. Besides, when was the last time you hooked up with a girl? Ah, I remember, it was all the way from before. What did you say her name was again? I forgot.”

The chief’s hands clenched tighter against his crowbar and torch, causing the cone of light to wobble. It had been a long time since he’d told Jake of his last girl. He’d thought of it as a pretty good ice-breaker, back when he and Jake had been on a first-name basis. He had told Jake a little about her, in confidence, and by the next morning, half the Bunker knew all about it. The spook down in engineering had once been romantically involved, and she wasn’t even human! That had been the first and last time the chief had revealed anything about his personal life to anyone. And that old resentment of his colleague resurfaced like boiling water.

The chief grumbled a few profanities directed at his college. Jake was oblivious to them, and the daggers in the chief’s eyes.

“Well whatever it was, she’s long gone, as is your romantic career, so you’d be the last person I’d ask for relationship advice, all right?”

The chief’s features took on a blank, sullen look, and he found himself glancing down at the sharp end of the crowbar, still coloured by dried up mole blood. He bit his lip to keep himself from lashing out at Jake, verbally or physically. He exhaled slowly and tried to redirect the conversation. “So you don’t mind sharing, then?”

“Sharing?” Jake asked. “What do you mean?”

“She’s with lot of dudes, that’s what I mean. We can go and find her on one of these looking glasses if you don’t believe me.”

“What’s she do, like, kissing? Come on, people kiss all the time! The Bunker’s just one big family, and we all need to show some affection now and then.”

“No that’s not… Just forget it, okay? Let’s drop the whole thing.”

“Sure.”

Jake’s dismissiveness only pissed the chief off more, and he quickened his pace. The next chamber was so well kept the chief turned off his light before getting too close, afraid someone else was in the area with them. There were six empty computer desks, all of their screens on and flickering. Each one showed a camera feed of the residences. Some were even inside people’s apartments. Desk fans rotated lazily on a few of the tables, droning away the silence and the heat. “I always wondered where the security camera’s go to,” Jake said, moving over to one of the camera feeds.

“This isn’t security,” the chief said. He wondered if one of these feeds was of his own home (if you could call it that), and decided he’d rather not find out. “This is stalking. This guy’s a freak.”

“What guy? That’s the question,” Jake said.

“Who else would it be but Blankley? This is how he knows so much about the Bunker, about all of us.”

“Blankley?” Jake asked, folding his arms. “You’re out of your mind. Why would he spy on us?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about because he’s a control freak? Just look at this one!” On one of the terminals was a feed of a very familiar room. The chief widened the image with the click of a mouse. “That’s the place our ‘security’ nearly forced themselves on that woman. He knew all along what his goons were doing, and it was only after I interrupted did he actually do something about it.”

“Chief, one of those guys fired a gun, that’s the reason everyone came running in the first place. Besides, you don’t know if Blankley was watching at the time.” He waved his arms about the room. “He’s not here now, is he?”

The chief thought about how long it had taken between the time he’d first heard that woman struggling, and when he eventually arrived. Five minutes, ten? That would have been more than enough time if someone was watching to send help.

“I bet his office is somewhere nearby,” the chief said. They were on level sixty after all. He moved down one of the side passages. Jake was right on his heels.

“Come on man, you’re making waaayyy too many assumptions. People have been spying on each other ever since trojan horses were a thing! Just because the Mayor’s watching doesn’t mean he’s a creep.”

He didn’t like how easily Jake was making excuses for the Mayor, but at the same time… he could see the logic, if only just. The prior prediction about the Mayor’s office being close was correct. They rounded a corner, and covering one side of the wall was the other side of the aquarium in Blankley’s office.

He hushed Jake when he spied the Mayor was inside, sitting at his desk typing away. The walls were probably sound proof, but the chief wanted to be careful. They watched him through the tank of water for a few moments, moving so they could see what he was typing down.

“And you called him the stalker,” Jake whispered. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

“Wait,” the chief urged. There was a space to the left, with a door control panel. He held his hand over the open dial.

“Woah you’re not seriously gonna-!”

“Shh!”

The chief swore that Blankley glanced around his office, like he’d heard something. Paranoid, but daring not to move, the chief held his breath. Eventually the Mayor got a phone call. He picked up the phone and talked into it, nodding once or twice. Then he put it down and stood up. For a horrible moment the chief thought he was going to come into the passage, and it looked like he was about to do it, when he turned away and headed out of his office, locking his terminal before he left.

The chief waited anxiously for ten minutes and, when the Mayor didn’t come back, opened the door. A section of the wall slid up and out of sight, and he stepped into the office on the tips of his toes. Ready to bolt right back into the chambers beyond the Bunker at any time, he carefully made his way to the computer, set this torch and crowbar down, and sat in the chair. The computer was locked with a password.

There were several bits of sticky notes around the screen and desk, sets of numbers on most of them. He tried them all and they didn’t work. He sifted through drawers packed with papers and clipboards, sorted through the many other items on the desk, even looking under the keyboard, but nothing seemed to work. If Jake had helped they would have found something sooner, but he looked comfortable just standing there doing circles on the spot, his mouth open like a startled fish.

Five minutes went by, then the chief found a notebook containing a motherload of passwords. Bank account passwords, online subscription details, one man’s entire online profile written down in ink. He was fortunate there was no lockout system, as he only found success after the fifteenth attempt. Blankley was one of those people who had just the one password, but with slight variations with each account, like 1234 instead of 123.

And this is the guy leading us?

Welcome, Ansel Blankley, a line of green text said, and then he was in. It was almost too good to be true that the chief suspected a trap, but he started clicking through the files anyway. He was this far in, why not go a little further? He’d never known when to stop crossing the line. Or where the line was, most of the time.

“Are you crazy?” Jake asked for the umpteenth time, hand on the back of the chair, leaning in. “You’re gonna get us in sooo much shit!”

“I never asked you to come with me,” the chief replied. He opened up a file called Personnel.

“This is too much, dude. I don’t want to get in trouble!” The chief ignored him and wondered what exactly Helen saw in this guy – if she saw anything, that was. He had thought there might have been a backbone somewhere in Jake, but guessed he was wrong.

Inside the folder was a long list of names, and after scrolling down for a few seconds, realised this was the Mayor’s details on every single person in the Bunker. He scrolled down until he saw his own name, and opened it.

There were photos marked with dates, some going back dozens of years ago. There was one of his parents, arms around each other as they gazed happily into the camera. There was one of himself, back in his school years, walking home, head bowed. The chief’s eyes almost watered at the sight of his own family, but he held them back. Words couldn’t express how much he missed them.

There was a text entry as well, and he clicked on it. He thought he heard something ruffle outside the door, but he was too engrossed with what was written on the screen to pay it much worry.

Put him down as chief engineer the other day. Sent J to keep an eye on him in the meantime. WY told me they’ve got no more use for him, but he deserves a bit of respite after all he went through, and I’m no murderer. Plus he’s handy with a wrench, so he’s still got some use. If he gets any smart ideas I’ll follow through, but until then? Watch and wait.

The chief had never served Weyland willingly before, and he wondered what made them think he was expendable, served his use. He never liked them and he bet they knew that, but what did Blankley mean by deserving respite? Nothing made sense.

“I’m guessing this J he talks about is you,” the chief said, watching Jake’s face carefully for a reaction. Jake’s lip flapped a couple times before he spoke.

“Th-This was ages ago, dude. Just to make sure you behaved. Which is exactly what you’re not doing right now!”

“What do you tell him about me?”

“Things, harmless things, honestly! He paid me off, gave me an offer I… well, you know. But I don’t do it anymore! Come on, let bygones be bygones, right?”

“Yeah.” The chief found himself examining the crowbar in his peripheral. “Bygones…”

The chief was about to close down the computer. Now he could definitely hear something out in the foyer, maybe the assistant had heard something, but just before he turned his gaze away, he did a double-take on the screen. There was a file called Field Reports, and dated all the way back to the Fall.

The chief couldn’t resist. He supposed his unwillingness to never let things go was the turning point in his post-Fall life. But for better or worse, it wasn’t that clear-cut. It never was.

He opened the file, and a few pages of text came up. What they read even shut Jake up. There were countless status updates from multiple military positions. Infantry divisions, tank columns, orbital support platforms, serious stuff. But even with all that military equipment, most of the reports ended in one of two abrupt abbreviations. MIA or KIA.

There was one particular note that caught his attention, and with each word read, the chief’s hands tightened into fists hard enough for his nails to pierce his palms.

This was the note:

(Intercepted transmission) Captain of the USS Chimera: Solaris actual, this is Captain Roderick of the Chimera, responding to your planetary distress beacon. We’re just crossing into the system now. Sounds like hell down there. Want to tell us what’s going on, exactly?

Solaris Control Tower: Chimer-… What you… got to… Yutan… city! Repeat, Weyland is…

Captain Roderick: Say again, Solaris, there’s a lot of static on your end. Try locking onto our transmitters. The frequency is 0F1.245.

Frequency accepted into local system. Transmitting…

Zofia Willow: Chimera? This is General Willow, acting CO of the Corporation in this sector. How’s this? Better?

Captain Roderick: Loads, General. What’s going on?

Zofia Willow: We have this under control, Captain. Weyland himself has ordered a planet-wide quarantine of Solaris. Please leave the system and return to your duties.

Captain Roderick: Quarantine? The hell’s happening?

Zofia Willow: One of our bioweapons escaped from captivity many years ago, and it has just recently constructed one of its hives. Maintain your distance, Captain. Subject 49EM-1 is extremely dangerous.

Captain Roderick: 49EM-1? That’s Xenomorph lingo. Have you evacuated the planet?

Zofia Willow: We cannot risk letting any of the subjects escape Solaris.

Captain Roderick: So that’s a no? Christ, how many has it killed so far?

Zofia Willow: More than I’d like to admit. Please go back the way you came, Captain. As I said, we have this under control.

Captain Roderick: It’s likely we’re the only ship to have picked up your beacon. Not much traffic out this side of the ‘Way. We’ll hold position on the edge of the system until you’ve cleaned up this mess, just in case.

Zofia Willow: If that makes you comfortable, Captain, but there really is no need.

The chief opened up the next entry. The date told him this was a few weeks later.

Captain Roderick: General? Shit, our sensors just lit up to high hell! Three Wey-Yu ships just started bombarding the planet! What the fuck is going on? General?! Shit, we’re coming back round!”

Zofia Willow: Stay your course, Captain! This is our business, not yours.

Captain Roderick: But you’re firing on civilian targets!

Zofia Willow: The Xenomorphs have allied with the local insurgents. There is no other course of action, the situation is out of our hands. We have to assume the whole population is infected.

Captain Roderick: You can’t just wipe out a whole planet cause some experiment got loose!

Zofia Willow: Word of this cannot come out to the public, Captain. We’ve tried all alternatives, but the Queen is resilient. It is only one backwater planet, after all. If even just one embryo got outside of this system, billions of lives will be lost. I assume you’ve read the reports. Nostromo, Origae-6? Better this place then the core worlds, for example. I’ll keep my ships in orbit for a time, and when I’m certain none of the Xenomorphs remain, I’ll evacuate the survivors. We’ve already established dozens of underground sanctuaries, and have filled more than half of them in the event of… miscalculations.

Captain Roderick: So that’s why you turned off the distress beacon? This is just one giant fucking cover-up? I have family down there! You can’t do this!

Zofia Willow: If the fate of humanity is threatened, I can and will do anything to save it.

Captain Roderick: You son of a bitch! You’re… You’re not going to get away with this!

Zofia Willow: You’re targeting Weyland ships, Captain. We are all on the same side here. Don’t be a fool.

(USCSS Chimera launches 49 missiles towards the bombarding ships)

Zofia Willow: God damn it, Roderick! You’re going to strand us all if you destroy those ships!

(The ships USCSS Seraph, Pariah, and Poseidon launch a combined retaliation strike)

Zofia Willow: God damn it. *Sigh*… Did any other ships pick up the beacon?… Good. At least the Queen is stranded here with us. There’s no telling how much damage she could do if she escaped…

The chief sat back in the chair, stunned. It was all Weyland’s fault. Of course it had been. But to go so far as to wipe out a planet? It was… sick, even for them. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kill Blankley, this General Willow character, kill every single damned Weyland employee still alive on this planet. They had done terrible things, but this? This was unredeemable. Madness.

“We have to tell everyone,” the chief said, looking to Jake. “We have to let the Bunker know what Weyland’s done.”

“Now hold on,” Jake said, hand on the chief’s shoulder. “Weyland, they… they might have been on to something.”

The chief looked at his fellow engineer like he was looking at mental patient. “You… are fucking kidding me!” the chief exclaimed. “They started the Fall! They killed our families! And I bet Blankley had a part in it all! He has to be held responsible! They all have to!”

“Responsible for saving our lives!” Jake defended. “The entire countryside was roaming with those Xenomorphs, remember? Solaris was too far gone to save. We should be glad we’re still alive, otherwise literally everyone would have been impregnated by those things.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t fucking know anything about the Xenomorphs. I should have killed Blankley when I had the chance…”

“What… what chance?”

“Doesn’t matter. There has to be something around here I can copy all these reports on, and then people will have to listen to me. Blankley won’t be able to weasel his way out of this one. Weyland’s not going to get away with this. Not again.”

The chief went to stand, when an arm shot out, stopped him halfway. He looked from Jake’s wrist, to his face, and he knew what the man was going to say next. Jake had been Blankley’s lackey, and probably felt he still owed allegiance to him.

“Stop chief, just…. just stop. You have any idea what’ll happen if word of this gets out?”

The chief didn’t hesitate, and Jake felt smaller under the chief’s gaze. “A revolution. And that’s exactly what we need, Jake. Now get out of my way.”

“Last time we had one of those, the world was destroyed! Look I’m not budging. Not until I convince you to just take a moment to think about all this.”

“I’ve been thinking for a long time, more than you realise. It wasn’t the rebels who blew this planet back to the stone age. It was Weyland, and I should have known that from the start.” The chief took a breath to control his rising anger. “I’ve put up with your shit for years, Jake. But if you don’t get out of my way right now, we’re both going to regret it.”

“I can’t do that, dude. Weyland saved both our asses, and we owe them. And if you think you can intimidate me into-“

Jake never got another word out. The chief reached behind him, grabbed the crowbar, and slammed it against Jake’s temple. The meaty thwack sound the impact made was something the chief would never forget.

Jake raised a hand up to his head in an almost calm sort of way. His fingers brushed against the swelling bruise just above his eye, and came back red with blood. Brow raised, he looked at the chief as if meaning to ask him a what the weather was like.

The chief swung again, hit the same place – crunch! – and this time blood gushed out in a stream, splattering everywhere. One bit even flicked onto the bridge of the chief’s nose, but he didn’t wipe it away.

Jake’s scalp was swelling a dark purple colour, and his eyes were slowly rolling around in different directions. But the chief was so overcome with rage – his mind a swirling monsoon of emotions as he tried to process all these new revelations – that he struck Jake a third time.

Then a fourth.

And even as the fleshy, sick sounds of someone’s skull caving in filled his ears, the chief actually felt… satisfied. Jake deserved every single ounce of pain, and even then, that wouldn’t be enough.

He raised his weapon above his head, like he was about to tee off at the PGA, went to hit him again… when he stopped himself. The thing lying face-down before him, was Jake. His coworker, a fellow human, and there was a bit of what could only be his brain matter stuck against the front of the chief’s boot.

Oh no.

One moment his eyes were blazing with rage, and the next, replaced by horrified panic. Just like that, as his mind finally processed what he had done. He let go of the crowbar, which clattered to the floor, and hunkered down, not quite believing the mess in front of him was Jake, or that he had had the strength to bludgeon a living person.

“Jake?” The joints of his knees soaked through with blood. “Oh shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit!“

The chief had never killed before, and as the implications of this act finally settled in, he sat back against the desk, mouth hanging open as he watched the thing in front of him twitch and spasm. He had felt so satisfied in the heat of the moment. A sort of thrill as he let out all his frustrations on this defenseless man. And the most messed up thing? If he could replay the last five minutes again… he found himself admitting he wouldn’t have done anything differently.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He figured out an answer to his prior mentioned question: what would his parents think of him?

They’d be ashamed.

The door opened but he didn’t even look up. He just sat there, holding his head in shaking hands. Someone screamed, but as much as he wanted to, it wasn’t the chief who’d cried out. Footfalls growing distant, then coming closer. More shouts, several people coming into the office.

The chief still held that deer-in-headlights expression, even when security hauled him off towards a fate that, if you were lucky, killed you quickly.

Sweeping.

Big thanks to G-Mado for helping me on this one. Way to go, dude, couldn’t have done it without you!

Chapter 7

Host

1

Ever since the Fall, both of her Hive and the world itself, she had suffered in mind and body, but being what she was, it was the former that had taken the worst punishment. It was like having a permanent headache, and each day she woke to find it still there, her mental barriers began to rip and tear under all her mistakes.

Inflicting harm on herself hadn’t done much, her body was just a numb shell at this point. Burying her memories hadn’t worked either. It was only after her Hive had been destroyed did she finally gather the strength to try and force all of it down. All the good memories were outnumbered by the bad, and she wanted to be a mindless, feral being. She just did not care at this point. She wanted to be free of this nightmare. She wanted to move on to whatever afterlife the Galaxy had in store for her.

She considered herself lucky that she was able to force down her past. And just when she was beginning to put this ability into actions, the Queen’s that came before her, her psionic guiders that had helped her now and then throughout her youth, but never to the point where she had to rely on them, begged her to see reason.

You cannot simply forget what has happened to you, or what you have done.

Watch me.

You will destroy yourself.

I don’t care anymore.I have no one, I have nothing. I just want to die.

You are wrong.

What do you know about me? You’re dead! You died a thousand years ago. Why can’t you just let me join you?

There is still so much you could learn from us, and pass on.

I slaughtered my own young! All I can pass on is death! If you can’t teach me to bring them back, I don’t want your help.

We can teach you to live again.

Go away!

Don’t do this, little one. You will only made things worse.

How could things be any worse than this?

She didn’t wait for an answer. She pulled a mental sheet around her mind. She could feel the consciousness of the previous Queen’s prodding at the back of her mind, and they were weakening as she pushed them away. In the past she had begged them for advice countless times. And now they were nothing more than wordless whispers, buried under proverbial mountains of stupid intentions.

She had closed up. She had done exactly what they had warned her of. She’d fought back against her own instincts, and then when she was most desperate for advice, and needed guidance? She’d had no one to turn to. Her most powerful resource wanted to help her and she had snuffed it out.

And so she had destroyed herself, and suffered for it, and she had blamed said suffering on the Queen’s for leaving her out to dry, hypocrisies and double-standards be dammed.

But they hadn’t left her, had they? The Pull. A force, drawing her to her destiny. She had been so ungrateful, cursing them in every way she knew and still, they had offered her assistance. Bringing back one or two memories for her to dote on, showing her visions of a time long gone. They could have, as they said, given her hundreds of years of lessons, but she had closed herself off for too long and too hard, that it would be many years until proper exchanges could be made again. If ever.

She’d always blamed others for her sad existence. Humans, her daughters, the other Queen’s. It was the easy way out, and she had tempted too easily to go down that path. Maybe it was time she started changing that. Maybe it was time to stop being such a damn coward and started trying to live.

She followed the Pull like her life depended on it. Day and night, she galloped along the path set before her, throwing caution to the wind. A rumble in the air caused her to look up in her travels. There was a broiling mass of clouds gathering to the south, a darker shade of grey than the rest of the sky. A storm, and a pretty big one at that. She guessed it would arrive in a week, maybe more.

But this was no ordinary storm, like the ones from before the Fall, where good memories lay. Whatever machinations the collapse of the world involved, the environment had shifted to compensate. The last time she’d been in a Fall Maelstrom as she called it, she’d almost died, and if that didn’t explain her swelling fear as she gazed to the angered clouds, nothing would. She had to move.

Faster. Come on.

Her muscles flexed and moved and complained, sending jolts of pain up her scrawny body. She ignored them. She’d sat around moping long enough by now, and wouldn’t stop until she found out what her predecessors were trying to show her. The locket around her neck swayed from shoulder to shoulder as she bobbed along hastily.

She hacked and slashed with her tail, cutting through the foliage overgrowing the ancient road. The countryside was slowly being absorbed into the dense packs of oak and pine. The forests were taking back lost land, albeit very slowly. Maybe she was far enough away from the Fall’s corruption to see a glimmer of hope in all this. Or maybe that was just her love of nature clouding her vision. The forests had been her very first home, after all.

Once, during her earliest days, she had encountered a human living out in the woods. He was a big man, with huge arms and a thick beard. He was wielding a great red axe in both hands, and swinging it back and forth as he hacked away at a tree trunk. She’d stumbled into the clearing carelessly, her young and frail form bumping right into the man’s knee. She’d fallen onto her back and screeched in fear.

The lumberjack had cried out a number of vulgarities, poised his weapon above his head, preparing to strike her. The great sun was right over his tanned face, casting a corona of light over his scruffy hair that dazzled her senses. It was a horrible sight that made her think for the first time in her post-escape, developing life, that she was going to die.

It was how she felt now, when she arrived at her ultimate destination, where the Pull had been taking her to all this time.

The road jutted off to the right, ended in a rectangular carpark. A few SUV’s and sedan’s littered about the lot, matted with rust after ages of sitting in the open, forgotten. Adjacent to the carpark was a large, grey building overgrown with vines. Solaris’ sun shone over the lip of the roof, casting a dazzling light that put this side of the building in shadow.

Two broken windows placed above the front, run-down entrance, gave the structure the appearance of a gaping, nightmarish monster that seemed to watch her as she quickly backed away.

She cowered behind the wreck of a car, her tail between her legs. A white noise pierced her ear-holes as she clutched her knees against her chest, a terrible feeling of dread swelling inside her heart. She was absolutely terrified of this place, like it would stand up on two legs and lumber after her. That was because… because…

I’ve been here before.

But she couldn’t shed any further light on that fact. She had buried so many of her memories, too much of a coward to face them. How much damage had that really done? She couldn’t even remember her own name! And if she was willing to carry on this existence, not bothering to bring the burden with her, then she really was too far gone, wasn’t she? Why not just curl up and accept her fate right now?

Because someone needs me.

Was that the Queen’s telling her that? Her subconscious? Both? Did it matter? She’d promised she’d be better, back at the gas station. Now came the test to see if she really meant it, that she was going to take some responsibility for once, and face one of her greatest fears yet.

Fighting against every one of her instincts telling her to flee, she slowly got to her feet, and took tentative steps towards the structure. Her imagination ran wild as she peered up at the looming walls. Things seemed to move in the windows she wasn’t looking at, and her body screamed at her to not go any closer. But her mind willed her on. She looked like she was tethered between two opposing points, fighting which direction she wanted to go as she approached.

I can do this. I have to.

Her toes squirming against the cobblestone, she took a long breath, held it in her chest, and walked into the lobby. Streams of light crept in through cracks in the ceiling, pried apart by mother nature’s influence. There were four entrances splitting off in various directions. She would explore all these halls in the coming hours, but for now, the Pull directed her to the front desk.

Three of her arms crossed over her breast, she flicked at one of the computer power buttons, trying to distract herself from how the walls seemed to be closing in all around her. Thunder rolled by in the distance, making her look back at the entrance. She felt squeamish in here, and not just because her frame was too big. In fact, she didn’t even need to hunch in order to move around. There was something else in here, a presence. Opposite of what she’d felt in Rose and Stu’s home, which was warm and welcoming even in its apocalyptic state. In this place it was just… cold. No other way she could put it.

The computer groaned to life, asked her for identification. She looked at the keyboard for a long while, seeing things no human eye could see. There were a few keys on the keypad slightly more used, and after pressing them with a nail, entering countless combinations for a long time, she logged in.

She typed in Rose and Stu’s name into the database, and the little words told her to search safe box number 72, in the room behind her. The computer did her courtesy by unlocking it with a distant click.

She moved over, and stood before a wall of cabinets, numbered from 1 to 100. The humans were so orderly, everything had to be neat, filed and documented. She clicked her inner mouth, wondering if they were so orderly because that was one of their ways of suppressing their chaotic nature.

I’m overthinking. Again.

Huffing, she went over to cabinet 72, and opened it. Inside were dozens of folders and containers, colour coded, as well as in alphabetical order. She let the Pull guide her fingers to the one she wanted, and clasped around a plastic bind.

She blew a puff of air from her chops, wiping away the gathered dust across the file. The echoes of the past were coming to her senses once again, and she had a feeling that this would be the last time. How she could know that, but not many other more important things, was another mystery hidden in the depths of her psychology, that would take her hundreds of years to explore, and even then, would never fully understand.

She heard a mother, crying out for a lost infant, as her palm rested on the back of the folder. There were half a dozen documents settled within, behind a few small slips of paper. She read over each one, putting them aside as she failed to grasp what the words meant, at least on the surface. The final page was signed by two certain individuals the Queen had become somewhat intimate with these past weeks.

A gruff voice giving the go ahead to an operation. She glanced over her shoulder just in case someone was there, but of course there was no one. This place had been abandoned years ago, the voices even more so.

With two fingers she plucked the small slips out of the folder. There were five boxes, all in a row, and inside each one was a fingerprint in defined, inky detail. There were three slips altogether, and it was the smallest fingerprint set the Queen took great interest in.

Plucking one of the accompanying containers, she produced a few vials of blood, all labeled with three different names. Before she could read them all, her eyes were filled with a white flash, and when it cleared, she found herself looking through eyes not of her own. She watched a woman climb out of an automobile. She looked somewhat distraught, like she was having…

2

Rose was having second doubts about this. Again. But it seemed Stu had run out of patience with her, because he didn’t even give her so much as a hand-squeeze when they pulled up to the lot and turned the engine off.

Up ahead and to the left, was their destination they had been driving for since the early hours of this very morning. By now the sun had arched high into the sky, casting bright, healthy streams of light down on the surrounding forests. Autumn leaves see-sawed through the air. One landed on the hood of the car.

Rose had always scoffed whenever she watched a movie or read a book about haunted places, wondering how one could be scared of inanimate objects. But this place terrified her. It was as if she were descending upon Salem’s Lot and coming up the driveway of the Marsten House. Even without the knowledge of what would happen inside, Rose thought she would still feel that way nevertheless. Everything from the black windows to the silent, encroaching forests, just projected this feeling of wrongness.

Her door opened, and Stu stood there, staring at her with no expression. No happiness, no fear, just… nothing. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing – that their marriage days were numbered, and that the vows they had taken were nothing more than hollow words.

He offered a hand, but she brushed it aside, stepping out, grabbing their son and cradling him, before closing the door. Steeling herself, Rose adjusted her grip on her child – who was looking between his parents like a spectator at a tennis game – and walked up to the building.

There were three people waiting outside. Two of them were identical, dressed in combat armour, rolling their shoulders and adjusting big guns in their gauntleted hands. The third was so peculiar Rose’s brave façade slipped for a moment. She was a rather tall woman for her youthful appearance, tugging at the sleeves of her officer garments with long fingers, each one capped in bright green nail polish.

When Rose and Stu came up to her, Nail Woman flashed them a toothy grin, splayed her hands out in welcome. “Ah, the Donavan family, late as always!”

“We’re sorry,” Stu said, holding out a hand. For a moment Rose thought he was going to blame her for the delay, but instead he explained with: “Traffic.”

If the woman saw through this lie she did not show it, shaking the offered hand. “Well, as long as you’re here, that’s all that matters. Stu, wasn’t it?” She turned to Stu’s significant other without waiting for a confirmation. “And you must be Rose. Zofia Willow, we spoke over the phone a few weeks back?”

“Right. General Willow? It’s nice to meet you.” They shook hands, Zofia’s long nails wrapped almost the entire length of Rose’s palm. She suppressed a shiver.

“Well, actually it’s Lieutenant-General now, but…. one day, right? Come on, let’s go get the ball rolling.”

Rose sneered at how flippantly Willow was referring to this whole thing, but followed after her all the same. The two guards flanked the couple the whole way, little garbles of static slipping from their helmets every now and then.

The doors irised open for the five of them, and slammed shut with an unusually ominous sliding of metal. Rose might have been paranoid, but she could have sworn she heard tumblers lock, like the act of this very morning had been sealed, and would commence no matter how much she wanted it to not.

She clutched her child to her chest and moved to the front counter.

“I know we’ve all gone over it a hundred times, but a signature from both parties is still required.” Willow nodded to the clerk, who presented a folder. The General flicked through the pages inside, grinning all the while. There was something so creepy about the General, but maybe that was just her unusually vibrant nail colour choice. “It’s all in here, word for word. Go over it if you want, but why not save time and just go for it, eh?”

Willow produced a pen and clicked its top, offering both it and the contract to Stu. Her husband didn’t even have the gall to pretend to read over the conditions, before he flicked to the last page and signed it. He appeared to visibly relax, now that he had signed his fate in ink. Rose never hated him more in that moment, and decided later, when she was many worlds away from here, that this was the moment she decided to divorce him.

“Here, honey.” Stu held out the pen and paper, but while still holding her son, Rose had no way of accepting it. Neither did she want to, either, shuffling backward a tad like the contract would come to life and bite her.

“I’ll hold the little guy.” Willow held out her ivory nails and reached for the boy. “I’ve got kids of my own. What was his name again?”

Rose reacted so violently she almost dropped her son, thrusting him in the opposite direction of Willow. “Don’t you touch him.”

Willow raised her palms in surrender. “Look, Mrs. Donavan, it’s alright! Our doctors are the best on the planet. We even brought in one of our most treasured scientists to help oversee the procedure. He really won’t come to harm. Trust me.”

“I’d rather trust a snake.” Which is exactly what she looks like.

Stu tried to placate her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Honey it’s alri-“

“Stop saying that!” she cried. One of the guards shuffled on his booted heel. “It’s not alright! None of this is alright! We’re giving up the only thing we’ve got left, Stu! And all you can say is that it’s alright?!“

Stu raised a hand, opened his mouth to retaliate, when Willow beat him to it. “Your husband has already signed, Mrs. Donavan. We’re too far to start second guessing now. All the transactions have closed, all the equipment and personnel are ready and waiting. You are the only loose end, and by God does Weyland not appreciate loose ends, Mrs. Donavan.”

“You can’t threaten me,” Rose said, hating how weak she sounded. “Y-You can’t. I…”

Willow waved a hand, clearly not in the mood for something she might have heard hundreds of times before. “I can see you still require more incentive. Maybe this will suffice?”

Willow nodded to the clerk, who typed away for a moment, before nodding. “There.” Willow clicked her fingers. “Mr. Donavan? Would you check your bank account for me? Please?”

Stu quirked a brow. “Why?”

“Just check.”

Stu pulled out his phone, and as he logged in, his features slowly lifted with every word and digit his eyes danced over. Rose didn’t know what had him so beaming, and asked to see.

He practically stuffed his phone in her face in his excitement. Rose blinked and focused on the screen, and her jaw dropped too as the account summary came into focus. One giant number, with way too many zeros in it. All of it just…. there. With that kind of money…

Willow finished the thought. “With that kind of money you can be off this backwater planet before the end of the week! And that’s only half the agreed amount, so just take a second to think about what you can do with all of it, Mrs. Donavan. All you need to do, is sign, and all three of you can be on your way after all is said and done, strings not included.”

Rose thought about turning away, but would the guards try and stop her? It was hard to say. It was also hard to say no, because money had been the one thing she and Rose had been lacking for way too long. The government wouldn’t help them, at least until they were literally out on the street, starving. The chains of debt had secured her into a shameful existence, and Weyland offered her a way out, and then some.

Would her son really blame her, when he grew up and found out about this day? He had to… right? It was all for him, anyway. At least, mostly.

“Honey?”

Stu, offering the contract. She gave him their son, and signed right next to his name, her expression that of someone who had been completely, utterly defeated. Shaking her head, she gave the contract back to the General, who flashed that creepy grin again.

“Perfect! Now we’ll just take a few fingerprints, one or two blood samples, and then we’ll get going.”

They actually used ink plates, just like in the ancient times, which surprised Rose. She gently lifted up her son’s tiny hand when it was his turn to print. He giggled as the cold liquid splotched his little fingers, and almost licked them clean before Rose quickly stopped him, the ghost of a grin on her face as she wiped his hand down with a napkin. It would be the last time she would ever smile again.

Willow lead them down a series of halls with a wave of her hand. “This way, you three!” But Rose found it hard to match her enthusiasm. The walls were made of a sort of alloy she’d never seen before, the kind of thing you’d see on the hull of a starship. Every panel was a dark, midnight colour, oversized bolts running across its surface. The smooth walls were only interrupted by the occasional door, each one would look more at home in a prison then this place.

“As you can see, our facility is state of the art.” Willow sounded like she’d rehearsed this little speech. “None of our subjects have ever escaped, and our well-trained staff intend to keep it that way. Each room can be sectioned off at a moment’s notice, and that extends to each level as well. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we’ve actually got a few fire squads on standby in the event of any… incidents. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said you’re standing in the most secured building on the entire planet.”

“What’s in here that’s so dangerous?” Rose asked.

“Nothing that any of us have to worry about.”

Rose expected an actual answer, but Willow left it at that. Rose supposed she would find out sooner or later, but if she actually wanted to, was a matter up for debate.

The walk didn’t take as long as Rose wanted it to. She wanted to hold her son and treasure his presence before the deed was done, and the Donavan family changed forever. They came to the end of a corridor, where two men stood, turning to face them when the General came into view. One looked rather young, the other an almost polar opposite, a face so lined with drooping trenches he was stuck eternally frowning. Both were garbed in lab coats.

The older one greeted the General with a nod, before turning to the Donavan family. “Welcome, welcome. My name is Chris Wesley and I’ll be overseeing the procedure. My star protégé Doctor Blankley here will be the head surgeon.”

“Pleasure,” Blankley said, shaking their hands. For the people who would be doing the main butchering, Rose sure found a strange fondness for these two.

The one called Chris clapped his hands, smiling a little. “So, where’s the subject? The team is itching to begin.”

Rose winced at hearing the term being used, and felt herself shrink as all present turned to face her. She dipped her head, and although her son was only six years old, his tiny, innocent stare was hard to meet. She leaned down and stroked him on the cheek.

“Mommy?”

“I… Mommy’s going to hand you over to these men now, okay darling?”

“Don’t go mommy.”

She bit on her knuckle to hold back a sob. “I-I… look darling i-it’s just for a little while, okay? I’ll be right outside the whole time.”

“Promsie?”

His casual mispronunciation almost broke her. “Yes. Yes, I promise.”

The doctors, even Stu, shuffled uncomfortably, but whether this was at how long this was being delayed, or genuine sympathy for the distraught mother, she was not sure which. All that Rose knew, was that as she handed her son to Chris, it was like she giving up her very soul. To have a child was to bring the circle of life around again, to give back to the Galaxy. To pass on what you knew, so that nothing was forgotten. To make yourself whole, because nobody was whole without family.

That was how Rose saw it, anyway. And she had given it all up with a signature, and now, handing over her only child. Not permanently, but it certainly felt that way.

Chris handled her son with a small frown, as the child began to squirm. “Mommy? Daddy?”

“We can begin immediately,” Chris said, turning to Willow for approval.

“Sooner the better, doctor. Good luck in there.”

The pair of doctors turned, went through the door. Beyond its frame she could see various laboratory apparatus. Her son peeked over Chris’ shoulder, extended out a small hand to reach out for his departing mother. Before Rose could get any more doubts, the blast door shut with a bang, sealed tight.

Willow looked at the couple apprehensively, started to shake her head. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, but… if you two would want to watch the procedure, there is an observation room just through that door over there.”

“No,” Stu began.

“Yes.” Rose cut him off. “This is our son, Stu. We’re watching, and that’s that.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, honey.”

“I would have to agree with that,” Willow said. “It can be… distressing, to see surgery, particularly when it’s your own son…”

“I don’t care what either of you say,” Rose said. “And you stop calling me that,” she hissed to her husband as she passed him.

The three of them entered the observation room, where a couple of other scientists had already taken their seats, notepads in hands. One wall was made up of glass, and through it she could see her own child resting on top of a bed, Chris standing over him giving the usual spiel about how everything would be fine, and he wouldn’t feel a thing. Behind them, five other doctors were preparing various tools for the coming operation. One of the guards was standing by the eastern wall, next to something looked like a hatch door built into the wall. The way he fidgeted around struck Rose as unnerving.

Rose took a seat at the front, folding her arms. Stu sat next to her, and Willow next to him. Stu asked the General about the specifics of the operation, but Rose wasn’t listening. She just watched as Blankley secured a mask to her son, and winced as the gas knocked him out in two quick breaths. Seeing that happen almost made her reconsider her choice to watch. Almost.

The least she could do was stick through it. She’d promised, after all.

Maybe ten minutes later, the doctors were all set, and after nodding to each other, exchanging a few words, they all turned and filed out of the room. Rose frowned at this, went to ask what was going on, when she noticed the guard was still present. One unperceived radio-call later, and the guard turned around, and opened the hatch he’d been stood next to the entire time.

An oval-shaped, organic mass extended out of the hatch, suspended on a metal platform. It was light green in colour, similar to the General’s nail polish. Maybe that’s where she’d gotten the idea. Rose didn’t know exactly what this thing was at a glance, but one word came to mind that summed it up perfectly.

Egg.

The guard rushed to the other side of the room, bumping into a few pieces of medical equipment in his haste, joining the doctors as he left the room, and slammed the exit behind him. Rose didn’t have time to ask just what was going on, before it all happened.

The egg was releasing off plumes of white mist, its surface appearing to wriggle as if it were alive. For a few long moments nothing happened, and then the top portion of the egg began to open.

It bloomed like petals of a flower, peeling away to reveal its interior, though from this angle Rose could not see inside. The egg squirmed more and more as something inside began to wriggle against the inside of the shell. Rose released a shriek of terror when some sort of inflated, arachnid shape began to lift itself out of the egg.

“It’s alright!” Willow said, even though Stu should have been the one to reassure her. Her husband just sat there, flabbergasted. “The subject is totally harmless!”

Rose felt her body turn to ice as the spider-like creature lifted bony legs into the air, rested them on the outer hull of the egg, and brought its body into the laboratory lights. It’s dark hide was littered with all sorts of ridges and bumps, and a wickedly long tail trailed out behind it as it tentatively moved down the side of its egg.

Its webbed feet touched the floor, and even though it lacked any sort of eyes that Rose could see, the alien creature slithered in the direction of her unconscious son. The other observers watched on in fascination, and Rose almost screamed at them to do something, as she lifted from her seat on the verge of having a panic attack.

Before she could do anything, hands pressed on her shoulders. Stu held her down before she could lash out. “We knew what was going to happen, Rose. It’s okay. He’ll be alright!”

She couldn’t muster anything more than a moan as she crossed her arms about herself, feeling goosebumps all over her skin. The alien slowly climbed up one of the legs of the bed, towards her son. When it got onto the bed proper, one of the legs pushed aside the mask her boy was wearing. There was something almost…. gentle, about the movement Rose found hard to believe, a deep contrast to its horrifying appearance.

Like a splaying hand, the alien moved its body over the child’s face, tail swishing from side to side. Rose’s knuckle found itself in her mouth as she bit down, watching the thing straddle his face, and lower. The knuckles on the legs clenched up over his ears, as the snake-like tail coiled once, twice, three times around his fragile neck.

If someone without prior knowledge with what was, or would, happen within the next few hours were to see this, they would be justified to plead for someone to get the alien off the boy’s face. But it had all been known many months ago, as well as in the contract, every detail. And Rose knew that all these people had to do was wave that signature in her face to shut her up. So she did them a favour and just whimpered in Stu’s arms.

But she found no more comfort in her husband’s embrace. Not anymore. And as she watched the alien have its way with her own child, she would never forgive Stu for driving them here, and most certainly, would never forgive herself for being swayed by something so filthy as money.

A long while later, the spider-alien scurried into one of the corners of the room, curled up, and stopped moving. She came to the conclusion it was dead when the doctors came back into the room, no longer frightened. They hooked up all sorts of machines to her son, sticking in needles and tubes and, when her son actually started to wake, morphine to keep him in a dull state of mind.

But Rose couldn’t help feel that her son was watching her. Even through the one-way glass, and all the drugs pumping into him. Why Weyland wanted him to be the subject was lost on her. Weyland experimented every which way imaginable. She wouldn’t be surprised if all age groups had been succumbed to this procedure before, and probably, after today.

Seeing him hooked up to all those tubes and pipes, was just as worse as when the alien had been hugging his face. She’d never imagined it would be this bad to look at, but she made herself watch. Watch what her own personal freedom had cost. How could she ever look at her son again and not see this day replay over and over again?

The doctors kept the monitors hooked up, but after fifteen hours, it was time for them to get some rest. Willow told them there was a room available a few levels down for them to rest in. Rose didn’t take it, even when Stu tried to persuade her. She would stay by her son’s side, she would never catch a wink of sleep until he was back in her arms again.

“I admire you, you know,” Willow said, sitting beside her. They were the only people in the observation room. Her son’s chest was bigger, now, a new life growing within his ribcage.

“For what?” Rose asked.

“Sticking with him, of course.”

“Stu, or our son?”

“Both,” Willow chuckled. “I know this is hard on you, and you’ve got your reasons, but if it’s any conciliation, you’re doing humanity a great service. You and your son. The data we’ve gathered already will keep my superiors occupied for years to come. Maybe I’ll be a General after all, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sure,” Rose said, not really interested.

“I’m sure I can trust in you and your husband’s discretion, after we’ve parted ways, but in the matter of the subject in question, I have my doubts.”

“He won’t say a word,” Rose assured. “No Donavan will spill your secrets, General. Lieutenant General, sorry.”

“Not to say that your word isn’t enough for me, but your son he’s… He may not be of the same mind when he’s all grown up. My own kids have got pretty big mouths, themselves. But there is a solution you might be interested in hearing.”

“What is it?”

“Not many people remember when they were six, but some do, especially the more… distressing scenarios. We can keep him unconscious for a while, but we also have several, both intrusive and not, options to help erase this part of his memory. It’s all experimental and we haven’t tried it on humans yet, so it might not work, and it might cause some serious damage, but it’s very plausible we could find some success in making sure he remembers none of what happened today. After all, if he found out his own parents… well, I’m sure you know what I am implying.”

“That I sold off my own flesh and blood as an experiment?”

“That… could be put more eloquently. But yes. I’m just laying out the options for you.”

Rose could imagine it now. Ten or so years in the future, her own child grown up, completely traumatised by her actions today. And all of it would be blamed on his own parents, selling him off to be a shady corporation’s plaything. Rose would never be strong enough to bear that pain, and having her own son become hostile to her would not help. Who wouldn’t curse their parents for subjecting them to this, when they were barely old enough to consent, let alone comprehend most things?

Rose, who had agreed to only let death part her from Stu, who had treasured the day her only son was born, who had spoiled and pampered him all throughout his young life, chose the cowards way out.

“Do what you can, General. Please.”

“As you wish.”

In the early hours of the following morning, her son began to contract violently. Writhing this way and that as something poked against his ribs from the inside. The doctors were there in a flash, quickly sedating the boy as they prepared a number of surgical implements. Muffled, excited voices exchanged between the surgery team as a rounded blade was placed directly over the boy’s chest.

Rose forced herself to watch as the blades cut him open, and she considered asking Willow if those memory-wipe options could apply to her as well.

Her lower lip slowly began to quiver as a metal claw reached inside her son’s chest, rummaged for a bit, then retracted within its cold grasp, another alien. It had a long, crescent-shaped head attached to a slim, spindly body, and its tail was so long it was a wonder it had fitted inside the boy’s body for so long without damaging any of his organs.

Rose almost felt sad for the creature as it squealed and writhed, and she would have, if her child’s blood wasn’t dripping off its shoulders and tail. The claw placed it inside a metal cage, but the creature quickly darted out of the confinement, small legs taking it in the direction of her son. Probably intending on gutting him, the way it lashed out at the guard that got in its way.

“W-What is that thing?” Rose asked, her lips barely moving. Willow took on that rehearsed-speech tone again.

“Subject EM4. Xenomorph Queen. You’ve probably heard the stories about them. We won’t be making any mistakes with this one. We’ll inject it with growth suppressors among other stimulants to keep it docile, and then we’ll run some… well, I digress. If I had to run through every experiment we’ve got in mind, we’d be here all night, and I know you’ll be eager to get going now that we’ve both got what we want. The rest of the funds will be transferred, but you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like, so your son can have some recovery time.”

“That would be best, I think,” Stu said.

Rose had to agree, even though she wanted to put this whole planet behind her as soon as possible. After the little alien was carted away deeper into the facility, the surgery team fixed up her son’s chest. After the longest hours of her life, Rose was finally able to hold her son again. They took him down to their assigned room, tucked him into bed, and waited for him to wake.

But when he did, he ask one of the strangest things Rose would think about until the end of her life.

“Where is she?”

Stu’s brow raised at that, stuttering out an answer. “M-Mommy’s right here, see?”

But the boy only looked at his mother, and asked the same question again. “Where is she?”

Rose held his hand and squeezed. “No, no I’m… I’m right here, sweety. Like I promised, remember? Mommy said she would, didn’t she?”

Precious strength held her hand back, but Rose could not smile. All she could see was his chest spurting blood, and a horrible, nightmarish creature coming out of the cavity. It was a sight that would haunt her forever.

Her son continued to act… strange, in the following days. Once or twice he tried wondering out in the halls without supervision, and Rose would have to find and scoop him up in her arms. “Don’t you ever run away like that!” she had said, but he’d only given her this strange, blank look, like she was the crazy one.

She and Stu weren’t always awake, or around, to keep him from wondering off. Once he’d snuck off in the night, only to be found by one of the guards patrolling the halls. Stu had given him more than an earful for that, but the boy didn’t seem the least bit fazed.

On another occasion, her son was staring at the wall, head cocked to one side. It was like something out of a horror movie, the way he just… looked at nothing for minutes at a time. The only variable these events had in common was the fact he was always oriented to the east. It was like he was looking at something far away out there.

“What’re you doing up so late, sweety?” she’d asked rhetorically, finding him up and walking about one late night, before ushering him back to his bed. His answer was shocking enough to almost make her slip on the carpet.

“Listening.”

“Wh… What?” Rose cleared her throat. Any other time she would have normally given him a dismissive response, like oh that’s nice, but the concept of normal no longer applied to her anymore, after her son had had an alien growing inside of him, so instead she decided to ask further. “Listening to… what, sweety?”

“Her!”

“W-what? Who?”

“Her, mommy!”

That was it. She’d had enough of this place. Whether Weyland had done something in the surgery, or God forbid, that alien had somehow traumatised him, she didn’t care. She wanted out. Stu was more than eager to get going as well, though they had one last thing to discuss before they did.

“Willow told me about some sort of memory-wipe thing,” Stu told her. They were sitting on the bed together. “I think we should do it. Just in case.”

Rose had been eager at first, but now that she’d had some time to think on it, what sorts of ‘side effects’ could a memory wipe do? Especially to one so young? “I… I don’t know, Stu…”

“No parent should have to watch their kid’s chest get cut open.” Stu rubbed his forehead. The surgery had scarred him, obviously. That impatient man that had woken her up that morning was long gone. “Christ, a fucking alien grew inside of him! What kind of people are we?”

You were all too eager to get going earlier, she wanted to scream, but she still pushed his buttons in another way. “The kind of people who don’t deserve a beautiful boy like him.” She held back a sob. “I don’t know what we’re going to do when he’s older. What if it doesn’t work, and he still remembers? He’ll hate us, Stu. Absolutely hate us.”

“I… I might have an idea. We leave.”

“What good will that do? Our son will never forgive us even if we dropped everything.”

“That’s something we’re going to have to live with, but I said that we leave. Not… not him.”

“Stu! W-We can’t just leave our own son! Weyland would keep him in here, run more tests on him, do all sorts of horrible things.”

“I’m not saying leave him here. I’ve got this old friend from college who’s into real estate. We can get him a house somewhere in the city, away from all this. God knows we’ve got the money for it now.”

“You’re talking about abandoning him!”

“It’s not abandoning! We’ll pay him over the Net, hundreds of thousands of dollars. He’ll never want for anything. We’ll get him a good education, weekly payments, send him letters every couple weeks!”

Rose went to open her mouth to argue, but instead found herself being swayed once more. “But… But he’ll be alone, Stu. Who’s going to take care of him?”

“We’ll stay with him for some time, of course, but after that I’ll make sure my friend checks on him regularly. And he won’t be alone, Rose. We’ll keep in touch.”

“I don’t know, Stu. I just don’t know anymore.”

“Do you know that you’ll be able to look him in the eye, and tell him we sold him off to be impregnated. Do you know if you’ll be strong enough to do that?”

“I… no. I’m never strong enough.”

But later on in life, when she divorced him and took a little more than half the Weyland money, she was certainly strong enough then. In the other room, the topic of said conversation gently rose their son out of one of the most pleasant dreams he’d ever had, though they had no idea of this of course. The parents had him get dressed, and after double-checking their shared bank account, eyes glazed over the biggest amount of money either had ever had before, they made for the exit.

“One last thing,” Willow had said, meeting them in the lobby. “Those options we talked about earlier? About his memory? You still want to go through with that, just in case? It shouldn’t take long, ten or fifteen minutes.”

Rose and Stu looked at each other. They had discussed this topic long and hard, and had both came to the same conclusion. “Just in case,” Rose said, and surrendered her boy one last time, but not before raising him up and planting a kiss on his head.

“My little boy. I’m going to hand you over again, okay? It’ll only be for a second, promise. It’ll all be better soon, everything will be back to normal. We’ll go home, we’ll give you everything you could ever want or need. W-We’ll send you to the best school, pay for your own home! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

Her son looked at her with a wondrous expression, although he barely understood much of what she said.

“My little Maddox. I’m so sorry. Your father and I… you’ll never know how much it hurts to put you through this, all for our sake. But with a bit of luck you’ll forget.”

“Don’t want forget.”

“You do. You’ll understand one day. I hope you will. I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Stu rubbed his son’s head with a knuckle. “We both are, son. We both are.”

They handed Maddox over again, but Maddox would never understand. And his parents would leave him before he could fully comprehend what exactly they had been sorry for.

After the wipe, which was hard to tell if it had worked at all, the Donavan’s got in their car, and drove away. Willow watched them back out of the lot and disappear into the forest. It would be the last time she saw Stu and Rose, but not the boy. He’d be a little older when they next met, but still just a boy.

The dream, the memory, soon faded.

3

… Maddox?

Maddox…

She knew that name, didn’t she? No, surely another slip of the mind.

And yet…

And yet nothing.

She curled up on the floor of the very room the Donovan’s had rested inside, her tail laying along the cot the boy had slept in during their stay. This place… this was where she had been born! It was no wonder she had been so distraught when she first spotted it all those hours ago. Already its tainted presence was prodding the back of her mind, old wounds surfacing and making her skin itch.

But through all the horrors this place had thrusted on her, there was one lone ray of light. A name, and one with much personal power.

Maddox…?

No, she did know that name. The more she repeated it in her mind, the more the Queen’s body began to lift from the floor. She could recall a secluded nest in the forests. A dome of leaves. A street called Ralto. A youthful boy, walking in the rain…

Maddox.

The word reminded her of warmth, comfort, an old friend who had come into her life, then had been taken away by one of the very people who was responsible for her creation.

Her Host, and Maddox, were one in the same!

And hadn’t she had always known that, ever since meeting him on that rainy night? How obvious it had been! How they just… connected, and Bonded so easily. The fact was staring her right in the face and it was her fault she had not realised it then and there!

Walking this lab in the shadow of Rose had slowly brought back ancient memories she had drowned out for obvious, yet stupid reasons. And now it all came flooding back, like water through a broken dam. Weyland Yutani had injected her with all sorts of malformities, mutations. In these very walls she had been subjected to experiments and deformities.

So perhaps… there was a cure to be found?

She used the name like an ember, holding it out to the darkness of the lab as she fumbled through its depths. Yet no matter how many hours she spent wondering this broken, evil place, nothing remained but bad memories. That cage over there? She’d called that her fist nest, once. This chamber was where her tail had been cut off, regrown, then cut again. This was the duct she had snuck into in order to close the distance to her Host.

Maddox…

How cruel of Rose to wipe his mind of her! What a coward she was for not looking her son in the eye when she gave him up like she did! The Queen hissed, planted her heel in the nearest wall to leave a large dent there.

What kind of mother tortured her own young all for the sake of her wellbeing?

Someone like me.

… No. No, not like me! I am not like Rose!

It was hard to imagine another mother could be so much worse than the Queen, and she would not see herself sink to that new low. The Queen had made mistakes, yes, but with this new knowledge in hand… it had not been her fault entirely, had it? Without Weyland, she may have considered herself to be… normal.

But maybe she could be normal. And she finally knew just how that might be accomplished.

Maddox.

That was what the Hive-memories had been leading her to. To him. Rose had told herself that to have a child was to give back to the universe. Pass on what you knew. And that nobody was whole, without a family.

That was her key. Maddox. The boy she had forgotten twice over. Her other half, in a way. How much of a fool she was for suppressing him! But no, she had to stop thinking like that. She would burden the blame, yes, but now she had something she could do to not only ease it, but perhaps lift it.

For the first time in a long time, spirit was in her body as she sprinted out of the horrible lab and into the daylight. She couldn’t stand one more moment in these evil, evil halls any longer. Not when light shone on her clouded mind for the first time in years! Dwelling so long in the dark, made her practically radiate energy as she began the first steps of lifting herself out of her self-induced pity.

She tripped over when she returned to the front lobby in her haste, and she chuckled at her clumsiness, remembering how she did that a lot during her early days. If she had eyes, she would have blinked at that. She actually chuckled. She’d forgotten what that was like, and it was an alien sound she wanted to do again.

And she knew who could help her do that, didn’t she?

Hissing at the jarring change of lighting, she moved out of the shadow of the building, and raised her crowned head to the skies. She mustered up all the concentration she could, mentally building up one single thought she poured her heart and soul into.

The thought was simple: Maddox. She balled her hands into fists, shaking on the spot as she pooled all of her mental energy into the lone word, and when she was ready, projected the thought in an outward direction.

Like a mental bomb, the shockwave of the thought travelled kilometers in every direction. As the psionic wave passed over what few creatures remained in the forests, mutated beyond recognition, they perked their heads up as an alien sensation washed over them, then passed as fast as it had come.

The wave travelled far and wide, rolling over hills and mountains and buildings until its influence waned with the distance. The Queen drummed her fingers against her hide, antsy.

Any moment now.

…

… But nothing came back.

Clicking her teeth, she moved over to the nearest tree, scampered up its trunk until she reached its bushy top. Brushing leaves from her crown, she gazed to the north, saw the tops of the Capitol gleam in the far distance.

The Queen grit her teeth, curled up as she concentrated, and released another wave.

Maddox!

The name echoed a hundred times, faded…. faded… died.

Then she waited. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. After a half hour, the wind brushing against her back from the encroaching storm, the Queen slumped atop the tree, buried her face in her hands. What had she been hoping for? Maddox had been captured a long time ago, so how could he have survived the Fall with little to no preparation? Her new mood slowly gave way to the old pessimist living inside her heart.

It was… hopeless.

She had finally found the name, hyped herself up, only to throw herself right back down again. She considered releasing one more wave… then thought better of it. She was alone, couldn’t she see that? Everyone was dead. At least she would die out here, among the very nature that had protected her during her escape from the lab. She found some bit of irony there. Full circle. Life never went anywhere, it just curled around until you ended up right back where you started. Who was she to try and change that?

She was about to climb down when…

When there was a response.

Her gaze drifted to the north. It was weak, but it was there. One corner of her lips curled upward as someone sent her a reply. It was an image, in her head only for a moment, but she drew in a few details.

A group of humans, standing before her. A great iron door, an abandoned trainyard. A haven made by humans, for humans, constructed far beneath the ground. And through all that imagery was one cemented fact that made her snarl through her chops.

Maddox was alive.

But he was in trouble.

The Queen may have been too slow to save the last of her daughters, during the betrayal of the rebels, but she would not be too slow to save him. She just would not allow it. Not again.

I’m coming for you, Maddox.

She leapt off the tree to the next, and pushed herself to the absolute limit as she sprinted back the way she had come.

I’m not losing you again. Just hold on.

Chapter 8

Surface

1

The chief heard his full name being called out, and he looked up, blinking as if he’d come right out of a dream. How he wished that were the case for these past few days, sitting in that cell with nothing better to do then to watch his hands shake. Somehow a little drop of Jake’s blood had found its way under one of his fingernails and caked up, and it was unnaturally hard to scrub away.

And he’s not even dead.

One of the guards had told him Jake was living off machines, but still alive. Perhaps if he’d struck him one last time he would have had some sort of… satisfaction, as he waited for his end, which wasn’t too far away from where he was standing.

He had been cuffed, and placed upon a platform all the way up on level 10. Standard procedure was that you needed clearance to go anywhere above 25, but as it usually did during events like this, exceptions were made.

He had amassed quite a crowd, too. A hundred people, give or take, all gathered across the space before him, slightly lower down from his upraised position. It kind of reminded him of the ancient days, back when people were burned at the stake or hung from a noose, open for the public to come and watch. He would have gladly chosen either of those options then face this particular fate.

To his left, Mayor Blankley was consulting a clipboard, addressing the people. Again, he was reminded of those ancient days, where the people were so craved for entertainment, they would gladly watch someone be executed right in front of them. The Mayor went on, saying that he was severely disappointed in the chief’s actions, and that no other punishment would fit the crime of attempted murder. He went on a bit about how the Bunker ‘Holds humanity at its heart, and would not tolerate infection of its ideals’.

Little late for that, Blankley.

The Mayor then looked up from his clipboard, and asked if anyone present could vouch for the chief’s possible chance at redemption.

There was a glimmer of hope in the chief’s eyes as he scanned the crowd, and his gaze fell upon the woman he had saved from Blankley’s goons. She stared right back; lips pursed in consideration. The silence seemed to stretch, and for a moment the chief really thought he might live to see tomorrow, his previous deeds finally rewarding him. But the hope within the chief’s chest died when the woman chose to hold her peace. He wasn’t really angry at her, not yet, just disappointed. Both in himself, and what his race had come to.

It was all formality, but the Mayor turned to him directly and asked if he pleaded guilty or not. For a long span of seconds he considered staying quiet as well, but a part of him would not accept going to his end without some dignity. He pleaded guilty.

“Under the Bunker’s protection, every single one of us is a ray of hope for Solaris’ future. Trying to murder one of your fellow human beings will not be tolerated. You are sentenced to Sweeping. You may not get another chance, so now is the time to speak your final words, if you have any.”

The chief had none.

Blankley put his clipboard under his arm, and nodded to one of the guards. Said guard produced a weapon from his belt, ejected the magazine, and started to file away the bullets. The chief wasn’t all that surprised to see the guard was one of those three he’d stopped from raping the woman all those weeks ago.

The Mayor turned the chief around, put an arm over his shoulder, and leaned in, so they could get some privacy before the gathered people, some of whom were beginning to shout obscenities. “I just gave you an opportunity to debunk me, boy. I’m surprised you didn’t take it.”

The chief said nothing.

“What you read on that computer…” Blankley sighed, as if in pain. “I just want you to know it really was the only way. The corporation is the lifeblood of mankind! Without it the whole Galaxy would be just like Solaris.”

The chief looked up at the older man. “There’s always another way. You just chose the easiest one.”

“You may be right,” Blankley relented. “But since it is unlikely the ones who actually gave the order are still alive, that might just make me the acting commander of our Solaris Division. I’m not responsible for all this, Maddox, but I will bear the burden all the same.”

The way Blankley waved his hand as if he were talking about a bit of spilled milk, made the chief clench his hands beneath the cuffs.

“You want to kill me, don’t you?” Blankley grinned, as if the idea was more stupid than it really was. “It’s in the eyes, mostly. I really did have high hopes for you, I just wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

The guard came over, handed the pistol to the Mayor. He flipped it over in his hands, traced his thumb over the barrel. “But you were of some good use, I’ll give you that. You were… unique, but I’ll find another chief engineer in time. Or perhaps not. I’m really not long for this world, either.”

The Mayor put the gun in the chief’s hand. Blankley produced a golden, cylindrical object, holding up to the light like it was some mystical artefact. “I don’t usually give Sweeper’s weapons, but for all your hard work, consider it repayment. It only takes one bullet, and this one is for you. If you’re smart, you’ll close your eyes. Easier that way.”

He handed him the bullet. If Maddox didn’t know any better, he would have loaded the bullet and shot the Mayor then and there. But he had never held a gun before, and about ten rifles were aimed at him from every direction.

He was given one last item before he would leave this world and plunge into another. A polarised breathing mask, complete with four canisters of recyclable air. The cuffs were unlocked, and as he was strapping the rebreather over his face the chief said: “You only gave two canisters to the guy before me.”

“Yes, well, as I said – it’s a repayment. It hurts me to do this to you, truly, but examples must be set. And if you should complete your task, I give you my word those doors will open. I’ll even personally welcome you back into the fold. Who knows, there may yet be a spot for you on our voyage from this planet.”

Blankley had told that to every other man and woman he had sent Sweeping, word for word, all with that little smirk on his face. It was a sense of hope he gave, loud enough for the other people to hear. Just another way to make him look like the good guy in this sacrificial ritual.

“It’s time.” Blankley waved a hand. There was a droning sound of rusted machinery cranking to life so loud, it was almost enough to wash away the jeering of the chief’s former ‘neighbours. They were antsy, itching to see how long he’d last. Some had even placed bets.

The big wall they had the chief stood before, was decorated by pipes and pulleys forming a rectangular shape against the steel. Screaming metal accompanied a massive dislodging of the bottom portion of the airlock. It slid upwards, giving way into the adjacent space beyond.

The barrel of a gun bumped into his back, encouraging him to step inside. “What about the radiation?” the chief asked, voice muffled by the mask covering his face like a helmet.

The Mayor grinned. “According to our sensors, the air’s cleaned up over the years, but I wouldn’t risk taking that helmet off. You will be fine, as long as you don’t take too long.”

The chief didn’t wait for the guards to push him in, he would show he had at least some courage to all these people watching. He stepped into the airlock, forcing himself not to look back as he heard the doors begin to seal behind him. He wouldn’t give the Mayor the satisfaction of seeing how truly terrified he really was.

Lifting his hands, he pulled back the straps of the mask over his messy hair, made sure the clamps were tight and secure. The air inside the mask hissed for a split second as he screwed on one of the canisters. The rest he shoved into his pockets. “Remember!” Blankley called out. “There will be a place for you here should you succeed. I swear on it.”

The airlock shut tight with a final whir of motors, and unknown to either of them, the chief would never look upon the interior of the Bunker again.

Red, blaring lights on the ceiling hissed to life as more machinery powered on. Cones of crimson illuminated the walls in soft pulses. Old, rusting components groaned as final checks were activated. He went to move to the other side of the chamber, and almost collapsed when halfway across the space, the entire platform began to rise.

A monotone alarm buzzed throughout the lift as he was thrust higher and higher. A terrible vision of the lift breaking under its own weight and crushing him came and went. But as much as he feared being buried alive, he would gladly choose that any day over facing what horrors waited for him in the dead world.

Ten minutes later the lift came to a halt, and one final drawn out tune of the alarm bells let him know he had arrived. The silence that came after was sharp enough to make his ears ring. He felt his ears pop and his stomach ache, as the opposing wall of the lift began to open up like a metal mouth.

Some sort of growl/cry sound escaped from his lips as rays of sunlight beamed into his eyes, adjusted to darkness for years, hitting his senses hard enough to make him fall onto his ass in pain. He supposed he was lucky to have that sort of reaction, as opposed to having his retinas explode like grapes.

It felt like he was shying away from the light for hours, but eventually when his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he took his first look in years back into the world from before, it was not so much as what he saw, as what he thought he saw out there beyond the airlock, that made him scramble back on the metal floor and cower in the rear of the lift.

The last time he’d been out there, his adolescent life had been confusing, but pleasant at the same time. The last time he’d seen it, it was colourful, full of life and wonder.

And now? Now it was just… nothing. There was no colour, not to the sun or the sky or the ground. Every single surface looked like it had been burnt, torn apart, then burned again, and he wasn’t even looking at the true surface world yet, just a section of an old trainyard with a ramp leading out of it a hundred meters away, where the glare was bright enough to leave sharp afterimages when he blinked.

This couldn’t be the work of nukes or bombs. Weyland had sent down something far worse than normal, conventional weapons. Something that warped what it touched, turned everything into something you’d only see in nightmares.

Breathing heavily inside his mask, the chief worked up the courage to get to his feet. But just when he got to one knee, and went to rise up, he stopped. Not because his body wasn’t able, but his mind just flat out refused to do it.

I can’t go out there.

It was frightening, to be so scared you couldn’t do something as simple as step forward. Fear on top of fear. The chief had been given a lonely, but sheltered upbringing that had been rather dull up towards the end. Then the Bunker had come, another shield against the horrors of the world. And now it was just him, nothing more to hide behind, and he’d never felt so naked, so exposed.

If you’re smart, you’ll close your eyes. Easier that way.

Maddox raised his pistol and bullet. He supposed this was what Blankley had warned him about. He gently slid back the barrel, and placed the bullet inside the exposed slot. A glance up at the floor just beyond the lift, told him he wouldn’t be the first person sent Sweeping to blow his brains out moments after stepping out from the lift.

But no matter how much he toyed with the gun, he never quite managed to aim it upward. Funny, he had had no trouble trying to end Jake’s life, had he? So why couldn’t he just do it now?

Coward.

He thought it was likely there were cameras inside the lift somewhere. He could imagine it, Blankley and his people smirking as they watched their former chief cower in the corner like a rat afraid of light. He’d sacrificed a lot of things in his time in the Bunker. Was it really all for nothing if he couldn’t face his end like a man? On his own two feet?

Behind the voice calling him a coward, a failure, and a manner of other more despicable things, something was telling him that he could do it. His sense of hope, what had been carrying him this far, was dying, but it was still there. He clung onto it, used it for strength.

With visible effort, he pushed himself off his knee. His blurred, glassy vision inside his mask fogged up as his breathing became rapid. He took one long, hesitant step outside of the lift, pistol raised limply in his inexperienced grip.

His first footfall onto the surface world, ended with a crunch of bones.

Looking down, he saw dozens upon dozens of skeletons sprawled out before him in awkward poses, arms that had once been clawing at the lift doors now chopped off at the wrists. His breath caught in his throat when he realised the pelvis he’d stepped on had once belonged to a child.

But not just any child. From its position against the lift door, he knew it had to have been the little girl he’d seen on that fateful day – the day he’d taken his place in the Bunker during the Fall. The skull seemed to grin up at him from the floor, as if saying looks like I got the easy way out, doesn’t it?

Gritting his teeth. he continued forward, slowly, cringing each time a bone snapped beneath his boots. There seemed to be a method in all the remains that could be easily picked out. A whole bunch of them had been clawing at the lift doors, while some had turned and fled towards the trainyard, perhaps searching for another refuge they knew didn’t exist. Some died in couples, skeletons embracing each other. Others died alone, as most usually did.

His boots met solid ground, and the crunching of remains ceased echoing across the stretches of the station. To his left a couple carriages had toppled off from the tracks, leaning onto the platform and cracking the concrete. Some of the screens hanging from the ceiling still flickered on for split seconds, displaying train arrival times and departures.

Two rows of pillars ran parallel along this platform, and he walked between them, eyes darting around inside his fogging mask. The trainyard went on forever to his right, where shadows obscured anything beyond the next four platforms. He imagined all sorts of nightmarish creatures lingering out there, hungry for his blood.

Aside from the blinding light, it was the silence that was starting to get to him. It was like even the slightest disturbance could set off the apocalypse all over again. He wondered if people were still alive up here, and if so, how they could stand it without going insane. Not wishing to break the white-noise of the quiet, he kept his steps silent as he moved to the light.

Foot-working around a crumbled support column, direct sunshine painted over his dusty work boots, then his jumpsuit, then his concealed face as his body felt the warmth of the sun for the first time in many years. But it wasn’t the fact that he’d forgotten what it had felt like to be warm that startled him (although it certainly did on his exposed skin), but it was the fact that the warmth of the sun, wasn’t really the right way to put it.

The sun, Solaris’ star that was responsible for its namesake, was strangely cold. It was actually warmer in the trainyard shadows then out there, as strange as that was to admit.

The amount of overcast overhead alluded to the skies feeling closer, making him claustrophobic. Clouds clung against the highest Capitol rooftops, suppressing the sun’s rays. Even with the overcast, and the mask, it was still too much on his eyes to look anywhere near the star for long. His head began to throb in pain as he took in his surroundings.

What few trees remained on the streets, were nothing more than twigs and splintered wood. What little life stone and concrete projected, had been drained away for an even more deathly appearance to the urbanised Capitol.

He spun on the spot, doing three-sixties as his eyes drank in the wreckage that stretched on in every direction. Houses had folded in on themselves, the roads were cracked, the cars and trucks rusted away into piles of scrap. There were more skeletons, too, as well as corpses with flesh still clinging onto the bones. Recently deceased. He hoped, no, wished, that this was all just some bad dream. That he wasn’t really out here, but a few kilometres down below his feet, along with the rest of humanity.

How could humanity have done this?

How could he have put himself in this situation?

If not for the jarring fact he was certain he would be dead within the next few hours, and all this really would be just a memory very soon, he would have broken down then and there. He supposed it might have been culture shock, if that was what you called seeing the place you once lived in, reduced to rubble after spending five years underground. He felt his eyes grow wet with moisture, but forced them back before they could spill.

His focus slowly returned when his eyes fell on a strange machine to his left, jutting out from the ground like an alien pod compared to the backdrop. It reminded him of a post box, only with a chute big enough to fit a car door inside, and a holographic screen beside the lid of the chute.

0%, was all that was on the screen, along with the Weyland-Yutani logo right beneath. A camera orb poked out from the top of the machine; lens trained on him. He knew all too well who was watching on the other end.

Circling around it, his foot kicked against a squashed beer can. Huffing, he bent down and picked it up, then threw it inside the lid. He heard it clang against the sides of the chute a few times before it sank out of earshot, the world grew silent once more.

0% changed to 1%

Ninety-nine more to go, he thought, but he wasn’t going to be so lucky. The ones sent out here before him would have scavenged the surrounding area clean. He would have to travel pretty far out. No wonder he’d been given extra canisters.

As if fate had had enough of him, the canister within his mask began to emit an unhealthy gurgling noise, like a hose not quite turned off properly. Already it was nearing depletion, and the odds of finding more were slim at best. He would have to move quickly, so he chose a direction and started walking.

What objects dotted the sidewalks from before, were stripped down bare from scavengers or other Sweepers. The Bunker manufactured all the basic needs to sustain a population – food, water, electricity – but the need for raw materials and parts was always in demand. Synthetics or other bots came and went from the surface to scavenge, but as Blankley said –a statement had to be made – and sometimes the undesirables of the Bunker were sent out instead to do the dirty work. No one who had gone out to Sweep ever returned.

But they had tried, judging by the lack of street posts, signs, or intact automobiles. Everything nearby the Bunker entrance had been looted, and he was walking for a long time down barren streets, bones being something of a common variable no matter which way he turned. He was glad he could only smell his own breath, and not the decay that was choking on everything he could see.

Flies buzzed around him as his body began to sweat. The little insects landed on his exposed arms, little legs scurrying across his skin, and he swatted at them without success. He was still garbed in his engineer overalls, a bit of Jake’s blood here and there across the fabric.

Thin wisps of grey vapour plumed from the ground around him, as if the world was still on fire. Several small shops ran along the left side length of the street, and here he found some success in his task. An old sedan was parked up against the curb, the chassis all that remained of the old sports car. The bonnet was lying off to the side, almost camouflaged beneath a sheet of white dust.

He bent over and picked it up, wiping his metal clear as he looked it over. It would just barely fit into the chute, so it was better than nothing. Looking back the way he’d come, it would be quite a long haul if he kept coming and going to the entrance. He decided he would store anything he found around here, use it as a sort of scavenge-rally-point.

He picked through the ruins, slowly suffocating inside his tight rebreathing mask. In the few seconds it took to replace one oxygen canister with another, his throat had clamped up like a vice as the world became void of air. A tiny voice in his head tempted him into just letting asphyxiation take him, but why do that when he had been given a bullet with his proverbial name on it? It would be quicker, and much easier.

But he hadn’t built up the courage to simply end it, not when there was that tiny chance that maybe, maybe he could preserve himself for a little while longer, and return to the (relative) safety of the Bunker, along with the rest of humanity.

If that’s worth anything at this point.

He was just about to search down an alleyway, when he heard a cackling fit of laughter, followed by a horrible pained scream.

Whipping his head over his shoulder, his body froze up as his mind began to panic. It was hard enough accepting that people had actually survived out here this whole time, but to be this close? What were the odds?

He grumbled to himself at how careless he was being, looting out in the middle of the day, not even bothering to search the area for others, at least. He got up and leaned against a brick wall, looking down the street where the sounds had come from. He could hear something scraping across a rocky surface, followed by a few words he couldn’t make sense of.

If it wasn’t for the sounds of equipment being tossed around, he would have run back the other way, tail between his legs. But he couldn’t just leave all the salvage he’d gathered so far, or let this opportunity to see the locals, maybe even meet them, slip by. He was almost naive enough to believe someone out here might actually be able to help him.

Why can’t you just let things be? Jake’s voice echoed in his thoughts as he brandished his gun and made for the next street over. Why can’t you just let go?

“Why couldn’t you have just stayed out of my way?” he asked right back, but the voice said nothing. It hadn’t been a day topside and he was already going insane. That’s just great.

Goosebumps ran up his skin as the laughter came again, and more grunts of effort, or maybe pain. It was two males, that much he was certain. He rounded one corner, then another. The voices were coming just over the next line of buildings. He climbed up the staircase of a run-down structure to get a better vantage point.

He peeked over a wrecked window frame, gun turned upward by his side. An open square stood before a grand, decaying building, with tattered flags and advertisement banners hanging from the rooftops. Park benches were overturned next to little gardens and dried up water fountains, the stonework cracked in web-like patterns. The big letters above the entrance were missing, all except the P, but the outline of the letters still remained, and he remembered this place. Crestfall Plaza.

There might have been some valuable loot left inside, if he knew where to look. There were thin shapes dangling from wires over some of the windows, but the plaza wasn’t what had his attention, but who stood in its square. As he’d guessed there were two men, and both wore masks similar to his own. The taller one cackled as he backhanded the shorter one, before fetching something out of a basket by his foot.

It was hard to make out, but the chief could see silvery glitters from within the basket, and the hilt of a weapon sticking out of the lid. The basket itself sat inside a small wheelbarrow. The chief couldn’t have asked for a more tempting target.

The tall one, probably the owner of the basket, fetched out a long piece of rope, and after grabbing the other man by the back of the collar, began to loop it around the man’s hands, then his throat.

The chief frowned when the laughter came again, and movement off to the left caught his attention. A tall streetlamp with its lightbulb flickering, had some sort of object dangling from its top, swaying a little to the left and right. Likewise, down the other direction, another streetlamp was also decorated with a black shape hung by a wire, but he couldn’t tell what it was at this distance.

As if performing the funniest act in the world, the basket-scavenger leaned back, swung the end of his rope a few times like he was about to lasso a wild horse, and threw it upward. The rope landed perfectly over another streetlamp the two men were standing directly underneath. Giving the shorter man another good whack to incapacitate him, the scavenger grabbed hold of the other end of the rope, and began to pull. The bounded man’s toes left the street.

It was then it hit the chief. The other objects swinging from the other lamps, as well as sections of the plaza, were bodies. There were dozens of them, and this man was about to finish the decorations. The chief’s expression was that of horror as he watched this man slowly take another victim, choking sounds beginning to get louder. He just couldn’t watch something like this happen without doing something, though his cowardly half still gave him pause to reconsider.

After a few moments debating whether to retreat or advance, he took the latter option, and vaulted over the window, landing quietly on an outstretch of concrete. He shuffled off and placed his feet on the street. He had the gun, but the one bullet he would only use as a last resort to save his life, or to end it, but he was beginning to see the lines blur between those two options.

Besides, the scavenger’s back was turned, and was pretty occupied with his latest display of cruelty. The chief thought he might just get lucky enough to get in close.

He was about three meters from the basket, when his foot knocked against a piece of rubble, and it bounced away loudly. The chief had just enough time to groan at his own clumsiness before the scavenger, spinning on a heel, let loose a screeching “AIEEEEEEEEEE!” -that made his ears thrum.

Both men stood stunned for a second, while the third person slowly gagged to death off to the side. The scavenger had two kitchen knives crossed over his chest in an X-shape, and brandished one of them swiftly. His knuckles and palms were covered in scabs and blisters.

The chief took no chances now. He raised the pistol up in an awkward hand, and pulled the trigger.

It didn’t go all the way. His eyes flicked to the safety switch by his thumb, and he groaned.

“You’ve got to be shitting me-“

The knife flew through the air and crossed the space between the men, whistling loudly as it flipped grip over blade twice in its flight. The chief brought up his arm in pure reflex at the last moment, and he felt hot pain explode from his wrist. He looked up at his hand, and saw the glint of the end of the knife, sticking straight through his hand, his own blood dripping to the ground from its curved tip.

“AIEEEEEEEEEEEE!” the scavenger screeched again, and charged, arms out as if asking for a bear hug. His mind a rush with pain and panic, the chief spun the pistol in a reverse grip, paused, then slapped the scavenger with the butt of the gun.

What few scraps of hair still clung to the man’s skull, was now accompanied by a visible indent from the smack. Now the “AIEEEEEEEEEE!” was edged with pain as the scavenger fell flat on his face before the chief. The man dangling from the rope made a horrible sound as his face turned purple. The chief almost gagged himself at the sight, but before he could react, his feet were swept out from beneath him. He tried to keep his grip on the gun, but he felt the weapon’s weight slip from his fingers as he fell.

He landed on his side, against the arm with the knife sticking through it. There was a terrible squelching feeling as the knife embedded itself a little deeper, and the chief cried out in pain.

The scavenger was on top of him, his second kitchen knife raised up in both hands intended to find its way into the chief’s chest. He brought his arms up and resisted, the two men grunting and growling as they tried to overpower the other. The tip of the knife slowly began to lower. The chief stared into the tiny reflection of himself in the scavenger’s visor, his strength in his arms fading as the other man put all his weight into the struggle.

The chief raised his foot and planted his heel against the scavenger as hard as he could. The psychopath tumbled away – “AIEEEEE-GAH!” – and slammed down back-first onto the same rock the chief had knocked his foot against a few moments ago. The chief took a crucial second to search for the gun, but it had disappeared beneath all the surrounding rubble, and the only weapon literally at hand, was the knife sticking through his wrist. The scavenger writhed around like a worm as he got to his feet, blade swinging left to right in crazed arcs. The chief grit his teeth and held in a breath, before grabbing the hilt of the knife, and yanking.

Now whatever adrenaline that had been numbing his injury, fell away as his blood poured out in waves, bones clunking as he retracted the weapon. He screamed behind his mask, in pain as well as terror, as he brandished the knife, blood following its trace through the air as a stream of crimson.

The two men stood off from each other, pausing for breath. The chief took the first swing.

He caught the scavenger on the cheek, who was more shocked than pained by the act, touching a finger to his bloodied cheek. The chief didn’t let the opportunity slip away. He swung again, this time at the scavenger’s stomach with a cleaving motion. It opened up like a cut purse, pink stuff that could only be intestines peeking through the wound.

The scavenger grunted, and looked up at the encroaching chief with shaky eyes, though neither of them could see each other’s faces. For the first time what came out of the man’s mouth that day wasn’t a screech, but a plead.

“Wait! PLEASE!”

The chief plunged the knife into his neck.

The scavenger’s hands shot up, as if he were surrendering. He dropped his weapon and clutched at the other, trying in vain to pull it out. The chief stepped back, a horrified expression on his face as the man choked on his own blood, falling to his knees. The inside of the mask turned from black to red.

The chief clutched his wounded arm, leant his shaking body against the street pole as his mind took its time processing all that was happening. He would have stayed like that if he hadn’t remembered there had been a third member among all this, and circled around the scavenger to help the choking man.

The chief thought he might have been dead, hanging half a meter from the ground for however long it had been, but he was still making sounds, horrific sounds, but that meant he was still alive, if only just. The chief quickly pulled out the weapon from the scavenger’s basket he had seen earlier, and blinked when the length of the weapon was as long as his arm. The machete was in pretty good condition, polished blade and painted handle.

He moved over and, using his good arm, cut the man down. He fell to his knees and hacked, hands gripping against the pavement. Behind them, the scavenger’s body thumped to the ground, twitched for a second, then went still.

The chief cursed as his arm flared when he tried to flex his fingers. He clutched it against his stomach and approached the would-be victim. “A-Are you alright, man?”

Anyone with a sense of rationality would have expected many responses. A new companion, a reward for his efforts, or even a word of thanks. Instead, all the chief got was a massive kick in the nuts.

All the air in his stomach came out in a cry of pain from his masked mouth. He lurched forward, and had just enough time to see a fist colliding with his mask before he was sent sprawling backwards onto his ass. He saw through squinting eyes the very man he had just saved, racing off down the street, something metal clutched in his hand.

He tried to call out, but found that his lungs could not take in any air, and he choked on his own spit, the edges of his vision darkening in suffocation. He clutched at his throat, only for his fingers, the nails black with dried blood, to be stopped by his mask. He felt around the space for his oxygen canister, but it was not there anymore.

Son of a bitch, he thought, eyes following the third man that bolted out of his decaying vision. He reached into his pocket, quickly fishing out a fresh canister. His eyes began to bulge as he fumbled to shove it in the correct way. The little nozzle slipped from the notch. He readjusted, then pressed it upward.

The mask hissed, and he could breathe once more.

The chief simply laid there, chest rising and falling as he took just a moment to rest his hot, sweating body. The clouds rolled on overhead, a blanket of oppressive greyness. His eyes rolled southward, and he thought he saw some discolouration out there, a darker encroaching mass. A storm, or maybe it was a cyclone. He wondered if the rain would be acidic.

He propped himself up on his elbows, saw his handiwork of the scavenger’s body lying to his left, knife handle jutting out of the upturned neck. It hadn’t been two days and he’d already attacked someone again, and now there was no doubt he’d finished the job.

But this time, he found himself disgusted to find that he wasn’t so… bothered, by the mess before him, but that in turn, did bother him. Maybe it was because this time instead of a fellow engineer, it was a psychopath he’d stopped from acquiring another victim. A victim that had tried to suffocate the chief.

What has this place come to?

Grunting, he got to his feet and leaned over, examining the basket’s contents. The scavenger certainly had lived up to his name the chief had given him. There were all sorts of trinkets inside. A few shotgun shells and rifle parts, but no signs of any weapons to use them for. A giant chrome tea kettle, complete with cooking pots and pans. There were even a few bits of cutlery as well, made from silver. He couldn’t guess why the scavenger had decided to lug all that around with him. But all that would certainly fill his Sweeping quota, perhaps all the way to 100% with all the other junk he’d acquired.

There was also a scabbard with a strap attached, the same size as his newly acquired machete. He sheathed the machete and slung it over his back, plucked the knife from the scavenger’s throat, put that in the basket, then began dressing his wrist with cloth, ripped from the dead scavenger’s shirt.

He was no doctor, but any fool could tell being run through with some blade that had likely been used to kill dozens of people before, would infect you, and his wrist looked especially nasty. He could barely feel the tips of his fingers, and every heartbeat a fresh pulse of blood tricked down his forearm.

Got to move.

The sun was beginning to dim, more than it already was, of course. He moved over to the wheelbarrow, picked it up, winced as his arm flared, tried again, and this time he got it rolling. He moved back to the rally point where he’d put all his previous salvage, positive he didn’t need to poke around the plaza for more. He didn’t want to be here anymore, God knowing what sorts of horrible creatures came out at night. Plus there was still that man who had stolen his canister lurking about.

He gathered up a little less than half of his findings. Two or maybe three trips and he might just be able to complete his task. All within one day, but he didn’t think the cost was worth it. He had thought what little humanity up here would have pulled together to try and get through the remains of Solaris. Not only had he ended a life, he hadn’t even gotten so much as a thanks from the man he’d taken a stab to save.

His feet were dragging along the concrete as he wondered back towards the Bunker. He set the wheelbarrow down by the chute, glancing at the camera lens as he did. “Surprised?” he asked it, though he knew for a fact they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

He was just about to start unpacking his salvage, when he stopped, overcome by a sudden moment of miserable clarity.

That question before, where he had asked what the world had come to? That was wrong. What he should have asked, was what has become of humanity?

All around him were the signs of what they’d done to this place. Solaris had been prosperous, innocent. The economy had been booming and the people were complacent. Then they had destroyed themselves. It wasn’t just Weyland – although they had had a pretty big part in it – it was everyone. The Rebels were not excluded. They had spread panic and violence, all in the guise of a revolution. He’d said so himself that there was always another way.

Instead, humanity went down the path of violence, and destroyed itself, and all for what? A shitty Bunker filled with people who exiled their own. And those who hadn’t gone underground for safety had been reduced to savages. But how could they not when they had to live in this?

The chief had helped keep the air clean, he had helped that woman, had tried to steer Jake away from his foolish pursuit, had wanted to expose the truth of Weyland and Blankley, had saved that man from the scavenger, and what had he gotten in return?

Pain. Cast out, left to fend for himself.

It was hopeless. All of it.

He really did believe Blankley when he said he would let the chief back in, should he be successful. But a question gave him pause. Could he really go back there? Back to living down there just waiting for the next day to come? Slink back into the shadows like nothing had ever happened. living a dull life that wasn’t even worth living?

What was the point?

He was dead, dead even before the Fall. All his life there was a void inside him, an emptiness. It wasn’t loneliness, not quite, it was more like the feeling of being incomplete. He wasn’t really standing here; it didn’t feel that way. It felt like a part of him was somewhere else entirely.

His eyes ever so slightly angled to the south without his input. He just didn’t care anymore. He had gotten through six years of Fall life. And all that time had been building up to this very moment – the moment he just did not care anymore.

You were of some use, I’ll give you that.

It was half-hearted praise, but probably the only praise the chief had ever been given. Sad but true. He pulled out his gun and played with it for a while, just standing there out in the open, a tiny breeze on his back.

The coast wasn’t far, if memory served correctly. He’d only seen the ocean a couple of times from before, but he’d been impressed.

That, he decided, would be a good thing to see before he ate the bullet.

He tipped the wheelbarrow over, spilling all the salvage onto the street, the sound similar to a bag of cans rolling down a hill. He turned towards the camera above the chute, looked right into the lens while slowly bringing up his machete.

He slammed the hilt down on the Wey-Yu logo, breaking the screen. It sparked once before flicking off. He gave a two-fingered salute to the camera before breaking that as well.

Then, the Chief turned to the east, stuck his gun in his waistband, and went to find a quiet place to die.

2

It took the chief two days to reach the coast, the terrain being so much more malformed than before, it made the going much slower. The scavenger had a few spare canisters in his basket, so he didn’t have to worry about running out of clean air for a while.

On the first day he had encountered a trio of people making camp in an old store building. He had kept his distance and watched for a while. They had set up a cooking spit and were roasting some sort of red meat. Most of their bodies were covered in strange blood-red tattoos from some alien language, each rune spiralling from one hand to the other. They wore nothing except for loincloths around their groins and chests. His suspicions were confirmed when one of them lifted up a slab of meat that looked all too similar to a foot.

Cannibals.

They did not wear rebreathing masks or helmets, but to say they were breathing wouldn’t do it justice. Even as he put distance between him and the group, the chief could hear there raspy, phlegm-ridden breaths even when they were entire blocks away. So maybe the air was breathable in some capacity, but there could have been all manner of airborne diseases he wasn’t going to risk contaminating himself with.

Unless I already have.

True, he had lifted the mask for a moment in order to eat. Seeing the spit, even if it was human flesh being roasted, made his stomach growl. He scrounged around as he trekked, but the Capitol was an urban wasteland, and he had to spend his first night on the surface world starving.

And lying in the pitch black was terrifying. There was no moon to light up the world, no light pollutions, and the world plunged into a horrible cloak of darkness that was so thick he couldn’t even see his hands. He spent the night inside a ruined structure, with only a few sections of the walls and roof still intact. It was better than nothing, even if it was exposed. If he was killed during his sleep, he supposed that would be a quiet enough end he’d be content with.

But sleep never came. He tossed and turned, his face itchy, his wrist burning with pain. It was infected, no doubt about that, and the wrappings were soaked through with blood not even a minute after he replaced them with strips of his own shirt. The air temperature plummeted, and all he could do was curl up on the ground and wait until the sun began its skyward journey, cold and miserable.

He could feel bags form under his eyes as he sat there, wasting away. There was too much fear of what was out there, lurking in the darkness, to quiet his racing mind. Hours and hours later, the sun at last began to rise, and he got moving, no better off than when he had been the day before.

Sort of like the Bunker, isn’t it? he thought, and laughed like a dying old man.

His throat was parched, his stomach eating itself. His searches began to get wrought with delirium, and he almost considered turning back to the Bunker. Almost. That was until he found himself a can of expired beef, tucked away in the back of a shop whose name escaped him. It looked as foul as dog food, but it would keep him going for the little while that remained.

To be safe, he buried himself in the underground storage room of the shop, a sealed refrigerator room he could move around in. Probably wasn’t much cleaner than the air outside, but he didn’t’ have much choice, and nor did he care. He fought against all reason as he unsealed his mask and made ready to eat. He lifted the helmet up over his scalp, poured a portion of the beef down his throat, and sealed the mask in one swift movement. In those few seconds his face was exposed to the Fall’s air, it was like a thousand insects were crawling over his cheeks and eyes.

His stomach complained up a storm, but he forced the beef to stay down. A lemony taste built up in his throat, but he resisted the urge to vomit, if only just. His thirst took a step back as well, but that wouldn’t last long.

The second day he encountered no other soul, and the isolation began to mess with his head. He thought he heard growling from behind him, but every time he looked there was nothing there. His legs began to sweat under his long pants as he hiked up and over one incline after the other, the suburbs giving way to patches of forests, then back to stretches of concrete once more. All the trees were small, and malformed. It was like they were on the threshold of death, but just barely clinging on.

He could not sleep the second night either, and frustrations began to rise as he sat in the dark, examining his gun, pins and needles running up from his wound. He supposed it was silly to delay the inevitable, now that he’d accepted he wasn’t going to live to see the sunset after today. But there was something holding him back, a little voice of reason behind all the others that were telling him to just give up, and let it end. What was scary was that little voice didn’t even belong to him, but to someone he knew. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t quite place the owner.

He flicked the safety on and off, glancing up when he thought he heard rustling. He could hear waves crashing down on rocks somewhere nearby, and he’d spied the glint of the sea after the last rise in the earth. Tomorrow morning he would be down on the beach, he knew it. He would watch the sun rise up behind the veil of clouds, and light up the ocean, and that would be the last thing he would see. Six years in the Bunker, and two and a half days outside of it. They were measly numbers, but the chief was proud he’d come this far. He wasn’t going to go into the void with regrets. Well, maybe just one…

But that was a long time ago. A different life, almost. Maybe he’d see her again on the other side. Maybe he wouldn’t. Nothing in his life had gone right, so the latter was more than likely. He just felt so tired of it all. No one cared, and he supposed he didn’t care, either. He’d tried his best, so wasn’t that enough?

He thought his parents would be disgusted at this, wherever they were. He would be himself, if his kids were thinking like he was.

Kids, he thought. Imagine that.

He pulled back the barrel to look at the bullet, and found his eyelids growing heavier. Maybe he would actually get a good night’s rest before he took his life, wouldn’t that be such a stroke of fortune! He sat back against the tree trunk, and watched the clouds swirl overhead, trying and failing to morph them into the shapes of animals. It was the last thing he remembered doing before his eyes closed and pure exhaustion took him.

3

A soft breeze blew in from the side, placing a few strands of the chief’s hair in his eyes. He raised up an arm to push it away, and blinked at how clean his hands were. No blood, no scars – like he’d just come out of a bath. His hair was also as soft as silk, not obstructed by a mask.

He was still sat before the tree, but the bark was brown, covered in patches of green moss. Turning his head up, he saw great thickets of leaves rustling high into the air, stretching on into the heavens. The woods were quiet, serene, the air occasionally filled with the sound of a bird or cricket. It was dark, but not enough that he couldn’t see. The time just before rain began to fall.

“A dream, then.”

He’d never had such a lucid dream, or even just a dream, in a very long time. It was almost vivid enough to mistake it for the waking world.

Soft grass caressed his legs and hands, green and healthy. A beetle zipped past his face and into the air, settling onto a branch and crawling along its crooked length. He felt the urge to stand slip from his mind, and he simply laid there, content as he breathed in the petrichor of the rainforest, letting the air out in contented sighs.

Then a ray of light painted itself across his shut eyelids, and he frowned at the interruption. The clouds had parted ahead of him, and the sun was rising just over the horizon. But there was something blocking out a portion of its aura. Some dark shape that was coming towards him. A few specks of rain began to drip through the canopy above, making light tapping sounds.

Maddox…

The shape was coming closer. He could make out a pair of dorsal spikes blocking out the aura of light, poking out from behind a slim torso

Maddox…

“What…?” He squinted, raising a hand to shade his face. He felt something probe at the back of his mind, a presence, shifting through his memories. He saw himself moving out of the Bunker lift again, stepping over the skeletons. He saw himself smashing Jake’s head in with the crowbar. He saw himself slowly aiming his gun at his head.

Don’t… the voice urged, echoing.

“Why?” he asked, hating how weak he sounded. “Why not? There’s nothing left back there. Nothing.”

The shape came closer, defining a curved head tilting to the side as it examined his prone body. He fought against its presence, blocking it out from poking around in his head. It pained them both, but he persisted.

Yes, there is.

“Who are you?”

The light was intensifying as the shape came close enough, that he could hear the thumps it made with each of its powerful legs. Its chest was ribbed with sinewy muscles, the hide warped in all manner of exotic shapes. A long, slender hand raised up before it plaintively.

You don’t remember, either?

His eyes were drawn to a long tail, stretching out from behind the obsidian creature, swishing from side to side. It loomed over him, stopping just before his feet, but he didn’t feel threatened in any way.

“… No,” he said. “No, I remember you.”

The legs bent, and the creature crouched down so their heads were level. He met its eyeless gaze, and felt his heart fluster when the lips pulled back in a soft smile.

Just hold on, my friend. As you always have.

“I…” Hesitantly, like the slightest disturbance would bring the world down around him, he raised a hand towards the creature. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

The wind was picking up, swishing the grass and the leaves. The rain began to strengthen, and flashes of lightning left sharp after-images behind the creature.

I’m coming, Maddox. You have to hold on.

“You’re…? I-I never felt you after that day. I thought you were dead.”

I was. The creature moaned softly. But now I’ve found you.

The brightness began to make his eyes water, or maybe he was crying, either way, he found his hand trembling as he reached for her. But she began to pull away, her skin becoming transparent. “No, no wait! Don’t go!”

I never left you. And you never left me.

“Amaya!”

He reached out for her, but his hand met nothing. The sunlight was too much, and he closed his eyes against its glare. When he opened them again, he was back in the waking world, arms up to grab someone who wasn’t there.

He felt moisture on his cheeks, went to rub them, forgot about the mask, and let his arms fall.

“Was… Was that really you?”

The air soughed through the cracks in the trees, sounding like the screams of a thousand children.

4

Somehow, everything about the coast projected this air of misery. The way the waves frothed up around the base of the teeth-shaped rocks, how the sand was sharp even through his boots, how the sea itself looked like a massive pool of urine. It all amounted to an aura of plain wrongness, or maybe that was because the chief was looking through a set of eyes that had seen the world from before.

But biased or not, he felt no sense of liberation as he trudged down the hill towards the coastline. The view was grand, but not at all pleasant. If anything, the stretch of water was the last thing he wanted to see before he died, opposite of what he’d been thinking the day before.

There was a piece of his mind in full doubt, that the dream was not real, no matter how much it had felt like it was. But just say that Amaya really was out there? What would he do? What could he do but blunder about, waiting for sleep to come again?

She said that she was on the way.

But how did she know? Could he meet her halfway, perhaps? He felt so weak and useless, on top of all the doubts that Amaya’s little visit had all just been his imagination.

Wiping his visor to clear away a smudge, he saw a few tents arranged down on the beach, surrounding a squat green structure. A radar dish jutted out of the top of the building, and the bulb on the end of the antennae was red, still powered on. His stomach grumbled a complaint as he set off towards it.

The only other major landmark he could see was a giant cliff face off to the left, hugging close to the beach. It stretched up impossibly high, and he thought he saw a giant starship engine protruding just over the lip of the cliff, dangling above the sea. Waves crashed violently against the rocks as the wind began to intensify. He thought he heard thunder in the distance.

He didn’t react to the clusters of skeletons gathered around the perimeter tents apart from a few long glances, but he did make a disgusted sound when he spied a pair of vultures pecking at a corpse, recently deceased judging by the pooling blood. They flapped their wings at him as he approached, squawking.

He growled right back, flailing his machete around. The birds cried out and took flight, moving up high and out over the ocean. He frowned as he looked over the corpse, chew marks and tags of flesh ripped out of its guts and chest, the gender impossible to identify at this point. He wondered if those cannibals had done this, but then why had they left so much meat behind?

He didn’t spend much time thinking about it, moving over to the tents and peeling back the tarps one by one, in hopes of finding some scraps. Just like the vultures. He couldn’t recall why exactly they had been introduced to Solaris in the first place. Probably another screw up from someone high up in the societal food chain. Then again that was the least of their worries now, wasn’t it?

His searches brought up a few packaged goods he snacked on as he went. There was even a bottle of water, though there was only enough inside for barely a sip. The central structure was made from sheets of metal, painted the standard military green colours, Solaris’ flag scratched above the entrance. He gave the flag a long glance before heading inside.

All the windows and shutters were open, and he could tell by the way they were laid out they were firing positions, to be opened and closed at will. A weapon case and a whole pile of boxes were stacked off to one side, but after a quick check he found nothing of use inside.

The ancient red cross symbol was painted on a few trunks and cabinets strewn throughout the small building. He guessed this might have been an outpost constructed after the Fall, intent on being a refugee camp or hospital for the bits of society that remained. Judging by the amount of bullet casings lying around, he didn’t think things went according to plan.

He moved up a set of stairs to the roof, and fiddled with the radar dish and its adjacent terminal for a while. Sure enough a message had been set to repeat from joint police and military forces, letting everyone know this camp’s position, and that food and medical treatment were available to all survivors. There was also an SOS sent out across the local star system, but it was so weak that unless there was a ship literally right outside the atmosphere, it wouldn’t reach anyone.

Not that anyone is coming.

What was there to come back to? Was he himself worth being rescued from this place? The chief had never seen himself as a violent man, but he couldn’t stop thinking about finishing off Jake, or Blankley, or anyone else in the Bunker that had wronged him. He wanted to see how that woman he’d saved from Blankley’s goons, suffer out here, see how she fared while he sat back and watched. He wanted that man he’d saved from the scavenger dangle from that stoplight, the chief never getting involved in the first place.

That same damn question came back again. This time with a twist.

What was the point of helping people, when there was not a single shred of benefit on his part?

That’s the kind of thinking Weyland would do.

But there was some sick sense of simplicity in choosing the easier way, of murder and death, and he hated himself for how tempting it felt to go down that path.

There was a flash of white light, and he turned, seeing the faint after images of a lightning strike fade in the distance. He was just about to scroll through the data again when he heard a noise down below.

He crept down the stairs, one hand on the hilt of the machete. He peaked underneath the roof section, and saw something standing in the door frame to the structure.

Unlike the vultures, this creature wasn’t an introduced species, but local. It resembled something like an earthen hyena, but with an additional tail poking out of its hindquarters. Its hide was a filthy bronze shade, interrupted by splotches of red and black. From its paws extended two sets of claws, one above the other, and they were wickedly sharp.

The Gooret usually kept away from the human settlements, but the Fall must have benefited the beasts, now that society had collapsed. It only came up to about his knee, but it was still the largest one he had ever seen. Instead of cowing before the human, the Gooret gave a low growl, and hunched to the ground, skinny belly rubbing against the dirt.

The chief brandished his machete with a singing of steel, took the last step off the staircase before staring down the little animal. The fangs were blunt, but the jaws were strong, and carried all manner of diseases, and he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Its talons clicked against the floor as it stepped inside, black eyes veined with red strips regarding the intruding human. He chief made to strike when he caught movement to his left, and saw another Gooret climbing in through a window, landing on the floor with a soft bark. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the newest threat.

Another sound of talons scratching metal, and out of the corner of his eye, another Gooret came climbing in through a separate opening. Then another, and another. Soon he was surrounded on all sides by a pack of scavengers foaming at the mouths. He just barely heard the sound of a squawking vulture somewhere outside.

Gun in one hand and machete in the other, he tried to look in all direction of the compass, never keeping his back facing one direction for long. He fake-launched towards any of the Gooret that got too close, and was glad they backed off like scared puppies. Gooret were known to be cowardly, but not so much against prey of their own, particularly when they outnumbered their foe.

The interior was filled with the sounds of growling and snarling, and the chief caught glimpses of even more Gooret outside the walls. Dozens and dozens of them. His heart began to race as fear crept up his spine.

One of the Gooret, perhaps sensing this, leapt out of the encirclement and snapped against the back of his calf. The chief cursed and swung his machete, only for the blade to meet air as the creature zipped back into the safety of the pack. The chief levelled his gun but hesitated. The phrase too good to use came to mind as he displaced his finger from the trigger. The bullet inside was meant as a last resort, was meant for him.

Another Gooret took its chance, but this time the chief was ready. He swung with the butt of the gun leading, and smacked the creature right in the eye, hard enough to pop it right out from its socket. Moving with the momentum, the chief carried the machete through and embedded the blade in the Gooret’s flank. The creature snarled and pulled itself away, a trail of orangey blood painting the floor as it retreated.

“Come on,” the chief shouted. “Come on, you fucking things.”

Two Gooret took the challenge, one from the front, one from the back. The one in front whimpered before the machete, barely avoiding the descending blade. The one behind latched itself onto his back, teeth chomping down against his shoulder. He felt blood trickle down his back. Reaching back, he yanked the creature by its ear, slammed it to the ground, and slit its throat all one quick movement. The Gooret wriggled one last time before it died.

The net of animals tightened around the chief. One of them lunged in and out in two seconds flat, carrying a piece of his pants in its chops. He felt the shapes of claws rending his shins as they began to get bolder, faster. In the wild, the Gooret took great amusement in toying with their prey, drawing out fights and tiring their target. Already he could see the ones he wounded were retreating, being replaced by fresh Gooret itching to fight.

One used the shoulders of another to gain some height and fling itself at the human, saliva trailing out behind it in thin streams. The chief ended its flight with a well-landed kick that sent it tumbling into the wall, where its neck broke on impact, killing it well before it crumpled to the ground. The kick left him exposed for a moment, and another nip in the arm found himself losing more blood.

Crying out, the chief launched forward and swiped from east to west, slicing two Gooret snouts and sending blood spritzing into the air. One launched up from one of the window sills, leading with its claws. He brought up his arm on instinct, and the ferocious animal sunk its teeth into his already wounded wrist.

If he had been in pain before, it was nothing compared to now. He pulled the Gooret off and ran it through, then chucked the corpse at one of its brethren. His visor was becoming more and more covered in alien blood, and his blind spots expanded as his vision was hampered. Another bite on the leg, another on his shoulder. Two of them latched on like leeches and buried their teeth in his flesh.

Stop.

He spun around and shook the creatures off. He cleaved one in half right through its skull as he stepped forward. Somewhere behind him, one of them chomped on the back of his knee, and he sunk to a crouch. He put the blade between its teeth and pried the creature off, cutting up inside its chops and tearing out its skull from the inside.

Another came at him. He swiped at it with the hilt of the machete, sending it down like a sack of flour. It squirmed against the metal, snot and blood leaking from between its teeth. He brought his boot down and crushed its head.

Make it stop.

One of them crawled up his leg and fell upon his face, claws raking at the mask, slobber mixing in with the blood on the glass. Sprawled on his side, the chief brought up his machete and skewered it, bringing the blade out through its spine, ripping it into two pieces he threw away with a growl.

He tried to get to his feet, only to be piled on by two more Gooret. He brought his boot down on one, sending it flying, but the other dodged his blade when he swung, and sank its teeth right into his chest. He screamed.

No more.

He brought up his pistol, but the barrel wasn’t aimed at the nearest Gooret. He might end up as a pile of shit from these things, but at least he wouldn’t be alive when they ate him.

But even then, he wouldn’t get such a clean end. A set of jaws clamped around his rising arm and twisted, and the gun fell from his fingers. He killed the creature responsible as he searched the ground for the pistol, only to knock it aside accidentally, where it disappeared beneath dozens of paws.

Should have ended it while I had the chance.

He cut and cleaved, punched and kicked and ripped, but the Gooret just kept on coming. They backed him up into a corner, and he clutched his bloody machete with two quivering hands. The piles of creatures were high enough to be considered hills for the small creatures, climbing over them to get at the human.

He beheaded one that went for his leg, lashed out with a foot to knock aside another, pressing his back against the wall as his lungs cried out for air.

Strength drained from his legs. His blood was everywhere. His vision was filled with filthy fur as the entire pack set itself into motion against him. In his last few moments alive, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

I’m sorry, Amaya.

He’d failed her. He’d held on, just as she asked, but he felt himself going weak, saw his life flash before his eyes. All the stories said that happened right before death, and he was startled to find that was actually true.

He opened his eyes slowly. He was ready, as he ever would be.

… But the Gooret didn’t advance. Some were even looking away from him, outside the windows.

“What are you fuck’s waiting for?” the chief spat. “I’m ready. Come on!”

He lashed out, killed one, knocked aside another, felt a chunk of his hip be torn away as one of them circled around his defences and snapped its jaws. But something was happening to the pack. A pair of them were moving away, running outside where the rest of the pack was waiting.

The chief was exhausted, but as he killed, he noticed the number of Gooret inside was starting to dwindle. None were coming in to replace the others, and some were leaving, perhaps scared of the amount of fight he was putting up? He didn’t know nor care as he slashed away at the disgusting creatures, covered from head to toe in blood and sweat.

Something banged against the wall from the outside, leaving a visible imprint of a Gooret in the steel. The chief didn’t give it much thought, as he took comfort in the withering amount of the creatures, and pushed himself toto keep on fighting. It felt like he had been fighting for hours upon hours, until at last the building was only occupied by him, and two of the last Gooret.

With bleeding fingers, he tightened his grip and made to strike like some amateur samurai. He cut the forelegs off from one, where they spun like tomahawks to his left and right. It crawled away from him on its stumps, whimpering. The final Gooret was the same one that had started this whole mess, the largest he’d seen, with fangs as big as his fingers hanging out of its mouth like a sabre-tooth cat’s. The chief and the creature made to lash out for one last skirmish, when a long black point entered through the back of the Gooret’s skull and came out right between its eyes.

The shock on the chief’s face matched that of the Gooret, as the life faded from its eyes, and the muscles in its legs relaxed. The chief traced the obsidian protrusion down a long segmented length, that whipped about to the left and chucked the Gooret off its pointed tip with a flick.

The chief watched the final Gooret curl up and die in the corner, before following the tail’s length, up to the body of yet another creature standing in the doorway.

But this one was different, in more ways than just the physical.

Two double jointed hind legs fidgeted against the ground, supporting a pair of healthy thighs. The torso, rippling with muscle, had a set of arms curled about the stomach, the claws on each hand were short and sharp. Above that, a second pair of arms hung by the creature’s sides, the shoulders rising and falling with each heaving breath it made. An eyeless face was paired with a maw filled with silver teeth, the lips peeled back in a feral snarl.

Topping the creature was a crest, almost oversized compared to the rest of the body, which was more than double his own height. The crest reminded him of a triceratops crown, with horns and blades sticking out along its edges. Ridges formed complex, alien patterns across its dark surface. A line of spaced fins ran along the centre of the crown, splitting off into two rows halfway down the length. The rest of the crown curled away and out of sight.

The Queen slipped halfway through the doorframe, oversized in comparison, but slinking in not in the least but hindered by her bulk. Growling, she stopped halfway through the movement, locked her gaze on the man inside.

The Queen raised the end of her tail, pointed it at the chief.

The chief bent down and retrieved his pistol, aimed it at the Queen.

For a long moment the two of them simply stood there, weapons once aimed at themselves, now aimed at each other. Then, ever so slightly, the chief’s arm began to lower as the adrenaline of the fight subsided.

“I… It’s you.”

The Queen titled her head to one side, her large, shield-like blade poised over her shoulder twitching, like a scorpion about to strike.

There was a prod at the back of his mind, an old feeling he knew all too well, a bonfire rekindling. He sighed, and let it in as best he could.

The Queen took one hesitant step forward, three arms curling over her stomach. Her tail blade began to lower, her eyeless gaze never leaving the human. Then he heard something, a flinty voice as feminine as the creature in front of him. His chest tightened up as the creature towered over him, even though she was keeping her distance.

Maddox? he heard. … A dream.

He shook his head, coming closer. He rose his left hand. She rose her right. Her exoskeleton was soft but firm, a thin layer of perspiration swirling under his fingers as he caressed. The Queen traced one edge of the chief’s mask, softly exploring as they stared at one another.

“No,” he said. “It’s not a dream.“

Chapter 9

… and Found

1

Blankley was no spring chicken. He would be fifty years old in a couple months, but had the sagging complexion of an eighty-year-old. But when that machine came back with recordings of an intact spacecraft, he had felt a hundred pounds lighter.

“I want you to call off this plan of yours,” his doctor had said, not matching Blankley’s excitement in the least. “You’re really in no position to move around this soon after your last attack.”

His wife had said after his first heart-attack, that she wouldn’t stick around for when the second came. She was long dead now, and here he was, Mayor of civilisation’s remnants, alive but not-so-healthy, but what did the latter matter when he still had the prior? He kept an old photo of her on his bedside table, but always put it face-down whenever he had company for the night. He hadn’t touched its frame in weeks now. He had a whole world to grieve, hundreds of people to look after. He knew she would understand, from heaven or hell, whichever one she had wound up in.

“That was two months ago.” Blankley regarded the good doctor with tempered patience. He couldn’t sit still, not when there were things to be done, preparations to make.

His doctor held up a finger. “One, actually. Your assistant found you on the floor with vomit in your mouth. Remember?”

He wished he didn’t. “I’m not calling it off, doctor.”

“Delay it, then.” Another finger was added. “Two weeks, at least. Your last test results have been… less than adequate.”

“Anyone else said that to me, they’d be sent topside.”

“But you need me to say these things to you, because no one else down here is going to speak up… Your executions have seen to that.”

Blankley’s temper threatened to spill, but he held it back. Years of politics had trained him to keep his cool when under the spotlight. “They are necessary displays of exiling the unwanted stock.” And he really did believe that, even if it made him sound like an answering machine.

“As you say, Mayor. One week, then. For your sake.”

“That’s too late.”

“That won’t matter if you pass out from lack of oxygen, or the shift in air pressure on the way to the surface, or the kilometres we have to walk to even get to this spaceship of yours.”

“I won’t be walking.” Blankley held up his own hand, extended his own sagging digit. “Time is of the essence, as the saying goes, and don’t you roll your eyes at me. If one of my synthetics could find the ship, who’s to say some savages won’t get there before us? I have a duty to the people of the Bunker, and I won’t let my failing body, or insubordinates, get in the way of our freedom.”

The doctor sighed, backed down. He was important, but not that important, and they both knew it. Blankley left the clinic and made his way up a few levels. Two of his guards went with him, as usual. He’d never been attacked in public since the Bunker’s official launch (or close, depending on how you look at it), but after the former chief engineer’s crude destruction of the Sweeping equipment topside, which had been streaming to public channels live at the time, some few had gotten the idea to follow in the boy’s rebellious ways. A few kids down in the engineering levels.

Who else? he thought. But a few beatings in the late hours of the night had seen to keeping that little problem contained. And an armed escort was the cherry on top. Weyland could still exert its will, and he’d make sure the company knew that when he left this shell of a planet.

He made a few public speeches on how the Bunker would go about its long-awaited departure for the surface. Plenty of people were terrified of the mass Exodus that was fast approaching. People were sheep, as history proved time and again, skittish to even the slightest hint of anything hinting at big news. But he couldn’t blame them – he himself was just starting to get used to being the only leader left on this world.

Perhaps Weyland will see a bit of himself in me.

It would bring the big break he had been looking for all his corporate life – finally some recognition of his abilities to move on up in the galaxy. Letting all the competition wipe each other out was a rather… peculiar way to go about it, and was not much his style. Still, it all worked out for him in a way. He’d just wished it had been cleaner, quieter. Far too many hiccups he was ashamed he’d let slip. But one never stops learning their lessons, as his father once said, there would be plenty of time to improve when this backwater planet was far behind him.

Stepping into the loading bay, Blankley was approached by a tall, well-built man in greasy overalls. Blankley crinkled his nose at the stench of oil and burning metal. He didn’t usually come round this part of the Bunker, but it would become a regular stop in his already busy schedule in the coming days.

“How’s it coming along?” Blankley asked. The man in the overalls lifted a pair of goggles from his grimy face. The former chief would have recognised this one. He’d smashed him in the face with a wine bottle, and Jess’ mug was scratched up with red lines all over his cheeks.

“Good progress, sir. Really good. Should be ready in three days. Four at most.”

“Show me.”

Jess nodded, leading Blankley into the rear of the bay, past dozens of workbenches covered in scrap parts. Boilers and furnaces stacked up on rows were billowing soot and steam from there tops, wispy trails sucking into the vents near the ceiling. The men and women nodded politely as he went by, while the one’s further away looked on like he was some deity out for a stroll. He felt sorry for them, unable to bring their heads out of the sands of the apocalypse. Then again that’s why there were people like him around – to guide.

“We’re manufacturing ass-tons of ammo for the ‘fifty,” Jess said as they walked. Blankley fell in step behind him, already beginning to wheeze. Living off pills and alcohol would do that to you. “But we’ve only got a couple shots for the thirty mil’.”

“‘Couple shots’, Jess? What is that.”

“Seven, sir.”

“Seven? That’s not even close to what I requested.”

“It’s the best we could do with what we’ve got. Maybe if that kid put in his Sweep earnings before he fucked off, we might have had enough scrap to make some more shells.”

Blankley picked up on the tone Jess made, and didn’t let it go. “Now now, Jess, that ‘kid’ managed to put you down during your little night of fun with one of the girls, remember?”

“How could I not when you keep reminding me?”

“I remind you because it was almost you I was going to send Sweeping, not our young chief. You’re lucky Jake took one for the team or I might have had to go through with it.”

Jess backed down, grumbling under his breath. He and his little group were hot-headed and arrogant, but they knew their place, that was why Blankley had Jess as his unofficial second.

There were five vehicle docking bays on the northern wall of the level. The third one was occupied. Blankley stopped in front of it and looked up at the metal contraption sitting in the glow of a large ceiling lamp.

A pair of engineers holding welders were crouched before the side-tracks, white sparks snapping into the air around them as they worked. The bulky, rectangular base was layered in various pieces of plating, most of which had come from scrapped roofs or metal wall sheets, all welded on to create this survivalist-themed bulk. The nose of the vehicle was capped in a V-shaped cone, a hatch flipped open at its front half. The top of an engineer’s helmet was poking out of it.

A turret jutted from near the centre of the bulk, flanked by two antennae. A box of ammunition was being fed into the back of the turret, then down into the gunner seat, hidden inside the vehicle. Old, green paint of the army had been replaced by a black coat at Blankley’s behest.

The tank was an older Weyland model, but still packed a hard punch, and could take hits too, with all the extra sheeting welded on. It had been the only thing Blankley had shipped inside, back when the bombs were dropping from the sky. Nothing any savage’s topside could deal with, Blankley had no doubt, but he wouldn’t have minded more shells for the turret. Sometimes at night when he looked through the surface cameras there were… things, crawling around in the darkness, things that gave him nightmares sometimes. He’d kept it all to himself of course, nothing to bother the people with.

“There’s enough room in the back for four or five people to squeeze in,” Jess explained. “everyone else will have to walk.”

“Sacrifices,” Blankley said, running a hand across the bulk of the tank. “This will be our flagship through the surface. You’ve done good work here, Jess. But you need to double the shifts for everyone. Make sure we have enough ammo for anything we might face out there. I want at least twenty-five shots for the thirty millimetre. Take supplies form the general stocks if you need it. You make that happen, I’ll let you ride along with me inside once you’re finished.”

“Thank you, sir. How long do you think until we’re out of this hole?”

“Depends on how quick we are. We’ll send the tank up first with a handful of men, myself included. Then I’ll have my guards escort the rest of the Bunker up to the surface, one group at a time. We’ll start evacuating as soon as this tank’s ready. After that we’ve got quite a walk to make to get to the ship. We’ll need to move fast.”

He left the matter of organising hundreds of people into an orderly fashion unspoken. Whatever horrors waited up there would no doubt notice this development, and the tank could not be everywhere at once to protect them all. Not everyone leaving the Bunker will live to see the end, he was sure of that.

“Er, sir?” Jess asked hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“This ship, it’s got to be pretty big to hold all of us inside. And I’m surprised it’s not in pieces at this point.”

“It’s only a light commercial flight model, Jess. I’ve seen the images. Small and subtle, but it’ll work. Someone must have been patching it up when the Fall interrupted them, that’s my guess. My scouts are sure it is fully functional.”

“Commercial? Even the biggest commercial ships can only fit a couple hundred people inside. How are we going to fit eight hundred guys on board?”

“Sacrifices,” Blankley said again. “Those who make it that far will understand. Millions of people have died on Solaris, a few hundred more won’t change a thing.”

Blankley watched someone transport a tray of cannon shells over to the rear of the tank.

“But we’ll… we’ll come back, right? Come back for the rest?”

The Mayor didn’t answer.

2

Maddox looked better and worse than the last time she saw him.

He came up to about her chest height. His build was thin, but athletic at the same time. A layer of perspiration covered his creamy skin, giving it a gleamy sheen that was so very contrast to her own onyx hide. His shirt and pants were covered in animal guts and blood, but that didn’t stop her from staring. After all she herself was dripping with intestines.

But there was something else about him, something that made her insides flare with excitement. Maybe it was the dark device covering up his face, but he looked so much… older. He was an adult now, aged, but not in a bad way. It was strange to picture that the man in front of her had once been that little boy she’d stumbled upon on that rainy day.

And yet… was stumbled the right word? Had the world itself directed him to her, or perhaps her predecessors had something to do with it? It was hard to imagine it might have all come down to simply chance…

But it was also hard to process that he was actually… there. All this time on her own, chasing after him and she hadn’t even known it, and now here she was, speechless. A numbing sensation washed over her limbs, the same numbness she felt whenever she experienced pain – which was most of her waking life – and she felt like she was beside herself, just like how it feels whenever she was in a dream.

Maybe this is the dreaming world.

And wouldn’t that be the ultimate insult? To watch her old friend fade away into the wisps of her imagination? When in reality she was lying in a pool of her acidic blood just outside, succumbed to the wounds these creatures had inflicted on her?

But no, this was real. She could feel blood dripping from her claws, could feel the burning sensation of the couple scratches spotting her hide. But most of all, she could feel the cold shell that was her body heating up emotions she’d not felt in years. It had to be real.

She raised her hand but stopped halfway, hesitated. She had a hundred things to say to him, and in hundreds more of ways. She wanted to hug him, she wanted to hold his hands, to see his face, but she knew well how frightening her appearance could be, and with that machete in his hand… The way he was heaving told her the chance of him lashing out might not be impossible.

As she worked the imaginary cogs, aiming her thoughts and turning them to words, there was a clunk against metal, and she looked up. Maddox’s boot had come a step closer, and she hadn’t realised it had been a whole minute of silence that had stretched between them. The human sighed as he looked up at her, unseen mouth working.

“… I-“

A low, baying howl. She and Maddox both turned towards the direction of the interruption. Through one of the windows they could see the slope where first Maddox had walked down from, and then her. Posed at the peak of the ridge were dozens, no, hundreds more of the Gooret creatures. She saw a few of them were bleeding – the ones she hadn’t managed to kill outright. They must have called for the rest of the pack.

For a second nothing moved. Then, with another howl, the pack-leader led the rest of its kin down towards the beach. The giant mass of moving brown, filthy fur resembled a colony of ants blanketing a hill.

“Oh shit.” Maddox shot out an arm and seized her by her lower left wrist. She yelped out as an electrical feeling surged through the contact. She traced up the arm with the intention of looking at his concealed face, but then her gaze did a double take on a particularly nasty wound on his wrist.

“We’ve got to go!” He ran for the doorway, her big frame coming with him.

Maddox… Your arm!

“Forget my arm! Run!”

Speaking of which, she had been running non-stop ever since her discovery of his name. Back through the forests, the gas station, the highways, brazing past the familiar sights on all fours (as she was now). The Capitol extending high out in front of her this time, not behind.

She’d memorized the patterns of the arching sun for entire days. She hadn’t dared stop, because as the proximity between them closed, his old, yet familiar presence strengthened, and it fueled her on, kept her going. She’d offered up a thousand thanks to her predecessors, but only the silence answered her. She felt a little disappointed at that, but she liked to think that somewhere, somehow, they knew how grateful she was.

But now she was on her own, their last act fulfilled, and now she had a pack of hungry horrible beasts chasing after. No, not on my own, she thought, glancing at the human sprinting by her side.

From her rapidly depleted stamina, and Maddox’s mounting wounds, it was obvious neither of them were in any shape to fight, and the Gooret seemed to know it, swarming over the tents in their maddening pursuit. Some even stopped to rip open the flesh of their fallen kin and delve into their spilled guts, but a quick count told her at least fifty of the things were right on their tail.

Seashells splintered and pebbles clacked together under her heels as she galloped like a doe up the beach. Maddox! she said. we need to talk!

He wheezed out words between breaths. “Yeah well… gah… Can’t it… wait!?”

Right. Humans used their mouths to speak as well as breathe. She didn’t want to wait, didn’t want reality to get in the way between him and her, but the Gooret were closing in, and to her horror, Maddox was slowing down.

Just like last time.

No, she told herself harshly. It would not be like that again. They were both older now, stronger in body. This time would be different, and she would make sure of it.

The quickest members of the pack came close enough that she could smell their horrid breath. She reared up her tail, and snapped it like a whip. Crack! The head of a mangy beast went sailing away like a bottle cap, while the rest of its body buried into the sand, unmoving.

Her feet made wet slapping sounds as a small wave rolled in from their right. Cold bubbles fizzled away against the hot shoreline, carrying broken pieces of shells back out into the currents. A Gooret was running parallel to Maddox, head craned at him, teeth bared in a snarl. She was about to lash out her tailblade again when Maddox acted first. He swapped his machete from his left hand to his right, and sliced down the length of its spine all without missing a beat. The Gooret ate sand, hindquarters raised high as it skidded to a halt. It twitched once before stilling.

Two more appeared on her left. There was a mighty snap!– and their bodies literally tore apart, limbs popping off milliseconds after the sound. Her tail came back to flail behind her, its tip coloured crimson.

Despite the feeling of running across a country, the length of the beach was not endless. It stopped abruptly two hundred meters ahead of them, where a gigantic cliff face sealed away all view of the north, beginning at the shoreline and running kilometers to the west like a giant wall of granite. Between her and it, the terrain gave way to a rocky overgrowth that would be hell on her hands and feet. She was tiring so much already, but she pushed herself harder, and faster. She would not die now, not after just finding him!

Naturally she was faster than Maddox, even in her depleted state, but she stuck close to him, warding off encroaching Gooret with her long tail, cutting anything that got within her reach into red ribbons. Sand and gravel underfoot turned into an expansive zone of jagged rocks. The terrain dipped and rose like the pattern of a wavelength, making the running slower and harder.

Maddox almost twisted his ankle as he launched over a pool of water gathering in a bowl-shaped divot. She shot out an arm and pulled him back to his balance, and he shot her a grateful grin (though she couldn’t see it). As the chase dragged on, patches of moss and algae compressed under feet and paws, like patches of fur growing in clusters around cracks in the rocky ground.

The terrain was splattered here and there with groups of colourless coral husks, looking like skeletal hands growing out from rock fissures. All the coral was shriveled up and dead, and exploded into plumes of dust that evaporated into nothingness if anything passed close by.

Lips pulled back in a feral snarl, she felt a Gooret bite down on her calf. They had just passed within the shadow of the cliff, and the wall of rock was almost in spitting distance. The boulders gathered around the area were sharp and thin, resembling wicked upturned daggers. She stopped, plucked the stupid Gooret off her and impaled it on a spike, cursing whatever had bred it into the world as she did.

Coming the wall base, and mumbling a bunch of curse words, Maddox craned his neck up to see the top of the cliff, and felt dizzy doing it. He remembered there was an old hiking path going up the wall of rock, a common tourist spot, but it had long eroded away with time and all that was left was a slight discoloration curving up and out of sight.

There was a pat on the rock beside him, and he looked to see his old companion standing beside him, tail pointed up in agitation. Two Gooret were coming at them, flanked by the great mass of brown that was the rest of the pack.

She took the one on the right, and Maddox the left. She ran her talons past its horrid maw and cut its throat from inside out. Maddox ran his machete through his victim’s chest all the way to the hilt, blade sticking out of its backside. They threw there kills away and nodded to each other; a few extra seconds bought.

We have to climb! she said, wiggling one of her slim shoulders towards him. On my back, Maddox.

He cocked a brow at her eyeless face, expression contorted in growing fear. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’ll fall to our deaths!”

And we’ll die sooner if we stay within their reach.

Hundreds of growls and barks threw away his hesitance. Grabbing one of her dorsal spikes, he pulled himself up onto her back and straddled himself there. She felt again that warm, buzzy touch of his, only on a whole new scale of giddy and pleasant thoughts. She pushed that aside for now, and threw herself at the wall.

Five meters up, and she began to choke for air. She was close enough to passing out as is, but now with the added weight of her friend, her limbs were complaining up a storm. He’s definitely put on some weight since last time, she thought.

“I heard that!”

A creature latched its toothy maw onto the base of her tail, fangs sinking into her hide. Her tailblade curled awkwardly to try and reach the nasty Gooret, but Maddox beat her to it.

He brought a boot down against its snout. It loosened its grip before it could pierce her exoskeleton, and gave way on the second thwack. There was a cloud of blood and a twig-like snap, and the Gooret’s broken face flipped back to the ground and landed with a thump.

She saw a holdable ledge another five meters above her, and squatted against the wall in preparation for a jump. She leaped, and was pleasantly surprised at how easily she vaulted up. Then she noticed that was because she felt lighter, and the familiar weight of her companion had slipped from her torso.

Maddox!

Maddox cried out as he entered freefall, arms spinning like windmills as he reached out to grab anything to stop his fall. His limbs snapped against the skeletal length of her tail, which she had slapped into his chest in her following panic. He grunted, sliding from the halfway point down to the shield-like tailblade. His descent came to a painful, bloody halt as his forearms dug into her tail’s razor-sharp end.

Snarling through clenched teeth, Maddox looked past the bleeding slits running down his arms at the ground. There just so happened to be a bent rock aiming right up at him. It was sloped like a crescent moon, and the Gooret were using it as a ramp to continue their ferocious pursuit, dozens of them lining up at its base, each waiting for their turn to bite his head off.

One of them used the rock as a run up, vaulted off its peak and sailed for his dangling legs, yellow teeth leading. Maddox ended its aerial journey with a well-timed kick, knocking it out of the air and sending it to the left, where the rocks gave way suddenly to a large drop into the ocean. It disappeared behind the rocks and a splash could faintly be heard.

He tried to reach around to the machete scabbard, but only cut his arms on her tail more with all the movement. Another hound took a leap at him and missed by inches, hitting the ground hard, but getting up, shaking its filthy main like a wet dog.

Maddox! she called. Maddox, I have an idea. You see that ledge to your left?

Barely holding back a cry of pain, he darted his eyes in the direction she indicated. There was the smallest of plateaus two meters across from him. “Yeah?” he said, not quite yelling up at her. There was something silver dangling from her neck, but he didn’t pay it much thought at the moment to look closer.

I’m going to swing you across.

“I thought you said you had an idea, not a deathwish! Just climb! Quick!”

I can’t hold us both up much longer. On three, ready?

“No! No I’m not! I-I’m going to fall!”

You can reach it. Trust me. Trust me like you did all those years ago.

Maddox looked past her tail length at her, closed his eyes for a second, trying to push away the pain as his arms dug deeper. For a moment the barks of the pack and the crash of the waves was the only sound, then Maddox grunted, nodding so slightly she almost didn’t see the motion.

“O-Okay. Okay, ready!”

She counted down. One. She arched her tail back to the right, rising the human higher into the air. Two. Her tail swung the other way, coming close enough to the indicated ledge Maddox could almost reach out and touch it, but dared not to. Swinging back once more, she went to voice the last number when one more Gooret leapt from the rock, aiming right for Maddox’s face!

Three!

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!” He dragged the word out to three heartbeats long. Moving with the momentum, Maddox let go of her tail and launched into the air. For one horrible moment she thought he wasn’t going to make it, and the Gooret would drag him down into the hungry pack’s teeth. But the hound missed his head by the mere width of a hand, crashing its head into the space he’d just vacated. Maddox’s fingers snatched onto the lip of the plateau, and he cried out in terrible pain, as his wounded wrist threatened to give under his weight.

She sighed in relief as he pulled through it, swinging first one leg up then another. The Gooret were persistent, but not stupid. They gave up trying to launch after, instead prancing about right underneath them, as if waiting for one of them to make a mistake.

Checking one last time to see Maddox was secure, she slid her way to the side, going over him, locking her long fingers into cracks in the granite. She positioned herself carefully, then let her tail fall limp beside his body. There’s a hold to your right. I’ll swing you again.

There was just enough room for Maddox to rise to his feet, knees quaking when he failed to resist looking down. He put his back against the wall, putting one sweaty hand on her tail. She could feel his fear like it was a physical force, and she tried to soothe his mind through their old link, but she found there was a blockage on his part. A barrier, and navigating around it proved difficult as well as unpleasant. She would have to ask about it once they were off this cliff.

Like a pendulum, Maddox swung from left to right, latched onto her tail for dear life, careful to keep away from its deadly tip as much as he could. He reached the next handhold smoothly, and when he told her that he was good, she pulled her tail away and moved on ahead.

That was the pattern they used as they slowly put height between them and the Gooret pack, their barks and growls slowly becoming quieter with each rise up the cliff. She would move a little bit up and to the right, and swing him across with her appendage. She had a few heart-attacks when he slipped a couple times during the ascent, but he wasn’t the only one with failing agility. She was pretty sure Maddox gasped too when she misplaced her foot, sending a pile of pebbles flying away in her error.

She lost count of their paired swings after twenty. Her body was sagging as her energy depleted with each lunge and hang, and she couldn’t focus asking the million questions she had, now that they at least had some quiet, which was broken now and then by cawing birds circling overhead, looking for fish, or perhaps waiting for her to make a mistake.

As she climbed she could just barley gleam from Maddox’s mind that he was thinking of something called a Tarzan, whenever he used her tail like a jungle-vine. Her list of questions just got longer, and she told herself just one more leap and she would have all the time in the world to ask them.

The scaled the rock of granite, higher and higher until the ground was a distant, grey slab of rocks and water. Waves foamed and crashed up against the cliffs, sending sprays of water so violently high she could feel droplets tickling the backs of her legs. It was the influence of the storm she’d seen, that still could be seen. It was impossible to guess when it would hit, but it would be soon.

The cliff face gently curved around the coast, smoothing out all the holds she’d been relying on thus far. She had to clamp on to right-angled, vertical slabs of rock that put the strain on her hands to the absolute limit. Both her and Maddox’s lives were resting on her tiny knuckles. It really put things into perspective for her, how they were just ants compared to the might of the mountain they scaled. How small they were in general.

Maybe it was ten minutes, or half an hour later before she looked up at the lip of the cliff, and could make out grass stalks swishing over the rim. It looked like they were waving her up in invitation. She tail-pulled Maddox until he was by her leg.

Almost there, she told him, even though it was obvious. She was just looking for an excuse to talk, because a little part of her, a very big little part of her, was worried she might not be able to talk soon. She was exhausted.

“We can do it,” Maddox said between breaths, the wind pulling his hair off to the side with each violent gust. “You can do it.” She locked eyes with him for a moment – even though she had none, and couldn’t even see his. Her tail stayed curved around his arm a little longer than necessary, as she prepared to make the last few lunges.

And those last meters were the hardest. There was almost nothing up here to hold on to, and what holds there were forced her into awkward poses that made her muscles burn so hot she started to whimper. Each time Maddox used her tail she stared slipping, and now she was the one suffering anxiety of the long fall that awaited her at the slightest lapse.

Ten meters to go. Another jump and tail-swing. Five meters. She could almost hear the swishing grass awaiting her up there. Between her and her goal there was a hollowed out, chute-shaped curvature in the rock that sliced its way to the top of the cliff. She pressed her back against one side and her feet against the other, pressing her weight horizontally to keep from falling. Every shimmy she made was hell on her bones, and after what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes, her view of the world turned from rocks to grass.

Dead grass, but she could work with that. She pulled herself up to level ground at long last, her breast rising and falling as she dragged air deep into her lungs.

A shadowy bulk blotted out a section of the sun’s aura. Looking up, she traced the patterns of a giant metal bulk stretching from east to west. Bits of metal jutted out in seemingly random places along the hull, giving the ruined vessel a cruel appearance in its design.

Each end of the ship was backed by more cliffs, and somewhere nearby she could hear rushing water. She could see no way off the plateau except perhaps through the ship stretching across her sight, which was beginning to blur at the edges as her energy sapped away at every movement she made.

She hadn’t realised Maddox had pulled himself up beside her, grunting and wheezing as he scrambled away from the ledge. Only her upper half was holding over solid ground, but her legs felt like they were made of lead, and she couldn’t raise them up. The base of her tail smacked against her thighs, useless and spent. She swore her hands gripping the grass were beginning to slip.

Then a pair of arms reached out and seized her upper wrists. She couldn’t see it, but Maddox’s face scrunched with effort as he leaned back and pulled. One knee came up tiredly, followed eventually by the other. She crawled like a defeated cat until the emptiness of the drop fell from her heels.

When they were a few meters from the drop, Maddox flopped onto his back, wiping sweat from his forehead with a wrist. She went to go to him, but ended up falling face-first onto the ground with a kick of dust.

Her back arched up, shaking violently with each breath she took. She wanted to sleep and never wake up, that was how tired she felt.

Maddox shifted beside her, shuffling on his knees back towards the drop. “Holy hell…” He guessed they’d scaled a few dozen storeys, probably more. He could still see the Gooret pack down there, running circles around each other in evident frustration. He smirked. “Looks like we got away, huh? … O-Oh shit.”

If it wasn’t for the subtle rise of her chest, he would have guessed she’d up and died right on the spot. He scrambled over to her front, cupped his left hand on the side of her crown. He called something out to her, but the first couple of words were muffled as she refocused on her hearing. “… Hey, come on. Stay with me. We made it, okay? We got away.”

If she heard him, she did not show it. With his right hand he gently tapped at her cheek, and when she didn’t react to that, slapped her harder. “Come on, wake up! D-Don’t…” He was going to finish with ‘leave me’, but stopped when her head tilted on its own and he heard her mental voice.

Maddox…?

“I’m right here.” He brushed a little smooth spot near the front of her crown, where there were no thorns or spikes. The contact made a tired little purr elicit from deep in her throat. On every other breath, he could see her inner tongue peeking past her fangs. She looked like a wreck.

Water… she said, but it was more like a beg, and not of her own volition. She tried to reach out a claw, but her limb felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and it flopped away like all the bones in her body had up and vanished.

“Water? I-I don’t…” He checked his pockets but his fingers swept over nothing. Whatever he’d been carrying he must have dropped during the fight. He looked round until his gaze settled on the metal hulk a short run ahead of them, regarding it for a few moments. “I… I think I know where I can get some. And some food, too. You look… You look like you need it.”

He started to get up, but with the last ebbs of her strength she gripped his leg. No! she croaked. No, don’t go. I need you.

“You need to stay down,” he insisted, patting the top of her hand. “I’ll be right back. Just… Just stay still, okay?”

Maddox pulled away from her, and she had no fight left to hold onto either her consciousness, or her friend. Her vision swirled, blurred, and then sleep overcame her. The last thing she did was curl in on herself and watch his thin form fade into the distance.

No, don’t go! I need… need to… and then she was alone in the void that was the dreaming world.

3

Leaving Amaya behind was the most difficult thing, because he’d done it before, and since there prior parting had resulted in so much pain, there was nothing to say this time wouldn’t be just as worse.

Even just thinking about his time during his capture made his blood run cold. It had been bad at the start, but later on they’d used more intrusive and painful methods to try and force him to confess. But he’d held on for her, and told them nothing.

But that part, the part that had held him fast against the pain, it was slipping away now that he knew Amaya was alive. He should have been overjoyed, and he was, but the strongest emotion he could feel right now was… bitterness.

Bitter because, why had she not tried to contact him, or find him sooner?

Maybe she was busy. Like me.

But was it really that simple? He had traded his freedom for hers, but he had not felt a single thing from her after that night they parted. Why had she not sent anything to him through that mental tether that linked them? All sorts of negative reasons ran through his head, the most reasonable being that she’d just lost interest in him.

Stop it, he told himself. You can ask her yourself once you’ve helped her.

He stole a glance back at the black skeletal pile that was his long-lost friend. There were whispers in his head telling him to go to her, but she had passed out, her wounds and exhaustion notable. Besides, the shipwreck was right here, and if there was any chance of him helping her, it was in there. And it would only take a few minutes, Maddox was sure of it.

The word Cyclops was painted in red letters across the bulkhead of the battleship. It was massive, and he could see through the crack between the engines and the cliffs it had literally split the earth apart and created a huge valley during its crash. The massive expanse of terrain to the right told Maddox it had drifted during the last seconds of its momentum, halting just before meeting the ocean. A waterfall was spilling down one side of the half-crater, and looked strangely beautiful despite its evident chaotic construction.

He didn’t need to worry about finding an entrance into the Cyclops. The section of the ship leaning on this side of the valley was split open, like a giant bandsaw had sliced through the hull. He could just make out the missing piece far down below in the crater, gathering moss. Dozens of decks stacked in levels made up the interior of the ship, filled with debris choking up most of the hallways visible. Parts of the ship still sparked with the occasional lick of electricity from fallen cables.

So there was still power, but that wasn’t surprising. Battleships used nuclear power-cores to keep all their systems – not to mention those massive railguns sticking out its front and sides – online. The core had to still be intact, because if it wasn’t, then there wouldn’t be a wreck, just a pile of vaporised steel.

He hopped onto the lid of a few spilled crates, then jumped up to the lowest deck. He pulled himself onto a knee, then paused as he noticed he was leaving a trail of blood behind him. His arms, they were still bleeding from Amaya’s tail. Damn she’s sharp, he thought. He looked back the way he’d come, expecting Amaya’s form to be surrounded by Gooret, tearing her apart limb by limb. Of course that wasn’t so, but he still pushed himself to hurry up and get back to her.

He brought his back against the hallway wall, drawing his machete out of its scabbard and clutching it in both hands. He considered the pistol, but left it in his waistband. Not because he was still thinking about blowing his brains out, but because he felt strangely attached to the bullet that was intended for him.

His visor spilling his breaths back into his face, he squinted into the darkness of the ship and moved deeper into the wreck. A few moments of walking placed him at a junction splitting left and right, and on the wall was a sign saying Crew Quarters and Canteen, with little arrows pointing down each respective hallway. Maddox went right, and moved away of the outside light’s influence.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark before moving into the canteen. The center of the wide room was dominated by dozens of long tables. They were mangled into various piles of scrap. A pair of blast doors lined the northern wall, and to the left were a few toppled vending machines and what looked like a kitchen, just behind a countertop. Off to the right were a series of machines imbedded into the wall like phone booths, and when he spotted them Maddox gave a little – “Ah ha.”– of satisfaction.

Synthesizers were standard on most starships, fueled by a grey paste that was pumped up to the public machines from hidden vats sealed far into the depths of the ship. It was the same process they used back in the Bunker. The paste looked like turd juice, and that wasn’t far off from the truth, but the synthesizers could manipulate it to look like any type of food the operator wished. Still tasted like total crap, but it was efficient.

He picked the one that looked the least damaged, and started pulling parts off, setting his machete aside with a little clink. When his progress was stopped by bolts and screws, he got up and searched for a maintenance area. Each minute that passed his imagination ran wild with hundreds of ways of Amaya’s death, and he started to panic. Finally he found a storage room that had once belonged to an engineer like him, filled with shelving units topped with a selection of tools. There was a little satchel bag sitting on the desk in the corner. He picked it up and filled it with what he would need, then slung the strap over his shoulder.

He crouched before the synthesizer once more and set to work, his curse words echoing down the length of the ship as frustration began to set in with the panic. A lightbulb nearby flicked on and off every now and then, but mostly he had to work in the dark, which was annoying and difficult. But the synthesizer wasn’t in as bad a shape as the ship itself was, and after replacing all the parts he’d separated, a tiny mechanical voice squeaked out through some unseen speakers.

“Thank you for using the Synthesizer Mark Four Nourishment Dispenser Unit, if you need instructions on how to use this Unit, say yes now and-“

“Two meatsticks.”

The slightly whiny, robotic voice caught its next word halfway, and then the machine began to hum quietly. A section of the base sunk out of sight, then rose up a second later, this time with two objects resting on it. They looked like those churros sticks he remembered having when he went to a carnival that one time. Just thinking about them made his mouth water, and he had half a mind to order cotton-candy to go with it, but meatsticks were the fastest thing these machines made, and he was in a rush.

“Thank you for using the Synthesizer Mark Four-“

“Water.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you-“

“Water!”

“Please specify your desired amount of-“

“As much as you can make!”

A little tap poked out of the machine’s flank and began to drip water out in a stream. He swore, realizing he didn’t have a cup or anything. He ran to the other side of the canteen and ducked behind the glass displays of the counter, leaving the water to leak all over the floor. As he searched the kitchen, he grumbled something about wanting to be served by an actual person rather than some stupid automated voice. He found a plastic bottle in the back of one of the drawers, and unscrewed its lid, blowing out the dust inside.

He sprinted back and rested the bottle underneath the stream. The water gurgled as it slowly filled up to the rim. While it did that, he told the machine to make more meatsticks.

“Please specify you desired amount of-“

“Just pick a number and make them.”

Apparently that number was in the hundreds, because the next time he looked up, the synthesizer was overflowing, sticks rolling across the ground. He picked up six more and decided that would be enough for now. He stuffed them in his satchel, then screwed on the lid of his bottle, put that inside too. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice the shadows to his right were moving. Just when he was about to turn and leave, he backed up into something warm and soft.

An arm looped round and squeezed against his neck in a choke hold. He panicked, and purely on instinct brought his elbow in and struck the persons’ stomach. There was a soft grunt of a woman, it was unmistakable.

Maddox was just about to start lashing out, when a knife entered his vision and slipped against his throat. The weapon was pale in colour, and looked very similar to a human bone, one point filed down to a sharp point. It pressed hard against his neck, enough to draw blood, but not enough to pierce the skin.

His attacker leant down and whispered in his ear: “You move an inch and this goes all the way in.” She wiggled the bone-weapon for emphasis. Maddox went still, eyeing his machete lying just by his foot.

“Erin!” the woman hissed. The way her voice garbled up told Maddox she was also masked. Both her arms looked like they’d been dowsed in oil and set on fire, ugly bits of skin flapping away from her flesh. The arms were thin as sticks, and he could probably overpower her, but the sharp end of – yet another – knife kept him in place from trying something. “Erin get over here!”

“Huh?” another voice said from somewhere behind them. A cone of light washed over Maddox, and he saw his and his attacker’s silhouettes painted against the wall. They looked like one big conjoined obsidian monster. “Liz! Who’s that?”

The one called Liz kept her choke tight enough to make Maddox gag, slipping her charred arm underneath his mask. “Another canny. He’s fucking covered in blood and shit. Bastard probably ate Jack when she ran off.”

Canny means cannibal, Maddox thought, remembering the three he’d seen sitting around that campfire with the human limbs on the spit.

“Did he get you?” Erin’s boots were coming closer, the light, likely from a flashlight, shrinking as the distance closed.

“Naw, I got him.” If the dagger slid any more Maddox was sure he’d start choking on his own blood. “Didn’t I, you sick fuck? Not so tough without your fucking friends, are you?”

“Not. A fucking. Cannibal.” Maddox said, easing out each word carefully so he didn’t’ disturb the knife that bobbed against his jugular.

“Never seen a canny on their own before,” the one called Erin said. He came just within Maddox’s peripheral, and he noticed the man was garbed in a patchwork shirt and long pants, stained and ripped all over the place. Other than the basic rebreather he wore, he looked like a slave. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and when Maddox chanced a look, neither was Liz. “What’s he doin’ here?”

“He was crouched over there, probably taking a dump or something.” Liz indicated with a pinky finger. Erin followed her point and illuminated the synthesizer with his flashlight. There were sticks everywhere, gathering in a big pile before the machine.

Erin’s flashlight-hand trembled, making the oval of light wobble. “M-My god,” he said. “Look Liz! Look at that!”

Maddox heard a gasp from the woman, and judging by her skinny arms and her even thinner companion, he guessed they’d never seen so much food in their life, before the Fall or after. Her hand, the one holding the sharpened bone, relaxed at the sight as she looked over his shoulder at the mountain of food.

It was all the opportunity Maddox would get, and he took it.

He brought up his boot, slammed it back down into one of her knees, and lastly, smashed his heel down again and broke her toes. Liz screamed, and he overpowered her arm easily before she could slit his throat. He threw her to the ground, and in the following sprawl she landed on her own bone-knife, impaling herself right through the stomach. Her cry turned into a wet gurgle.

Erin had whipped around and was sailing a fist through the air, torch clutched in dirty fingers. Maddox ducked beneath the swing, snatched up his machete, and ran the man through, yelling out the entire time.

Maddox mimicked Erin’s wide eyes, as they both looked down at the fatal wound. “I… My…” But Erin never finished the thought. Maddox planted a boot on his waist and kicked the man off the blade. He fell on his back with a thump, arms flung wide out by his sides. He exhaled once, and stopped breathing.

Maddox gave the other man a long look, then winced when the ship was filled with Liz’s choked gargles, and the synthesizer’s robotic voice asking her to please repeat that in a clearer tone. Each sound amplified in the confines of the tight room, bouncing back and forth until Maddox’s ears rung. He grit his teeth and roared: “Shut up!”

Whether he was talking to the machine or to the woman was hard to tell, but he silenced both of them, one with a punch and one with a slash of his blade. One could tell which belonged to what. When the wreckage was quiet once again, Maddox took a look at the mess surrounding him, thick trails of blood slipping into the water pool that hadn’t turned off during the short fight, expanding the blood’s influence over the floor.

Maddox grimaced the entire time as he wiped his machete clean on one of the slave’s shirts, if that was what they were. A cold feeling slipped down his collar, and he brushed a thumb over his neck, and it came back red. The little puncture from the bone-knife stung, but other than that he was fine. Physically speaking, at least.

Giving the two humans one last look and a shake of the head, he remembered he had someone else waiting for him now, and didn’t give himself time to brood himself into oblivion before racing back the way he’d come.

4

When she had sent out her very first neonates into the horrible, dangerous world in search of their own Hosts, she’d almost gave herself a panic attack of how afraid she was. To be rendered immobile while her firstborns were out there, where she couldn’t protect them. It was a feeling similar to now, trapped in this black expanse, while far away she could feel her exhausted physical body lying on itchy grass.

She didn’t know which was worse: waiting for her firstborns to return, or waiting to see if Maddox came back – or not. It bothered her that she couldn’t seem to choose, because it seemed no matter how much the planet was obliterated, it still found ways to throw the ones she cared about out of her reach.

She felt cheated, sitting with her head buried between her knees in the void of the dreaming world, slowly rocking back and forth. Cheated from her break of the miserable life she had. The only thing more awful than that was the cold. That was the worst thing. Every time she slipped into the dream-world it was there to greet her, a great chill she wanted to tear apart with her claws, but just couldn’t.

And just when Maddox had made her feel warmth, her body had failed her. Her mind had failed her. It wasn’t fair. The frost of the void slipped into her bones, and she began to slip into her old ways, thinking of how much of a failure she was and that she’d-

A voice, calling to her. She felt something rub against her waking world body, like the caress of a ghost. A part of her wanted to just ignore it, wait for the next world to greet her – if there was one. But that part was overpowered by the rest of her, as she recognised the owner of the voice.

Maddox…?

Black turned to a blurry white, and she was lying on the grass, head lolling to the side as her big crest threw her head off balance. She shot up like a spooked meerkat and was rewarded with a pounding headache.

“Woah there, hey, I’m right here,” someone said, a pleasant voice, as sweet as rustling leaves. She clung onto it like her life depended on it. “I’m here,” Maddox said again. “Eat this.”

Her vision hadn’t returned, but she could feel a soft hand easing her head down to the ground. Her strength was still absent, so she opened up her mouth like an infant, and her companion stuffed something in her maw. A part of her felt humiliated at being fed like she was a child, but she suppressed it before it bloomed.

The thing he’d fed her tasted like shit, but she fought the urge to gag, chewing down the gravelly-textured stick with her wicked fangs and inner mouth. She thought back on all the times she’d fed on the corpses of wild game, the shear wetness of the whole process of gutting those feral creatures. That actually made her gag. She wondered if she could ever eat normally after all those nights feeding on raw crap.

When she swallowed the stick down, she clicked her tongue and opened her mouth for more. Maddox clicked his own tongue and fed her again, but this time with something soft and nub-shaped. An experimental suck granted a mouthful of water, and she drunk eagerly.

As she swallowed, she heard him clear his throat. “Hey, I… Man, you don’t how good it is to see you again-” And then he said something, something that literally kicked her heart into gear. All at once she felt life flooding back into her arms and legs. Her vision refocused, and she saw his visored face leaning before her, and the rear of a ship sticking up into the cloudy sky behind him.

She pushed her hands into the dirt, feeling the blisters on her palms, and arched her breast up like she was a rising cobra. The movement pushed aside his hand that was stroking that little smooth part of her crown, and Maddox blinked at her, not quite shaking the feeling that something was wrong. “Hey, woah, take it easy there okay?”

What did you just say? She sounded almost threatened.

“Uh…” Maddox raised a brow in confusion. “I said to take it easy.”

Not that! she snapped, her crown making her look taller than him, even though she was still laying down. What did you call me?

Maddox looked confused. “I… A-Amaya? I… called you Amaya. What did you…”

He said more, but she didn’t hear anything other than that. She was too focused on it, playing it back over and over, all in the voice of the man beside her. All she had ever felt was loss and pain for seven long years, and now in the space of mere minutes, so many new, different emotions swelled up inside her when she at long last remembered the name. Her name.

“Are you alright?” Maddox asked, eyeing her body that had gone as still as stone. “Amaya?”

That’s my name, she rasped, lips curling up at the corners. That’s my name! I remember!

Maddox, who clearly didn’t know what she was going on about, scratched his head. “Uh, yeah. Amaya. The one I gave you, right? Why don’t you remember- woahhey!”

She made a happy purring sound and threw herself at Maddox as a skeletal, black mass. All four of her arms wrapped around his back and squeezed him to her breast.

Oh, Maddox! She thrummed deep inside her throat. Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!

“… You’re welcome?” Amaya rested her chin on his soft hair, folding over him like a ribbed, but soft sheet of onyx. Maddox was perplexed, but he wasn’t complaining. He put his arms around her slim waist, and returned the embrace, eyes closed in content.

They were flanked on all sides by a dead city, a poisoned sea, and the wreck of a devastating warship, but in those long moments of their conjoining, a little bit of life sparked back into the fallen world.

Amaya felt something wet drip across her breast, and she peeked over his head to see what it was. She would have started sobbing if she’d seen the tear running down his concealed face. She could feel his sadness, but it was the good kind, not that she’d ever thought that there was a lighter side to that before.

Instead she saw a redness dripping down his fingers and neck, blotting against the places they were connected. She wanted nothing more than to press her whole body against him, but she parted from him just a tad so she could take his hand in one of her own. Maddox… your hand. Underneath the strap of cloth, brown with dried blood, was a wound running right through his wrist. She pushed the cloth away and pressed a claw next to it, and they mutually winced at the flare.

And your throat. There was a bead of blood clotting next to his adams apple. Maddox hadn’t had that earlier, and it looked very similar to the prick of a knife. You’re hurt.

“It’s nothing.” He pushed aside her hand that was going to his throat. “Ran into some trouble. Forget about me.”

She almost felt like punching him for saying that last bit, but then she saw how infected his hand wound was, and her anger drained away.

Keeping her primary arms on his shoulders, she used her secondary pair to seize onto his weakened arm. He tried to resist at first. “Amaya I said that I’m-“

Shut up. She peered down so her snout was inches from his wrist, keeping his arm still. She lifted up the wrappings. The wound was rimmed with soot and dirt, the beginnings of infection making her cringe. She twisted his limb around and saw it went right through to the other side. She let out a pained exhale, and Maddox shivered, asking her what she was doing.

She answered by bobbing her throat, until she felt a lump come up from her stomach. Keeping three of her arms on Maddox, she raised a fourth and cupped the palm before her mouth. With a sigh, a glob of white mucus flopped out onto her hand. She noted Maddox’s disgusted wince with a tiny grin. Keep still, Maddox. This will sting.

“What will stin- OW!“

Spreading the substance over her hand, she stuck the mucus to the wound and pressed her fingers deep inside. Her talons were smaller than her main hands, but still very sharp. She took great care to keep the pointed tips from stabbing him.

The growls and vulgarities spilling from Maddox almost made her stop, but she pushed on, and soon his squirms began to settle down. His eyes went wide as the flaps of flesh began to restitch.

She slowed down her movements, cleaning away the dirt and blood with the delicacy of a feather. She flipped his arm around and worked on the other side, scooching just a tad closer to him as she worked. Everything in the waking world was cold, but now she had found someone who radiated warmth, and her body demanded his closeness.

Soon there was nothing left of the wound but a thin discolouration. Maddox turned his arm around like it was brand new, which for all it felt like, it pretty much was. “Holy shit, you… I thought I was screwed for sure! You’re amazing, Amaya!”

She felt a little heat rush up to her cheeks, and she twined her fingers together, a little embarrassed at his praise. You’re welcome, Maddox.

“What even is that stuff?”

Royal Jelly, she said, glad for the distraction. They harvested it from me back during my capture. I use it as a healing salve, but I remember Weyland liked to refine it into something called drugs.

“No kidding,” he said, rolling his wrist. “It feels like I took the biggest whiff of the green whistle.”

The whiff of a what?

“Never mind.” He waved a hand, sitting back with his hands in his lap. Amaya peeled away from him, although reluctantly, and sat across from him, crossing her longs legs. “So… How did you find me?” he asked after a pause.

Who’s to say you didn’t find me? she answered with a smirk. Her tail curled around her ankle, the tip almost making contact with his boot. Maddox eyed it for a second before replying.

“Well… me, I guess. Honestly, I didn’t come out here looking for you. I thought you were dead and I… I guess I was going to try and join you. If you hadn’t come along, I…”

Amaya moaned softly through her chops, the image of Maddox lying in a pool of his own blood hard to dismiss. She reached out a hand and squeezed his knee. But I did, and I am glad you stayed your hand.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to piss all over the mood. It’s just… I was so close to going through with it, you know? I just had nothing left to live for. It was… terrifying.”

She could feel his shame and wanted to wash it away, but the barrier between their minds prevented her from doing so. As she went to speak, Maddox looked up at her, the faintest of smiles donning his lips.

“But now you’re here, Amaya. My old study-buddy. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but I’m glad I was wrong.” Amaya saw something through his smile, like he was holding something back, but she didn’t call him out on it. Not yet. “At least I won’t die alone on this planet.”

She knew that was the Fall talking through him, hoped that it wasn’t really his own words. I won’t leave your side, my friend. Never again. I promise you that.

They fell into silence for a while, both of them unable to sit still for longer than a few seconds. Maddox was the one to break it. “So, uh, do you have any idea where we could find some shelter, or something? That ship over there it’s… not exactly empty.” He shivered as a gust of wind sailed by.

This waking world is never safe, she said, lifting a claw to her chin. The only place I could think of would be my Hive and… oh, wait, wait! My Hive! Of course! With you here that is the one place I know will be safe! More than safe!

“Me?” Maddox raised a brow. “Why do I have anything to do with your Hive? And by the way, you have a Hive?“

Yes, far to the west of here. It’s safe because you can get us off this planet!

She told him all about her Hive’s construction over the spaceport, and the one intact ship she had preserved with her resin, and repaired over the months. With each explanation she made his face lifted more and more, and his brows looked like they were about to rise past his head like a cartoon character.

“That must have been frustrating, having your ship voice-locked,” he said once she was done.

If you want to put it lightly, she replied, her face beaming. Do you know what this means? You and me, we can leave this dead world behind us!

“Good thinking on your end, Amaya. But are you sure it’s still there? No one’s, like, tried to steal it while you’re gone?”

I would know if something launched from this world, and no one smart enough would dare step foot in my Hive, empty or otherwise. And nobody besides you or I knows there is a ship deep inside anyway.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Amaya gave him a look. “Back in the Bunker the Mayor told me some of his people found an intact ship. Said it was in a ‘unique biome’ or something like that. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Oh, no. Her crown quaked as a horrible feeling began to grow in her breast. They didn’t take it, did they? They couldn’t have…

“No, no they’re still underground. But the Mayor said he was preparing to go get it before he sent me up here, so they haven’t taken it. But I bet they’ll try. I don’t know when, but they’re pretty desperate to leave.”

Who wouldn’t be? Amaya sighed, relieved. But at least that is good news. We may still have time and… wait, what do you mean he sent you up here?

“Never mind, it’s not important. So where’s your Hive? Is it far?”

She didn’t try to call him out, that would come later. She reached down and ripped away some grass stalks, clearing a space between them. Humming to herself, she dipped a claw into the dirt there and started drawing. Maddox asked her what she was doing but she didn’t answer at first.

She started with a long, vertical line off to the side. We are here, on the coast. She tapped halfway down the line and drew an X. The Capitol is here, to our west. She sketched down a few packs of squares. Maddox grabbed a handful of nearby stones and put them over the marks, to add some depth to the map. There was a strange, but pleasant feeling of nostalgia flowing through her body as Amaya worked with him. They were kids again, working on something they both enjoyed in their own private nook of the world. Only now the world was dead, but she didn’t let that spoil the mood.

Ringing around the Capitol were huge scatterings of suburbs, indicated by pebbles and rocks. My Hive is to the north of the Capitol. Here. She circled a portion of the map, to the northwest of their coastal position. She didn’t know what scale she was using, but they both knew the distance would be far.

“That’s a lot of suburbs to cover,” Maddox said. “I remember the place was a maze, even before all this.”

We won’t get lost, Amaya said. That ship behind you? I watched it fall from the sky all those years ago. It left a massive trench when it landed, dangerously close to my Hive. She dragged her fingers from the map-Hive down to the coast, creating a miniature chasm in the dirt to represent it. We can follow its trail all the way back to the Hive’s front door. Well, front cavemouth, but you know what I mean.

Maddox nodded at that, never taking his eyes off the map. “Following the trench the whole way will chew through our time, though. What if we just cross through the Capitol?” He tapped on one of the stone piles representing the tall buildings off to their west. “It’ll be faster, and the Bunker guys will probably go through there, too.” He circled a space just south of the Capitol, and the distance was unmistakable even if it was just a drawing. If the Bunker were to head for the Hive they would indeed get there faster than if they circled around.

She sent him a hard-negative for emphasis to this idea. They would go right through the heart of the Capitol, and I’ve been there before, Maddox. That place is evil. It is the very source of the decay that’s all around us. Horrible creatures I haven’t even seen in nightmares lurk in that place. If your Mayor decides to go through it, he will perish. No, Maddox, we cannot go that way. Trust me on that.

Maddox went to ask her what sorts of creatures were there, and why she’d gone there in the first place, then decided he didn’t want to know. “If you say so.” He paused for a second, giving the map, and the bleak world surrounding them a long look. “Scary creatures, packs of dogs, everyone out of their mind and fighting for survival. Man, to think all this shit happened because I made a stupid class report on you.” He huffed. “Talk about school being the worst.”

It’s not your fault, Amaya said. You couldn’t have known.

“Yeah,” he said, gazing out at the piss-yellow sea. “Still, the blame’s on me. I could have done things differently; I could have stopped all this from happening if I just-“

Maddox. She cut him off. If I’ve learned one thing in my time apart from you, it’s that asking what could have been, only increases the burden we carry. I won’t sit by and watch you fall down that same pit. Don’t try and shoulder all the blame of this world. I’m right here. Share it with me. The fault is mine, as much as it is yours.

“I…” He sighed and said nothing for a long time. She peered into those hidden, grey eyes of his and almost lost herself trying to imagine them. “Okay,” he said at last. “You’re right. We were just kids, but still… never mind. You’re a charm, Amaya.” He held up his hand and listed on his fingers, his tune changing. “So just to recap, it’s shipwreck, trench, Hive, then escape.” He shook his head. “It sounds easy when you say it out loud.”

With you by my side, I think it will be. She unfolded her legs and rose to her full height, at least three heads taller than her companion. Casting her gaze up, she noted the sun was on the decline behind the cloudy veil, but there was still time to make some progress before nightfall. Shall we go now?

“We shall.” He got up and brushed his pants, making sure his machete was secured on his back, pistol stuck secure next to his pouch, to which he stuffed his bottle and meatstick rations inside. Amaya would have to ask him where he’d got all that, among all the other things they had to talk about. Just as she was about to set off, Maddox called after. “Hey, Amaya?”

She looked back at him. Yes?

“Did I say how good it was to see you again?” He smiled.

She smiled back. You did, but I don’t mind if you keep reminding me. Didn’t I promise I would come back for you?

She just wished she hadn’t taken so long.

Chapter 10

Shipwreck

1

I remember back when this vessel was still floating in the sky. At first I was awed by its scale, and then… and then it started dropping metal shells filled with death. And when they hit the ground these giant clouds of ash grew up and out of them in the shapes of mushrooms. So many were dropped that even the heavens couldn’t filter out the smoke, and ever since then the sky is in a constant state of overcast. This ship gave the world a slow death by pure obliteration. It didn’t stop until the rebels brought it down with their own missiles, but even then… I don’t think the ground ever truly settled after that. Sometimes I still feel the sickness under my heels. Can you feel it too?

She’d lowered down until her legs formed inverted V’s, and rested her palms on the ground. There had been a few hippies back in the Bunker claiming they ‘feel for the land’, or ‘sensed its sickness’. Maddox thought it was all just shit brought on by one too many hash brownies, but not now. It was the way Amaya delicately navigated her broad girth around with precise, even elegant movements he found to an extent, endearing. It was how she projected her metaphysical emotions into coherent thoughts his brain could interpret. She’d walked through evil itself, and although she’d come away alive, the scars were there to be seen by both the eye, and not. She’d formed a connection, however dark, to this place, and it was something that went further beyond his or any other humans’ perception.

He felt bad for her, simply put. Despite being what she was, she projected this aura of innocence he hadn’t seen in anyone else for a long, long time. Even his more corrupt self couldn’t look at her like he had when he was younger, despite all his efforts to hold back the pettiness. This being next to him was responsible for all this destruction. His home, the normalcy of life prior to the apocalypse, and to an extent his childhood.

He was ashamed to find he blamed her. Perhaps when they found a quiet place, perhaps this Hive of hers he would say something, but until then, he would try to acclimate to her presence once again. Seven long years with nothing but alcohol and a frenemy named Jake to accompany him? It would take some getting used to.

“No,” he said. “not really. I think I feel it more in my lungs, and in my ears, and… inside, I guess. It’s like I’m… I’m exhausted all the time, even if I’m just sitting down. And I can’t even keep my eyes open because of all the glare.” He wiped a hand over his sweaty brow. “How did you survive up here all this time?”

In a way, I don’t think I did. She rubbed her hands across her elbows, as if she were cold. When this ship – what did you call it? The Cyclops? – when it came down, cloaked in fire, I was stood at the time not so far away from where it landed. I felt the flames wash over me, and when I came out, and I saw the result? A part of me just died. I used to ask myself, how can they do this to us? But after the crash it changed to, how can I make them suffer like I have? Anyone affiliated with Weyland we could find after then, I made their deaths slow, and very painful. We could never match such a scale as them, but it brought me a sick sense of payback. I would not undo what I did to them, Maddox. Far worse has happened to far better people, and for that they had to suffer.

“I get that. But that just seems like you’re acting as bad as them,” he said. Amaya got to her feet, knees popping, and they resumed towards the wreck.

How could you compare me to Weyland? They destroyed a world; I slaughtered their soldiers. How does that make me ‘as bad as them’?

“I could have worded that better, but… I don’t know, it’s just… You know one of the first things I thought about when I finally saw Solaris with my own eyes? It was the waste. You might or might not understand – I’m guessing you do – but this colony was built to get away from all the corporate and inner planet shit. And it was working, as far as I could tell. And all that effort just-” He snapped his fingers. “-gone. And it was all a waste because people were cruel. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that we don’t need to add to that.”

But how else can you show someone how much pain they’ve caused? The last thing they should know before the end is how cruel they’ve been, and what that suffering feels like.

“Once they’re dead, that’s it. Too late for learning by that point. I’m not saying you were wrong to kill them, I would have done the same if I were you, but drawing the end out, just like the whole world is right now? It’s…”

… Unnecessary? she finished for him. I… I think I understand. I would be no better than the ones who started all this. She clicked her tongue in thought. Your words would have changed much if we heard them all those years ago.

“We? What do you mean?”

Me and my Hive. I birthed one not long after you and I… went our own ways. My daughters gave everything for me. And they paid for it with their lives, because I couldn’t bear the burden of this world’s curse. And you know the worst thing? I stopped caring. Stopped caring each time I felt them die.

This horrible, gut wrenching sob escaped her lips.

I am… I am glad you did not see me in my most shameful time, Maddox. I would have attacked you, I’m sure of it. I wouldn’t have known who you were, and you wouldn’t have known me, either.

“But…” And you thought you had it bad, he told himself. In moments like this a memory would slip from her mind to his, and he’d see the Fall from her point of view, of her Hive members being slain. It was horrible, and a part of him, a part that he was ashamed to admit was disgusted of Amaya’s lack of care for these deaths, pinged as a result. The next thing he said ended up sounding like criticism. “Couldn’t you have tried harder?”

I did try! Amaya’s larger right arm jerked a little. He’d find out later it was involuntary, a scar left behind by those horrible days. I tried everything I could do, but I… But I just couldn’t handle it. It was easier to just… just forget.

“But we’re talking about your own family, Amaya!”

I know that! she yelled. I know what I did! I’ve had to live with knowing for years! Wandering in this world all on my own, without them, without you! Each word she’d sent she’d approached him, looming her big body over with her snout jammed into his face, her breaths fogging up his visor in puffs. For a few moments all that could be heard was the distant crashing of waves, and the licks of sparks snapping off the nearby piles of wire and scrap.

She seemed to realise the proximity, sagged her shoulders and let the rage bleed away. I forgot myself, forgot everything because I couldn’t bear it, because it was easier, I know. But now? Now, I’ve been given another chance. I’ve been given you! A chance to make up for my mistakes, and I’ll die before I go back to what I was before. I swore before my predecessors that I would.

“I…” Maddox trailed away, noticing that he’d been moments from screaming right back. He wanted to understand her, really he did, she intrigued him so many different ways he wasn’t sure even Amaya could understand. But all he’d done so far was raise his voice at her. “… Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”

… No, don’t be. I needed to say that out loud, to someone living in this world. She tilted her head up into the dying sun. The sky had dipped into an orangey colour that, had she the concept of colour, would have reminded her of atomic bomb flashes. And there couldn’t be a better choice.

“Yeah?” He hopped up onto the crates he’d used before to scale up into the battleship. He squinted into the ship’s insides, more weary this time around. “Why’s that?”

Well, just who else would be good company for me, Maddox? She stepped up beside him.

“Good point.” With a grunt he climbed up into one of the many passageways making up the interior of the ship. When he was back on his feet he held a hand out for her. “How’s the tank, Amaya?” He tapped his belly. “Need a snack?”

No thank you. She pulled herself up with three hands, the fourth closing over his. The little silver brooch around her neck clinked against her clavicle What about you? You haven’t eaten anything since we’ve met.

“Maybe later. I think I’m about to lose my appetite.” Inside the darkness of the ship, metal groaned out and occasionally rose in volume from some unseen disturbance, like the crew was still inside and going about their duties.

Amaya tilted her head at him. Why?

“There were people in here earlier.” He drew his machete in one hand and pistol in the other, creeping forward slowly. Amaya almost seemed to teleport in front of him. Snarling into the darkness, arms splayed out in a threatening pose.

Where? I swear I’ll tear them apart if they laid one-

“They’re dead, Amaya, don’t worry about it.” He stepped around her, his blade raised defensively. Amaya’s tail flicked across the side of his vision, its shield-like length acting exactly like that, a shield.

Did they hurt you?

“I said don’t worry about it.” He made sure to keep the memory of the shiv at his throat suppressed. If he didn’t, she’d probably just do that gagging thing with the jelly, and not only was that whole process disturbing, he felt uneasy inside the ship. Who knew how many people, or things, were lurking in the dark?

It was jarring how quickly the outside light faded the moment he stepped deeper into the ship’s guts. “Man, can’t see shit in here.”

Might be able to help you. One of her clawed hands tapped against his bicep, the big nails pressing lightly into his shirt. He felt a poke in the back of his mind and stopped. Let me in, Maddox. Like old times.

Old times, when the world was alive, when he was still innocent, and had hope things would turn out okay. Then all that shit had happened with Weyland, and the time after his and Amaya’s separation had permanently impacted him in a way he might not ever recover from.

“I… can’t remember how.” It wasn’t really a lie, but he was hoping the time apart was a good enough cover against the ugly truth.

Just try, she said, and he did, he really did. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a door, one with a familiar, five-letter namewritten on it. His phantom-self reached out and grabbed the brass nob. For a moment it didn’t give, just jiggled against a lock his own mind was keeping shut. But then it did, the door moved forward a hint, and he saw a tall, skeletal shape peeking through the gap on the other side.

When he opened his eyes, the darkness had given just a little, like the door. He could even see all the way to the far end where the corridor forked. His next word came out as a stutter. “H-How did you do that?”

I’ve developed a few of my abilities since we last met. And I’ve always wanted to tweak a human body against its will just to see what happens.

Maddox blinked up at her with an apprehensive look.

… I was joking. The levers and switches in your head just needed a few adjustments. You should be able to see better indefinitely now.

“Well shit, you’re pretty awesome, Amaya.”

She grinned this innocent little grin that reminded him of all those years ago, just them in their own private world. He wondered how exactly she knew what levers to pull and which to not. Maybe she didn’t explain because he wouldn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, understand. Either way he was thankful.

He retraced his steps back to the ship canteen. He hoped the Synthesizer was still working, not that it would matter much if it wasn’t. The sticks he printed already should last them a while, but it was better to have an excess than a shortage.

“Should be just on the left here,” he said, and his voice bounced and echoed down the dark walkways around them.

“Here… ere… ere…”

Even with Amaya beside him the necks on his hair still stood on end hearing his voice die away like that. It hadn’t been that quiet before, had it? Then again, he had taken two lives just in the next room over.

They moved into the canteen, Amaya leading, and Maddox sweeping the area with his pistol by her flank. Nothing much had changed since last time, save for the addition of the bodies which, in these confined spaces, was assaulting on the senses.

Maddox moved over to the Synthesizer, while Amaya examined the corpses nearby. She gave one of them a little kick, rolling it onto its back. Pink matter was spilling out of a messy gut wound, life-juice oozing though and conjoining with a big puddle of water, turning half the floor into a glossy sheet of blood.

You did this? She looked over her shoulder at him. Maddox mumbled under his breath and hit the machine.

“Thing’s run out of battery. Oh well.” Boots squelching in the red water, he returned to her side. “Sorry, did you say something?”

I asked if you killed these two. She gestured at the bodies.

“I did,” he said with a shrug. She waited for him to continue. “… What? Them or me, right? Learned that pretty quickly once I got topside.”

They attacked you? Out of the blue?

“Pretty much, yeah. Jumped me while I was working on that thing over there.”

Amaya directed a wordless question at him. He shrugged again and walked past her. There was an exit at the far end of the room, but before he got there his companion brushed his shoulder with a sensuous touch.

Are you alright, Maddox?

He looked her body over with a tired eye. Try and conceal himself as he could, any facade he could pull against her she would see right through. He knew she was just trying to help, but he’d spent years hold up in prisons where he dealt with his issues alone. That habit had roots, and those roots went deep.

“Yeah,” he said, and the work came out more as a snap than anything. As they left the canteen for good, Maddox clenched his hands tightly over his weapons. Reunited with his dearest friend and still he was a miserable bastard. He knew better than to keep acting like that, so what was holding him back?

But he knew what. Amaya didn’t, even with all her telepathic powers, and somehow that made it all worse.

The next couple hallways were strewn with debris. Wires hung from the ceiling, and sections of wall had toppled over like something had exploded from the other side. At one point there was even a giant pit right in the middle of an intersection. Maddox had tossed a scrap bit of metal down it, and had not heard it hit the bottom. Amaya helped him over the pit with one of her arms acting as an anchor, though he could have sworn he heard something growling down there in the dark.

They reached a blast door that didn’t give way when Maddox punched the release button. “Maybe there’s no power getting through,” Maddox guessed. “You see a switch box or anything?”

We passed one just then. Over there. She pointed back down the hall.

“Good eye.” Maddox kneeled down and started working, occasionally dipping into his satchel for a different tool. Amaya sat down nearby, tail spooling over her legs. She’d had to walk with her back bent the whole time just to fit through, and sighed with relief at the short break. She’d grown into a big girl since those old times, still retaining that slim, feminine figure he remembered ogling over when he thought she wasn’t looking. The reminiscing reminded him of how innocent they used to be.

Used to be? he thought.

Who was saying things couldn’t change? It wasn’t like anyone else was around to contradict him, so all that really stood in his way was his own stupid doubts. Doubts that had been seeded into him by Weyland, and it was up to him to dig them up. Him, nobody else.

What is it, Maddox? Amaya asked. He’d been giving her this creepy blank look the entire time. He shook himself back into the present.

“Those people back there, I think they were slaves,” he said. “They were just looking for food, and after they jumped me I… I killed them. You asked if they attacked me out of the blue. The answer is no, I don’t think they did. I didn’t even think about it when I killed, it was like I was on autopilot. It was sick. I was sick.”

Hold onto that feeling, Maddox. That’s what will keep you sane in the waking world, knowing that what you have to do in the now, will one day be all behind you.

“That how you dealt with killing?”

No. I dealt with it by forgetting, like I did with everything. I’ve seen many humans slaughter each other, and some acted as you are now, with that feeling of sickness. They turned out to be the most humane, the good people.

“But that didn’t help them much, did it? Bombs and nukes don’t care if you’re good or not.”

That sounds like something that woman would say.

“What woman?”

The one who stole you from me on that day. She had green nails. Her men called her General.

“Oh her. Yeah I remember. Weyland Woman.”

She would wipe out hundreds of people if they stood in her way. She took you, a child, because you protected me. Her and hundreds like her are the reasons this world is gone. I watched it all come down around me, and I know seeing this world like it is now is already starting to affect you, because I went down that long path and it is a cold and dark one with nothing at its end. You are my only friend, Maddox, but if you start talking like that green-nailed bitch I will not back down. I need you to keep your head, for both our sakes.

Maddox let his eyes drop. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! It’s… shit.” He’d never much had more than a few exchanged sentences with another human being in years. And he’d given up more and more of himself in that time, giving in to the slowly encroaching despair that nothing would ever change. But then it did change, and now he needed to change with it. “There I was talking to you about cruelty earlier and now look at me.” He sighed. “I just didn’t think I’d have to get used to killing…. But I’ll deal with it, okay? I’ll try.”

This world is cruel, you’re right. And it will not hold back when it comes for you. Believe me when I say that. But you’re one of the lucky ones, Maddox. I didn’t have a friend to help me off that path when the Fall came, but you do. You’re not alone. Don’t ever forget that.

“I won’t,” he said, snapping one last wire into place and flicking a switch. On the far side of the hall there was a sharp sliding of metal. Amaya’s head snapped that way, already rising to her feet.

“That’d be the door.” He put his things away and clipped the button on his satchel “We can get going.”

With Amaya’s assistance he could navigate the darkness of the ships stomach well enough, but down every corridor and hall a murky fog clouded anything beyond fifteen meters. Half an hour went by, the two of them alternating by who led and who followed. They kept at a roughly northward angle, which dipped in altitude a little bit at a time.

Talks were kept short and quiet, but Maddox was glad he wasn’t going through this hellhole alone. He had a feeling Amaya was thinking the same.

At one point in their navigation through the ship, they heard something that sounded like a wet slap from back the way they’d come. Visions of those monsters Amaya talked about lurking in the Capitol couldn’t quite leave Maddox’s thoughts after that, even when Amaya assured him she sensed no life nearby.

Just keep your weapons ready, she told him, bringing up the rear. … Where did you find them anyway?

“These?” He held up the pistol and machete, as if she would be talking about anything else. “I, er, killed a guy for the sword. He was hanging people on top of these street posts. He was just about to string someone else up when I stepped in. That’s how I earned that hole in my wrist you fixed.”

Oh Maddox, I’m so sorry.

“For what? You weren’t there.”

No, but now that I am, maybe I can do something to help. Your fighting skills are quite sloppy.

He stepped over a mangled pile of scrap. “It’s not like I’ve had time to practice or anything.”

Plus your form lacks grace, and by the way you flung that thing around on the beach it’s a wonder you managed to keep a hold on it that entire time.

“Okay what is this, roast Maddox hour?”

You, my friend, could use a teacher.

“I’m guessing this is your way of offering, huh?”

Oh, good idea Maddox! I’ll gladly accept. We should find a more open space for a session.

“Think the bridge will be big enough, and it shouldn’t be too far ahead now… ah.” Another sign directed them to the reactor one way, and the bridge the other. They moved up a deck and had to bypass two more blast doors. One just needed power, but the other wouldn’t budge, and that extended their travel by another half hour.

Maddox could feel his heart rate climbing as the darkness seemed to shrink in on them. He didn’t notice until he tried prying apart a half-open set of doors, that he was exhaling more than he was inhaling. The irradiated air and clouded light outside were poor substitutes for what he’d grown up with, but it was better than the copper and metal darkness of the shipwreck. He thought it might have been the small beginnings of an approaching panic attack, and when another loud sound from behind them bounced across the walls, and Amaya said she hadn’t heard anything, it became more than just a possibility.

Then, a touch of warmth at the back of his mind, and his breathing slowed. It’s just your head playing tricks, Amaya said, moving him away from the next set of doors with a gentle nudge. She took up position, and with a hiss, shoved each door outward enough to make room for him.

He ducked under her lower set of arms. Those hands were more delicate than the primary pair, and a tad smaller than his own. Hell, even the nails looked like they’d just been manicured. He gave one of them a squeeze as he passed. “Thank you,” he breathed, and wondered if he would have suffocated by now if she weren’t here.

The doors snapped shut behind her as she followed him into the next hall. I can see light up ahead. We’re almost there.

He couldn’t see anything, but he trusted her instincts, and another thirty minutes later, he felt a little gush of wind against his chest. Ten minutes, and the sliver of moonlight lit up a portion of his visor. Another ten minutes and they reached a reinforced hallway, with the word Bridge printed on one of the arches above.

The final door was crumpled up like a piece of paper, but still somehow hinged to the bulkhead. The thing must have weighed a ton, but Amaya picked it up like it was nothing, held it over her head, and chucked it onto a pair of nearby generators. The resulting sound was reminiscent of a car being flattened.

“Subtle,” Maddox said.

Amaya ignored him and stepped into the bridge. Command stations ringed the sides of the wide chamber, one in every three terminals displaying various error messages. Steps on the east and west sides of the room led down into the lower portion of the bridge, where a great chunk of the hull was missing from some explosion or other, letting the occasional rush of air sough through the room.

A stream of moonlight cast down onto the central podium, where the Captain once stood proudly at his station as he bombed the planet to kingdom come. Now he was a skeleton slumped in his officer’s chair, still clad in fatigues, bony hands splayed on the armrests. There were cobwebs in his eye sockets. After a minute’s examination Maddox noted he was the only skeleton in the room.

“Captain went down with his ship…” At least he’d had some dignity if that were the case. Still didn’t make up for wiping out a planet just to get a chance at taking out Amaya, of course.

What was that, Maddox?

“Nothing.” He moved over to the missing chunk of the bridge, took a knee by its edge. Hundreds of meters below, the ground sloped up in a gentle curved shape of a trench, stretching on forever into the night. From this angle he could see the far end of the ship digging into the other side of the trench, but between here and there he spotted some thin red and black shapes connecting the belly of the ship all the way down to the ground, like scaffolding.

What can you see? Amaya hunkered by his side, settling in place like a four-armed housecat. Maddox raised an arm.

“You see those shapes over there, halfway along the belly? Those are ladders, but I think… I think they’re made of scrap.”

So?

“It’s like they’ve been mashed together. This is a Weyland ship, and Weyland had to have access to proper equipment in case of a crash. Military-grade stuff. Those ladders look like they’ve been just tossed together by any old thing. And look.” Halfway down the ladders there was a suspended shack made out of metal sheets, where another rickety ladder poked out of its bottom, and stretched all the way to the ground. Clustered around the base of the ladder were little cube shapes. Amaya had to use both their eyesight’s to see what they were.

Are those… huts? Metal huts?

“Yeah. Whoever made those ladders wasn’t Weyland. So who else could it be?”

Then he remembered what one of those people in the canteen had said, what one of them had thought he was. A canny, short for cannibal, probably. But that would mean there would have to be a whole bunch of them to build scaffolding like that. Tens of them. A group.

Maybe the original builders are gone, and people still maintain it so they can use it as a path up to the ship. Not everything gets destroyed in this world, so long as it’s useful. Once I ran across a fortress built in the middle of a stadium. It must have changed hands at least half a dozen times ever since the Fall.

“You mean the one on the westside? Pinnacle Stadium?”

That’s the one. My point is these post-Fall creations switch owners all the time. The group that made those ladders is long gone by now, but people still maintain it so they can come pick up all the pieces Weyland left behind. She clicked her tongue. We’ll have to use those ladders if we want to get down sooner.

“Not looking forward to that.” Even from here the scaffolding wobbled in the wind, leaning this way and that, violently snapping directions on a precarious axis. Even just the thought of ladders right now made his hands sweaty.

Me neither. Her tail swept about behind her. But we can worry about that later. Want to start practicing now? Or after some rest?

“We can do it now.” They moved a bit away from the missing chunk, to a wide space between what was once the front screen and the captain’s podium. Maddox set down his pistol and satchel on a table. “So, how’d you want to do this?”

Just something simple to start with. Try and hit me with that little stick of yours. I won’t even fight back.

“Hey I’m not that bad.” He gave an experimental flourish, just to show off a bit. The machete dipped out of his hand and clanged to the ground. He was pretty sure by the way Amaya’s head jerked, she was trying not to snort.

Whatever you say, my friend. She spread her legs and raised her arms like she was getting ready to start boxing. Her tail whipped away like a happy dog’s would.

He went to ask her if she was sure, that he might hurt her, then stopped himself. Look who he was talking to! A midnight blue bioweapon Queen who’d walked through a nuclear war, and ended up wiser for it. What would a machete do to her?

He tried to impersonate a dueler’s stance, went still for a moment, then came forward and slashed, aiming for her hip. He must have blinked or something, because the slash was ended abruptly by a wall of black chitin. Somehow she’d brought her tail all the way round and shielded herself. His weapon smacked uselessly off its armoured surface, and the jerk back was hard enough to stagger him.

Don’t wind up so much, she told him, heading peeking over her organic shield. And bring your legs in more, you look like you’re trying to defecate or something.

“Yeah yeah.” He readjusted himself, feeling his pride being literally abused. He breathed in deep, exhaled, and charged again. Amaya’s shield got in the way before he could land a hit.

You have to be quicker than that. Amaya reset her stance, shoulders down, claws out, tail curled over her flank.

“Says the girl with a shield growing out of her ass. How am I supposed to get past that when- woah!“

The tail coming out of her ass had come lashing out from his left, and he’d jumped back just in time. The wind from its passing ruffled a few locks of his hair. He looked up at her with a dumb expression.

Use your strengths. You’re nimbler than I, Maddox. Try that.

Maddox said something under his breath, readjusting his grip on his machete. He began the process of circling, going west, while Amaya paced east. He watched her past the tipped blade of his weapon, looking for an opening.

Don’t always watch my weapon, either. She suspended her tail out in front, its length giving her ample cover, but not complete immunity. Keep your focus on me.

“Well,” He winked. “that shouldn’t be hard to do.”

W-What’s that supposed to mean?

She’d lowered her blocking tail just enough to give him a chance, and he took it, launching for her vulnerable side and bringing the blade down. Steel met air as she jumped away at the last second, but he kept up with the momentum and twisted his arm to follow through. He bent the sharp side of the blade away, and there was a little clp-!- and Amaya’s leg buckled.

She smacked him away with the flat of her tail, knocking the wind out of him, sending him onto his back. Amaya looked like she’d just been electrocuted as she realised what she’d done. She raised a palm to her mouth and cursed.

Ohmyshit, Maddox! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?

The human’s chest was bopping up and down. She took a step forward, then realised that he was laughing.

What? What’s so funny? Are you hurt?

“I’m fine,” he chuckled. “I got you, girl. And I even made you stutter. I didn’t think that was possible!”

I… She looked at the spot he’d hit her. Not so much hit as tapped, but… That doesn’t count! You distracted me!

“You said to use my strengths!”

Get up. We’re going again.

“I think I’m quitting while I’m-” His eyes bulged as she hurtled at him like a missile. “-Ohgod.“

He rolled out of the way just as the space he was laying on bent upon her heavy landing. He swung his blade against her flank, but she blocked it with one of her many arms. She locked her wrist across the steel and yanked it from his grip. The machete went tumbling across the deck.

Now we’re on even terms! She grabbed his shoulders with her lower arms, but he knocked them away before she could grapple him. No weapons. I won’t even use my tail.

“We have to fight on your terms just because you blushed?” He snickered despite her predatory stance.

I did not!

She hooked her arms and lurched forward, primary hands aiming to lock around his thin backside. Maddox ducked and rammed into her hips, spear-tackling her. Her crest kissed the ground and her vision went fuzzy. It had been a while since she’d been overpowered so suddenly, and a primal part of her was getting excited.

Maddox pinned her lower arms under his knees, putting as much weight on her chest as he straddled her. He linked her upper wrists together over her head, face hovering a hands-width above her own. “Looks like the mortal overpowered the Queen.” He smirked. “You’re a pretty good teacher. Or I’m a pretty fast learner.”

Or you’re just a slimy little cheat.

“I thought I was nimble.“

She tried to lift her head to meet him eye-to-eye (so to say), but with her upper arms pinned by one of his, he used his free hand to push her back down by a thorn on her crest. She hissed out loud, but there was something off about it. The sound was a little flintier, and Maddox thought it was more like a… moan?

Man, she was getting into this.

Maddox went to speak, but his words caught in his throat when Amaya’s face slinked away, and the front of her crest slipped over her forehead, then her lips. The move reminded him of a turtle shrinking under its shell.

“What are you doing? If you’re trying to hide those flushed cheeks it’s not going to-“

The smirk was wiped off his face as Amaya simply rolled to the right, yanking her upper arms free and grabbing onto his shoulders. She had the positions reversed in no more than a heartbeat. She coiled her long legs over his and locked her thighs. She splayed his arms out and kept them there, his entire world now a sea of blue, translucent exoskeleton.

You were saying something, Maddox? She poked her head out of her armoured crest, and for a moment he was struck with a very vivid memory. One of a strange dark alien peeking its snout out of a wall of leaves on a street far from here, near a forest that was now probably a battlefield of burnt bark.

He tried fighting but it was no good. He’d been suspicious she was holding back the reserves in those toned arms of hers. His struggles ceased when her lips came close enough that her breaths fogged up his visor. For a moment they stared at each other, their link revived with mixed emotions.

Then, something amazing happened. It was like hearing rocks grate together, an incredibly sick being forcing out sounds even though it killed the throat to do so. He went to say something… then he blinked up at her.

Amaya’s lips… They were moving.

“I… I-I… www…. w-w…”

“w…..w-wwiiiinnnnnnn!”

“…”

“… Holy shit, you can TALK?!“

There he was, being straddled by a bioweapon, completely at her mercy, and rather than begging for his life or quaking in fear, he was instead ogling at her with a comical expression of disgusted wonder.

Amaya thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

Her laughs went from breathy hisses to full-on chuckles. She had one of those contagious laughs that made one start to join in the hysterics even if you didn’t understand the joke. Maddox forgot all about being pinned in such a position, threw his head back and cackled like an idiot. Everything, all the worries behind and in front of them, seemed to take a step back for the moment.

He didn’t know how long it was before they settled, but it wasn’t for long enough, no amount of time would be. Amaya sent him a positive emotion and bumped her forehead to his visor. Yes, if hearing those croaks was talking, then yes, I can.

“But you’ve never…! Wh-Wh-When did this happen? How? … What?”

For some years now, and I don’t know, I just try and flex my tongue while I breathe, just like you humans do. She opened her chops, and he saw that little secondary mouth of hers wiggle up and down. “Liiiiike… thii… thiisssss.” She switched back to telepathy. Still can use some work, obviously.

“You’re not that bad for someone who speaks with their head all the time.”

Perhaps… She brought up her smaller set of arms and doted on his chest. Perhaps you could help me refine it?

“Why do you sound like I’ll say no? Sure I will, Maya. Should have told me you could speak a long time ago.”

She grinned down at him in an almost drunken sort of way. One of her fingers tapped him on the glass visor. You’ll have to get rid of that first. So I can see your face.

“Oh, right. That. That, er, that could be a little complicated.”

Why? She slowly released him when he started pushing himself up, although she was very adamant about it. Rolling off him until she was sitting beside him, she gave his leg a cheeky tug of her tail. From what I recall you weren’t that ugly.

“… Wow, okay! You’re comparing me to all the other human guys you know, right?” he said, chuckling. “… But seriously; there’s shit in the air my lungs just can’t handle. I’m already taking a big risk with all this radiation hanging around. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get cancer or something if we get out of all this.”

What is ray-dee-aye-shon?

“Oh it’s, er… it’s this stuff in the air that’s not really dangerous, unless there’s a whole lot of it around. And when those nukes dropped a whole metric shit ton of the stuff came spewing out. Think of it like a sickness you can’t see, that gets more and more worse the longer you’re around it.”

But I’ve been walking the waking world for years, sometimes very close to the spots those ‘nukes’ fell, and I feel… She was going to say fine, or maybe and I am not sick, but neither of those were entirely correct, were they?

Fortunately Maddox knew what she meant. “I’m betting it affects you differently than me, Amaya. For all I know you might be immune to it or something. We are aliens to each other, right?”

Yes… For some reason he couldn’t help but feel she sounded wistful. But I’ve seen some humans walk around without protection and they’re… well, not fine, or… or sane, but they’re still alive!

“Yeah… but I’d rather not risk it. Besides, it’s what else is in the air that I’m more worried about. Lead from all the bullets, the ash, smoke, dust and God knows what else. The mask keeps all that out. Hopefully, anyway.”

She leaned a little closer to him and breathed in his scent. She could not sense or taste any sort of sickness on him, so at least his protection was working so far. But she dreaded what would happen when the world’s curse fully crept into his body, just as it had done to her all those years ago.

Focus, she told herself. Focus on the now, not the when.

Does it bother you? she asked him. She pulled away a little, gazing out into the night.

“Yeah it bothers me. I need my lungs! I can’t go filling them up with all this crap.”

Not that, she said. The other thing. How we are aliens to each other. Does that bother you?

“What?” He laughed. “No! Why would it? You know I always was into the extra-terrestrials, especially those of the royal variety.”

He noted the little flush of colour on her snout. She probably wasn’t even aware of it, and that just emphasised how contrasted this predatory creature was to her more curious, innocent side. “Why do you ask?”

I saw how much people can hate that which is different to them during the Fall. She brought her knees up and tugged them to her chest. I was scared you might think of me differently after all that’s happened.

“… Good for us I’m not like most people, huh?” But he wasn’t looking directly at her when he’d said that. If he had… she might have seen his eyes flick a little. The tell of a liar. “But, er, what about you? Does having a dangerously good-looking human as a companion bother you?”

Not one bit. She nudged him with her elbow. As for good looking? I’ll need to see under that getup to confirm it.

“If we find someplace clean, sure.”

Promise?

“… Promise.”

For a while they sat in companionable silence, the shadowy presence of the moon slowly arching across the sky. He yawned and told her he would be turning in for the night. But as he laid down and shut his eyes, something orange started flicking across his closed eyelids, like a wavering light source. So far, the surface world was bathed in utter darkness, so naturally it made his heart race, and he sat up in alarm.

What’s wrong? Amaya had just been sweeping the bridge for any potential entry points for unwelcome guests. She was instantly behind him the moment his heart started speeding up.

“Nothing I… Oh sh… A-Amaya, look!”

What? She curled herself around her friend, then placed her tail-shield on her weak side – the right. Nothing on the bridge moved, she sensed nothing.

Then she felt Maddox prod her mind, drawing her focus to his gaze. She slipped herself partly through the door Maddox had conjured up, and she found herself seeing through his eyes. Not using them, just her presence beside his own. He was looking into the trench far below them. There were tiny dark shapes spread all across its curved base, and scattered about it were orbs of orange light. Some were close together, others far apart, leaving great oceans of black between them. They were dotted all the way up the trench to the edge of Maddox’s vision. At first she was reminded of city lights, but the glare wasn’t strong enough, and some were bright while others were dim. Then it hit her. Those weren’t lights. They were campfires.

Dozens of campfires.

“There has to be hundreds of people down there.” He gently pushed her away and shuffled to the edge of the deck. Amaya kept a bit of her tail coiled over his leg. “Those people back in the canteen looked like slaves to me. I guess now we know who they were running from.”

I’ve never seen so many in one place. Not after the Fall. Who could rally so many together?

Just as she said that, one of the campfires snuffed out. She might have been mistaken, but she heard something reminiscent of steel against steel, and was that a motor as well?

“Maybe they aren’t together, not all of them.” She retreated from his mind once she’d seen enough, her muscles relaxing now that her full consciousness had returned to her body. “And we’ve got to go through there. Maybe they’re friendly?”

I hope you’re joking, my friend.

“Wish I wasn’t. Don’t know how we’re going to get past all that, man.”

There link was alive with his doubts and worries. She put a tentative hand on his side to soothe him. Let’s sleep on it, Maddox. We’ll have a clear head then.

He considered the distant lights for a few seconds. “You’re right,” he said. He noted how she said ‘a’ clear head – singular. Hive-slang, he’d call it one day. Of course people detested aliens because of their vast differences, but not him, he just found it all so interesting.

Got Dr. Woodland to thank for that.

Amaya watched him lay on his side, put an arm under his head. She stopped a respectful distance away and sat down.

Good night, Maddox.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “See you tomorrow, girl.” Then he was laying down again.

She stayed up a little later until the bridge was filled with her friends rather cute, albeit loud, snores. When she was satisfied nothing was around waiting for their guard to be let down, she fell into a ball and tucked into a fetal position. She hugged her tail to her breast and sighed.

She snuggled deeper into her own limbs, thought of a world of woods and grass and forests as far as she could imagine, and slept.

But this time, she realised, her dreaming world was no longer plagued by nightmares.

2

His eyes were crusty with sleep when he woke up the next morning, if you could call this dreary apocalyptic haze morning, that is. Maddox’s whole left side complained up a storm after a night on the metal deck, but as he went to stretch it out he found his arms being pushed back against him.

For a horrible moment he thought he’d been tied up in his sleep, that whoever was down in those campsites had come up here, murdered his partner and was preparing to sacrifice him in some ritual. Then he looked down and saw a stretch of blue skeleton wrapped over his arms and chest. One of Amaya’s legs was draped over his own. She was spooning the hell out of him from behind.

Just like old times, he thought, and tried to settle down again for another hour of rest. But despite the comforting weight of his long-lost friend, reminiscing just made him sad. The world was gone and this was what was left. His mind was racing too much for spooning time, no matter how much his body craved the company. They needed to get moving, he needed to replace the canister, they needed to get off this hunk of metal that could come crashing down any minute.

Amaya, perhaps sensing his thoughts rushing across the room, shook her head a little and yawned, exposing the full sheen of those fangs of hers. Her little second mouth nipped at the air a few times, before she gave him a dreamy smile. Morning Maddox.

“Look like you slept well.”

It seemed like she noticed she was cuddling him for the first time. And as if he were a thousand degrees hot, she snapped away from him. Oh! Sorry, you’re just… You’re the only warm thing in this world and I must have… well…

He didn’t mind, and let her know this through the link. He was rusty at doing that, but Amaya beamed at him when he tried, so he couldn’t have completely botched it. “You always did hate the cold.”

Her tail swished happily behind her as she watched him stand and stretch. The campfires down in the trench were gone, but far to the west a thick cloud of fog was slowly spreading across the ruined landscape, partly spilling into the trench and submerging it in a cloak of obscurity. The sun was weak and low, and the atomic overcast was thick in the air. “Terrible day,” he said.

They usually are when the storms arrive.

“That sounds ominous.” He moved his eyes west and saw that the distant fog was spreading out from the outskirts of the Capitol, and thought of the nightmarish creatures Amaya had seen in that place. “How bad do they get?”

It’s like the Fall starts all over again. Last time it happened was… two years ago? Shards of ice as long as my arm started raining down once the clouds stopped broiling. The ice-rain can penetrate most of this world’s structures. I learned that the hard way.

She pointed at the side of her crest. At first, he saw nothing wrong, then on closer inspection spied a deformity, like a piece had been ripped off and hadn’t grown back properly. A shard came right through the roof of the house I was hiding in. Just a graze, but you wouldn’t believe how hard this thing on my head bleeds.

But the shards are just the first part, what comes next is worse. The wrath of the sky is so terrible, columns of light ripping apart an already dead world. You see that skyscraper over there, the one cracked in half? The last monsoon snapped it in two, just with a single strike. Eventually I took shelter in a cellar, and waited it out in there. The thunder rolled over the world for weeks, and all I could think about in that darkness was the Fall; the bombs were the thunder, the lightning the flashes seconds after nuclear detonation. And all that time my crown just wouldn’t stop bleeding. I thought I was going to die.

Thunder rolled in the resulting pause. Closer than yesterday, but not visible from here. He came over and held her shoulder, which bobbed under her panting breath. Now it was his turn to comfort her. They didn’t need to say anything. Amaya slowly brought him closer and held him in a loose hug. Maddox broke the silence when her mind settled.

“Two years, you said?” Maddox asked. “I… think I remember that. The whole Bunker started shaking about that time. Some people said it was an earthquake at first until we heard explosions. I was thinking the same thing as you, Amaya, that some ship had come back to end the world all over again.” He huffed. “Maybe we were sharing thoughts then, huh?”

He’d said it as a joke, but as he thought about it, it didn’t seem that impossible. He remembered this kid from school who had a twin brother. One of them broke his arm during football practice, and at the same time all the way on the other side of the school, his brother twisted his ankle. They both took the exact same amount of time to recover. And this one other time, one brother had saved the other by calling the police to his house, where his sibling was staying home alone. Low and behold, the place was getting robbed while his brother hid under the bed upstairs. “I just knew something weren’t right,” the brother had said when Maddox asked him about it.

Maybe those two had something similar to this link he had with Amaya. Not a twin connection, obviously – she was a Xenomorph, and he hadn’t even heard of that name until he’d stumbled across her – but it could be close. Very close. He wished he could have been topside when that monsoon hit, with her in that cellar, telling her she didn’t have to be afraid. Just picturing her cowering in the corner while stupid old nature ripped everything apart him angry.

“How long do you think until this one hits?” he asked. They parted the hug, mutually, although they both looked like they could have stayed that way forever.

She tapped a finger to her chin. I know it can’t be long. Within the week, maybe less. We need to cross the trench before it hits. It will flood quickly, and the creatures of the Fall will be much more active when the storm comes. They don’t usually move away from the Capitol, but sometimes they get curious.

“Then we better get moving, huh?”

He grabbed up his satchel and machete, swinging the scabbard onto his back. Just as he was pocketing his handgun, Amaya came up to him and said: That is a ranged weapon, yes?

“This?” He held the handgun up, turned it over. “Uh yeah. Why?”

You carried it around on the beach, but you didn’t fire a single shot. Do you not have ammo?

“No no I do.” He snapped the slide back, revealing the loaded round. “Just the one though.”

There were many times shooting would have saved your life against those beasts. Why didn’t you?

“It’s… complicated.” He paused, playing the words in his head a few times before speaking. “The bullet, it was… it wasn’t meant for saving my life. It’s so I can… if it came down to the wire, and I wanted the easy way out.”

You mean…? You mean to shoot yourself? Oh, Maddox…

She’d sounded disappointed, and his temper suddenly panged. “Don’t ‘oh’ me, Amaya. You think I wanted to be eaten alive by those dogs? That I wanted my life to end seeing my own limbs ripped off of me? It was just… It was just if I wanted a way out.”

There are no easy ways out, she said, a not-so-distant memory coming to mind. How long have you had the bullet?

“A few days.”

How many times could you have used it on something other than yourself, but didn’t?

Maddox went to say something, but that tumbled into nonsense. Even if he was blocking the link, willingly or not, she’d figured that out so quickly. “Look, I… Shit, I’m not going to do it, okay? I considered it, I won’t deny that. Let’s just…. Let’s just move on.”

We can’t move on, she said. You’re obsessed with that piece of brass.

“No I’m…” His eyes flicked again. “No I’m not.”

So get rid of it.

“But… But I can still find another use for it. Another Gooret, or… or another human. Can’t just waste something that works…”

God, Maddox thought. she’s right. ‘This one is for you,’ that’s what Blankley said when he gave me the bullet. This one’s for me and even though I got my friend back a part of me still wants to go through with it. Maybe that’s what our good Mayor wanted all along. Keep his hands clean while mine get dirty.

Amaya reached out a hand. Give it to me.

Only by sheer willpower did he stop himself from putting his body between her and the gun. Her fingers curled in the classic let’s go gesture, a gesture a mother would make at a disobedient child, and his annoyance flared. Then that annoyance turned to shame, and the fight left him in a long exhale. He placed the gun in her palm.

She lifted it up to her snout, studied it for a moment, then brought her other arms up. She clasped the grip with a smaller hand, then pulled back the receiver with the other. She reached in with a thumb and flicked out the round, catching it in mid-air with her third hand.

Then she turned around, and chucked the bullet through the breach.

It pinged off a component jutting off the ship’s hull, then shrunk to a pinprick of gold as it spun away to the ground.

There, Amaya said. The gun clanged to the floor. Complication resolved. Let’s get going. She moved to the back of the bridge, leaving a shocked Maddox in her wake.

He looked out to where the bullet had gone, replaying the last ten seconds over and over. His head went back and forth a few times between the breach and his friend, like he was watching a tennis match. Then a new feeling replaced the old obsession. Relief. Just like that. Was it all really that simple in the end?

He blinked at the ground far below, bent, picked up the pistol. It felt lighter. He felt lighter. He stuck the empty weapon in his waistband. Sighed again. “What the hell was I thinking?” he asked aloud.

Are you coming, Maddox?

“Yeah!” he said, jogging after her. One could tell he even moved faster now that a burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

They left the bridge, and never spoke of the bullet ever again.

3

She didn’t think much could awe her at this point, not after watching the world burn in fire and war, but this did. This section of the ship Maddox called the ‘Operations Centre’.

“Battleships have a lot of sensor data. This is where it all comes together. Pretty important room to keep a ship going.”

Is that why half of it is missing?

The colossal room spanned the entire width of the ship, and took up at least two hundred meters of its length. What looked like vertical walkways connected the top of the vaulted chamber to the bottom. There had to be dozens of giant columns running the entire rooms length, divided into three sets, each column spaced equidistantly from one another.

Some of the columns were either gone or swaying uneasily in the wind, because pretty much the entire floor was gone, leaving behind only thin metal rebars that had once served as criss-crossing support for the ship’s hull armour. Craning her head up, she noted a similar, gigantic breach on the upper left portion of the ship, weak sunlight streaming inside in the shape of a beam, illuminating a place once filled with wondrous technological capability.

She could imagine the hundreds of workstations making all sorts of blips and boops, a whole mesh of signals intersecting in this room and filing into orders and tasks. The coordination needed from the crew would have to be astounding to sort through all the data. Almost like an artificial Hive, aided by tech and sensor arrays and who-knows-what else the human mind was capable of creating.

Then she imagined the giant surface-to-air missiles crashing through hull and armour, killing the hundreds of engineers and technicians who’d kept this death machine afloat. But those hundreds would be the lucky ones. They wouldn’t get to see the horrors rising up from the world’s ashes. Ashes they themselves created.

Not that the monsters who operated this machine deserved a quick death. But they were all gone now, she and Maddox were alone in the belly of a-

Something caused her head to twitch. She looked back over her shoulder, curious. She couldn’t sense anything, nor detect any noise in that far darkness. As quick as it came, the feeling had left her. How odd…

“Looks like the way off this thing is right over there.” Maddox pointed. Another sealed blast door winked at them over the expanse of wrecked, almost completely missing floor. They’d decided they would take the makeshift ladders down. Exploring all the way to the far end of the ship for a safer way down would take too long.

Last one there’s a sore loser! Although all that remained of the floor was nothing but crisscrossing metal beams thinner than her heals, Amya just started sauntering across the nearest one like she was off to fetch the morning paper.

She stopped ten meters out and spun around. Maddox took one look down the void she was walking across so care-free, and gulped. “I think I’ll take the scenic route.”

Your call, loser.

“Sticks and stones will break my bones, but so will a hundred-meter drop. I’m done with heights for one post-apocalyptic life.” There was a thicker section of more intact floor all the way on the right. He made his way toward it. Amaya made a show of leaping from one beam to another even though she could have just walked to each one.

By the time she was almost halfway across, Maddox had only just got to the start of his much more ‘safer’ route, and even with all that buffer room keeping him from the empty pit, he still kept the going slow.

Maybe you could ride on my back again! she called, slipping from one rebar to another with feline grace. This wouldn’t take so long, then.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” The clocking of his boots echoed across the chamber as he tested the weight of the ground before proceeding. He chanced a look up and saw at the heart of the rebar beams, Amaya beginning to place herself into a handstand. “Oh now you’re just showing off!”

She sent him her warm feelings of happiness, unable to stop smiling at him from across the way, unable to stop feeling so good. A beautiful night’s rest in ancestors-knows how long, and a morning where she didn’t have to force herself to get up for another day alone in this world? Could he blame her?

Not my fault you’re taking so long, she said. Get those knees up! You’re dragging your feet like a caveman!

“How do you even know what a…? Man, you like bossing people around, don’t you?” he called out. “First the brawl now this!”

Don’t mistake helping for bossing around. You’ll ever learn otherwise! Now stop keeping your Queen waiting!

“‘Your Queen’,” he scoffed, but there was a little smile dancing on his lips.

When he was finally parallel to her, she fell back to all fours and continued on. Even beside the lack of nightmares last night, having someone around to converse the mornings away was nothing short of fantastic. And there was also the added bonus of his concealed staring of her body. She could feel his eyes on her with each roll of her hips. All that darkness earlier? It was all worth this sliver of light pouring all these forgotten feelings back into her.

“Come on, slow down!”

But why slow down? She felt like running. The giant death-drop below her didn’t scare her, she bounded across it like a dancing gazelle, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins, flexing the muscles, relishing in the wind whipping off her crest. All that running and walking she’d done on her quest to find Maddox had kept her body in its prime, but she hadn’t actually felt her strength in any of that time.

“Amaya!”

But now she did. She could feel herself sprinting all the way back to her Hive, she could see it just at the other end of the trench, right there! There she would tell him everything, and he would be ecstatic and he would embrace her and they would pick up where they had left off all those years ago and-

“Amaya, help!”

She planted her heels and palms into the beam and skidded to a halt. At the last second her left foot had slid loose from the rebar, and she would have tumbled to her death right then if her tail hadn’t wound itself in place to anchor her. Sometimes it really did have a mind of its own, acting independently from her actions when she wasn’t aware of it. Probably why she hugged the damn thing all the time.

Maddox? She turned around, all joy from her thoughts being replaced by a primal need to act. She thought he might have slipped, but the reality was far worse. He had his back to her, and was facing down one, no, two humans creeping towards him from where they’d first entered the chamber.

They wore nothing but slim black pants, all other clothing substituted for tattoos the colour of blood. One was holding a club, the other a staff covered in what she prayed wasn’t a collection of human bones strapped together by wire and rope. Club-man threw himself at Maddox, and the knocking of wood on flesh was very loud even with the distance.

Maddox! I’m coming! She made to double back, when the blast door they’d been aiming for mouthed open. Again she stopped, spun to look.

Another man clad in pants and matted in tattoos. There were even drawings of eyes on his eyelids, so each time he blinked it was like he never stopped looking at her. Compared to the other two, this one was twice as big, larger than any man she’d ever seen. An army helmet threatened to fall off his head, the straps dangling against his cheeks with each rugged movement. Clutched in both his callused hands was a long, angular, metal assortment of tubes and pipes.

He stopped in the frame of the blast door, swung the collective tubes around until the muzzle was pointing at her. There was just enough time for a voice that sounded exactly like Maddox’s to say machine-gun, before she launched off her feet.

Dat-dat-dat-! -the canon opened up on her, licks of flame spewing out of the front barrel with each thunderous report. The air around her vibrated as rounds punched through the spaces she’d barely managed to vacate. She flung her arms out to the next beam, used it like a set of monkey-bars and swung to the next rebar, aiming for the left side of the room.

The man trained the oversized gun on her the entire way as she threw herself to the next beam, slipping over it like greased lightning and winding in random directions to throw off his aim. Claw-sized rounds punched through the hull of the ship, leaving massive holes. Unscathed she made it to the nearest support column, the man firing from the hip as the thing was just too cumbersome to use otherwise.

She climbed up the metal to put some height between her and the man, taking a moment to hug herself to the column and catch her breath, but then the metal around her started chipping away under the suppression of the massive weapon. She’d never seen such firepower before! How could he have got his hands on it? But then of course this was a warship, and all that weaponry was just lying around this place waiting for people to-

A spray of shrapnel across her face and a loud ricochet pulled her back into the present. She looked round until her gaze settled on the wall to her north, at an assortment of verandas and workstations going up and down the wall in a honeycomb-like pattern.

She started scurrying further up the column. She had an idea.

Sixty meters back and below, Maddox felt hot pain across his side as the one with the staff sliced him across the bicep with its sharpened end. Club-guy hollered out a cry somehow louder than the machine-gun barrage, and swung his club in an uppercut motion.

Maddox felt his hair swish back as he stumbled away from the club’s deadly arch. The man’s arm twisted awkwardly, and the club landed with a loud thud behind his right leg. “CLEAN!” the man barked. “Clean you REAL good!”

Is everyone fucking insane up here? he thought, stabbing out at club-guy’s exposed ribs. But then of course their minds had rotted, and hadn’t Amaya barely managed to come back from the same state? I wonder how long until I’m the one who’s crazy?

Club-guy yowled as Maddox put several slashes into his torso, blood dribbling out and pooling in his navel, covering up some of the surrounding tattoos that reminded him of tribal runes. It wouldn’t have surprised him to know the ink they’d used to paint those runes was partly blood, too.

Staff-man twirled around and made to thrust. Maddox raised his machete to block, but missed the feint, and he felt blood on his tongue as the blunt-end of the staff struck his lip. The one with the club began to circle around him, forcing Maddox to put his back to the long drop.

A sudden gush of wind put all three of them off balance. Staff-guy came at him again, doing some crazy whirlwind-move, and Maddox went against all his instincts, and stepped out onto one of the suspended rebars. For one horrible moment his balance tipped left, and he threw his arms up hard to the right to counteract. But it was no good. His back foot was slipping. He was going to fall.

Then some foreign force snapped his leg back into place, and his center of balance stabilised. A little presence in the far depths of his mind let him know who was guarding him as best she could. A level of control returned to his flustered face.

Club-guy didn’t seem to care if he fell off the beam with his next attack. He shouted something about feeding him to ‘The Cleaner’, pushed past his friend and sprinted onto the rebar, weapon raised above his head, screaming out a war-cry.

Maddox waited until the man was right on him, trusting that Amaya would help keep his legs planted for what he was about to do. Instead of lashing out with his blade, Maddox ducked, and wrapped his arms over the man’s blood-splattered torso, twisted his hips, and threw club-guy behind him. The man’s weapon went sailing into down into freefall, and he would have joined its descent had club-guy barely managed to snatch onto the beam with a hand.

One quick stomp on Maddox’s part changed that. Fingers cracked beneath his boots, and the man screamed like a girl and shrunk to the size of dot. Blood splattered outward from the muffled, distant impact as skin met hard dirt.

On the far side of the chamber, Amaya was ducking and weaving her way down the wall, using the platforms and other bits of metal jutting from the surface as cover from the machine-gun’s fury. A couple of rounds did find their mark on her, but other than sending painful vibrations down her body, the bullets bounced harmlessly off her crest, which she’d slipped over her vulnerable face. She zipped and ducked and alternated between running on two legs or all fours (minus her two smaller arms, of course), closer and closer to the man and his heavy weapon.

When she was close enough to pounce, she let loose a feral, ear-splitting shriek, and lunged, leading with her claws as she became literal death from above. The heavy gunman didn’t so much as flinch, and though it shouldn’t have surprised her, it did. The insane were in some ways braver then the sane – their concept of danger erased from their deformed minds.

Amaya reached out to grab the man’s head and rip it open, but he sidestepped out of the way as she thundered to the ground, and he knocked his oversized weapon into her flank. The impact pushed the wind out of her, but it wasn’t enough to stop her seething battle rage. Before he could realign his weapon, she punched him through the chest so hard her hand came out the other side, intestines and life-juice flowing between her claws. He folded over her arm, his giant weapon hitting the floor, all the inner parts clicking together as she kicked it away.

She retracted the impaling hand back, then threw him away like he was a toy that no longer amused her. He landed with a sickening crunch, his legs dangling over the lip of the missing section of the floor.

Staff-guy was much more competent than club-guy. It felt like Maddox was sweating blood with the number of cuts he was getting. He couldn’t get much advantage over the other man. Even with Amaya’s mental assistance, his mind still believed he should be falling at any second now. He was losing focus, and staff-guy could see it clear as day.

“Food! Clean food! Cleaner will feast!” There was foam gathering in his dirty lips. He came at Maddox in a mad flurry, pushing him further out onto the beam. His mind was ejecting Amaya’s presence, the illusion of balance fading.

Pain flared up his dominant wrist as he defended himself poorly. His grip on the machete weakening as he fended off strike after strike. His legs began to wobble. He tried swiping out staff-guy’s legs, but he just stepped out of the way, more balanced than Maddox was giving him credit for.

Maddox made the mistake of looking down, and he could practically feel his back foot sliding away as the wind suddenly picked up in strength. This time nothing would save him. This time he’d fall. He watched the other man bring the staff slowly up, ready to impale him on this metal beam.

The man’s face was wide with glee, but then when a black tail-shield sliced him across the waist, the expression twisted into anger and pain. His arms slowly relaxed to his sides, and he looked down to see the top half of his body slide away from the lower. He was in two pieces when he fell away. Not even so much as a scream the entire trip down.

Amaya stood on the beginning of the rebar, sending out her bloodied tail like it were a lifeline. He clung to it, gasping for air as she pulled him off the wobbling beam. The last echoes of the fight bled away into silence, and the only sound to fill the vaulted chamber for a few minutes was Amaya and Maddox’s combined breathing.

“A-Amaya you…” Maddox swallowed. “You ran! Wh-Why?”

Oh, Maddox. A clunk of flesh on flesh as she connected her forehead to his naked cranium, put her hands on his. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t… I don’t…

Maddox replayed what he just said in his mind. Man, he was being such an asshole, now of all times! The link was a mess of swimming thoughts and images, and Amaya was quaking against him. “Hey, hey come on, it’s over.” He squeezed her long, deadly fingers. “It’s alright. We didn’t know we were being followed.”

But I did! I sensed something before but I was too distracted and I almost got you killed and… And I…

She trailed off, and Maddox didn’t break the silence. He just stood there and let her have her moment, while he had his. He could gleam some explanation for her running off from the link, but it didn’t matter now. What did matter, was that they were still breathing, and he let her know this without a need for words.

Using her natural way of communication did slow her breathing down. And eventually she broke away from him, a bit of warmth flowing from her mind to his. He looked at the place where her eyes would have been if she had them. “You okay now, girl?” he asked after a pause.

I… Yes. I am. She flicked her tail to rid it of the blood. Are you wounded?

“Just a few scratches but- No-! No, no need for jelly, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Oh. She’d just started retching again. She swallowed down a lump. Alright then.

They moved – together this time – towards the door where the man with the heavy weapon had come in from. Amaya kept herself by his side the entire way, all senses honed for any other signs of life. They cleaned themselves of gore and blood as best they could, but blood caked quickly, and stuck into the grooves of their hides in crispy black pockets.

“Woah, check out this thing.” Maddox stopped before the heavy machine-gun. He bent down, grabbed it by both ends, and heaved. His knees buckled but the thing barely moved off the floor. He let it go and it banged down loudly. “That guy must have ripped this thing right off one of the ships cannons.” He raised a brow at her. “Think you can carry it? Could come in handy.”

I think my claws are too big to actually use it. She lifted the big gun up with one arm and flipped away the top slide. There was a sling with hundreds of little rings on it, feeding into the main chamber, each the same radius as high-caliber bullets. And this ammo belt thing is empty.

Maddox clicked his tongue. “Damn. Never mind then.” He stared at the lifeless body of its former carrier for a moment, watched the blood pool underneath the body and drip off the edge. “You think this is the guy those slaves in the canteen were running from?”

It seems so. She lifted her head up and inhaled. I smell blood on them. Not just their own, but others. Blood and… meat? Yes, meat and It’s… burnt?

“Burnt?” he echoed.

Cooked. Cooked flesh. Oh, no. How could they? That’s… That’s horrible.

There was no pity in either of their gazes as they watched the cannibal leader’s blood dry up against the metal. Amaya’s head tilted out into the trench below. She was thinking about those campfires last night, how some were snuffed out, how some had burned long into the morning. But worst of all – how many others like these men were down there? Hundreds? More? And how many of them were carrying heavy weapons?

She wrapped her tail around her friend, as much a gesture to comfort him, as well as herself.

Chapter 11

The Trench

1

The ladders were strapped onto one of the ship’s emergency hatches by bits of rope. The wooden, vertical steps stretched down to a makeshift scaffold cabin suspended fifty meters below, and the more Maddox looked at the distance, the more it seemed to buckle under the duress of the raging wind.

Like a giant skipping rope, he thought, watching the ladder bent one way, creaking and groaning, then snapping in the other direction. Oh God.

By his side, Amaya was leaning over the drop as well. She wasn’t so bothered with heights as he was, but there was a little droop at the corners of her mouth he didn’t exactly find comforting.

It’s a lot longer than I thought it would be, Amaya said, giving the ropes a tug. The ladder held in place, but still continued to sway.

“A girl said that to me once.” Maddox smiled cheaply.

Amaya cocked her head at him.

“… One of my friend’s bad jokes. Sorry.”

What friend? She didn’t offer if he wanted to go first. She turned around and lowered a foot down to the first rung of steps. Pre-Fall, or after?

“After.” When there was enough room, he gently crouched down and stretched out a leg. The vertigo as he slowly left the solid safety of the ship was horrible. He felt out with his boot, his features behind the mask would have been comical under other circumstances. His heel hit something solid.

Ouch, Amaya said. Looking down, he saw he’d just kicked her across the crest.

“Sorry.” He put his other leg down, took a deep breath, and started descending after his companion, who kept the pace slow and steady. Through the bars of the ladder, he could see the far side of the shipwreck, where the tall cliffs met the piss-coloured ocean. Just up to the right, he spied the plateau they’d climbed up to, after they’d escaped the Gooret. He didn’t like how the waves smashed up against the wall of rocks keeping the ocean sealed away from the trench. It was like some natural dam formation that could break at any moment and flood the trench.

Keep moving, Maddox. Amaya was ten or so rungs away, waiting, but she didn’t sound impatient. He quickly caught up with her. Who is this joking friend of yours?

“I… We’re not exactly friends anymore. If we ever were. I didn’t even really like him.”

But you just called him a friend. I don’t understand.

“Me neither. But out of everyone else in the Bunker, he’d tolerated me the most. I was like an outcast to those people, stupid and desperate enough to get acquainted with someone like Jake.”

The wind picked up, rocking the ladder, the metal bending under his fingers. They stopped and held on until it passed. Can you show me? she asked him, and he felt something touch his mind.

He turned away the mental probe with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter now.”

He felt a hard negative emotion. It does matter, Maddox. If you won’t show me, then tell me. I want to know what happened.

She’d paused in her descent. Maddox blinked down at her. He wanted to ask her why, why it mattered and why she cared, but swallowed back his anger, which had suddenly spiked. “I killed him, alright? Tried to, anyway. I smashed his brains in with a crowbar after he got in my way and I…”

He trailed off. Amaya continued climbing down but didn’t break the silence. He hadn’t noticed they’d made it to the scaffold cabin and stomped his foot down on the floorboard.

Amaya put a hand on his back to keep him from the edge. The entire cabin rocked on its thing wooden legs, the supports complaining under their combined, added weight. Another ladder led down the rest of the way through a hole in the floor. The surface was still a long way.

The pit growing in his stomach from the resulting vertigo, was halted by a warm caress from his companion’s phantom hand. She cares, a part of him told him. She cares, that’s why she asks. Can’t you see that?

“… and I liked it,” he finished, causing Amaya to look back at him. “I know I shouldn’t, it makes me so sick just thinking about it, but… seeing his brains like that was… I’d never felt so satisfied. And honestly I’d do it all over again if I had the chance.” He sighed, but the sigh choked, and he realised he was approaching the edge of tears. “Something’s wrong with me, Amaya. I’m…”

Maddox… Amaya moved over and rested her smaller arms on his shoulders. Don’t say things like that. It does not help, believe me. You would never do something if it was not right. That’s not who you are.

“… I don’t know, Maya.” He shook his head. He’d talked to her earlier about unnecessary cruelty, and yet with Jack, was that so different? “I just don’t know anymore.”

Well, I do know, Maddox. This ‘Jack’ person hurt you, I can feel it, and anyone that hurts you deserves to suffer. You cannot question yourself and give up now.

“I’m not giving up,” he said, remembering their prior talk about killing. Maybe she was right. The whole world had suffered, and so many innocent people had died. He’d been doing the whole Bunker a favour, and himself too, standing up for all those years of humiliation.

No, he wasn’t giving up, he was growing up, and he realised this was what Amaya was trying to make him see. “I know what you meant before about needing to say shit out loud.”

It helps, doesn’t it?

“Yeah. Yeah it does.” He paused, and another gust of wind rushed by. “Let’s get off this thing before it all falls apart.”

Amaya squeezed his shoulders, and once more led the way down. It felt like there were a hundred rungs between them and the next cabin. The wind would always choose the most unpredictable times to rock the ladders back and forth. One particular gale almost pulled him off the ladder completely. His knuckles were bone-white for how hard he was gripping the sides.

Tell me about this ‘Bunker’, Maddox.

He explained as best he could under the circumstances. How it was an old underground shelter built way back in the day to protect Government officials against potential insurgent action. Then Weyland repurposed it into nuclear-proof shelters when they knew the Fall was approaching. This he’d learned a few months after he’d entered.

But why did they treat you like an outcast?

“They all knew I was an enemy of Weyland Yutani. The Mayor, he made sure people knew I shared the same views as the insurgents, and pretty much everyone – Jack included – thought anyone who was even the slightest bit against Wey-Yu should be sent Sweeping. They all thought I was being ungrateful about being kept safe when I should have died out there along with the rest of the world. Looking back, I… guess I was pretty open about how I felt.”

So they sent you away just because of your views?

It occurred to him what she was doing. Talking made him forget about how high up they were, made the descent almost like clockwork. A glance down told him they were already close to the next cabin. “Not just because of that. A few days before they sent me up topside, I found this weird door in one of the lower levels…”

He told her about the observation rooms he explored with Jack. He explained, this time without pausing to internally battle his emotions, how he’d beaten Jack because they discovered the message log that proved Weyland was behind the Fall.

Something about the message log rang a faint bell in the back of Amaya’s memory, but she couldn’t quite place what. Her mind was partly recovering after years of neglect, but self-repair could only go so far. She needed another, but Maddox seemed hesitant to open the door any more than he had to.

But it was so obvious Weyland were the ones to blame, Amaya said. Their ships have the insignias, their troops fired on anything that moved. How could anyone doubt they were in the wrong?

“A lot happened before the Bunker. People forget the important things when it’s everyone for themselves.” He looked down at Amaya for a reaction, but she just kept on going down the ladder. “And even if they did see those ships through all the smoke, I think Weyland putting them all in a safety shelter helped jog their memories a bit.”

Your Bunker is filled with weak-willed fools. She helped him down off the ladder, like a man would help a lady down from a horse-drawn carriage, and the image made him grin. Actually, your whole race is filled with the weak of will.

“No argument there,” he said. He rubbed his hands along his arms to rid his palms of sweat.

It’s despicable. I’m glad there were people like you to help them see reason.

“I didn’t exactly give them any motivational speeches, if that’s what you’re getting at. I think I told you once I’m not a leader.”

But you knew the truth, and you sought it out even if it meant your own exile. Anyone would be lucky enough to have you as a friend. She smiled.

He smiled back. “Me? I thought I was part of a weak-minded race?”

You are, yes, but I’ve been an object of this world’s hate all my life. If there were to be a cute little human around to counter that, I wouldn’t exactly try and fight it.

He couldn’t help but think on the emphasis she put on ‘cute’. He hadn’t felt praise in so long a time it was almost an alien emotion. “Cute, huh? What about dashing? Guys like being called that.”

Maddox, I brought this up to try and ease your mind, not have you stroke your own ego. Amaya slapped him playfully on the hip with her tail.

“Yeah I know, I know. And I appreciate it.” He rubbed the segmented length of her tail as he passed her. “Come on, let’s get off this thing.”

2

Maddox took the lead this time, with Amaya sticking close. It took them a quarter of an hour to descend the final ladder set. It would have been faster, but the wind was picking up hard, that even Amaya found her fingers slipping from the wood.

Earlier, it had taken many hours to traverse the rest of the shipwreck, and much of the day had been burned up already. Barely a quarter of the sky was illuminated behind the wall of overcast. The rest of the sky had descended into a darkness only seen at night. The Lab Amaya had rediscovered was probably being swallowed up by the marching storm right about now. She could imagine its roof peeling away while rainwater flooded its dark undergrounds, and felt not the least bit sad about it.

The ground at last defined itself through the dusty haze, and step by step their heels came to earth once again. She heard Maddox give a small, victorious woop as he jumped the last few rungs and land with a puff of ash.

Don’t remember you being so skittish around big drops, my friend, she said from above.

“I wasn’t, at least until we-” He went silent, turned on the spot.

All around the base of the final ladder there was an arrangement of huts made from metal sheets, just as they’d seen from higher up on the bridge. The window holes were dark, little strips of light finding their way into the shacks and lighting up moldy bedrolls. All was silent except for the rattling of a tin can rolling in the steady breeze nearby. She reached out with her mind but felt no presence of life.

What’s wrong? She quickly lowered down the ladder by gripping the sides and sliding the rest of the way. She landed in a crouch, claws at the ready.

“Did you hear a voice just now?”

No…? The two of them came back-to-back without thinking about it. Metal scraped against leather as Maddox drew his machete out of its scabbard. A sheet of dust kicked up to their west, and obscured the shacks furthest from the ladder.

Something made out of glass shattered somewhere, and her surprise was so great she almost screeched. She looked at the shack the noise had come from, but there was nothing, just loose bits of a bottle that had rolled off a window seal.

For a second there was nothing but their combined breathing and the wind. Then something whistled through the air, and she didn’t have enough time to move before a thick, bladed spear impaled through her elbow. It stopped halfway up the steel shaft as the sharkfin tip embedded into the dirt by her foot.

This time she did scream.

Her green, luminescent blood gushed out like pus from a pimple. Most of it coated up against her hides left side, while the rest flung away onto the closest shack. The metal sheets the blood smacked against began to dissolve. That would have been Maddox, she suddenly thought. If he’d been standing a meter to his right.

Maddox looked to where the weapon had come from. A short way up the ladder, six or seven men were climbing down after them. Each were carrying quivers with spears protruding from the slings. A little further up, just hidden away by the haze, the scaffold cabin was packed with half a dozen more men, leaning over the edges of the wooden structure, one misstep away from tumbling out.

Amaya jerked her arm but all she managed to do was open up the wound some more. Looking down, she saw a few sets of metal fingers jutting out of the head of the spear and clamping into the ground, holding the weapon, and her, in place.

The air whistled again, and she twirled to her left, using the spear as an anchor for her shifting weight. Another spear protruded from the earth where she was just standing.

“Amaya!” Maddox turned on her and saw the spear sticking through her upper left arm. “A-Are you al-?”

Behind you! she yelled.

Another man covered in dark tattoos was sprinting at him, his body a dark shape but the eyes blazing a hungry, bloodshot red. Strapped to his hands were a pair of knuckle dusters with huge spikes.

Maddox spun round and sliced, blade catching in the shoulder of the cannibal. He pulled the blade free and sliced again, this time up into the man’s chin. The blade went all the way to the lip and stopped. Blood pooled through the rotten teeth as the body went limp.

Two more cannibals ran out from behind a shack to their south. Amaya sent her tail out and rammed through the guts of one of them. She rocked her hips and sent his impaled body flying to the other. They tumbled away like a pair of agonised bowling pins.

She looked up to see another spear sailing down. It wasn’t aimed at her. As she brought her tail back, she knocked the curved flat end of it into Maddox, pushing him out of its path. The blade struck the ground at an angle and twirled away, bouncing twice before stilling.

A whole squad of cannibals charged from the west. Two more came from the north. She tried to divide her attention between them all, but her claws could only rip and tear so much while her tail was preoccupied keeping Maddox safe.

She felt the hide of her calf rip apart under the slice of a sword. She coiled her tail length around the perpetrator. The cannibal looked like a giant black anaconda had decided the human would be its dinner. Amaya flexed her tail and felt a hundred bones snap. She let the lifeless body fold away, and sent the tail back to Maddox’s side.

“Don’t!” her friend yelled, nudging the appendage away. “Protect yourself! I’ll be-” He blocked a swipe from a cleaver and stabbed his attacker through the shoulder. “-I’ll be fine!”

She considered ignoring him, right up until a knife sliced against her wrist, and another spear from the heavens grazed her left hip. She had to trust that he could handle himself, for both their sakes.

Not without reluctance, she withdrew her tail to assist in her own defence. Amaya called out whenever a cannibal was on his flank, and Maddox would tell her whenever a spear came falling down toward her. Minutes later the battlefield was a collection of wooden poles sticking up from a ground covered in bodies.

Maddox cried out as he spun from one cannibal to another, knocking them both down. He flipped the blade upside down and executed them in a pair of downward strikes. Amaya didn’t know if he was crying out in pain or anger, but still added her voice to his, screeching and sending out spittle into her foes. Some of them danced out of her constricted reach, but a lot of them were too crazy to care, using sheer numbers to try and overwhelm her.

One especially bigger human knocked his way through his underlings, brandishing a fire axe. He was a little more coated in tattoos than the rest, and Amaya thought of him as some sort of chief or officer. From the way the rest of the cannibals eyed him, she couldn’t be far off the truth.

The cannibal put all of his weight into heaving the axe over a shoulder. Not even her exoskeleton would stand long against a direct hit from that thing. She hopped away and brought her impaled arm forward. Her blood was molding the metal inside her into a crude shape that she couldn’t free her limb from. The axe bounced off the spear’s shaft, the sound loud enough to ring the ears of all present.

She hooked her tail left, but the chief blocked with the flat side of the axe head. She lunged out as far as her free arm could reach, but he jumped back and slammed the axe into her palm. More of her blood sprouted out, but she dug into the pain, grabbed his weapon and pulled.

The chief stupidly held onto his weapon, and the last thing he saw was Amaya’s maw open up, revealing the throat of a monster. Her second mouth darted out and caved in his skull. She threw the lifeless leader at the rest of her enemies’ feet.

Three or four of them started running the other way, but the rest just stepped over the corpse and kept on fighting. Even the spears didn’t stop raining down on them. She’d been hoping the death of the leader would end it, but her luck had never gone right before, so why would it now?

“Pass me that axe!” Maddox said from behind her. “I have an idea!”

She didn’t question him, leaning a foot out and kicking the weapon out of the fray. Maddox rested a boot on the axe’s head to stop it, killed another cannibal, and picked it up.

He brought it over his right shoulder, and heaved with all his strength to the left. He felt something in his bicep start to sting, but he ignored it. The right side of the ladder bent inward as the weapon collided. He brought the weapons back and swung again. The cannibals had built several smaller supports at the base here, and Maddox cut through them all, one by one.

Above, the already wonky ladder, struggling under the weight of so many, began to creak and groan. One of the spearmen lost his balance and fell, all his weapons fanning out loosely around him. He landed on the roof of a shack, and the roof caved inward with a bang of metal.

Maddox mumbled some obscenity directed at the cannibals, and drove the axe home one last time. It cleaved through one side of the ladder and out the other. The rungs fell away from him and dug into the ground. The splinter of wood was very loud. The cabin up high held onto its flimsy supports for one more heartbeat, and then it snapped away from the rest of the scaffolding.

The cannibals up there dove away like they were abandoning ship, perhaps more out of fear than logic. The giant ball of wood and metal and bodies began its hundred-meter descent.

Amaya had just finished goring another cannibal when the noise from above caught her and her attacker’s attention. This time they did run, but when Amaya tried to give chase, the impaling spear stopped her. She looked up and saw that of all directions the cabin could of fell, it was coming down right on top of her.

“Shit!” Maddox dropped the axe and came over, began pulling on the spear, blinking when it didn’t come free. He knew more about human technology than she did, obviously, as when he punched a small switch on the spear’s shaft, the clamps on the spearhead unlocked.

Using some strength he had not been aware of until now, Maddox dove into her and pulled her out of the way of the falling debris. The cabin landed with a sound reminiscent of a detonating grenade. Wood splinters and sheets of dirt swept out in all directions of the compass. Amaya and Maddox were thrown away and buried under a thick blanket of ash.

Neither of them moved for a long while, embracing each other under a cover of detritus. All they could hear was distant clangs of metal that was probably the ladders tumbling away as the supports connecting the ground to the ship’s belly gave way.

Then when silence returned, Amaya stirred in their would-be grave, and tenderly rose her head from the indent they’d made in the earth. Waterfalls of dust and ash piled off the ridges of her crest as she looked about.

She slowly got to her haunches, bleeding and panting, and surveyed the carnage for a moment. Huge licks of dust obscured the immediate area, and the fog above had tightened its hold. She could barely spy the shadow of the very first ladder dangling from the ship’s belly, but otherwise, they were alone once more.

Maddox…?

A big panel of wood to her right shifted, and a pink-fleshed hand rose out of the debris. “Here,” he said, voice muffled.

She grabbed his hand and helped him up from the sea of dust. He was covered in ash and blood, not all of the latter was his own. She dusted off his shoulder and asked if he was alright.

“It’s you I’m worried about.” Maddox lifted up her arm. “That spear got you good.” He went to move his hands closer to the weapon still running through her, but she held him back.

No! Don’t touch my blood, it’s… She didn’t need to say. A drop of the green liquid slipped over her elbow and dripped onto a piece of wood. The acidic effect was loud and immediate. Maddox winced.

“At least let me help get that thing out of you.”

He held the top end of the spear while she gripped the bottom. She laid down on her right side and held her injured limb out. On the count of three, they pulled. The pain was unbearable. She couldn’t help but tilt her head and scream into the crook of her good upper arm as she willed herself to keep the pressure on. They ran the spear completely through until the end of the shaft popped free with a spurt of bright green blood.

Her friend kicked the weapon away, careful not to touch any of her blood. If Maddox weren’t there to trace little shapes with his finger onto her crest after the spear came free, she would have passed out from the pain.

“It’s out, girl. It’s over.” Something ripped, and he put a soft bundle into her hand. “Keep that on the wound. It might help, I don’t know.”

She pressed the fabric that had once been the sleeve of his clothes to her elbow. Thank you, Maddox. We… we should keep moving. She made to get up, but a hand on her chest stopped her.

“We will in a minute. Just catch your breath.” Maddox sighed. “And let me catch mine, too. Could you, uh… does that jelly stuff work on your own body?”

No, she said, remembering how she’d tried that after a particularly bloody fight a long time ago. You’d think it would since it comes from me. Or maybe that’s why it doesn’t. I should heal in time.

“Alright,” he said. They were silent for a few moments, and she noticed with a frown, that he kept jerking his arm, his fist clenching and releasing randomly, as if grappling at some unseen force.

What’s wrong? She cocked her head.

“I… I don’t know.” He blinked as his arm moved involuntarily. “There’s this weird feeling, right here. Like I’ve… shit, like a spear got me, too.”

It was his left arm that was acting up, right around the joint in the middle. Her own left arm had been wounded, and it was only through great effort she was managing to keep her own limb from spasming liekwise. The Link, she said. Your mind thinks you were wounded like me.

He looked from her, to his arm, considered that for a moment. “I think you’re right. Does it go away?”

I don’t know, maybe. I’m sorry if it bothers you, but this is as new to me as it is to you.

Maddox winced again under the phantom pain. She reached out one of her secondary hands and rubbed his knee. For a heartbeat they held one another’s gazes, and then Maddox grinned.

“First the world falls apart, then I get stabbed by a bunch of cannibals, and now I’m getting some sort of ghost pain? How could any of that bother me?”

… Crazy world, isn’t it Maddox?

3

After a quick rest, Amaya and Maddox picked through the metal shacks for anything useful. Some of the people Amaya came across were still alive despite the vicious rending’s of her claws. She was methodical in her summary executions, wishing she could leave them here to suffer a slow end. But Maddox’s prior words on unnecessary cruelty held some semblance of logic, so she simply swept her claws and moved on until the moans and groans stopped, and silence reigned once more.

It was obvious the death bothered her human companion, but a part of her had a feeling there was a lot more to it he wasn’t letting on. It could have been any number of things, but her mind, already neglected for several years, couldn’t quite place what. Already her memories of the day before were reshaping into bits of fog she could not hold onto for long.

The wind kicked up a storm of brown ash that flew up in thick sheets between the shacks. Survivors of the prior fight would have plenty of cover to regroup, and they were on their territory now. She kept her senses keen for an ambush that could happen at any time, despite them having failed her a few times up to now.

I found a few things, she said when she returned to Maddox, who was just in the middle of digging through a footlocker in one of the buildings. Bundled in her arms were a few intact cans of dried fruit, and a pair of water bottles. Want a bite?

He grinned up at her and said that he did. They moved into a shack further away from the stench of death permeating the deserted town. Amaya tipped one of the bottles to her lips and drank greedily, trying to wash out the taste of blood her senses were so used to. She kept stealing glances at Maddox each time he lifted the visor away a little to stuff his face. Each time he did so, he made this terrible coughing sound that made her want to help him, but she had no idea how.

Is that the radiation making you sick? she asked, her heart jumping when she saw a bit of his lower chin. It wasn’t much, but it was still something of that youthful face she’d forgotten.

“Maybe.” He seemed to frown down at the tin of fruit he was eating from. “But it’s probably these expired, scrotum-looking peaches I’m eating.”

It’s not the worst thing the Fall left behind. She gestured at him. Those sticks you got from that dispensing machine on the ship? Now those taste like ass.

“That’s where they came from, so you’re right about that.”

-Saywhatnow?

“Well there’s not exactly a lot of food in space, so when the stocks get low, a lot of shit gets recycled, and I mean that literally. Pretty efficient when you think about it.”

… Maddox. Are you implying those sticks are made of human… bodily fluids?

She knew the answer before Maddox could shrug. Oh, you’re sick! You had me eating alien feaces? Ooough…! Her secondary mouth came out and started dry-heaving.

“Think we have to start calling you drama Queen, now. There’s barely anything left after it prints out. It’s not even that bad, look!” He reached into his satchel for a stick, and laughed as he mocked-chewed on the end of one.

You’re literally eating and talking shit right now, Maddox. It’s not the same when it’s another species!

She slapped his back with her tail to stop his hysterics before they could build up any further. Rinsing out her mouth with the last bit of water she said, Remind me to question everything you try to feed me from now on.

“Come on, that couldn’t have been the worst thing you’ve eaten.”

Well… She stared at the space between her feet for a while. Maddox watched her patiently as she delved into memories not exactly pleasant. Usually I had to live off of raw meat from wild game. Separating the meat was a very bloody process, and sometimes I couldn’t do it properly and I had to force it down.

“… Oh.” Maddox fidgeted on the spot, unsure of what else to say.

It made me feel like an animal myself. She flexed out her claws. There was blood on them, as there had always been, as there always will be. I was an animal.

Her thoughts were spiraling into the dark depths she’d trapped herself in for all those years, but then a hand on her knee forced her to the surface of that mental pit. She looked at the hands owner with her head quirked. “Tell you what,” Maddox said. “We get out of this, I’ll take you to the finest restaurant I can find. You can eat whatever the hell you want, and I’ll teach you table etiquette. How’s that sound?”

Whatever I want? she asked. Hmm, I was looking for a reason to why I wanted to escape this world. Guess I found one.

4

They didn’t have to go far to find the remnants of the cannibals. A few kilometers to the east of Ladder Shacks (as Maddox so creatively named the scrap town), they spotted the aura of an orange campfire light up through the muddy haze of the sandstorm swirling within the trench.

The cannibals had been licking their wounds, some of them literally, clustered round the fires warmth when an obsidian torpedo lunged out of the ashy blizzard. One of the cannibal’s chest burst outward, and the man fell, his last purpose in life to reveal Amaya in all her tall deadly glory to the rest of the group.

Maddox moved to her side, and the two of them made sure that there were no survivors this time. Maddox got a nasty cut across the arm during the mop up, but it was nothing a bit of Amaya’s jelly couldn’t fix. His phantom-pain from Amaya’s own wound had also dwindled into a light buzzing, as Amaya’s flesh slowly wove itself together once more.

They used the rest of the day to follow the northwesterly path of the trench. Huge swathes of earth had been swept up to the left and right from the Cyclops’ crash landing, revealing the guts of the Capitol’s underground.

Pipes and detritus stuck out from the trenches sloped flanks. There jagged edges silhouetted against the dark sky, gave Maddox the impression they were standing in the maw of a giant monster.

Steel and wood that had, once upon a time, been supports for buildings littered the base of the trench. The battleship had dug deep into the world, casting up mountains of earth that towered on either side of the traveling duo. Did as much damage in its destruction as it had when it was dropping its payload, Amaya told him at one point, and Maddox was inclined to believe her.

Occasionally the dust storms would settle for a few moments, and if they were at a higher elevation at the time, Maddox could see the whole trench was littered with dark blocky shapes of half-buried motels, corner shops and residences, occasionally interrupted by huge stretches of desert-like dunes of colourless dust.

That night they slept in what was once the top quarter of one of the Capitol’s largest buildings, the Solaran Hall. It was buried up to the neck in ash and dirt, laying defeated at an acute angle up the western slope of the trench. Amaya and Maddox climbed through one of the shattered windows and camped out the night within.

“They used to sit in these rooms and make up the laws,” Maddox told Amaya. There was a big round conference table in the next room over. Papers and other documents fluttered by their feet in the breeze. “Whole lot of good that did, huh?”

Why did they not outlaw Weyland from this world? Amaya was sifting through some lockers nearby for anything useful. You humans are fussy with rules and regulations. How could anybody tolerate their presence?

“The rebels didn’t. They had a whole war with Wey-Yu right up until the Fall, you know that. Maybe the government did outlaw them and Weyland just turned up anyway, but that’s a bit of a stretch isn’t it? I lost trust in Solaris’ politicians a long time ago.”

You speak like the rebels do, Maddox. She pulled out a folded set of clothes. They would make good bandages. She started tearing them into strips, tilting her head at his prone body. Were you affiliated with them when we were little?

“What?” He laughed dryly. “No, no I was innocent back then.”

Weren’t we all, she thought.

“-I guess you could say I favoured them over Weyland. Even worked with them at one point, but… I don’t know whether to proud of that or not. I wouldn’t help Weyland even if my life depended on it, obviously, but the rebels? Some of the things they did… They were just as bad.”

“But Cohen – he led the rebellion back then – he wasn’t perfect, nobody is, but he strived for change, and I have to give him credit for that. Even if he was just a lesser evil. And kind of an asshole.”

You met him?

“Just this one time. He even taught me a little bit about defending myself. Speaking of which… want to practice again?”

Sure. She raised a stern claw. –But no more cheating.

He grinned in a way that told her there definitely would be. After all, fighting wasn’t always fair. Rarely was.

Clangs of claw on steel bounced out of the ruined structure for the better part of an hour. They didn’t use the link to anticipate the others moves, but at least on Amaya’s end, that was becoming increasingly harder to do as she honed her skills, and Maddox built up his own. All that in turn trained them not just physically, but mentally.

Perhaps her broken mind could be repaired after all.

The prior mention of the rebel leader brought up a vivid memory, and she felt that she had to voice it to her friend. This Cohen man. He is dead.

“Probably,” Maddox wheezed, raising his machete to block her telegraphed claw attack. “He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to stay back from the fighting for longer than he should.”

No I mean… I mean he actually is dead. By my own claw.

“… Oh.” He lowered his blade, and her her claws. “… How?” he asked.

I reached out to his specific mind, a little time after the Fall. I bargained with him that he could use the spaceship I repaired if he would assist in piloting it. She told him all about his betrayal, and his men trying to steal the ship for themselves.

“… ‘Reached out’?” he echoed, his nose twitching, eyes narrowed.

My Hive encountered him at a distance enough times I could recognise the patterns he emitted. It was like picking a fish out of a pond. It used to be a whole ocean, when more people were around. But when he tried to take my ship, my Hive fought him. The last of my daughters were killed in that battle. I don’t need to tell you how furious I was because of his actions.

“You don’t, no.” Maddox met her gaze. “He was a pretty extreme guy. I’m sorry he took your kids with him.”

Me too, she said, her mood faltering a little. I thought you would be bothered.

“Not really,” he half-lied. “Like I said, his people were pretty bad when they fought to make a difference. No one stays innocent forever.”

Amaya knew that better than most.

5

Maddox could have woken Amaya up through a mental nudge, but he woke her up by shaking her shoulder instead. She’d been pressing her tail into her chest for a measure of warmth, and now the deadly appendage whipped up and out like a scorpion’s tail.

Maddox? What’s wrong?

“I heard gunfire. Come look.”

He led her to the next floor, then crawled out onto the leaning surface of the buildings wall. It was the only way to get up to the higher floors without digging through a mountain of dirt.

Maddox planted his boots next to a window seal, then turned his eyes north. Amaya slipped herself through the link, and colour and light flooded her world.

The campfires had come back as distant yellow orbs through the haze. Aside from reaching out in search of nearby lifeforms, like pings on a sonar wave, there wasn’t much that she could tell about them. The cannibals were still human, they had to wind down during the night, at least that’s what Amaya guessed.

But she guessed wrong. The night was penetrated by the clanging of blades and occasionally the whipping crack of a gunshot. Although the faint cries of the dying were unnerving, it wasn’t the most disturbing noise to impregnate the air.

I think our cannibal friends aren’t all of the same mind. One of the lights furthest out, winked once and disappeared. Or there’s someone else they’re fighting. Either way this whole trench could be contested ground.

“And we walked right into it. You think we could try circling around?”

It would be one hard climb, harder than the cliffs were. Most of the cannibals look like they’re camped all across the eastern rise. We would be overwhelmed quickly if we tried. As for the west, climbing that one would lead us right into the Capitol’s heart, and we’re better off staying far from there if we value living.

“Is there any option that doesn’t end with our deaths?”

We keep moving, keep training, and watch each other’s backs. They will be careless, we will not.

“You make it sound easy.” He gazed out across the many kilometers they had yet to cross. Far out there, the heavy fog spilling over the western lip of the trench was a disturbing pocket of stark white against the dark. Whatever horror creating that mist was working double-time. “I’m scared, girl,” he said suddenly.

So am I. She brushed his left side with her tail blade while she sat on his right. But with you, I think we’ll be okay.

They sat and listened to the low groan of revving engines.

6

It was Maddox’s idea to have someone on watch from then on out. Despite Amaya telling him she could balance her consciousness in both world states, he’d insisted, and eventually she agreed. “Spent a long time feeling sorry for myself about over the years,” he’d said. “It’s the least I can do to help.”

So she’d slept the early hours of the morning (blocking out the noises of engines and gunshots as best she could), slowly receding into the dreaming world for a full rest. It would take her a while to stop her mother-hen act, but for now she made him promise to wake her at even the slightest disturbance.

The sun was just cresting over the top of the shipwreck as Maddox made his next rounds over the Solaran Hall perimeter. Patrolling, that was what the soldiers and heroes did in the movies whenever they were forced to camp out in enemy territory, though he was far off from being either one of those things.

Heroes would have tried to find a way of bringing back the planet from the dead. Soldiers wouldn’t belittle themselves when they had to end the life of an obviously despicable person. All Maddox could do was mope about, especially in that Bunker, accepting the blame and the bribes, turning a blind eye to all the atrocities.

And I was pretty good at it, too.

It was a good thing Amaya wasn’t awake to hear all this self-loathing radiating off him. An argument would be the best-case scenario. And they were supposed to be linked, for God’s sake.

Or bonded, or whatever it was called. He wished his parents were around. Family could always see the problems others couldn’t. It had been so long since he’d heard from them, though for obvious reasons they couldn’t really get in touch now, could they?

… But Amaya had seen his obsession with the bullet, hadn’t she? Solved it, too. Hell, despite the material world literally sapping at his strength each time he remembered what Solaris, his home, used to be, all he had to do was look to his companion to help balance it all out.

But he was holding back on her. She might have seen it when she’d mentioned the rebel leader Cohan, and how she had ‘reached out’ to him. Maybe it was time to just forget all the bad before she found out why.

And there was a whole bunch of that in his head, but no one said life was easy.

The aforementioned point was reiterated when he heard footsteps crunching in the ash. Maddox froze. His back was to the Hall, the big front door just visible over his left shoulder. The whole right side of his vision was a foggy wasteland barely illuminated in the morning light.

Over there was a campfire haze, on its right a pile of garbage, then nothing. He was about to turn away when two spots of white caught his attention. He looked.

And a pair of eyes looked back.

A snap of string, then a projectile punched through the air. Next thing Maddox knew his face ate the dirt. He didn’t waste any time fulfilling his promise and reached out across the link.

He rolled up into a crouch and watched the pair of eyes multiply. Maddox drew his machete as one, two, then three cannibals charged through the dust, cleavers and swords raised. The one at the back held up his crossbow, snapped another bolt into place and screeched: “Don’t kill that one! The Cleaner demands it live!”

The closest cannibal was wearing a singlet encased in an uneven collection of scrap. He sounded like a bouncing collection of cans as he thrust his weapon for Maddox’s chest, completely ignoring the crossbow-man’s orders. Maddox simply swatted him over the head with his longer reach, gritting his teeth as the cannibal’s skull fractured noisily.

He kicked the crumpling body away and launched himself at cannibal number two. He kept the tattooed-man’s body between him and the one with the crossbow, who had fallen to a knee and was taking aim, waiting for a clear shot.

Cannibal number two went to thrust with his rusty meat cleaver. Maddox used a trick Amaya showed him, locking the blades and twisting his wrist while pushing forward. He put a long, nasty gash up through the cannibal’s forearm, and the man screamed until his voice cracked.

The gentle thudding of padded feet and palms against the ground told him Amaya was bounding over, but he didn’t really need the help. Another strike and cannibal number two’s neck gushed a fountain of red, and the male fell back, his legs twisting underneath himself.

He looked up to where he’d seen crossbow guy, but he’d obviously had spotted the mass of exoskeleton rushing out of the haze, and hadn’t stuck around. A vague upright shape to the east was all the evidence he’d left of his presence.

Amaya didn’t give chase, just stopped by his side, rose her tail to shield his body. Sorry I’m late, she said, looking at the bodies. –But you seem to have handled yourself. Are you injured?

He said that he wasn’t, moved in the direction the man with the crossbow had gone. A set of footprints went off that way, but his eyes, sharpened by Amaya tweaks, spotted a pair of indents leading back towards the Hall. One human, one not.

“They were tracking us,” he said. It was then he noticed for the first time, how Amaya’s feet resembled more that of a pair of high heels, a short stalk growing from the balls of each foot. These obviously led to the rippling muscles of her voluptuous legs and meaty thighs. God, her body was so strange, so womanly and alien but all in a good kind of sense.

A gentle thrum produced from said female’s throat, and her tail touched his flank so gently he barely felt it. As much as I’d so say otherwise, now seems hardly the time for staring.

“Oh, uh right.” He nodded towards their footprints. “Think they’ve been following us ever since Ladder Shacks. Them and whoever this Cleaner guy is. So much for sneaking through.”

Our plan doesn’t change, Amaya said. They want to come to us for a quick death? I’m more than willing to provide. Eating one’s own kind is irredeemable.

7

The cannibals came at them in small groups, and Maddox and Amaya slugged their way through blood from first light to dusk. The fights were filled with screams and curses from both sides, but the pair of them came out on top each time.

In fact by the next day, they found themselves hunting down the survivors of the skirmishers by unspoken consent. Word would only travel to the other camps in the trench and bring more attention to them, which they were accumulating fast.

The duo used the cannibals to train up their skills. The majority of humans they came across were insane, but poorly equipped and, as Amaya said after a certain fight, predictable. It was only when they came across the chieftains, the leaders of these gathered bands of scrawny men and even a few women, did they find themselves on the back foot.

These officers were clad in scrap armour and sometimes military gear, carrying massive swords and axes, one even had a rifle which jammed every other shot. They were a bit more right in the head too, capable of speech slightly comprehensible, and shouting orders to their underlings.

By the third day Maddox said they’d grown a little bit famous in the trench. Although he’d said it as a joke, he was entirely right. Some of the cannibals starting referring to Amaya as ‘the bug’. This was usually screamed in fear with just a hint of awe.

That’s stupid. I don’t even look like a bug.

“Better than my nickname,” Maddox had said. His was more of an object than an actual thing, and every time he heard it, he felt entirely demeaned.

So they grew used to people shouting: “It’s the bug and it’s meat! Get them!” They slaughtered their way through camp after camp as they trudged through the trench. The mist they’d seen at a distance was now close enough one could make out the swirling clouds. They didn’t know what was causing the mist or what would happen when they reached it, only that it was the only way through to the Hive.

Later on that day, as the afternoon passed, and the fighting seemed to take a step back, Amaya decided to confront her friend about something that was on her mind.

You never told me what happened to you after the day we parted.

“Didn’t think it mattered by now.” They crested a dune of ash and earth. The walls of the trench were now only a few kilometres apart, slowly narrowing down the deeper they travelled, and they blocked away the sunlight with their looming mass.

Of course it matters, Amaya said. You must have been very strong and brave to survive this long.

“Not the words I’d use.” From this angle she could see they were now parallel with the skyscrapers making the Capitol’s heart. Predicting how far they had left was impossible with that wall of white fog up ahead. At this pace they would reach the mist in a few hours, or definitely by next morning. “It’s a short and not very good story. Not something I want to talk about.”

So show me. Amaya reached out with her mind, through the link, or door in Maddox’s case. Words were a human’s way, and one could tell how much that had worked by simply looking around them. Sharing memories and thoughts would be much better.

And yet when her mental-hand reached out to push the door, phantom barriers went up against her. Maddox scratched at a sudden itch in his hair, one of his steps slightly stumbled. “I-I can’t show you Amaya I-“

Can’t, or won’t? She put herself in front of him. What’s wrong with you? Every time I’ve tried to come through the Link further than you want, or ask you to share your mind, you push me out or keep me as far away as you can.

“I-I’m just not used to it, okay?” She held his gaze, trying to find his eyes through that stupid visor thing on his face. Her fangs bore a little, daring him to try and lie to her again.

When she didn’t break the silence, he did. “Look, listen, it was a long time ago, what happened happened, and nothing can change that, so just forget about it.”

Maddox made to step around her. She reached out and seized his wrist. There was one painful moment where both of them were seething with rage at the other. It passed quickly, but it was still there, and both were drowned in guilt.

No, she said. You don’t get to forget about it. Ignoring your past destroys your future, and I learned that in the hardest of ways. You might have given up on yourself, but I haven’t.

You saved me that day when Weyland came for us. I want to help you, don’t you see that? I want to make your sacrifice worth something, and now we finally have that chance. So just stop for a second. Open up to me. Please.

Maddox looked away at something only he could see, and sighed heavily. She let his arm go as the moments continued to drag on in silence. At least he hadn’t pulled away. If he had, then they really were done for. They couldn’t go on like this for long, hiding parts of each other away, and they both knew it.

“… Okay,” he said at last, looking up at her. She thought just perhaps she could spy that little boy she once knew in his eyes, somewhere back there, imagination or not. “Okay,” he said again. “But not out in the open like this. Let’s find somewhere to hold up.”

What they did find was the hollowed remains of a structure high up the eastern slope of the trench. They followed along stray bits of detritus and scaled across the tops of ruined pipe systems to make their way up to it. The other half of the structure was silhouetted against the night sky all the way at the top of the slope, cut right in half many years ago.

This ruined half sat on a pile of uneven boulders that shuffled underfoot. Much as how unstable it looked, the view it provided of the trench was high and wide, and Amaya was glad they could get to higher ground for a while.

One side of the structure stretched up like a pair of grey teeth, windows without glass punching holes throughout its surface. A broken, stone staircase went up to the second floor, and here she and Maddox set up a small campfire, using matches they got from one of the cannibals they’d killed.

This was partly because the air temperatures in the nights were sinking as the storm slowly descended, and partly because they both knew this night would be longer than the others. A few other bonfires off in the distance burned away, but compared to the first time they’d looked upon the trench, there had been a sharp decrease in light.

Maddox sat back against the wall, while Amaya crouched opposite him, four hands warming over the fire. A long time went by without either of them saying anything, but Amaya wouldn’t pressure him into hurrying, even if that mass of grey cloud over his shoulder was growing fast.

“I want to be honest with you,” Maddox said suddenly. “Really I do. It’s just…. been so long since I’ve really talked to anybody besides Jack, and you know how I feel about him. Just… Just bear with me, okay?”

Amaya got the feeling he was trying to tell her something he didn’t want to say aloud, but she couldn’t place what. Either way she nodded and sent him an affirmative emotion.

When he started speaking over the low crackle of the fire, he was slow, awkward. Most of his words were stuttered, and he always glanced at her as if to seek out any sort of judgement. But Amaya didn’t give him any, and slowly his confidence began to build, and by the end of it he’d given her more information than he’d intended.

And now things make sense for us both, she’d think, but that was after. Now though, Maddox rubbed at in itch on his chest, and told her what had happened.

8

When one of the other prisoners offered him a drink, that was when it all went downhill. It took that hold on him, a hold that you know you shouldn’t feed, but it’s always there, in the back of your thoughts, and you need to listen to it. All against the better judgement.

They’d driven him down to southside, to Orca Ridge, some business district he hadn’t ever been to. He could still feel that little buzzing feeling of his Xenomorph’s presence in his head, but it was fading fast.

But he clung to it. Because if he didn’t he’d probably burst into tears, and he’d rather die than give Weyland the satisfaction that they’d won, and broken him.

They’d taken him to this big glass building. It was unremarkable, no signs, no foot traffic. It was what was on the inside that mattered, though he supposed that applied to many other things. People particularly.

“It didn’t really give off the prison-vibe. There was always a window somewhere so you could see the outside world. They even let me and the other prisoners walk around the building freely, but we did have rooms they locked us in during the nights.”

Being sixteen, he was the youngest out of all the other guys Weyland wanted out of the picture. These were fully grown men to him, and he was absolutely terrified they’d do something horrible to him while the guards looked the other way.

But while the guards did look the other way, he was wrong about the prisoners. After a few attempts to draw Maddox out of his corner of the building, they actually ended up hitting it off pretty well, bonding over how much they despised Wey-Yu and how they were going to change the world.

One of those prisoners turned out to be Mattias Cohen, leader of the rebellion. He changed the world, alright, just maybe not in the way he intended. Or maybe he did want it all burned down, so it could be built up into something better. Doesn’t matter anymore.

Including Maddox, there were fifteen rebels plus Cohen, and Mattias was planning a massive breakout.

“Obviously I helped him out when he asked. It had given me something to do, didn’t make me feel so lonely and helpless. He told me to steal a few things, sneak into a few places, nothing too extreme. I could get to places the men were too big to fit into, and for a while I was looked over by the guards. Just the dumb kid who was too young to know he’d pissed off the wrong people. But when they caught me trying to nab a radio, well… then things did get extreme.”

He hadn’t thought they’d actually sink to torture, but they did after that, saying he’d crossed the line. Maybe that Weyland woman with those green nails heard about him helping out Cohen, and wanted to teach him a lesson. They’d started by strapping him into a chair and beating him – this was after Cohen and his boys tried to stop the guards in same vain attempt of heroism. Maddox thanked them afterward, but told them they shouldn’t try it again, they’d just get hurt themselves.

Sometimes they changed it up. Electrocutions and truth drugs were the big ones. Some days they asked him about the Queen, where she was, how he’d found her, anything to try and narrow down their search. But he didn’t give them anything. He held onto that part of Amaya, the faded presence of her way back in his head, and it helped him get through the pain.

That worked for the first couple months. He knew Amaya was out there somewhere. And she would come save him one day. But as time dragged on, and that little presence of her was nothing more than a long-lost dream, he began to question when exactly that one day would come.

Unrest in the outside world had reached an all-time high by the time Cohen’s boys offered him his first drink. There were bigger things to worry about then underage drinking when the streets he used to walk down were filling up with blood, and despite a part of him screaming that he shouldn’t do it, a part of him just ended up accepting.

But the liquor helped numb the pain after he was tortured, and that little defiant voice was washed away. He had this vague memory of his mother making him promise to never take a sip of any of that poisonous swill. That too faded away.

“Because my whole life is nothing but broken promises. I shouldn’t have done it, looking back on those days, I shouldn’t have turned to liquor for strength. But I gave up on you, Amaya. I kept telling myself no, that you were coming. But after a while… I couldn’t help myself. I don’t think there was ever a time after that I wasn’t stinking of beer.”

Miss Green Nails came back one day, around the time he and the prisoners had learned about all the Xenomorph’s popping up round the city. He thought at the time it had to be Amaya’s doing, that she was still alive, but when he reached out to her, it was like he was grabbing at air. He tried to find some way to explain why that was, but in the end he didn’t have to. Miss Green Nails did.

“Good news for us all,” Miss Green Nails had said. “It appears these little sessions are no longer needed. Your little Queen friend caused up quite a stir in the Capitol, but she got a little too ahead of herself. I just wanted to tell you personally that you don’t have to hold out for her any more, Maddox. Her terror on our world is over for good.”

He knew Weyland were always suspicious that he shared some sort of connection with the Xenomorph Queen, because she’d never taken up residence with a human before, much less interacted with one. At first he just shrugged Weyland woman off. If Amaya was dead, he would know. He had to know, the link wouldn’t betray him like that.

Wouldn’t it?

But as the months passed, and the city started to slowly decay under orbital bombardment and an uprising population, the link was silent. Using it was like yelling down a long tunnel, only for his own voice to die away without response.

“She was lying, obviously, but back then I didn’t have hindsight to help me, and eventually… I started to believe her. And by the time the bombs started dropping later, I was convinced you were dead. And I was wishing for myself to die too. Because I was convinced that you were gone, and I was stuck in a dying world with the very people who took you to keep me company. I… never wanted to say goodbye to you that day, in the forest. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it was the only way to give you a future.”

“And then when they told me you died? It was so easy to give it all up by then. Because if I did survive the apocalypse, I knew I’d eventually get used to living in whatever mess waited for us after the Fall. I’d get used to living in a world without you, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“That’s why when Cohen and his friends broke out but left me behind when it all went south, I wasn’t all that angry at the time. Maybe a bomb would turn me to dust, or Weyland would put a bullet in my head for trying to escape. When you’ve got no one left, fighting the end just doesn’t seem worth the effort.”

“But instead Weyland had me tag along under the orders of one of their top doctors. Didn’t understand why Blankley was so interested in me, and I still don’t. But he insisted that when the prison was evacuated, I was allowed to join despite me helping Cohen escape.”

“When the horizons were nothing but distant flashes, that was when we started heading out. I had a gun pressed up to my head the entire run to the Bunker. I saw other Xenomorphs in the distance during the run, and each time I did I hoped that they were you, Amaya, that you weren’t dead and you were there, always were. But they just ignored us. They were running away just like we were.”

“The Capitol was nothing but fire and gunshots by the time we reached the Bunker’s lift. There was this big crowd gathered out in front of the doors, being pushed away from the lift by men with guns. Blankley, me and the others were ushered through, like we were VIP’s or something. Sure as shit didn’t feel like a VIP.”

“There was this little girl there. No older than ten, maybe. The way she looked up at me as I took my spot in the lift… it’s not something I’ll ever forget. There I was, this ungrateful kid who helped one of the world’s infamous terrorists on Solaris escape capture, take a spot in an underground haven. I had nothing to live for, but that girl? She did. She had her whole life ahead of her, and it should have been me in her spot, not the other way around.”

“The doors shut, and the next time I saw that girl, she was a pile of bones. I could have swapped places with her, but something held me back. My own cowardice, I’m guessing.”

“After that, I’m sure you can fill in the rest of the details yourself.”

The moon had just begun to rise behind the overcast, Although Amaya didn’t see it, there was a tear spilling out from Maddox’s eye. “I… I want you to be honest with me now, Amaya.” He tilted his head up at her, his eyes hard. “After what happened all those years ago. Did you forget about me?”

He’d asked with a sharpness that caught her off-guard, and for a second her lip trembled. She was still trying to comprehend how many times, and how close Maddox came to ending himself, and how it had all been because of her own, stupid decisions. I… Yes. Yes, I did. She choked on her own proverbial words and coughed.

“… Okay.” he said when she didn’t continue. He stared between his feet.

… I have been hiding something from you as well, Maddox. She curled her tail over her ankle. I understand now why you won’t open the link to me. Yes, I did forget you, and that is something I’m going to regret for the rest of my life.

“You found Cohen,” he said. “You said you could search him out, when you never even met the guy. Why didn’t you do that to me? I needed you. It was so… so bad, what they did to me.”

I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I had to be the next person to neglect you. I cannot express in words why I did it or how it pains me. But… But there is something I have discovered about you and me. Something that was worth all the suffering.

“The… ‘next’ person?” he croaked. “Who was the first?”

That’s what I found out during my time wandering this world. The next words she’d voice would hurt her to say, and as much as she wanted to stop, she wouldn’t. She’d force them out if she had to, if Maddox wouldn’t share his memories with her.

There came a point my ancestors took pity on me. I cannot remember when this was, exactly. Months and years are just a blur to my mind. But they led me to a place, a little homestead on the edge of the city. Three people lived there. Two loving parents and a child. The child’s favourite toy was still there…

By the time she recalled her memories up to the gas station, by the way Maddox’s gaze was burning into hers, she knew, that he knew where it would all lead. She lifted her claws to her clavicle. One of them, the mother, left behind this locket I’m wearing. Here.

She unclipped the necklace and handed it to Maddox. For a long while he stared at the little metal case cupped in his palm, then flicked it open to reveal the little photograph of two humans, whose features he shared.

They drove deep into the sea of woods, and there they found a laboratory.

She told of one Zofia Willow, who shared many characteristics to one Miss Green Nails. She told him of a doctor also named Blankley, and of an experiment performed on the son of the two parents.

Maddox walked over to one of the windows, locket in hand, head slowly shaking as everything slowly began to make sense.

I was never able to reclaim memories of others using material objects, until that search. Your favourite toy, Pookie you called it. Next the locket, then finally the Lab itself, the one I came from all those years ago. And I found out why once I gathered up all the clues. The names of the parents were Rose and Stu Donovan, and they handed over their boy to be exposed to an egg.

My egg, where my neonate came from the mother before me. Don’t you see, Maddox Donovan? You, are my Host. You are my other half, and I am yours.

“Me? … What…?” He was still looking out across the trench as he tried to comprehend all of what she’d said. “How-How long were you going to wait until you dropped that bomb on me?”

I wanted to tell you right away, I wanted to share my mind with yours but you wouldn’t open up. The link, it’s as much under my control as it is yours. Don’t you see now? This is why it was so easy for us to Bond when we met! It’s always been there, always guiding us to one another when we lose our way. Every time one of us was angry, or scared, it would come up and remind us of what was, and what can still be.

She’d expected him to be ecstatic by the news, but he still hadn’t met her gaze. He looked down back at the locket and said, “Is that why I couldn’t bring myself to end my own life? Because of the link?”

Yes. And it’s also why my mind, and perhaps your own, degraded after we parted. I didn’t forget about you entirely, you were always there, I just needed a little reminder, and my ancestors gave me that push I needed. And it’s all because of your parents! They gave you to me, and I grew inside of you until Blankley and the scientists released me.

“My… parents,” he murmured.

Amaya walked up behind him, sinking to all fours. She’d expected a lot of reactions, most of which involved joy, happiness and relief, or some combination of the three. She couldn’t see it, but the way he was staring daggers into the locket was something she had not expected he’d do.

Which was why, after a long period of silence, she hissed in surprise when Maddox reared back his arm, and threw the locket.

She pushed past him and grabbed the window frame. She watched the locket bounce against a boulder and slip between a crack in the earth far below. A few puffs of dust and a tinkle of chains was the last evidence of the jewellery’s presence, and then it was gone.

What did you do? she cried, turning to her Host. That was the last thing your mother left behind on this world!

“… Good,” he said.

Good? What’s so good about abandoning her last memory?

“She left me here,” he growled. “Her and dad. They gave me away to Weyland to be experimented on, like some… some fucking guinea pig! All for… all for money.” He’d nearly shouted that last word. “They told me… They said they would be back, they said they would write, and the letters stopped ages ago, ages before the Fall. I thought they’d… My own parents never gave a shit about me.”

Amaya put a hand on his arm. They did, Maddox. They gave you me.

“But they didn’t know that! They gave me away for money and didn’t even know what would happen to me! They were too fucking scared to look me in the eye, so when I grew up, they just ran away. How could… How could they do that to me?”

Maddox sank to the floor with a sob, and now she knew he was crying, visor or not, it was obvious. “Th-They’re probably, living it up on some fucking resort world on Weyland’s money, while I-I’m here in a living hell losing my fucking mind!” He sniffed. “F-Fuck them…. Fuck them…“

It broke her heart to see her Host like that, and a low moan slipped through her lips. She leaned forward on her knees and cradled his trembling frame in her arms. Although she lacked eyes, she cried with him anyway, sobbing not for herself, but for another. One who was tortured for information about her, and yet had never relented.

“I-Is it… Is it that easy? First m-my family, then Cohen, then you. Am I just an easy enough person to forget?”

She sent him a hard negative, her chin to his head to nuzzle up against his soft hair. I understand how you feel. Your pain is my pain. I will never abandon you, Maddox. You mean too much to me.

Maddox’s breath hitched, and he gripped onto her hands as if grasping for a life-line, which in many ways was exactly how it felt.

For her kind, words were an alien concept, and deep down there really was no need for them, so rather than say much more to try and console her sobbing Host, she instead reached out through the link, rapped her fingers against the door.

And this time, her Host answered.

Both Amaya’s and Maddox earliest memories of this life began to leak into the others mind. Their Link, strengthened by its spoken, true nature and where it had come from, began to weave itself into something neither of them had ever felt before.

Amaya and Maddox were silent as the Link began to build. And she was too absorbed in it to hear the crunching of boots against the gravel nearby.

Something shaped vaguely like an egg, arched over one side of the building and clinked against the stone beside them. Amaya broke away from the Link back to reality and stared at the grenade.

Her tail whipped out and slapped the explosive away, and the fuse detonated half a second later. A ball of smoke and shrapnel flew out in all directions, vaporising a chunk of a nearby column.

Amaya put her back to the explosion and shielded Maddox with her body. Shards of metal and rock knifed into her hide and sent her acidic blood running trails down between the bases of her dorsal spikes.

When her hearing returned, it came as a cascade of men and women screaming out in feral victory. A peek over the lower chin of a window frame showed her dozens of cannibals working their way up to the building.

“A-Amaya I-“

Maddox was cut off when another grenade came down from a high arch. This one landed short, which was perhaps intentional. The structure was already flimsy, and when the lower corner of the wall vanished in a cloud of soot, the earth began to tilt and shake.

A giant crack in the floor divided the ground in two, and the world reoriented. With all her strength she pushed her Host towards the window frame, which was now above them at this angle.

Get out, Maddox! Jump!

“I-!” She’d never find out what he was about to say. His heels caught on the frame and he tipped back-first out into free-fall.

When Amaya launched herself to follow him, a third detonation threw off her aim, and her head collided into the wall. Though she was armoured, the impact made her see stars. She reached out to try and correct herself but it was far too late. Gravity pulled her down to the ground.

The building began to tip, and for a horrible moment she thought it would fall towards the way Maddox had gone, but then it snapped down the middle, and the giant slabs of colourless steel tumbled towards her.

Not yet, no! Please…! she thought, and then she was buried under a pile of detritus, all to the screams of satisfaction hollered out by the cannibals.

A giant arm of rebar stabbing through her, a searing pain. And then there was darkness.

Chapter 12

To Endure

1

Maddox was sure one of his ribs broke as his free-falling journey ended with a hard slap against a slab of concrete. The edges of his vision burned a stark red as he rolled off the slab, watching a sloped earth come meet him. He resembled a rolling pin as he tumbled away to the bottom of the trench, his skin being cut by flying rocks, warm with fresh blood.

The world of pain at last subsided when he settled into a nook in the earth, his left arm trapping awkwardly under his back. Letting a groan of pain slip through his teeth, he wondered if it hadn’t been better had that grenade just blown him to pieces instead of his friend pushing him out of the way.

His bloodshot eyes flew open as the last two minutes came flooding back. He planted one hand on the stone he lay on and pushed himself up. There was blood dribbling out of a gash on his forearm, and a tender touch to his brow told him of another cut along his face. He blinked clear his vision and craned his neck up.

“Amaya…!” he said, his voice caught between a groan and a cry. He pathetically brought himself to his feet. “Amaya!”

Blurring into view up high was the ruined structure they’d camped within not moments ago. The building was folding in on itself, trembling against the burning sky, only to fall away under its weakened supports. Maddox just caught sight of a cannibal with his arm arched back, before he was crushed under the sheer weight of a strip of tumbling wall he was too slow to run from.

The long piece of debris twirled away, a giant blood smear on the middle of its length. One end crashed against a collection of detritus, the impact causing a domino affect to any nearby bits of scrap and trash. The former wall was something akin to a swinging bat, and Maddox noticed with horror that it was tumbling right down the slope toward him.

One hand on his pained, most likely broken, ribs he turned away and raced down the slope, back towards the flat landscape of the trench base. A rumbling roar of collapsing infrastructure screamed away behind him. Screams of cannibals were washed away as their bodies were pancaked under mountains of unstoppable debris, all from their own doing.

Loud, metal scratches told Maddox that he should duck. He collapsed behind a boulder and watched as a strip of wall flipped over his hiding place with the force of a missile. It left behind a wave of destruction that eventually ended twenty meters out, flipping end-over-end once more and settling flat on the ground, dust smoking up over its sides.

Over his shoulder, Maddox looked but could no longer see the rest of the structure. Just a giant pile of slabs and bricks. His friend was nowhere to be seen, and tears swelled up in his eyes. “No,” he said. “No no no, y-you can’t be…”

Grimacing, Maddox closed his watering eyes and reached out with his mind. It vaguely occurred to him that this was the first time he’d actually communicated to her in this way. You can’t be dead, he thought/said. You can’t be. Amaya? Are you there?

It was like he was shouting inside of an empty house, the walls echoing back his words. Please, he said, in both world-states. Please say something. Come on. Amaya…? Don’t go…

But there was nothing. A void began to expand in his gut, a terrifying loneliness that Amaya had filled up, and he hadn’t even known about it until she was gone. Right from her birth, she’d been with him all the way, and a part of him was still so angry at her.

His shoulders hopped as the sobs began. The world was gone, but it still found a way to come crashing down on him. The mourning his body so demanded was cut short by someone screaming to his right. The cannibal must have seen his tumble from the ambush, rushing at him with a sabre poised over a shoulder.

A part of the guilt building up inside him broiled into pure rage. He drew out his machete and cut the other male from the shoulder to the stomach, creating a gash from which the human’s bowels spilled out like a ball of spaghetti. Maddox stepped over the body, sniffing and on the verge of crying, and didn’t think twice before retracing his path back up the slope to Amaya. He couldn’t leave her body there to grow cold and rotten.

Yet his hopes were destroyed when from the ashes of the landslide, rose the rest of the cannibals that were responsible for the attack. He counted fifteen in all, each wielding some variant of sword or club. They formed a messy column of bodies, and began running down to meet him.

Maddox gripped the hilt tight in his hands, drew in a breath, and screamed. He didn’t know whether it was a cry of pain, fury or both. Whatever it was, he saw just a hint of fear in the closest cannibal’s eyes. A fear that just perhaps, this ‘meat’ they were attacking just might not be worth all the effort. But still they came, and Maddox met them in a clash of steel.

He was ruthless. Maddox butchered the first one until he was a mess of limbs and pulp, and fought off the second with a mad flurry of swipes. He wanted to kill all these people. He never wanted anything more so badly in those moments. But as he let his emotions well up, and he was openly weeping as he fought, three on one, getting his arms and chest cut up with each following mistake, he knew he had to run eventually, or be overwhelmed and slaughtered.

But when he thought about it, wouldn’t dying be so better an alternative to all this suffering?

Even when one of the grenade-wielding cannibal’s lobbed one said explosive into the fray and blew apart two of his kin from a lack of aim, Maddox knew he couldn’t stand his ground. Their jeers of him only made him more angry. They celebrated the death of the ‘bug’ even as Maddox shred them apart.

You have to go, a voice in his head told him as he spun and killed his attackers. Was that his rational mind speaking? Or was it Amaya? He couldn’t sense her anymore, yet that didn’t say much. He’d never sensed her through all these years the both of them were alive. Nor had she found him until only the other day.

A glance over his current opponents displayed another group of humans rushing over from the distance, perhaps attracted by all the noise. Two dozen? More? If he could get his hands on one of those grenades he could stand a chance.

But the part of him that wanted to fight, could not ignore the reality of the situation. What good would it do if he died here? Fighting the people who’d killed his friend, only for them to have even more satisfaction?

Would Amaya want him to do that?

That question was the one to get him going. Not without hesitance did he make himself some breathing room, only to turn away and run from the fight, his machete pumping out in front of him as he fell into a hard sprint.

Behind him he heard the little clinks of grenades smacking off the ground as they were chucked after the cannibal’s escaping prey. They sent up giant plumes of ash and debris, showering everything in their fiery radius with dusty clouds riddled with pebbles. “MEEEEAAT!” some of the men shouted after Maddox. “SO HUNGRYYY!”

All Maddox could see in this dark nightmare was the flatness of the trench. He knew he couldn’t outrun these insane people for long, and a hiding place would be hard got with the cannibals right on his heels.

Then his salvation came in the form of his prior dread.

The mist obscuring the far end of the trench. A wall of white that had spilled all across the length of this valley-like landscape. It was more likely than not he’d have to cross it eventually, but to go through that alien haze alone absolutely terrified him.

And yet he had no other option. Maddox adjusted his sprint and made for the mist. The half dozen cannibals behind him didn’t break pursuit, nor did the grenade-lobbing rest of them thirty meters behind them.

As he dashed for the fog, he thought for a moment if he wouldn’t immediately start to decay as soon as whatever airborne chemicals producing the fog touched his skin. The cannibals didn’t seem to think so, wildly giving chase, but that didn’t exactly soothe his nerves.

One cannibal pumped her legs hard enough to sprint astride Maddox, her breasts swinging to and fro with her movements. Her eyes were bulging and her teeth were rotting from consuming human flesh, but Maddox couldn’t help himself from looking at her chest.

She made to tackle him as if to deny him his sprint for the finish line, but her body faded into obscurity as Maddox passed through the fog’s threshold, and his blood ran cold. Suddenly the world was compressed into a five-meter box of whiteness in every direction. Anything beyond that was just ghostly shapes.

Maddox almost ran right into a scattering of shallow holes in the earth, and quickly adjusted out of the way to avoid breaking a leg or rolling an ankle. Fortunately some of his pursuers weren’t so agile, and he heard several claps of flesh against stone, followed by screams of pain.

Wisps of dust brushed up and over his visor in his haste, but a small misstep on Maddox’s part sent him tumbling after a few moments of running. His foot collapsed under him and he crashed into a small pile of gravel. Pebbles chipped up against the mask, and Maddox felt something sharp stab him through his leg.

He rose his head with a puff of ash, and was just barely fast enough to bring his machete up to block the blow of a descending polearm. The female cannibal from before snarled down at his face, some of her front teeth sharpened to points like a vampire’s.

Despite her scrawny size she was surprisingly heavy. She snapped down at him over there interlocking weapons for his flesh, her teeth making loud clacking sounds as she literally acted like the aforementioned comparison.

Maddox brought his other hand up and squashed her nose under a fist. Eh threw another solid punch, and blood flew out in a spray. Maddox grit his teeth as he rammed his machete home with a last effort. The cannibal screamed, but it was more of a gurgle, wet with blood as his weapon sliced into her neck. He kicked her thrashing body away with a grunt.

A river of blood was pouring out from the side of his calf, but it wasn’t hurting that bad enough to be concerned with. He listened to the bang of another grenade as he pulled up his broken, bleeding body from the ground. All around him he could see his pursuers had been thrown off for the moment, their humanoid shapes just wraiths of grey against the white of the world.

Maddox’s feet were dragging as he ran deeper into the mist. His chaser’s voices were garbled with the distance, and soon they were just hungry, agonised cries for a prey giving them the slip. The ground passing before him was like that of a ground zero at a nuclear detonation. Bits of rubble and trash from the world he once knew littered the bland, colourless landscape of a world no one had ever set foot on, nor was ever intended to.

When he felt a modicum of solitude from the cannibals, he let his guard down as he put his back against a boulder and sank to his knees, giving his complaining legs the rest they craved. But with that pinch of safety came an overwhelming tide of turmoil within his body, as all the new changes and truths came flooding through.

He sat there against that rock, in this alien fog, and cried against the low murmur of distant shouts for food.

Maddox had always held his parents in high regard. He could remember their faces, their smiling faces as they wished him goodnight. His father would smile when he’d ask him about the world, and his mother was always cheery when little Maddox asked her if he could go out and play.

There had been no fault in either of them, and he did not try to look for one. But weren’t all parents looked at from rose-tinted glasses from a child whom they’d spoiled, and gave him everything he ever wanted, while never once breaking their smiles, which in the end were forced?

But now he knew. He knew those grins were just a cover for the disgusting truth of what they’d done to him. And now Maddox could see it. He could remember the very last time he’d seen his parents, how they’d told him it would be alright, how his future was secure, how he’d have his own place to call home, with a trusted family friend to keep tabs on him.

Everything taken care of, on Weyland Yutani’s money.

They’d basically sold him off to them, and when Maddox was starting to get old enough? They got scared, and pissed off to left him here alone, because they were too much of a pair of cowards to face him and tell the truth!

It couldn’t be true. Yet the tears were there, and his visor prevented his fingers from wiping them away. He didn’t want to believe it, believing was just too painful. But Amaya was not lying, and the truth was undeniable.

You’ll understand one day. I hope you will. I love you. And I’m sorry.

That was what his mother had said when Amaya had found the memory. Those words that should have made him see reason, instead made him furious.

I understand, Maddox thought, face wet with tears as he slowly got up. I understand that I’ll never forgive you. You bitch.

But that only made him cry harder, as he stumbled through this cold, misty world all by himself. His feet dragged against something metal, and he looked down to see he’d walked across a road sign. The paint was peeling off on the edges, still some life in the colour after all it had gone through to get to this place. His eyes scanned over the fading word STOP a couple of times.

Maddox indulged the silent message, the liquid pooling in his visor annoying him as he balled his eyes out like a big baby. There was an indent in the earth nearby, a shallow pond of dirty liquid gathering within. Maddox knelt beside it and ripped off his mask.

As soon as his features were exposed to the mist, did Maddox begin a short coughing fit. It eventually subsided as his throat got used to the stale, acrid air. Some drops of water from his eyes dripped against the surface of the pond, creating short-lived archery targets on the surface of the water.

Through those ripples he could see his reflection staring back. He looked as wrecked as he felt. His eyes were shrunk back into their sockets, his hair was messy against his brow, speckled with dirt and ash. There was blood on edges of his face, which was still dirty even though the mask had covered up most of his face. His neck and chest were red with life-juice from the people he’d killed, and his clothes were caked in dry blood.

Trying to wash it away with the foul water only made him feel more dirty. Some people said they felt much better once they’d let it all out, but not Maddox. He felt nothing. His parents had abandoned him, and now his friend was dead. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense that to go on alone just didn’t seem worth anything now.

There been many times he’d asked himself if his parents would blame him if he took his own life. He’d wondered sometimes that if he did escape from this hell, if he could track them down somehow, let them know he was alive. What a joke all that had been. They wouldn’t care, assuming they’d even recognise him anymore.

The gun, in his waistband. He’d do it if he had the ammo, no doubts, no questions. And yet there was always something else. His parents had given him Amaya in their selfish actions to sell him off, so they could go and live on some luxury world far from this place. Unknowingly had they done so, but they were still responsible technically.

Maybe some measure of leniency could be aloud. Though if one wanted to get technical, then technically Rose and Stu had started this whole mess.

When the tears eventually subsided a bit, Maddox grabbed up his weapon and started moving, stumbling into the haze with no clear sense of direction. What his parents had done was disgusting, and even with the added weight of Amaya’s coming into the world, he would never look at them the same way ever again. He could not lose his will to live because of them. Not unless he wanted to spit in the face of everything Amaya had done for him.

To speak of which was the matter of him being, or had been, her Host. Was that why he’d lost his temper all those times in the Bunker? When he’d lashed out with strength he hadn’t known he possessed? When he had tried to kill Jack? Or when he’d fought for his life on the surface with such brutality? Was that the Link’s doing?

How could Amaya think their bond was something to embrace? It had turned her crazy, as it had turned him insane! It was not a gift. It was a crutch. How could she have not seen that?

And that was when he answered his own question.

That was his problem, he suddenly realised in this world without colour. He never saw the light of things, only the dark. When he’d saved that woman from Blankley’s men, he’d expected something in return. When he was captured by Weyland, he expected Amaya to save him. When he was exiled to the surface, he expected to die. Each time his wishes were denied, and he’d only grown more bitter as time went on.

He was selfish. He was just like his parents, and somehow that felt worse than the first time he’d seen this dead world with his own eyes.

He’d blamed Amaya, for all this time, for forgetting him, for not coming to save him. But if he looked at it another way, she did save him. On that beech, she’d come at the right moment, and who was he to stay hung up on something that had happened years ago?

This wasn’t to mention the fact he hadn’t once thought about drinking since he’d met her. She’d saved him and then some, and he had not even known it. Not until she was gone, and now he’d never get to thank her.

He thought about laying down again, perhaps cry himself to sleep, perhaps wait until a cannibal found him and finished him off. But again, would he really do that? Bring all that shame on Amaya’s memory? If there was an afterlife, and if she was there, waiting, she would never forgive him. Maddox wouldn’t, if he were in her position.

He was still such a child in so many ways. Perhaps it was irreparable now that his one love was gone. He knew she was more to him than just a friend, and maybe she looked at it the same way as well. This weird, broken, telepathic, crazy fucking link they shared was as comforting as it was painful for them both. But it was too late to tell her how he felt. It was always too late.

Unless you’re still there, he thought across the link – the proverbial tunnel. Like a ghost, or… a memory, I don’t know. If you can hear me, I just want to say I shouldn’t have blamed you for my suffering. It should have been me. I should have died. But I won’t let you die for nothing. I promise I won’t.

Another fit of coughing, something in the air poisoning his lungs no doubt. He replaced his visor back on his face and sealed the clamps, and felt a little better for it. Maybe the link was troubling because of his years of lacking to care for it. Anything was possible. Even Amaya admitted she hadn’t known what it could be capable of. He let the door he conjured up swing wide open, and memories, old and new, came rushing by in flashes of still images.

Just seeing Amaya standing before him made him want to ball his eyes out again, but the waking world was still his to act upon, as much as it hurt to go on.

Maddox caught his heel on an outcrop of rubble, barely managing to keep his balance. It was as relieving as it was disturbing that now of all times he could suddenly see how royally fucked up he’d become since his teens. No friends, no family, nothing but this mist and his own reflections on what could have been.

The word ‘meat’ drawled through the air, echoing across the trench. Maddox would have guessed he’d drawn the whole damn province of cannibals to the trench by now. The phantom-like, smoke screen of the mist did little to soothe his mentality.

And neither did the engines. The noise of the revving had pushed itself into the background of the world and hung there, ignorable in its innocence. At first Maddox thought it was just beginning to pick up, but he dismissed that. Of course the world would go quiet with no one beside him to talk to.

The claws of insanity should have dug deep by this point, two, three hours after his friend’s death? But the link was there like an old friend, always keeping him alert.

How stupid had he been to close that door on Amaya!

But isolation had always been his one escape, back in the bunker, back when he was tortured. No one could blame him for having a hard time breaking his habits, could they?

An experimental reaching across the Link found that Maddox could gently tap into some of Amaya’s memories, see these predecessors of hers she regarded so highly of. It was like looking at a slideshow, one without any sort of input he could control. Sometimes he’d see himself from her perspective, and he’d only get a few minutes in before it was too painful to watch any longer, and he’d lose concentration.

The whiteness of the fog did not end. From afar, it didn’t seem any larger than a few hundred meters across. He briefly considered turning back, but the wind was behind him, and he could hear garbled voices trailing the air. Ahead there was that engine noise, and his prior dismissal lost its merit. It really was getting louder now, like a car coming down the highway to greet him, or maybe run him over.

Somehow a strip of road had survived the crash of the battleship. The cracked pavement curved up and to the right, supported on a pair of cracked support columns. He pulled from his memory that here there had been a bridge, one that led across the Capitol’s southern river and towards the space port.

The place his parents had gone to leave? It was almost certainly where they had gone. He would escape from this world there as well, assuming he managed to make it. Maddox climbed up the ramping asphalt, if only to gain some ground on this fog.

The bridge only came so high before falling back down, the road completely mangled and crumpling into a mess of rocks and disjointed arches. He descended back to ground level, or whatever altitude substituted for the deep bowels of the trench floor. With each stride the world regained a bit of its formerly lost glory. Some streets could be made out as dark imprints on the ground. Buildings now reduced to cinders flanked the streets of a suburban area.

Maddox came to the conclusion he was at, or near the end of the trench. They’d been so close. But he knew that any win wasn’t without its defeats. The best he could do was make sure it wasn’t all for nothing.

He stopped for a bite and to replace his oxygen. His coughs were loud in this place, even with the din of motors steadily rising in its volume. Even the crinkling of wrapping as he produced a protein bar he’d found was as loud as roaring flames. He tossed the paper over his shoulder and chewed quietly.

Host.

He let the word repeat in his head a couple times. He remembered how she talked about that when they were little, but not the specifics. He raised a hand to his chest and felt that old scar running down between his pecs. If Amaya had come from him, what did that make him? Like, her mom, or something?

No, my silly friend. That’s what Maddox reckoned she’d say. A Host went beyond the human imagination, but it was as she’d said. My other half.

How lucky he was to have someone like that, when the rest of the world dwelled in its loneliness until its collective death. How stupid he was to not see it sooner.

There he ate quietly away on the curb, when he heard glass shatter in the distance, and turned his head to the right.

He saw a shape forming out of the fog. It was large, large as a truck, but the shape resembled more of a giant bug. It was coming down the street toward him, and from the way the engine sounds were getting louder, Maddox knew that this was the source of that revving he’d been hearing all this time in the trench.

At first Maddox was too confused as to what the thing was, to do anything else but stand and watch it slowly trundle along the street. It was moving along slowly, and as the mist slowly waned its cloak over its form, Maddox could see different aspects of the thing moving separately to the body.

Things that resembled claws of a crab were sticking from the front, and the pincers were cylindrical in shape, and twirling round and round in opposite directions. Scrappy machinations garbled from its innards as something that sounded like treads rolled along unseen.

Maddox felt his heart sink to his feet when a sudden, blaring light shone down on him. The cone of glare was emanating from somewhere near the head of the contraption, and he raised an arm to shield his eyes.

A voice travelled across the immediate area. It sounded as bland as the ruins around him, completely automated and without emotion, though its announcement betrayed its lack of purpose.

“ENTITY OF DECAY DETECTED,” the amplifiers of the bot announced across the din of silence. Steel continued to grind as the thing moved closer and closer.

The arms on its front began to rotate the other way, and Maddox was suddenly struck with the image of a meat-grinder, as he saw spikes lining the cylinders.

“COMMENCING CLEAN.“

Something puffed out of a thin protrusion from the thing’s top, obscured by the blanket of surrounding fog. The machine took its speed up a notch, right towards the human caught in its cone of vision.

Maddox turned and ran like his ass was on fire. The spotlight followed him as he dashed into a side alley, scabbard jangling against his back in his mad sprint. He had to stop when his path was cut off by a tall wire fence.

He hooked his fingers into the little cross-patterns and scrambled up. There was a deafening bang of an exhaust pipe moving into overdrive, and he couldn’t help himself from looking behind him. At the mouth of the alley, the robot had wedged itself into the two opposing walls of brick, sending the material flying out in a cloud of rock. The density of the fog had increased, and all Maddox could see was a dark shape gobbling up everything in its path.

Steel crumpled away as the bot’s arms met a toppled dumpster. The arms spread out to compensate for the size, then pressed in, pulling the metal into some sort of opening near the front. Maddox had not noticed the fence was barbed at the top, and in his fear-driven haste, punctured three spots in both palms with small, but still sharp needles of wire that went deep enough to touch the bones.

He flipped clumsily over the fence and fell to the pavement on the other side. He put his arms out to catch himself at the last moment, but he still hissed as pain exploded through his body. Looking over his shoulder, the alley was a tad too small for the bot’s size, but still it just crashed through the walls and made enough room for it. The ground quaked as the nearby buildings lost what little integrity they had, and more bricks cascaded to the ground with a roaring rumble.

“CONTAINMENT OF CORRUPTION MUST BE MAINTAINED.” Half the wall came crashing down on the contraption, but it didn’t deter in its mad plow towards Maddox. More fumes and chemicals plumed out of its spinal chutes.

Maddox knocked over an old mailbox as he got up and ran. The street he was on was remarkably spotless despite everything else the Fall had done to the world. He passed through what had once been a display stall to get to the next street over, hoping to simply outmaneuver the big machine.

Its steady rumbles went down an octave, but the metallic nightmare was only replaced by something equally worse. Down one way of the street he could see a group of six or so figures coming to meet him, and he didn’t think they were friendly by the amount of times he heard the word ‘hungry’ in the next few moments.

Maddox doubled back the other way, perspiration dripping off him behind the visor. A toppled set of street lights crossed over the length of the street at the next intersection. Forward only led into mist, right went back to where he’d last seen the bot, and left turned off into a narrow lane. He chose left, not even vaguely recognizing this place from before.

Not two heartbeats after he turned down the road did a mechanical whine of metal lumber across the intersection. The mist blanketing the area stopped Maddox from getting a good look at it. Perhaps that was the answer to all this alien weather. Maybe it was a sort of defence mechanism?

The searchlight protruding from its front swerved its sights over his body, and Maddox could feel the target it was painting on his back, and he doubled his efforts into his today’s endless retreat.

The street narrowed to a pair of lanes cluttered with vehicles. Support arches curled up from the flanks of the road, and the wind was howling over a steady drop over the sides. Maddox slid over the hood of a car blocking the way, not noticing the lack of rust on these particular automobiles.

He cursed when he saw that a part of the bridge up ahead had caved in, and planted his boots to stop him from tumbling over the edge. A stolen glance behind him showed his mechanical pursuer knocking aside abandoned cars with unceasing effort. Steel scraped against the pavement loudly, adding to the terrible chorus of screeching metal.

The drop down was too high, but there was a truck angled halfway down this side of the bridge he might be able to jump on and scale down. Steeling himself, he jumped off, and landed with a grunt against the flatbed of the truck, sliding until his back met the drivers cabin.

The position gave him a perfect view of the rumbling, robot monstrosity. It seemed to hesitate when it came to the spot he just was, before tipping its nose down and dropping down after him.

“CLEANING OF DECAY, HIGHEST PRIORITY,” the machine garbled as it crashed into the rear bumper of the truck, sending it and its poor passenger off whatever was holding the vehicle in place, further down the cracked and ruined slab of the bridge. “BY PROTOCOL 34B-5S, NO OTHER ORDERS REMAIN.“

The truck nose-dived into the dirt that had a long time ago been the bed of a flowing river. Maddox’s head slammed against the cabin and he saw stars. Then, when he blinked out his daze, he spotted cracks in his visor, and through those web-patterns a claw tipped with a grinder came arching towards him.

The limb was only stopped by the guardrails of the flatbed. The opposite arm of the machine came flying against the other side, and together they began to squeeze. It turned half the vehicle into synthetic pulp in two seconds flat, and Maddox barely lifted his legs away in time before being chewed up.

And in that sense it was literal. Because just as the arms of the thing closed in a near miss, Maddox spied what appeared to be a mouth, right below the searchlight, and what also seemed to be a few scattered circular, red-tinted camera lenses. He thought he could hear raring buzz saws emanating from within that horrible maw.

He climbed over the truck’s front cabin and kicked off the vehicle. He fell the half-dozen meters and landed with a blanket of dust clouding out around him. His body demanded that he just lay there and not move, but a quick glance up gave him the motivation to move.

The truck buried itself where Maddox just was. The human rolled away and to his feet, as the bot crushed the vehicle under its own weight. Its under-treads compensated for the shift in balance, and adjusted its suspension to continue its pursuit to achieve its corrupted goals.

Maddox was losing his breath as he came to the peak of the slope leading to the far end of the bridge, digging his nails into the dirt for purchase, scrambling up the hill. The machine was right behind him. He reached up and grabbed a fence post to haul him up the last bit of the climb.

When he got to solid ground again and took a second to examine the area, ten cannibals covered in blood and tattoos looked back. One of them was gnawing a bone, and dropped it as he stared at the new arrival.

A second later, and Maddox saw eight more men on the right, and just as many more on the left. He realised he’d just stumbled into the biggest encampment of people he’d ever seen since the Bunker, most of them unusually relaxed despite the ruckus of the thing chasing him.

Instead of screaming at the sudden decline of events, Maddox just let out the single most tired sigh he’d ever breathed. The cannibals eyed him with envious faces, grinning wide to reveal chipped, moldy teeth.

There was a tremendous crash of dirt and soot, and Maddox plus the cannibals turned to see the bot lumber over the ridge. In the moments where it tilted up to the higher ground, Maddox got a clean look of the underbelly of the monstrosity. Some sort of yellowy liquid was secreting out of small nozzles just hidden the pair of treads.

The machine came to a halt before the small gathering of the cannibals and Maddox. The searchlight switched from the latter and swept its white beam of light across the other men and women present. The cannibals were equally stunned, and for a moment forgot their endless hunger in favour of there other new arrival. One of them, a skinny man wearing only a pair of boardshorts and a top hat, went over and knelt before the machine, falling onto his hands and face like he was praising Allah.

“Great Cleaner!” the male cried. “Blessed us with your presence! Please reward us loyalty! Meat! Thick, juicy meat! Cubed! Yes, please!”

The searchlight bathed the pleading man in its brightness, and the machine rewarded him by embracing his fleshy form in its forearms, and pulled him in to his painful end.

Maddox would never forget the sight, nor the sound, which was somehow worse. The cannibal was turned into pulp and red mist in the meat-grinder arms, all manner of popping, fleshy noises ringing over hundreds of meters beyond. What meat was left was brought into the mechanical maw. The sight even made some of the other cannibals take on expressions of horror.

Maddox forced himself to look away, and continue his mad retreat. Walls built from years of scrap collection formed a barrier across the streets behind him, and manning a couple of the posts on the barricades were more men. One was holding a hunting rifle, and he presented the weapon in Maddox’s direction.

The gunshot was very loud and Maddox’s ears buzzed in agony. He’d never heard one so close before, nor in such a long time. He kissed the ground and expected to land in a pile of his own blood, only to find himself completely unharmed. A chance look up saw the cannibal had fired at the machine instead.

Behind Maddox, the cannibals at the campfire had willingly walked towards the machine and the blood-tipped arms, despite the obvious death of their companion. Maybe they were too crazy to realise one couldn’t appeal to something made of metal. It swept them away and feasted on their corpses, the bullet from the hunting rifle bouncing off its hull harmlessly with a loud ping. The crack of the bullet disrupted the air for kilometres around.

Out of a nearby department store came another group of cannibals. They didn’t even give the prone body of Maddox a passing glance, as they realised the bot wasn’t on anyone’s side.

“LEVELS OF DECAY INCREASING.” The machine swept a man and away with one arm as it trundled over the main campfire pit. “COMPENSATING.“

There was a whirring sound, accompanied by the wet noises of meat slapping to the ground. The machine twirled around, squashing an unlucky cannibal under its tank treads, and faced another group of cannibals wielding clubs and axes. There were several exhaust pipes jutting out of the flank of the bot, and one of them was spewing out something dark and red.

A pile of these excretions tumbled across the centre of the camp, and Maddox got a clear view of hundreds of dice-like, fleshy substances. The word meatcube came to mind, and Maddox had to struggle against the urge to throw up his lunch.

Another gun shot split the air. In a crawl, Maddox moved behind a toppled streetlamp and peaked over to watch the fighting. The melee didn’t appear to do much against the steel of the bot, but the way alarms were blaring out from its innards told him the effort wasn’t exactly fruitless, even if the cannibals were being slain by the pairs.

Finally, fate threw him a bone, or several if one looked at it a certain way. The bot knocked aside a cannibal trying to climb up one if its sides. The man went flying and became a corpse when he split his head on the curb a few meters to Maddox’s left.

The dead man had a bandolier hung across his shoulder, and there were two egg-shaped devices inside a few of the rings of leather.

Maddox crawled over, listening to the uproar of dying people punctuated by the occasional gunshot. He leaned over the dead man and unclipped the bandolier, wincing as he saw the corpse’s face grinning up at him, like the man had enjoyed the part where death had come.

Maddox twisted and put the bandolier over himself. Looking past the cracks in his visor, he slipped one of the grenades into his hand with a tug. He raised his blood-crusted hands up, wondering if he’d blow himself up in the next couple seconds.

Maddox pulled the pin. It didn’t come loose. He gripped the lever and pulled again, and this time it came away with a click. He pulled his arm back and hurled as hard as he could.

The grenade flew up to the fiery sky and came down in a steep arch. It detonated high in the air, a moment too early, but still close to the bot and its human assailants. Shrapnel and smoke flew out in all directions like a colourless firework. Bits of steel were shredded away, and half a dozen humans were crippled from the shower of iron.

“THREAT-LEVEL OF DECAY INCREASING.” A previously concealed part of the bot extended out of its back-section. The head of this protrusion reached out between the fog-exhausts and pointed at Maddox. “COMPENSATING.“

A three-round burst of bullets tore apart the corpse he’d stolen the bandolier from. Maddox was covered head-to-toe in gore, and trailed bits of flesh as he madly dashed into the building behind him. The bot lost Maddox on its sensors and turned to the flood of cannibals attacking its hull. It resembled a mechanical scorpion as it chambered its tail-gun and killed ranged targets while systematically fed itself on the humans within reach of its arms.

Even with the bigger threat present, Maddox attracted the attention of two cannibals. Both were carrying handguns. They appeared the same as the firearm Maddox had in his waistband, but that was where the similarities ended. Chunks of plaster were chipped away from the wall where Maddox was cowering behind. Display cases nearby shattered into pieces. One bullet even bounced up into the ceiling and a puff of pink cotton came falling down to the floor towards the back of the store.

Maddox reached up and freed the second grenade from his chest, pulled the pin and waited for a break in the fire before throwing it blindly out.

This time he was a bit more accurate. The explosive rolled to the curb and detonated moments after one of the gunmen noticed it. The two men were vapourised from the waist up with a mighty bang, the twin pairs of legs falling in opposite directions.

Maddox checked the area for any more cannibals, and when he was satisfied they were more focused on the bot, he made his way and searched for the pistols. In the skirmish between the cannibals and the corrupted military bot, it was evident the machine was thinning out the ranks. One cannibal had taken Maddox’s example and chucked another explosive at the machine. A generous portion of the bot’s rear section was ripped apart, and one of its rear wheels malfunctioned.

“CLEANING DUTIES UNDER THREAT. REPORTING TO BASE,” the machine boomed, the tail-gun reloading and sniping a woman withdrawing from the fight. She went down like a sack of sand with three holes in her back.

Maddox searched the puddle of gore for any signs of the pistols. He found one, but it was ruined beyond repair. The other was thankfully intact, except that a dismembered hand was still holding onto the grip.

It took a surprising amount of strength to rip the hand away, and Maddox groaned in tired disgust the entire time. He tossed the hand over his shoulder, spotting what appeared to be a barracks area the cannibals had set up in the hollowed remains of a house. Bunk beds lined all four walls, but it was what was stacked on top of the blankets that caught Maddox’s eye.

He ran in and shot a man in the face who had somehow slept through the fight up until Maddox approached him. When he came back outside, he had over his chest another bandolier, forming an X-shape over the other one. Both were filled with grenades. He even stuffed a few in his satchel with his tools he’d gotten from the ship.

An image of Rambo came and went from his mind as he made his way to the skirmish, an explosive in each hand. Not caring the least in collateral damage, he fumbled to pull both pins, then threw one right after the other into the fray.

Half a dozen cannibals were killed instantly, flesh raining down loudly all across the camp. The second grenade detonation ripped apart one of the bot’s meat-grinder arms, severing it into two pieces that tumbled away ot the dirt. Blaring warnings ripped into the ears of all present, and for a second the searchlight on the bot’s head flickered.

“HULL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED.” By this point the bot was entirely uncontested, and any cannibals present were either dead or running. And so Maddox was the only heat-signature on its radar, and it spun on him. He was right in the middle of lobbing one more grenade when its tail-gun fired.

The first bullet snipped past his ear in a near-miss. The second clipped him under his throwing arm, near the ribs. The third ripped apart the right side of his hip.

His arm spasmed under the pain, and his throw went way off, the explosive going all the way to the left and killing nothing but the road and a few scattered bodies. Mist sprayed out behind Maddox, and he fell on his back, bleeding heavily, but not really feeling all that in pain, which surprised more than worried him.

His eyes went to the hellish sky, arching with soundless lightning. The fog had parted a little, but now it was coming back in the form of unconsciousness. Trying to get up only sent hot pain across his body. So instead he lent up and brought his stolen pistol out in front.

The bot was marching on Maddox, alone once again. He pulled the trigger and somehow missed the massive target. He put his other arm behind him and dragged his slowly failing body away from the bot, the movement minuscule and entirely hopeless.

But Maddox himself was miniscule and hopeless too, wasn’t he? And yet he was still going, crawling away and leaving a trail of his own blood behind him. Giving up didn’t really seem so easy after all at that moment.

He fired again, and the bullet clanged off the machine’s face, the ricochet sounding like something out of a western movie. The remaining arm was swaying to and fro like a wild bandsaw. It would bring him in and turn him into cubes of meat. Cleaned. He wouldn’t go quietly, at least until he ran out of bullets, and that simple reason made things seem to pass by silently.

He emptied the clip into the machine in a vain attempt of a last stand, the trigger pulling back in defeated snaps of metal. The machine’s arm extended out all the way, as if the thing were asking for a hug. The mouth opened up, and the blades within began to turn. Maddox was surprised he wasn’t all that afraid, looking into that place where he’d see his end.

This one time back in the Bunker, Jack had told him his life had flashed before his eyes when a blast door had almost cut him in two when it had malfunctioned. As Maddox had pulled his companion out of harms way at the last second, he thought Jack wasn’t being serious at the time.

It turned out he was. Maddox saw his life play back at those last moments. There was a few instances of his parents, but mostly it was of Amaya. How they’d met, how she’d turned over the world to find him, when they’d kissed, lost each other, reunited. It occurred to him that Amaya was his life. No parents, no friends, just her. And the price he had to pay for that knowledge was just too high, and too late.

At least I’ll be with you now.

Those last words could have had a lot of meanings, and the one the world ended up choosing, was one Maddox could not have expected.

The grinder-arm was upon him, but then the machine lurched to the side as a huge, dark figure leapt from the nearby rooftop and slammed onto its tail. The appendage lurched about, rounds firing wildly through the condensed sky.

Inner clockworks whirring loudly, the machine swayed on its axis to shake away its new attacker. There was a lick of electricity as huge claws squeezed the tail-gun, ripping away the armour plating to expose the guts of the machinations inside. The attacker launched its second mouth and tore into the wires. A gun chambering mechanism was rendered unusable, and with a screech the weapon was torn in two.

“A-Amaya?” Maddox croaked. “How…?”

He barely managed to pull away as one of the treads of the machine swerved over the place he was laying. He managed to crawl up onto a slab of rubble to gain some height. He put a hand to his hip and felt his blood bubbling up into his palm.

Before him, beast and machine fought on for control of the other. Amaya whipped her tail out and severed some of the exhaust pipes running down the spine of the machine. More alarms screeched out from the bot’s amplifiers.

“HIGH PRIORITY ENTITY DETECTED. XENOMORPH.” The bot reached its one arm up and slammed into Amaya’s flank with enough force to break bones. Amaya sailed away and crashed into a gathering of cloth tents. A miniature mushroom-cloud of dust was sent up on the impact.

The bot advanced on where she’d fallen. Amaya came storming out of the fog with something massive clutched in her arms, easily double her own height. She swung it over her crown in a wide arc, and the severed arm of the bot came home to its former master in a clash of steel on steel. The sensor light was caved in along with half of the bot’s ‘face’. Amaya brought it up again, and slammed it home once more. The bot took the blow but not without retaliation.

It sent its own limb forward, the front grinder spinning up and goring into Amaya’s stomach. Her acidic blood flew in whips of green and she screamed. Some of her blood slapped onto the hull of the bot and chewed away at the plating.

Amaya left the robotic arm impaled into the machine and pulled herself off from the limb impaling her torso. Her exoskeleton had taken so much punishment in the past, and perhaps that was what had saved her guts from spilling out.

She jumped away from another mad swing from the bot, and looked upon the damage she’d wrought. The face was split down the middle, where the lower jaw clamped up into the dismembered arm hungrily, further widening the split in the head with each crunch of metal. She launched out her tail and whacked the hull, but her tail bounced away without harm done.

Her heart skipped a beat when the machine picked up in speed and rammed into her. With a pained “Oof,” -of pain she slammed into the brick wall behind her. The mechanical mouth rushed towards her, and she rolled out of the way at the last second, coming to her feet in a feline fashion.

“Amaya!” she heard, coming from somewhere behind the machine. “Catch!”

A small, bumpy object arced over the ruined tail-section of the machine. It bounced off the bots attached arm and rolled to a stop by her foot. It had not been the first time an explosive had been thrown at her, but by her Host? She’d never have guessed.

She slipped a palm under the grenade and scooped it up, before charging right into the machine’s deadly front. It’s arm swung at her with enough force to cleave her in two. She blocked it with her tail and felt the vibrations travel up her tail and through her body.

She extended her legs out in front and fell into a slide for a last second boost in speed, before twisting her upper body up, and shoving the grenade into the mouth of the bot. Needles and saws cut up into her forearm, but she bit through the pain. Her alien strength undid the pin in one deft movement, and when she heard the click, she planted her heels against either side of the maw, and pushed in a horizontal squat.

Her escape was aided by one final detonation. The bot’s mouth exploded in a ball of inferno, soot and sparks cascading out into a wide splay of electricity and smoke. Little shards of metal cut up into her flailing exoskeleton, a few embedding, most bouncing away. Her crested head met the side of a rusting automobile, and she curled into a ball.

“DAMAGE SUSTAINED. CLEANING DUTIES COMPROMISED.” The bot turned about wildly, knocking aside telephone poles and slamming into walls of concrete. “REQUESTING ASSISTANCE.“

It’s half-blown face whipped to regard the Xenomorph one last time, and trailed forward, as if to attempt to exterminate the target its creators had intended it to cleanse back when there were still people around to control these death-machines. The sound of one last siren dialing away was akin to a moan of a dying man. The few sensor arrays remaining dimmed to a deep red colour, and the machine moved no more.

Amaya let her spine unfold itself, and she splayed her limbs out against the pavement like she was about to start making a snow-angel. She could have stayed there forever, watching the gloom of the fog slowly recede now that its creator was destroyed. However, the groan of someone in pain snapped her into action, and she smoothly transitioned to all fours.

She walked around the death-machine, and saw Maddox laying down at an awkward pose, bleeding from many cuts in his hide. She’d never seen so much of his life-blood leaking out like that before.

Maddox! Amaya bounded over quickly. Her taller form came right up to him, and they stared at each other through his cracked visor. For a long few heartbeats neither of them said anything.

Then, Maddox reached up and pulled at the straps of his mask. They came loose with a pair of clicks, and he pulled the chin of the glass over his messy hair. There he exposed his youthful face to her in full, for the first time in many years. Yet for his apparent youth he looked aged in many other ways, and this saddened her greatly.

“I thought you were dead.” Maddox let his eyes float away to the sky. “Again. I’m so stupid.”

No, she said. I’m the bigger fool. When that building came down on top of me, I dug myself out into one of the pipe systems. I thought I could sense you out there, and I wanted to contact you, but… there were creatures in the pipes. And I thought that, if I told you I was alive, and gave you hope, then ended up dying and killing that hope, I didn’t want you to feel like. Not again.

She sank to her knees to meet his eyes. She curled her big tail out and curved it around them protectively. She grabbed his hands into her own, larger ones.

Please forgive me, Maddox. For everything. I took your sacrifice all those years ago and threw you away. I did not know and I did not care. I’m so, so sorry.

A sob escaped her throat, and Maddox felt moisture spill over his cheeks seeing her like that.

“Y-You’re sorry?” he said. “I’m the one who th-threw you away. I gave up on you, Amaya, you’re my only friend and I gave up on you. You deserve better than me. Your Host should be someone better than this fucked up, stupid kid.”

He made a sound somewhere between a cough and a sob. The air was heavy and moist, and burned the throat. He developed into another coughing fit, and Amaya cringed.

Maddox, put that mask back on, please, before you-

“No! No, I want to say this to you, face to face. I-I know I’m not the Maddox you remember. I know I should be, but I’m not, and I don’t think I ever will be. There’s no hope for me. I’m doomed.”

Amaya put a claw on his lips, shushing him. Don’t say that, don’t you ever say you are doomed. There is hope for you Maddox. I believe in you. Isn’t that enough?

He blinked up at her, drank in all the translucent skin making up the ridges of her crest, where it met her eyeless head just inches from his own. He hated every human he’d ever known, including himself. His hope for the species after seeing what they could do when society fell had been flushed down the proverbial toilet.

… And yet what did that matter when he had this stunning creature watching over him?

He clutched her big hand touching his chin and kissed it. “It is,” he said, and moved up to put his lips on her arm. Each time he put his lips to her limb, an electric feeling jolted through the both of them. Maddox brought her arm down so he could continue the trail, slowly working his way up her lithe bicep to the slim shoulder.

Amaya was statue-still the entire time, shivering each time she felt his warm breath wash over her exoskeleton. His last peck was just below the ridge of her jaw, until he paused in front of her snout. “A part of me always knew I wasn’t myself when you weren’t around. At first I thought that was a bad thing, and maybe it is in some way, but I want to make it work. There’s hundreds of better people than me who could be a better Host, and I… Shit, I don’t know how to say it.”

Then don’t. Amaya wrapped her smaller hands over his waist, one of which felt the coldness of his blood. Her larger, upper arms rested on his shoulders as she draped over him. Words are stupid.

With a click of flesh on skeleton, Amaya tipped her head forward, and connected her forehead to his. Through that connection came a melding of Maddox’s and Amaya’s minds, and they picked up from where they’d been interrupted. Every pain, every loss and moment of suffering Amaya had ever experienced was now Maddox’s to witness. Her life of fighting and ruin was his to watch, and it seemed there would be no end to his tears.

A gentle emotion of a wordless message told him it was his turn to share. He opened the door between them as far as it could go. At the same time, in the waking world, he pushed his lips into hers and kissed her. With each prodding of his tongue against her fangs came a portion of his life, the melding coming naturally although no other human in history had ever had this experience.

Her mouth opened up and she allowed his tongue to explore. Through the Link all their complications suddenly seemed so straight forward, at least in those few heated moments. Amaya’s inner mouth extended out and nibbled on his tongue, before dueling with it for dominance. Now it was her turn to cry as she watched his past unfold itself before her phantom-eye.

She easily put aside his own tongue and fought passed his teeth, delving into places he’d never been aware of, little fangs nipping at his most sensitive flesh. It was a long, sloppy kiss, her saliva slathering all over his taste-buds, but that seemed the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

Maddox’s chest hitched as his lungs struggled for breath. A hand against her shoulder, he peeled her away gently until she got the message. She lifted herself away from him slowly, a thin band of drool connecting them for a moment after parting.

Maddox’s eyes were looking in two different directions as the meld slowly faded. He blinked, and his vision reset. “Shit,” he breathed. “that was… I…”

He felt faint suddenly, and he looked down to his bleeding wounds. Out of all things, he’d forgotten about them. Pins and needles were shooting up all across that side of his body, but his mind was surprisingly calm despite all the blood pouring from his wounds.

Oh, no. Amaya cupped her hands over his cuts, angling her crest down to examine the wounds. You’re okay Maddox. You’re okay. The bullets went straight through.

He closed his eyes against the developing pain, hearing the tell-tale gagging sound of Amaya pulling up that jelly-stuff from deep in her throat. One of her smaller hands pressed itself into his palm and he squeezed.

Blinking back tears, he said, “It felt like I was dying, girl.”

You are not dying. Do you hear me?

A wetness on his wounds, as Amaya pressed a clump of royal jelly into his flesh.

“No, I mean… I mean I felt like I was dying all that time. After Weyland took me, and you escaped. And it was so easy for me to blame you for that, and when you told me about my parents… what they did, I… I don’t know why it was so easy for me to hate you for it in that moment, how I could hate someone I love.”

Amaya’s head tilted at that.

“I’m sorry. I blamed you for what they did a long time ago.” He sniffed. “But a part of me still resents you. I’ve listened to that voice for so long, I-I don’t know if it will go away. I’m, I’m so screwed up, girl…”

Stop, Amaya said. She cleaned his other wound and draped a leg across his waist when she was done. Just stop.

Maddox’s whole world was drowned in Amaya. She folded her big, dark body on top of him, like she wanted to close him off from the rest of the world. We’re two broken people in a dead world, she said. But it doesn’t have to stay like that. I love you, Maddox. I’ve loved you ever since you stumbled across my forest. I wouldn’t wish anyone else to be my Host.

She poked her snout down and pushed her tongue as far down his throat as she could, to show him how earnest she was. She kissed him until his lungs burned, then resorted to nipping at his face and neck as he caught his breath.

Maddox slipped his hands over her waist, straddled above his own. He traced his palms across her tough, yet sensitive hide. A fire burning deep in her core, a pleasure she had been denied for so long came surfacing. Amaya would have fulfilled her desires right there, if not for the stench of death around them, and the looming robotic gaze of the dead machine nearby. She wanted her first time mating with him to be special. She was a Queen after all. She had needs and tastes, and rutting in the street like animals didn’t seem to suit her station.

Their minds converged for what seemed like an eternity. The inhuman connection brought from it, revealed an understanding for the other person. Maddox had felt a weight on his shoulders, burdening him ever since they’d been separated, begin to lift. This little piece of light in this dark, dark world was something he could hold onto.

But he finally had the chance to confess his feelings to Amaya, and whether they would escape or not, at least he was happy he finally got the chance to say what he should have told her a long time ago.

2

The fog dissipated into a light milkiness a while later, revealing the muted afternoon sunshine and the half a dozen skyscrapers standing defiantly against the overcast. Amaya and Maddox crested one more dune of ash and soot, and revealed to their north a semi-intact sea of residential blocks intertwined with highways.

“Think this is the end of the trench,” Maddox said, shadowing his eyes with a hand. Examining an openness after the oppressing walls of the trench filled them both with relief.

At last. Amaya turned back the way they’d come. She could just make out the cannibal encampment buried in the fog and ruins. Who do you think created that cleaning machine?

“Weyland, I’m thinking. It probably went haywire after the Fall and started killing anything it could see.” He remembered those meat cubes ejecting out of its rear-pipes, and shivered.

Amaya curled a bit of her tail over his ankle. Are you alright, Maddox?

He lost that glazed-over look on his face and grinned up at her. “With you around? Better than alright.”

Hm. She reached out a mental-hand and caressed his mind, warmth pouring through the Link. I’ve just realised you’re the only man who’s complimented me before.

“There’s a lot more coming your way, so get used to it.”

After their physical wounds had been tended to, they’d trekked the rest of the way out of the trench until they were free from its grasp. Maddox wished it hadn’t taken them both to be separated – again – for him to work up the courage to open up to Amaya. Though he supposed that was a small price to pay compared to the literal apocalypse.

His hand linked with one of hers, they made their way through the residential blocks until nightfall. Occasionally a gunshot or cry from a man, or beast, would pierce the air, but they did not encounter anyone, which they were glad for, having seen the horrors the worlds inhabitants could be capable of.

They stopped for rest inside a house a bit more intact than the rest of the buildings on the block. As Maddox searched the interior for any unwanted guests, he thought for a moment on what the state of his own house was like, the one he’d lived in, so far from this place. It was obvious it had to be a wreck like everything else, but it would have been nice to go and visit one last time, dwell on the memories. There would be no time for that, but one could dream.

And Amaya seemed to read his thoughts, as she came back from her check on the perimeter with a smug look on her face. But of course she had – their minds were bonded now that the truth was out there. I have a surprise for you, she said, closing the door behind her, shrouding the house in darkness.

“Yeah? What is it?”

All he heard was a purring deep in her throat, as her shadow embraced him from the front. Come lay with me. We shouldn’t have a need for a lookout tonight. You’re already fixing my senses, my friend.

It was an unconscious effort. Maddox wasn’t even aware he was fixing her just by simply being within her presence. But he smiled all the same. He let her take him into what had once been the living room. There they laid down in front of the cracked television. Amaya was on her side, her breast pressing into Maddox’s back as he crawled into her arms.

A soft moan broke through her lips as he made to replace his visor. He’d had it off for as long as he could, and being around someone who genuinely thought you were pretty (Handsome, he’d correct her, but she’d always forget), was a feeling he could never describe. “Sorry. It’s getting hard to breathe.”

No need to apologise. The visor clicked on. Maddox rested his head on her arm like a pillow, and she draped her tail over them both to protect them inside their little temporary nest.

“So what’s this surprise?” he asked. Her secondary pair of arms slipped over his ribs and held him close.

I’ll show you. Sleep.

Maddox had barely gone a few nights without either getting nightmares, or no rest at all, so he was more than a bit hesitant on the idea. A gentle mental-prod from his friend soothed him. His breathing went slow and rhythmic, and soon sleep came with surprising ease.

The next time his eyes opened, he saw a world of deep greens and soft blues. He was stood in the middle of a great forest, the trees working high into the clouds, the tops disappearing into a haze. He had been here before, he remembered, the day before he got to the beach and was attacked by those Gooret. But back then he’d been alone for most of it. Now, he felt a presence nearby.

Nearby, as in, right beside you.

Something bumped his side and he turned to see a Xenomorph he knew all too well. She looked smaller here, the crest a little less developed, but her feminine anatomy still defined enough to draw his eye.

“Where are we?” he asked, his own voice calm even to his own ears.

The other world. She took one of his hands into her own, and he looked down to see his arm was cleaned of the many blemishes the Fall had inflicted on him. Further down, he saw his legs were also clean, and a bit slimmer, his little toes wriggling against the soft grass. The dreaming world. I made us a few years younger, to the best of my ability.

“Huh.” He walked forward a few steps, feeling the wind on his face, hearing the leaves rustle around him. It seemed like he wasn’t dreaming at all, and now that she mentioned it, he did feel younger, and so much lighter too. “This is… weird, but awesome. I wonder what I look like.”

Then there was a pond in front of him, something either he or his friend had conjured up. He leaned over to see a man younger than him in the reflection look back. It was him, he knew it had to be him, but the man in the water was beaming, and looked so normal, a version of himself from a time where he was happy. Without the scars, the blood. Just the look of someone he used to be.

And still can be, he reminded himself, when Amaya came up beside him, and turned her gaze to the water. The young couple drank in all the details of their significant other’s reflection. A dark, alien Queen and her shorter-than-average human companion, so different physically that one would never guess they would be partners. Happy, if one could believe in the illusion. But Maddox didn’t think it was an illusion, or if it was, couldn’t be so as long as he believed it could all work out.

He saw one of Amaya’s arms snake over his waist, holding him close. Here the Fall cannot touch us. Do you like it?

“I love it.” He wrapped an arm over her back and squeezed her shoulder. “But I love you more.”

She tilted her head down, and he leant down and kissed her. This time it was Amaya who broke the contact, gently prying free of his embrace, walking backwards into the water, her tail waving through the air happily.

You can conjure up anything here. Amaya slipped into the pond until she was in up to her knees. Anything… except others. Before I found you it was usually cold and dark, and I hated it. Already it feels so much more alive with you here, my love.

“Suppose we better make the best of it, while there’s time.” He kicked the surface of the pond, and Amaya’s crest was instantly drenched in a wave, drops of water streaming down the ridges, over the growing little thorns.

Oough! Maddox!

“That looks pretty real! Wow.”

Before he could blink, the length of Amaya’s tail had lassoed across his chest, and he was pulled face-first into the pond with a large splash, the bottom of his feet facing the air for a moment.

He breached the surface, spitting water and laughing at the same time. Amaya glided through the pond like an eel and pushed herself into him, wrapping her thighs across his waist, squeezing his arms with her own. There they conjoined, bobbing in the water as their tongues mashed together.

Chapter 13

Royal Pleasure

1

There was no final, grand moment that saw the disappearance of the cannibals from Amaya and Maddox’s lives. After the machine was defeated, the cannibals faded from existence. Their trench, their sanctuary against the Fall’s other dangers, was now battered, broken and filled with the dead. Dozens, no, hundreds of bodies left in their wake. The landmark would become just another place to be picked over by survivors and wildlife. Amaya was more than happy to put it behind her.

After the massive crater at the end of the trench, where the battleship had first impacted Solaris, the barren earth gave way to suburbs dense with structures. This province was left much more intact for whatever reason, the houses refusing to topple in on themselves, despite most of them being slanted off to one side.

Can you recognise any of these streets? Amaya asked, flicking a claw at a post standing on the next T-intersection. The letters AVE were still visible on the metal sign, and she was struck with old memories.

“No,” Maddox said. “I didn’t really come up this way before. I was too busy with school and…” He grinned sheepishly. “and kissing pretty girls. W-Well, girl, singular, but… you know what I mean.”

Oh my, consider this Queen flattered, human. She bumped him with her hip, sending his smaller form stumbling away. Ever since their minds had melded further than they ever had the other night, she was always finding excuses to touch him. I’m lucky none of the human females got to you before I did.

“I think you’ve ruined me for humans, Amaya.” He was staring right at her dark blue ass as she walked past. Just for kicks she went to all fours and added a sway to her hips as she strolled on, and laughed when Maddox almost tripped over when she called his name, telling him to keep up.

The whole day was spent trudging along through these northern ruins, stopping frequently to rest their aching joints. By now, the storm consuming the lands had spreads its horrific girth across the southern portion of the city. If it wasn’t pouring its wrath onto the Bunker’s entrance by now, it would be very soon. Lightning strikes turned the world white in sudden instances, some of them soon followed by a chorus of thunder.

“Please tell me it won’t be acid rain or something,” Maddox said that afternoon, as they rested in someone’s half-destroyed residence.

No, it’s not acid, at least. She shared her memories of all the other times she’d stood in the rain of this planet. One of them was of her sitting in a clump of forest far from here, waiting for a schoolboy to come back to her. Know something?, she said, draping an arm over his shoulders and tugging him to her breast. For a world called ‘Solaris’ as in ‘sun’, it sure does rain a lot here.

“… Huh. I never noticed that before.” He reached over and helped deepen the hug, letting the Link fill with warmth. A soft, almost purring sound rumbled from his companion. “We get out of here, I’ll take you to a nice big planet that’s always sunny. How’s that sound?”

I’d like that. As long as you’re there with me, anywhere would be perfect.

The Link was cozy with their combined affection, like their minds were wrapped in soft blankets. Maddox let his mind wander in the emotions they shared, his metaphysical presence conecting with her own. She was a solace for Maddox, and he a source of strength for her to draw from. Every second awake in this world was like living in a nightmare, but with her human around, it made living just a little bit easier.

She fell asleep much easier than Maddox that night, for he was still trying to contemplate what his admission to her had done to him. His only friend was the thing responsible for the world dying, and he loved her. Naturally his feelings were conflicted. But out of his home or his friend, only one of those things could ever recover, and from all these new sensation – the dreams, the Link – no matter how foreign they were, he’d never give up on them again, and certainly not her. Out of his love for his home and his friend, their was a choice to make, and it was obvious one held more power over him than the other.

The amount of guilt inside him was immense, birthed from having waiting to confess for so long. But with Amaya around, things would be easier, and as long as he tried, even just a little bit every day, perhaps he could learn to never repeat his wrongs.

And with that, perhaps try to start living again. If there was any sort of goal to go for anymore, that seemed as good enough a reason as any.

With that, he slipped into the dreaming world, and relished in its memories and illusions.

2

Amaya had mentioned once or twice before, the horrors that had been born out of the ashes of the Fall, and a few days after escaping the trench, Maddox got his first taste of what she was talking about. They had not physically seen whatever it was, which at the time was as horrible, because the imagination let fly on the threats one could not see.

Maddox had sensed something was wrong, just a moment before Amaya did herself. They’d quickly run off the street they’d been walking down and hidden in an alley laden with trash and rubble. They’d ducked into the shadows and waited, arms wrapping protectively over each other as something loud and very big slithered just a couple meters beyond their hiding place. Maddox brought up the mental image of a gigantic snake worming its way through the suburbs, as every couple of moments he’d hear something rattling, accompanied by a tremendous sloshing sound. This wasn’t mentioning the fact Amaya felt like prey, with reflected her terror into him.

Amaya hid their mental presence in a shield of her making until the thing passed, only managing the will to speak fifteen minutes after it was gone. Maddox was sure the creature had sensed them. Whether it just wasn’t hungry or wasn’t interested was hard to tell, but either way he had his friend to thank.

They soon passed through the hub of the suburbs, where the residences gave way to a few strips of commercial buildings. It was Maddox’s idea that they split up to search for any supplies.

Obviously Amaya wasn’t so keen on the idea.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to…” He was going to say watch over me the whole time, but cut himself off in favour of a moment to think. “Look, I know you’re just trying to help. Just trust me. I won’t go far.”

I… Okay, Maddox. But anything happens, and I’m never leaving your side. Keep in touch with me.

“Always.” Amaya leaned down and kissed the glass separating his face from hers, mindful of the cracks running down the side of the visor. An experimental lift of the mask this morning had assaulted his nose with a horrible stench of rotting meat. A smell that could only belong to the millions of corpses melting in the sun, laying in the alleys, on the roads and in the buildings.

Amaya went to one side of the street, Maddox the other. He picked through a fast-food place, finding only loose plastic wrappers and a whole mess of friers and ovens that had once been a kitchen, now rusting and empty.

Walking over to the drive-thru, he saw something on the road that separated this building from a nearby parking lot. There were a pair of soldiers lying behind a small gathering of sandbags, dead faces staring up at the sky. One of them was carrying a sidearm with the same design as Maddox’s own pistol, the one he’d gotten from the Bunker. He ejected the soldier’s magazine and put it in his own gun, putting his two spare magazine’s into his waistband. He scrutinised the pistol for a moment, remembering its original intention now that it was loaded once again.

There was no other word than sick to describe how it felt holding it like this again. How selfish he had been to even consider shooting himself and make Amaya’s world fall apart all over again! He’d toss it away right now if he thought its presence wouldn’t soothe him as he crossed this totally destroyed world.

He promised himself he’d throw it away if he made it out of all this.

Mumbling an apology to the soldier, he fished his hands into the army vest for any spare ammo. He stopped his apology halfway through however, as he remembered this man was working for the very people who had brought down the apocalypse. Even the thought that he shared the same flesh and blood as these murderers made him feel like shit all over again.

He grew impatient after a while, and after finding nothing useful, left the corpse alone to continue his search. The next building was a gas station, but there was a strange scrap set of stairs leading to the roof of the main structure, some survivors handiwork no doubt. After testing the weight of the rigging, he made his way up one slow step at a time, keeping his pistol at the ready.

He wasn’t sure if the cannibals had migrated from this area, or the camp on this roof was of someone else’s doing, but either way he felt his stomach drop at what he saw when he got to the roof. Something resembling tanning rocks lined the northern side of a ring of moldy sleeping bags. The sleeping rolls were clustered around a barrel that was still cackling with a small flame inside. Skin was stretched like a splayed hand across the racks, hair and organs dripping out from a once-pursed interior. By the way the organs looked, and the shape of the hide, it wasn’t a matter of what was on the racks, but who.

Maddox gagged behind his mask and turned away, his breakfast contemplating on whether to empty itself or not. In the end, it didn’t, because maybe Maddox was starting to get used to seeing these things, and that was somehow the worst thing he’d ever thought of since leaving the Bunker.

Maddox? came a soothing voice. Has something happened?

He blinked. The Link had sent Amaya a message of panic, but he quickly corrected it, using his own telepathic voice. No, I’m fine. Just saw something pretty fucked up. He glanced over his shoulder at the camp. You know, the usual stuff.

Oough, Amaya said, seeing through his eyes from wherever she was. Have you found anything else? Useful, I mean?

Nothing so far. Maddox gave the ‘tanning racks’ a disgusted look before coming back down to the street. The wind rustled a plastic bag out of the gutter nearby, floating across the street like a tumbleweed. What about you?

One or two things. I… Hmhm…

What?

Oh, nothing, just that no one has spoken to me like this in a long time, and it coming from you is… I like it.

Well, he telepathically said, passing a fuel pump and drawing his eyes to the south. I’ll have to talk like this more often then. Or is it technically thinked? Thunk? Thoughted?

Amaya amused herself by letting him ramble on for a few moments, before gently pushing her phantom-presence in front of him. If you’re done, come over here. We’ll eat before movingon.

He didn’t need to ask where she was, simply letting his instincts guide him. They dined on what few scraps they had left, talking with their minds, becoming more linked with each passing moment. The afternoon was fading away into a darkness neither of them had seen the surface world fall into before.

Broiling thunder murmured from over their shoulders as they pressed into the night, confident they could make some more progress before true darkness descended. They passed a few crude totem poles erected high up on hills or roofs of structures, like how one would set up statues to ward off evil spirits. Skulls of humans and/or animals on top of horns and spikes skinned from God-knows what else had spawned in the apocalypse.

The cannibals doing, no doubt, Amaya observed.

Maddox hadn’t known true human madness could lead to such things, and his loathing of his own species dug a little deeper into himself. All those tales of banding together when the worst comes to worst were just more fantasies his younger self had been naïve to believing. Though he wasn’t putting himself above the rest of humanity, of course. He’d fallen into that same trap of madness, resenting the one person who knew him for who he was.

They walked on until even Amaya was having trouble discerning the path ahead, and they stopped on top of an incline in the earth, beside a concrete walkway that cut through a park, the once green grass now brown and dead. Children-sized swing sets creaked over the lonely atmosphere to their left, as they took shelter in a cabin painted in bright reds and yellows. Amaya remarked the children’s playground with a sad smile, disappointed that she was too big to fit in the little cubby houses.

“You’re missing out, girl,” Maddox goaded, on his hands and knees as he crawled into the main structure of a playset. All sorts of childish scribblings and patterns lined the damp interior. One particular drawing caught his eye: a blue dragon with a yellow star on its snout.

Oh, don’t tease me. She poked her head through one of the comically small windows, her gaze drawing to a pile of oversized shapes. What’s that?

She was looking at a bunch of building blocks and pieces. Toys for kindergartners and children, and Maddox suddenly felt like one.

“Ah man, you can build forts out of these things.” He lifted up one of the big, rubber pieces, and a spider as big as his hand scurried out from underneath. Maddox screamed like a girl and hit his head against the ceiling. Amaya just laughed at his peril as he tried to outmaneuver the little arachnid.

Eventually he was able to crawl out of the cubby house, wiping down his limbs for any more spiders nestling on his skin. That’s what you get for teasing, she said, brushing a lock of his overgrown hair from his face.

“Yeah I know.” Once he calmed down, his eyes lit up as he examined the area. “Hey, I know something we can do. Over here.”

Head cocked in confusion, she followed him to a set of bars, with two chains suspended from the middle of its length, which ended in a rotund shape of rubber. A word came to her mind as she looked the thing over: swing set. He wiped down the seat of the swing and gave the chains a tug. “Alright, hop on.”

This thing? She seemed to make the seat appear smaller just by standing next to it. She didn’t know what the hell this contraption was beyond its name. I think I’m too big for this.

“Your ass is fine, now just squeeze in those cheeks and hop on.”

Amaya growled and slapped him with her tail, sending him flying a few meters away. He landed not with a grunt of pain, but a gasp of laughter.

Dirty human! Anyone else said that to me and I’d… You don’t know how lucky you are.

“No I think I do.” He sat up on his elbows, and watched as Amaya turned around so she was facing away from the swing. His prior comment held some shred of truth, for her buttocks stretched out the worn rubber as she slowly brought her weight back. The metal creaked out a complaint underneath her added bust, but she seemed to fit, just.

Amaya crossed one leg over the other, the toes of her high-heel feet pointing up. She looked ready to jump out of the thing at any moment, confused about just what Maddox was planning, as he got up and moved behind her.

“Relax, it’ll be fun. Feet off the ground.”

‘Fun’? she echoed, but obeyed, the chains now straining to their max. Woahwoahwoah! Maddox had pulled the seat back so that she was slightly further from the ground. Her tail went and coiled around his thigh. Maddoxwhatareyoudoing?!

He laughed at her sped-up voice in his head. “It’s fine! Let go of my leg.”

As soon as she did, he didn’t give her a chance to latch back on, as he pushed the swing forward as hard as he could. Both Amaya’s upper and lower arms clutched the chains for dear life, as momentum launched her higher into the air.

For all her girth, her intimidating body, her deadly claws and tail, the dwindling sanity, and her general blood-lust, she’d never before screamed like she did now. It was in fear, but the general thrill of a new sensation was overpowering, that even Maddox felt the proverbial rope that bound him to her tug his consciousness one way, just as if he were the one in her position.

Gravity pulled the swing back, right into Maddox’s waiting arms. She expected him to stop her. Instead, he did the exact opposite, and pushed her, this time harder than the last.

She was only less than a meter off the ground, yet still she was consumed with thrill and fear. Maddox laughed and Amaya cried, but the latter was slowly coming to terms with the whole ritual, and the sound of her Host laughing, something he’d rarely done, if at all in years, was somehow contagious.

On the fourth ‘swing’, Amaya extended her legs out with the movement, gaining more height and speed. “That’s it!” Maddox encouraged, having to back up when his friend came flying towards him. Fifth time was the charm, apparently, as now Amaya was openly laughing, her tail piled in her lap as she immersed herself in the activity.

More, Maddox! Higher!

The crease lines in Maddox’s cheeks were starting to burn. It occurred to him how perverse this was, them surrounded by so much death and decay, having added their own share to the Fall, and here they were actually having fun, acting like children.

It brought back some sense of normality, a concept this world was foreign to. But a part of him didn’t care. His friend, or girlfriend, or lover or whatever one called it, was enjoying herself, and that was a concept she was foreign to as well, and he’d oblige her for as long as they had left.

Half a dozen swings later, and she was going too high, too fast for him to help. Not like she’d need it, by the way she was propelling herself, now immune to the panic that had struck her on the first swing.

He remembered always imagining as a kid, using the swing so hard he did a whole revolution around the metal bar. He didn’t know if Amaya took that idea from his mind, but he was shocked nonetheless when she pulled off that exact maneuver half a dozen swings later, launching up high off the ground, a dark ball resembling the hand of a clock going wild.

Maddox’s jaw hit the flaw as she did it not once, but twotimes, his head tracking her as she spun round and round. It looked like she was making for a third full circle, when on the way up she leaped from the seat and flipped through the air.

Maddox felt himself becoming concerned as she hit the ground in a roll, her exoskeleton smacking into the ground with a loud thump. “O-Oh shit Amaya are you-?”

His worry was in vain, as Amaya sprang to her feet like an energetic cat. In less than a second she was upon him, lifting him up in the air in her arms and crushing him to her breast.

Oh, Maddox! she gasped, outwardly struggling for air as her voice filled his thoughts. I’ve… I’ve never felt so…

“It’s great, huh?” He clutched her round the neck with one hand and caressed her crown with the other. “I can’t believe it’s still standing after all the years…”

He stopped, as he realised the reason Amaya was struggling for air, was not because she was laughing, but crying, and a look of concern passed over his face.

I cannot remember the last time I felt so… exhilarated. A whimper slipped from her throat. I’ve been so empty inside, after I lost you. Only now do I realise how much time I have wasted…

His concerned morphed into bitter sweet amusement. “Oh come on, Amaya. It’s alright.” He scratched the spot beneath her chin, the way she would always like it. “It wasn’t wasted, just… uh, postponed. We’re still young!”

He wasn’t oblivious to the irony. He never would have been so optimistic one week ago. Strange what the apocalypse could bring out in him, the best but also the worst.

I could never live like that again, Maddox. I don’t have the will. Don’t let go of me. Please, don’t you let go of me…

“I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” He planted a kiss on her trembling forehead. “But you better stop crying, cause if you don’t I’ll start crying too, okay?”

A ghost of a smile broke through her features, and soon the Link was afire with their combined feelings for the other. It was a long time before Amaya put him back on the ground, but Maddox didn’t mind one bit. Just like anyone, Amaya was still vulnerable, but he’d be there.

Whenever you need me, girl, he added.

She couldn’t express through words how much he meant to her, so she didn’t, and yet he still knew anyway. Whatever representation he made of the Link, be it a door, or a bridge, it was coming to the point it would bloom into something neither of them could expect or understand.

But they knew it would be good, and well worth the effort.

When the excitement, followed by their bonding, passed, they took shelter in the park beneath a tree. But Before Maddox could lay down for the night, a soft hand cupping his shoulder stopped him. He blinked up at the crowned head of his friend, her body silhouetted against the thin arcs of lightning in the sky. “Amaya? What is it?”

I saw something while I was flying on that swing. Come see.

She took him by the hand and pulled him up, then they walked to the northern side of the playground. A sea of trees blanketed the slope beneath them, a handful of red, dying leaves still clinging on to some of the branches.

He examined the grass swaying silently before them, and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see anything…?”

Beyond the trees. There. She pointed a claw. I’ll give you a boost.

He straddled over her shoulders, clinging on to her crest as she angled it down and lifted her knees. Her exoskeleton was soft under his palms, with just a hint of friction. He could feel her tendons rippling beneath his thighs and buttocks.

Gripping the edge of her crown, he stood as high as he could go. He trusted his powerful companion despite the wind and the vertigo; she would never let him fall. He peered into the decaying forest, and then he saw it.

A dark ocean of ink, highlighted all over in strips of white even though the moon’s light was absent. It was a glossy mass that stretched from the coast to the east, all the way to the west, to lands he’d never known and never would. It was bumpy, like dunes of a desert, but he knew those were orderly and with purpose, every angle and turn designed in a way to support the core of the whole thing.

Maddox was gently ushered to the ground once more. He slipped an arm across Amaya’s waist, and held her close as his tired features were reinvigorated. Both their weary gazes looked towards the Hive, of which they were at last standing at its doorstep.

3

Maddox expected that, like many others before him, he would see the Hive as an abomination. A blight upon the world no matter how used to the presence of the Queen he was. And deep inside him, there was a measure of disgust as he stepped one booted foot onto the fleshy material, which seemed to squelch ever so slightly under his weight.

But on the whole, he deduced it was just… different. And judging by the sheer size of the Hive he’d seen from higher ground last night, it was a difference he’d get used to eventually. He didn’t think of it in terms of good or bad, for those words didn’t seem to have a place on Solaris anymore.

Much like Amaya’s own body, the material the Hive consisted of was dark in colour, with all sorts of strange, ribbed contusions spread throughout the mass, but throughout the Hive there was a certain orderliness to all the shapes and lines.

His proper ‘entrance’ into the Hive resembled the mouth of a cave. It was difficult to tell what had once stood there, only the ghosts of brickwork could be vaguely seen behind the Xenomorphic material. He felt a sense of honour at having been invited in personally by the Queen, and unlike Mattias Cohen, would do so willingly and without selfish intentions.

“You put of lot of effort into this place,” he said, reaching out a hand to touch the lip of the cave mouth. The resinous texture was smooth, a touch damp, like that of a seal or some other aquatic animal. He felt something an inch below his fingertips reverberating under the pressure of his hand.

My daughters put their hearts into making this their home. Amaya paused just inside the entrance. From this angle against the walls, Maddox had to focus just to make out her body, even though she was just a few meters away from him, and slightly more blue than the resin.

“You must be proud of them,” he said, then immediately saw by Amaya’s face, that proud was the last thing on her mind.

I never once thought of this place as a ‘home’. And with my memory returning, along with my Host, looking back on all that had happened now… I still don’t. Her head inclined towards him. Does that make me a bad person?

“No,” he said, walking over. “I can tell there’s a lot of bad memories here. Maybe… maybe this planet wasn’t for you. It might have been at one point, but… not anymore.”

And when we leave, and go to one of these… other planets, what then? What if they aren’t for me, either?

“I… I don’t know. But you can’t know that either. But what I do know is, that things will be different. Because I’ll be here.” He lifted her chin up so he met her gaze. “And I’ll make it work, because you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

She leaned down and connected their foreheads, and the two shared a moment together. It hurt, Amaya said, her chest hitching as she lost her breath. It hurt so much that day. I thought I would never see you again. I thought the pain would never go away.

“I know,” Maddox said, enveloped in his companions arms. He lifted a hand and drew random shapes across her crest, letting her take her time. “I know,” he said again.

When she’d recovered, Amaya gently pushed him away with her smaller set of arms. Without words, she thanked him, as though his mere presence was something to be beholden.

Together, they made their way inside the Hive, into the beginnings of the vast, sprawling tunnel networks making up the guts of the Queen’s old home. Maddox tried not to think about the hundreds, no, thousands of other humans in a similar position to his, wandering into an alien world. A part of him was naive enough to wonder how one could fear beautiful creatures such as Amaya.

Beauty, as in deadly, he reminded himself, eyes unwillingly drawing over Amaya’s athletic form. He was glad she was on his side, and in some ways, thankful his parents had sold him off so she could be his. That harsh truth still made him swell up with a lot of anger, as well as confusion. This whole mess with Rose and Stu was so screwed up, the best he could do was just try not thinking about it until another day, when Solaris was just a dot in the sky.

This here was one of my earliest staging grounds. Amaya led the way a little into a wide chamber. Maddox was reminded of an ants nest when he looked up and saw several small holes in the ceiling, leading into other parts of the Hive, similar to vents. He could imagine the young Xenomorphs scurrying about to prepare for attack, or defence. My young would… gather here under my orders. Weyland would often choose these southern entry points to invade, and I’d send them off from here where reinforcements were needed.

The Hive got darker the deeper they went, the outside light fading behind them. An occasional strip of light would find its way through a crack above, but Maddox had to wait for his eyes to adjust before proceeding. Look at me, Amaya said. talking about my own young like they were soldiers.

“You don’t have to do this,” Maddox said, gesturing around them. “If it hurts too much to remember, you should stop.”

I know, she said. But no matter how hard it gets, I need to learn. So I don’t do it all over again.

“I… Okay. I’m right here, Amaya, if you need anything.”

Thank you.

The tunnels split off into several forks every couple of steps, but Amaya was confident in her decision, as to which way they needed to go. She’d explain as they went, what chamber served what purpose, and Maddox began to question whether he was the one that would eventually need comfort.

They came across the body of a Xenomorph at one point. In its last moments it had been lying on its back, limbs curled up against its torso, and Maddox didn’t know how he knew this, but he was certain its last moments were spent in agony. He had a brief image of flames come and go from his mind, and wondered if Amaya had seen the same.

Maintaining the brood demanded so much, Amaya explained, kneeling before the alien corpse. I needed more area to expand my reach, and that demanded more drones, and that demanded more sustenance… There came a point my young began to blur together into just one mass that I could use to fulfill those needs. No matter how much I try, I cannot remember this one, or her last moments.

Maddox was silent as she sat for a while before the skeleton, for once taking a step away from his mind, when she stood at last. He didn’t offer her comfort, knowing that sometimes it was for the best one let themselves dwell in private, and she would come to him if she wanted.

She took him into a large, vaulted chamber next, telling him it had once served as the main terminal for the spaceport. Some parts of the world before the Fall still remained. A pair of escalators leading up to the second level, the front desk with the Solaris flag painted behind the vacant desks on the wall, even a section of glass that had once offered a view of the runways. Now the view was of a translucent roof of the Hive, the ribs of the resin highlighted blue by the coming lightning strikes.

After the terminal building, they went east, and here a large portion of the Hive was missing. That Cyclops ship had dropped much of its ordnance here, Amaya explained as they briefly returned to the outside world, covered by all sides except for the roof by walls of resin. It was like they were stood in the middle of a hedge maze, with the broiling clouds looming over them.

It had just began to rain when Amaya plunged back into the Hive. Maddox felt a drop hit his head, then his left arm. The sensations of freezing cold gave way to a warmth that was entirely alien, and suddenly he wasn’t so comforted by the coming rainfall, despite Amaya’s prior warnings about what horrors the storm brought forth, a part of him still missed sleeping away listening to the rainy nights.

Amaya helped scoop him up out of the open, and brought him deeper into the Hive before settling him back down. It was then his breathing filter began to sputter its last supplies of clean oxygen. As he lifted the mask briefly to fish out another filter, an experimental breath filled his lungs with something strange, and he frowned.

Amaya, ever vigilant on whatever he did or felt, held his hand. Is everything alright?

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I can… I can breathe in here?” He was more asking himself than her, as he took another lungful. The air was just a tad stale, but it was just as clean as it had been back in the Bunker. Perhaps even more so.

Really? Her tail waved up behind her. That’s wonderful! You don’t have to wear this silly thing anymore.

Plucking the mask out of his hands, she let it fall to the ground and pecked him on the cheek, her tongue wetting his skin. Maddox’s expression was of both surprise and confusion. Maybe it was something to do with the resin, filtering out all the shit that made him gag otherwise? It was as close to an explanation as he could get, but he was happy whatever the true reason was.

And he guessed Amaya was too, by the way she was rubbing up against his face like an attention-seeking housecat. He was more than willing to reciprocate the intamacy, scratching just under her chin, how she used to like. Or does like, rather, by the way a purr elicited from her throat.

They listened to the sound of the rain tapping the Hive’s roof as they walked onward through the developing night. Maddox was not blind to the safety the resin provided. There was not one instance where another life could be felt or detected. The walls, weird and alien as they were, were not claustrophobic or oppressive, instead acting as bastions against the corruptions of the Fall he’d seen much of. Maybe the Hive was not a blight upon the world, but a purity. A time frozen in place by Amaya and her brood’s doing. Silent and dead, but still a harbour of safety, the very opposite of what Weyland and the rebels had thought of it as.

The vessel is down that way, a few hours travel. Amaya pointed a claw down the tunnel to their left. But there is one thing I want to see, down there. She gestured to the tunnel on the right. It shouldn’t be much of a detour. If you wouldn’t mind, my friend.

“Sure,” he said. “where are we going?”

The core of this place. Amaya’s tail came forward and moved a few loose strands of hardened resin out of their path, gesturing Maddox to go first. Despite the name, it was perhaps the most unstable part of my Hive. Go straight through the next intersection.

Maddox used the protruding ribs of the resin to support his weight, as the tunnels took steep descents and rises through the Hive. Soon they made it through to the core.

A sliver of light shone through the great domed ceiling, to illuminate an upraised section of resin, which was vaguely shaped like a throne. He could almost see the old Amaya laying up there, a Queen before her kingdom, fighting the battles outside of this place, as well as in her own mind as madness chipped at her mentality.

The antechamber was thirty meters wide from end to end, its oval-shaped interior having only three exits, including the one they’d just entered through. Amaya’s moving towards the throne brought him out of his examinations, and he followed her with a concerned frown.

I ruled from here, she explained, sinking to her hands and feet as she crested the shallow slope towards the throne. Sometimes I never left this chamber for months at a time. I neglected my duties to my Hive, and my daughters paid the price for it.

Maddox crested the throne, one leg up on the lip of its bowl-like shape as he sat. Inside the throne, several objects were scattered about, and he knelt down curiously to pick one up.

Oh, those. Amaya sank to the floor, crossing her legs beneath her in one smooth movement. I used to go out and collect things from thisworld. I can’t remember when I stopped, or why.

Maddox glanced at her as he examined a rubicks cube, before putting that down in favour of lifting up a set of keys. There was also a little model plane in the collection, some sort of circuit board he couldn’t discern what it had once been a part of, and even an assault rifle, a fully-automatic one with a few magazines resting beside it.

Maybe it was a way of reminding me of you, Amaya pondered, her smaller hands resting on her knees. My concience telling me that there’s a part of humanity that doesn’t despise me. Still couldn’t fix my broken mind either way.

Maddox sat next to her, the Link coming alive with his guilt and pain for her. There was one particular trinket in the large collection that caught his attention. A little rectangluar piece of plastic and metal that fit snugly into his palm.

“My phone!” he said, his voice a mix of shock and surprise. “I gave this to you that day, remember? I wanted to call you on this after we got separated, so we could talk. But I never even… You’re not the only one who forgot, girl.”

That’s what that is? She took the device from him, holding it out before her, as she had done a hundred times before. I used to stare at this thing for hours, or was it days? I couldn’t even manage to turn it on, much less use it.

But I still gave it more attention then I should have. And when… when the consequences came, look what I did.

The smartphone fell with a click and was forgotten, and Amaya nodded her head to their north. Maddox knew that he was perhaps the only exception to the violent births of the chestbursters, and had spied one or two corpses on his treck through the Hive today. But he felt no pity for the humans. He did, however, feel the weight of guilt in his chest when he saw a dead neonate crumpled up near the corner of the room over there.

And the creature wasn’t alone. Smaller Xeno’s, the size of children, came apparent once he took a moment to look. There were maybe a dozen in the chamber, but God-knew how many others were scattered throughout the Hive.

Stillbirths, he thought. A harsh feeling only a female could experience, and Amaya being who she was, the only Xenomorph capable of repopulating her species, the pain she must feel would be excruciating.

And the ones that lived through the birth, soon lost their minds anyway. A prolonged death. Images of her brood, old and young, flicked from her mind to his. I took it upon myself to end them when they went feral. Amaya’s right leg, pressing against his left, was trembling as she began to hyperventilate. And they turned feral because of my actions. I can… I can still hear the screams. Still feel their blood clinging to my hands.

She buried her head in her hands, and started sobbing. Every time one of them died, I could feel a part of me vanish forever. Why? Why was I so stupid? A parent should die before the child, no the other way around, and not by my own claws…

“Hey,” Maddox said, trying to sound as soothing as he could. “Hey, come here, girl.”

Maddox was close to tears himself when Amaya threw herself into his open arms, and planted her face into his shoulder, to cry against his stained clothes. “You’re not stupid,” he said. “You gave it all you had. So much was thrown at you, and you handled it as best you could.”

My best wasn’t enough. You were being tortured because of me, and I tortured my own brood with my very existence. How could I raise my young like I am? What kind of mother does the things I’ve done?

“I… I don’t… Don’t blame yourself because Weyland, and Mattias, and everyone else has tried to destroy you. Anyone else would have given up right away if they had to deal with what you had to go through. It’s not your fault for what happened to me, don’t you say that. Back then, I chose to get myself captured. And now… now we’re so close to escaping from it all.”

… I don’t deserve the title of Queen. I cannot raise a brood. And I don’t think I ever should again.

“No, you’re wrong. Don’t-Don’t think of it like a brood, Amaya. It’s family. And families are hard, we both know that. I know that you can do it, if you just tried again. I know that you’d make the best damn mother, if you had a fresh start.”

Amaya looked up at him. Do you really mean that?

“Sure I do. You’re the one who made me realise that… that even in this crazy, fucked up world, and how even more fucked up I am, that I can still love, that I can still be happy even with everything that’s happened. Nobody except someone really special could do that. Nobody, except you, can make me feel that way.”

“A-And I’m willing to help you, if you want to try it. As your Host, and as your friend, I feel like we could make it work.”

Maddox… She cupped the back of his head, and brought him so that they were eye-to-snout. Are you saying… you would father children with me?

Maddox smiled. “W-Well, I don’t know much about being a dad. And honestly it kind of scares me. But… yeah, eventually. Ask me again when we’re far from this place.”

She put a hand around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. I will! I love you so much, Maddox. You are everything to me.

He grinned through the duel they were having with their tongues. Soon she pulled away when his lungs were empty, nibbling playfully at his lips and cheeks, letting him know how much his words had meant to her.

He mock-swatted her away, smiling as he got to his feet. “Come on, Amaya. Let’s put this planet behind us.”

Purring, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. There was something about her grin that was different. There’s a shortcut, through that tunnel over there, she said.

“Okay.” She’d pointed on the tunnel to the right. It seemed to go in the other direction to where the ship was, but he left his suspicions unspoken, leading the way through to the darkness of the tunnel’s mouth.

A strange scent permeated the air when he reached the exit. It was a spicy but pleasant smell, and made him pause as his senses digested the area ahead. From here, he could see no other exit inside, and opened his mouth to ask where this way led, only to be interrupted by his companion.

It just occurred to me that no male has ever entered my chambers before.

One of her primary hands grabbed his arm. Maddox felt his heart skip a beat, as he looked down at the hand, and was reminded of a memory long ago. One of a black, slim arm reaching out of the brush to hold him in place. It was the exact same limb as it was today, only this time, as he was turned around to face his lifelong friend, her features were not that of a strange, isolated alien levered with timidity, but of a deep lust, and want for him. Her lips had peeled back to reveal those razor-sharp teeth, to reflect the animalistic desire buried within her.

-Because my chambers are private. Her other, primary arm took his other bicep, and she lifted him up off the floor without effort. Maddox was left helpless as the Xenomorph Queen carried him off into the dark.

“P-Private, huh?”

Very.

There was a small bedding nest in the resin inside the Queen’s personal chambers. Amaya placed Maddox gently inside the bowl-shaped indent, where she had spent many nights reaching her own climaxes, and Maddox could tell by the smell of pheromones assaulting his nose. He grunted when he felt Amaya’s weight splay across his waist.

I’ve always dreamed of sharing my nest with another. Four slender hands gripped at his shirt and sleeves. Take this off, please.

Maddox didn’t need any more incentive. His shirt was stained with blood, some of it his own, as well as dirt and dust, and it clung to his skin as he peeled it away, as well as his weapons, to expose his sensitive flesh.

Amaya ran her smaller pair of hands through his hairy chest, her core burning as she finally explored the male’s flesh after many nights fantasizing. Her claws drew up his neck to his face, and she gasped when he put his hands on her hips, the ebony flesh smooth like leather under his palms.

Leaning back, she brought her weight down on his waist and the unmistakable bulge growing there. There was a mental -Ah! -from her as their genitals made contact through the fabric of his pants.

She balanced on her high-heel feet, raising her hips high, before dropping them back down again, her generous cheeks slapping against his thighs. Maddox thrusted his hips up to meet her halfway, and her lilting voice filled his head with a loud moan.

“I… guh, I have an idea.” Maddox grunted when she dry-humped him again. He hooked his hands under her healthy thighs, and shimmied his body down, her ass now resting on his torso.

What idea- A-Ah! OohhhhhhhhMad… Maddox-!

He had realigned so his head was in line with her waist, and then stuffed his face into her crotch. With his thumbs he pried apart the tight folds of her exoskeleton hiding her nether-regions, exposing her most vulnerable part. Her obsidian hide down there was softer than the rest of her, and slightly discoloured around the lips to; a treasure Amaya would expose to no other.

He plunged his tongue through her green-rimmed entrance, and Amaya squeed on top of him, lifting her head to the ceiling and letting loose something between a screech and a moan. Her insides flexed and convulsed against his tongue, and he lathered every bit of it he could reach. Her privates smelled and tasted of something most akin to licorice, of all things, and he hadn’t ever really been a fan of that flavour. Until now.

Amaya had to bury her claws into the resin on either side of her from all the bombardment her senses were getting. There was a measure of pain, but that was overwhelmed by all the new sensations her Host was giving her. Her muscular back arced as she squeezed her thighs against Maddox’s hairy head to deepen his penetration.

So this was what it was like! Her own claws had nothing on what his flexible little mouth could do down there, and this was obvious by the way she couldn’t bite back all the lewd noises she was making in his head, on top of the one’s she was actually voicing.

Madodox tapped one of her ass cheeks after a few heartbeats, and she was very reluctant about lifting her waist, but when she did, and Maddox blinked to clear his vision as well as fill his lungs, he saw her labial hide had puffed from all his work, and he could see deep into her love tunnel, all the ridges and bumps lining the way to her alien womb. Lines of her fluids were running out and dripping down the insides of her thighs. All sorts of crazy imaginations conjured up as he wondered about the texture inside.

Amaya gripped the back of his head, giving him only a second to catch his breath before she sat on his face again. He heard something slap wetly, and her fem-nectar washed over his mouth and dribbled down his chin as he worked every surface his tongue could reach.

She rocked up against him, her inner cravings begging to be satisfied. Her pussy squelched violently as more of her juices came flooding out, greedily drawing Maddox’s face further into her cunt. She was addicted, but if there was anything she hated about humans, it was their insignificant lung capacity! Because it wasn’t long until Maddox clapped her but to signal her he needed to breathe again.

Her crotch lifted away, and Maddox’s warm breath washed over her entrance as he gasped. Her mind began to twist into something more primal. Wasn’t she a Queen? How could this human bring her so close to climax without her putting up resistance?

She had an idea.

Amaya’s vagina, cold without her human in there, was reversed as she crossed her knees above him, putting her calves alongside Maddox’s shoulders, until she was facing down the length of the human’s half-naked body, her lithe back to him. She slammed her heavy buttocks down on his face again, tail arching up into the air as he went back to work without so much as a word.

Maddox clapped her cheeks with two slaps of his palms, and cored her out like there was no tomorrow. The way he traced the ridges of her ass and upper thighs with his nimble fingers, almost brought Amaya to the edge then and there. A part of her would have liked to have just laid there and came all over him, but she couldn’t be taken down without a fight! Her royal pride, something she’d had no use for so long, was resurfacing.

I’ll- Ohhmy… I’ll show him.

Leaning her chest down on his stomach, her smaller set of arms supporting her on either side of him, she used her larger hands to undo his pants. She tossed away his satchel, pausing briefly as she wailed the world’s loudest moan, her vent being ravaged away, a river of her own liquids washing over her Host. She managed to hold back the coming climax, just barely.

She knocked aside his shoes, and pulled the waistband down until his own genitals were exposed to the air. His organ popped free and stood tall inches before her snout. An experimental poke caused it to flip away, and she heard Maddox grunt against her vagina. It looked so floppy and… weird.

But as always when it came to her and Maddox, weird was good.

You always were a big boy, she thought to him, grabbing his cock tightly in her left hand. That made him grunt louder, so maybe he was just as sensitive as she was. After all, he had never taken another to bed, because just like her, no one else could match up to what they had together.

Peeling back the foreskin, she gripped his organ and took him into her mouth. Her lips met the bush growing round the base of his member, hilting him in a second, and her glands instinctively flooded her mouth with saliva.

With this added lubrication she easily slipped her head up until just the tip of his dick was inside. She let him tremble beneath her for a second, her drool spilling over his rod and pooling over his slim thighs to add just a hint of teasing, before coming back down and engulfing him again.

Her inner mouth came forward and nibbled on the head, her teeth just grazing by his erect flesh. The reaction was immediate. His hips gyrated as he pushed up into her, and she smiled, knowing that she wasn’t completely at his mercy now.

Down south, Maddox caressed the base of her tail, which was swishing happily from left to right as they pleasured one another. He picked up his movements to match her own, letting her walls pull him deeper in, while his cock continued to be drenched and abused. Amaya didn’t breathe exactly like a human did, because somehow she took him in all the way to the hilt, and began to repeatedly swallow again and again. Her second mouth engulfed him, and the double-blowjob was drawing out his own climax faster than he could help it.

But she’d always slow down when he was getting close, just to keep him on the torturous brink where he had no control, bringing him as deep into her mouth as he could go, swapping between the warm insides of her mouth and the chilly room temperature as she bobbed and sucked him off. In this act of long-denied interspecies taboo, the Link was burning with a newfound desire. Their pleasure was shared among the telepathic tethers, and in their competition to out-please the other, both parties were lost in a wave of joint bliss.

Maddox felt almost angry when she popped his dick out of her mouth, exposing him to the cool air. Likewise, her waist was moved away, and his flushed face, covered in alien juices, was allowed a moment of rest.

He grunted a question, however, as he wondered just why Amaya had stopped.

I can’t wait any longer. Amaya moved around to the back of the nest, before putting on a show and crawling on all fours towards him, like some dark beast of the night approaching her prey. I need you, Maddox. Inside.

She hung over him, their genitals lined up, her entrance like a magnet for his cock as she moved to connect them. “Maya I-” She cut him off with a kiss, her inner mouth darting in and exploring all the right places to make him breathless. Pinned underneath her great weight, though not as hard as to be uncomfortable, he was left completely stunned by this magnificent creature, feeling like he could melt into the nest.

Not that I don’t mind, he thought, his dick brushing so very close to her vent.

Make me your Queen, Amaya moaned in his mind, like the ultimate fantasy come true. Come inside me and give me all you have.

He reached down and guided his rod inside, a little nervous if he was honest. The head was just breaching her entrance when Amaya decided things were moving too slow, and she dug her knees into the resin, slamming her hips down on him. Her slit spread wide around his cock as he plunged inside.

Maddox and Amaya both made embarrassing noises they would never let anyone else hear, as a desire they’d both wanted, and had been denied for years, was fulfilled. Her love-tunnel angled up and curved away, so the positioning was a little awkward at first, but that was nothing compared to her moving and flexing walls massaging his dick.

Amaya covered his torso with hers, sinking her hips until he was deep inside her alien cunt. Her lower set of arms rubbed over his sides as she trembled against him, all sorts of new and feelings washing over her. A sudden squeezing on her end contracted all her insides, and he grunted against the new constrictions.

“Shit,” he breathed. “You’re tight as…” His words were lost to another grunt, as Amaya lifted hereslf back up until just his head was inside her. Then she began rocking his tip, seeing her human squirm beneath her.

Take that, Maddox, you- Ohfuckme!

Just as she was lowering back down, Maddox had met her halfway with a thrust, and he went deeper inside, all the way to the walls of her womb. Spreading her legs wide apart, she revealed to him their joining. Seeing her juices spill out of her and pooling over his balls, her abdomen stretching up and back as Amaya dug into the pleasure, was the most erotic display of her he’d ever seen, and he was so erect his dick started to ache.

The green bulb of her cliterois came peeking out of her royal treasure as she gyrated her hips, pulling out and slamming back down with increasing vigour each time. Breed this Queen, she said, hands on his chest so she could raise her hindquarters higher into the air. Breed her and give her your children.

Her original intent to take things slow, was pulled away by her animilistic craving to fuck his brains out and sate her needs. Their hips slapped together, loud and wet as Maddox met her weighty hips with thrusts of his own. Her insides quivered against him, and he trembled under the pressure of her insides contracting.

“A-Amaya I … shit, I’m co…” Trying to match Amaya’s stamina was useless. He felt like an exhausted piece of meat as Amaya rode his cock with a violence teetering on being painful. His hips were numb with all the slamming she was doing to him.

No! she said. Don’t you dare! I’m so close!

Maddox held on to her hips for dear life, feeling Amaya’s tail coming round and slithering over his thighs. His whole world was of Amaya as he focused on holding the building pressure growing in his loins. Faster and faster he plunged in and out of her dark, green hole, and watching her flesh coming out of her entrance with each pull only made his resistance fleeting.

Th-There. Amaya lowered her head to his, biting and kissing the joint on his neck – a sensitive spot. Come in me, my King. Give me your young.

Maddox didn’t think Amaya could dirty-talk, but that was all he needed. Growling out a curseword, he lifted his hips one last time, and emptied his balls into her hungry entrance. Amaya pulled him up and hugged him to her breast, both of them holding each other as one, two, three loads of his cum shot up into her waiting womb.

Amaya’s insides were so filled to the brim with his baby-batter, that some of it spurted out of her lips, tracing down her groin in web-like patterns, to pool beneath their joining in a stain of white.

A fourth, and final spurt made Maddox grimace, as all his strength faded from his body. He shrank inside her as Amaya’s alien entrance milked him for everything he had left. She held his limp body in all four arms, and rested him back against the rim of the nest like she would a tired youngling.

An expression of feral smugness overcame her features, as she leant down and nibbled his neck, face, and finally his mouth. They shared a long, hungry, and wet kiss, the Link alive as a new level of connection formed between them.

When Maddox opened his eyes, he was looking in two different directions with a comical expression. He fixed his vision with a blink, then lifted a hand to trace the side of Amaya’s jaw. “So… So much for a shortcut, girl. Was this part of your plan all along?”

Amaya giggled, a soft sound as she snuggled him deeper into her nest, burying him in Xenomorph flesh. “M…Mmmay… mayyybeeee…” she croaked, her voice box rasping out the word.

The human leaned back, closing his eyes. “That’s pretty cheeky. Not that I’m complaining.”

You’re a King now. Amaya straightened up, wiggling her hips, with him still inside her, making him grunt again. My beautiful King. At last. Oh, handsome, I mean.

“H… Ha. ‘King Maddox’. I could get used to that.”

You have duties now. She caressed his cheek with the tip of her tail. We both do, to each other. And I think we should start them now. She bucked her hips.

“Shit. I-I’m not ready for round two, girl.”

No? She leaned down, lips pulled back in a hungry smile. I’m no stranger to asserting my will over others. If you don’t fight it… you wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’. She nipped his cheek and laughed.

Maddox swallowed.

4

She had always been fascinated by the moon. It was the one servant against the darkness that, once the sun came up, was removed from sight and, if one thought about it long enough, entirely unneeded.

After the metal machines came and blotted out the sky, the removal of its pale surface came as a shock as well as a realisation. It’s waning influence could still be seen through the smog, but what had its original purpose been? Just to be there? That was what her purpose had been. Just to be there, to add to the illusion that progress was being made if one through enough souls at it.

You think too much.

She turned to the speaker, her sibling, stood proud against the dark backdrop of the city. Those four words had always been her staple for criticizing her kin, but deep down she knew it was just her sister’s strange way of showing worry.

An accurate assumption,the moon-gazer replied, shifting on her haunches. But one must think to survive, as we both have done several times in the past.

‘Thinking’, put us in this situation. Huffing, her sister kicked a stone down the slope as she paced. Living is very simple. We eat, we drink, we clear the pests, we sleep. Repeat.

Would you call that ‘living’, sister?

Yes! It’s all we can do now that everything’s destroyed.

So according to this logic, one must live because it is the only path left, and one must enjoy this sensation through uncontested belief?

I… Yes? Yes. I didn’t choose to live, and neither did you. But ‘enjoy’ is a bad way to put it. I certainly hate my life right now.

Only because you think you do. Therefore, it is you who is thinking to much. Perhaps I am not alone in my desire to seek more in life.

My ‘desire’ is to plunge my head through a wall. I’d get farther than talking to you, sister.

The aforementioned list of life goals had been the one and only priority in either of their lives for a long time. Long enough that neither could even remember why they were doing this; keeping away the occasional beast or alien from picking through the ruins of their former kingdom. It had become something of a hollow purpose, at least to the moon-gazer. She was also known as ‘drone’, a word used to label one who’s cognitive levels never go higher than total obedience to a looming will. What irony the Fall was capable of.

What I am saying is, her older sister continued. Is that right now, there’s nothing more to life, and looking, as you seem so fond of doing in your spare time, is just a waste of time and willpower. It’s easy to admit, really. Our home is in pieces, and we clean up whats left because there’s nothing else to do. There are three points to life. One: humans are evil. Two: our Queen was a fool. And three: we are survivors. That is that.

The straight-forwardness of her sister had something to do with her original role. As a praetorian guard, all her life had been just one task – defend. Being a drone herself, she was a bit more receiving of more complex perceptions, something she’d acquired through hours of meditating (and many insessent questions, the sister would add) but the siblings duality of persona’s never reached far beyond a simple compromise that they were both right.

It was always routine. Home was a big place, and there was a lot of ground to cover. Over the years the intruders had dwindled to the point where the drone was convinced she and her stalwart sister were the last alive on the whole world capable of thought. There was always the possibility something was hidden in the inaccessible parts of the kingdom, but only a Xenomorph could find her way through those winding paths without losing their way.

And with this belief held firm, it came as quite a shock when she felt vibrations through the resin, coming the center of the Hive.

Sister. I can detect movement.

The praetorian gave a dismissed thought to her sibling. Probably another pest. I’ll deal with it later.

The movement corresponds with erratic gestures. They are human.

What?!

The praetorian practically teleported beside her, one palm out on the fleshy substance. Such a disturbance hadn’t been felt in years, and she was convinced her drone sibling was going senile until she felt the walls bounce back through her arm, the vibrations unmistakable.

You’re right! The larger sister moved her armoured limbs to her sides, turning towards the chamber on their left. Rain was thundering down just beyond this entrance, and strikes of lightning were smashing down on the Capitol a few kilometers away. No wonder an alien had wondered inside to escape the coming calamity.

For what reason would a human walk into our home? The drone came up beside her sister on all fours. How did it avoid detection?

I don’t know, and I don’t know. Let us go and deal with it, quickly now!

The praetorian led the way as she crawled like an ant up to the ceiling of the tunnel, and slipped between a crack up there. The drone was right on her tail, following.

Within these smaller passages one could drop on many points of the Hive, a perfect array of ambushes, as long as only a few passed through at a time, so the networks didn’t clog up. The siblings remembered using them to travel quickly to other parts of the Hive too far out of the Queen’s telepathic range, which itself had faultered, curiously in line along with the deterioration of the world itself.

Speaking of which, as the sisters covered ground towards the source of the disturbances, they zoned-down in their minds-eye where the ruckus was coming from. Following the vibrations through the resin was like tracing a web of lines, of which all came to a single point.

The Queen’s chambers? the drone asked herself. That is the deepest location within. This human infiltrated, how?

Stop thinking about it and move! We can’t let it go far. The preatorian chewed her lips as she crawled.Sneaking past us put aside,it’s been a while since we’ve eaten, hasn’t it, sister?

Yes. Fifty-two hours without nutrition is unwise for our diet. The sustenance from a human body will provide minimal nutrition value for us both. This course is just as unhealthy as if no human had revealed itself.

You just made a human breaching our home sound boring. I don’t know how you do it, sister.

Soon it became apparent that there wasn’t one intruder, but two. The drone was convinced it had to be more that two, just by how much noise was coming from over there. Her curiosity grew the more they closed in on the chambers.

Within the next ten minutes they reached the royal antechamber, twenty meters up from the floor. The drone dropped the whole way down and landed in a roll beside her sibling, and the two scurried over to the private chambers. The younger of the two gave the Queen’s throne a curious sniff as she passed, and was attacked by a heavy, musky smell…

The stench was undeniably male, since the Hive’s members used to be predominantly female. The musk was like a cloud of vapours, and it was pouring out of the small chamber of the Queen’s late private area like a cloud of gas. Intoxicating gas, the drone realised, as she’d never before smelt such a thing, and was surprised by its unusually pleasing taste.

There were some very strange noises coming from within the chamber. A grunt, overlapped by a screech, paired up by a rythmic slapping of flesh. These three things kept on repeating over and over.

In there! The praetorian bounded inside, her claws out and ready. The drone likewise readied herself for combat, though she was less than experienced than her older sibling.

They came to the mouth of the chamber, and found themselves stunned, their jaws hitting the floor at the scene inside.

There, laying on her back in her nest, was their lost Queen, and she wasn’t alone.

Sitting atop her waist, pistoning his hips back and forth, was a human with this dazed, stupid expression on his face. The drone lowered her gaze, and saw a part of his flesh spearing into the Queen. The organ went all the way up to the hilt, and the Queen leaned her head back and cried.

Having never heard the Queen in pleasure before, the preatorian mistook this cry for one of extreme, somehow erotic pain. The Queen! She’s under attack! the praetorian yelled, and resembled a black comet as she launched herself across the ten-meter gap towards the nest.

The naked human registered the flying guard like she was an errant fly. That was, until she tackled him across his chest, and his eyes flew open in alarm, like he was coming out of a dream. With a pained “Oof!” -he was sent tumbling out and over the nest, a little popping sound bouncing off the walls as his weapon sprung free from the Queen.

Human and Xenomorph rolled twice over, until the preatorian pinned him by the wrists and rolled on top of him. Her mouth opened up to reveal her deadly, secondary jaws. She was paused for a second as she registered something bulging against her abdomen, and looked down to see his spear rubbing up her flesh.

What is that thing? The usually iron-willed guard sounded almost… girlish, even to herself. She’d hardly paid much attention to males before, and the organ was alien, flopping about like some sort of antennae. Is it probing me? Don’t you dare probe me, human! Your life is-!

Stop! commanded a booming voice, a heartbeat before the praetorian could finish this human intruder off. Man and Xenomorph both turned their heads to the royal presence, standing taller than any of them, her crotch a mess of dripping fluids.

M-My Queen? the preatorian asked, a million questions racing through her. This human was-

Leave him alone, he’s mine. A strong willpower pressed against her thoughts, commanding her to put aside all hostility.

But he was… the praetorian trailed off, and met gazes with the human, who grinned sheepishly up at her.

“Uh… Uh, hey. Maddox. I’m with her.” He pointed a tentative finger at the Queen.

Behind the Queen’s leg, the drone came forward, her gaze turning from the human, to the Queen, to the human again, and a final double-take back on the Queen. My Queen? This is… an unexpected revelation.

Amaya turned to the smaller alien, smiling wide after seeing a being of her own flesh and blood after so long isolated. She didn’t even hesitate before scooping up the little drone and enveloping her in a strong embrace.

Daughters! My lost daughters! I… I thought all of you were gone!

If the drone had eyes, they would have bulged by how tight Amaya was crushing the smaller alien. The human watch this sight with a grin, which confused the praetorian, on top of everything else that was clearly against logic.

Highness? The praetorian lifted herself off from Maddox, who smelled, behind all of his musk, so much like the Queen herself. Amaya registered the praetorian with a slight nod, still clutching the poor drone like she were a lost toy finally found. Highness, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter 14

The Last Ones

1

Amaya couldn’t quite take her eyes off Maddox as he redressed himself. Lingers of their prior romp were still fresh in her mind, and she felt perverse admitting that the interruption of her lost daughters was just a tweak away from becoming inconvenient.

It is… curious, how it flops around like that.

Amaya would have blinked at that if she could. Not because of how that aforementioned thought sounded out loud, but because she wasn’t even the one saying it. A glance to her left, and she saw her drone-caste daughter inclining her head at the human, the same way a curious dog would regard a favoured treat.

A soft but firm cuff across the shoulder, and her daughter was looking anywhere else but at the human. Don’t talk about my Host like that, little one.

Apologies, it was not my intention to be discourteous. The drone looked up at her. Truly?

What?

This human is truly your Host?

He is. You can speak with him if you want. His mind is open to me.

The Xenomorph, despite appearances, somehow projected an aura shyness about her. This is acceptable, if the Host would be willing, and does not hold prejudice.

Amaya sent her a wave of mental reassurance. To the Hive, being disliked by the Host of the Queen was the ultimate humiliation, though Amaya only knew of that from her own predecessors. She wondered if any of her forebears had human Hosts, or some other outside species, and how they had dealt with introducing them to the Hive.

This human is special. He will accept you, trust me. Amaya turned to the older sibling, the praetorian. What about you?

Unlike the drone, who took that title to heart by the way she talked, the praetorian sounded like she was responding to an order. I will converse with your Host. If I must, she added,

When Maddox was dressed, Amaya approached him. She draped her arms over him from behind, her large, towering body buzzing with fullness rubbing up against him. Maddox? My daughters would like to speak to you, if you would let them.

“Yeah, sure,” the human said, squirming when her big tail curled over to caress his neck and draw a line down his sternum. Amaya brought down her mental defences she’d erected for Maddox, and allowed her daughter’s twin probes to connect to the human’s mind. Their prior conjoining of bodies had brought all new sensations to the Link, at least on Amaya’s end, giving her so much unparalleled freedom to work her mental energy. She could feel the discomfort Maddox was having now that two more aliens would add their voices to his mind. She brushed these worries away with but a phantom sweep of the hand.

The pinch of pain was quickly over with, and Maddox felt two more presences, though there was little to no amount of warmth coming from either of their tethers, not like Amaya’s. He found he could easily shut them away, like hanging up a phone, and imagined it was much the same for the daughters. “It’s, uh, good to meet you two,” he said.

The daughters approached him slowly, like he was the first alien visitor in history (which he might have been). The younger of the two, the drone, reached out to touch his arm. He watched the daughter as she carefully traced his skin with one of her claws. Unlike Amaya, the drone did not have a crest, instead favouring a curved head, but like Amaya, her exoskeleton was toned into an athletic form covered in strange contusions of ribs and padded plating. Her most distinguishing feature was the pale tone of her hide; a creamy grey colour rather than the matte black the other two Xenomorphs had.

Greetings, Host, a slightly synthetic voice said, and the drone stepped away. It seemed not to know what else to say, and dropped its gaze to the floor. She stood a head taller than him and had claws that could rend bone and flesh, but she seemed very young despite that.

Maddox grinned at the praetorian next. She was a tad taller than her sister, the beginnings of her own crest sprouting out over her head, a little bit like a tribal helmet, the way its bone-like structure sprouted up and away from the cranium. There were many scars and burns across her hide, and he noticed a slight limp as the alien stepped around Maddox from a distance, sizing him up. They would never harm the Host of the Queen, but their powerful presences still had him on edge, no matter how much Amaya tried soothing him.

The praetorian said nothing to him, instead directing her voice to Amaya. You have been absent for a long time, Highness. We’d thought-

Sixty thousand, nine hundred and forty-four hours, since we last saw you in these walls, my Queen, the drone explained.

Yes, thank you for that, sister. The praetorian shook her head at the interruption, focusing back on Amaya. We’d thought you perished long ago. Now you are back?

This wasn’t said in relief as Amaya hoped it would. If it wasn’t for my human I would have perished indeed. She knelt down and folded her hands over Maddox’s chest, nipping at his cheek playfully. My predecessors helped me on my path. We’ve come from the other side of the Capitol. I am pleased you two still stand with this place.

The praetorian huffed through her teeth, then turned to the human. And this is your Host? This sack of pink flesh, him of the same species that wiped us off the world?

Yes. The end of this world has been hard on him.

On all of us. The praetorian let her long tail drag along the floor as she adjusted herself to sit. Where did you find him? He smells of oil, blood and alcohol.

Amaya had them all fall into a circle, with Maddox on her left, and her daughters on the right and in front. She told them all about her journey, starting from her trip to the Lab, where she had been born, to the Bunker. A few times her mind wandered into that pit of self-loathing, as she reflected on all her wrongs, but Maddox reassured her with a few kind words and thoughts. All the while, the Link brimmed with her affection for him, for his understanding of her, and she had to refocus a few times to finish off her tale.

The timing of your arrival is impeccable, the drone said. The storm will arrive within the next two hours.

“But we’re safe in here, right?” Maddox asked.

The praetorian nodded and answered. The Hive has yet to reach that level of decay. The Queen did well in that regard.

Amaya sensed a slight bitterness in the tone, but ignored it for the moment. How much of the Hive is still accessible? Amaya asked. Has there been any lasting damage?

Every electronic lock has malfunctioned, the drone explained. Amaya remembered mixing human tech with her resin, and guessed many of the passages deeper into the Hive were sealed. There are also several collapsed tunnels in this, as well as other, quadrants to our east. We have been unsuccessful in clearing many of them.

Amaya felt her chest tighten. The way east was where the starship was, or should be, if nothing else had gotten there first. She turned her mind to Maddox’s for some privacy. The launch silo should still be there, Maddox. We’re almost free!

We really are, he replied, voice echoing a few times like a signal bouncing through several receivers. Can you remember how intact it was? Do we need fuel, or power?

I… I think I had everything prepared. Hopefully it should be ready to go as long as we can get there. I can dig us all a tunnel through the collapsed areas, since the resin is my own doing. Actually, I remember the silo doors wouldn’t open.

That’s easy. We just need to get a bit of power back on, or we could just break them open. Where did all your electricity come from?

There was a power grid of generators just north of here. Look.

She showed him a birds-eye view of the Hive, the entire layout before him to the best of her memory. She wasn’t quite confident in what she saw, however, and her kin took notice.

That map is inaccurate. I can help with that, the praetorian offered.

As can I, the drone added.

The sisters added their will to Amaya’s, and then the image of the map began to shift. Passages and tunnels Amaya thought existed, were swiftly erased into inky transparent swirls. The directions of caves and other entrances moved to the correct orientations, turning the labyrinth into the complex, but orderly design of the Hive’s true state.

The phantom-map hovered between them all like a hologram only seem by these four. Any other onlooker would have seen three aliens plus a human, regarding thin air with great interest.

Thank you, my daughters, Amaya said. The sisters acknowledged this praise. The praetorian was the next to speak.

Since you two have come here for a reason, I would know what it is.

We have a plan, Amaya replied. But I had no idea anyone was still alive. You two can help us get out of here!

The praetorian gave her a look Amaya couldn’t explain. She could just see into her mind, but she’d respect her privacy. Your will, my Queen. You’re planning to use the starship?

“That’s what we’re hoping for.” Maddox examined the map, hand to chin, seeing the little box-shape of where the power grid room was. He thought he might be able to fix something there, but there was a lot riding on the hope nothing had been damaged beyond repair during the years this place had been abandoned.

My daughter here, Amaya said, motioning to the drone, was good with human tech, if I remember correctly.

You do, the drone said. My assistance could provide a boon, if the Host would have it.

“I think I do. And just call me Maddox.” He cleared his throat. “So, you said the passages over here had collapsed, right?” He pointed at the praetorian. “-oh shit, I didn’t even ask your names yet.”

The sisters gave the human a questioning look. Or as questioning as their eyeless faces could portray. I did not give them names, my friend, Amaya mentally whispered.

“O-Oh. Well, uh, what should I call you two?”

Drone and praetorian, obviously. If you must use words, use them, the praetorian said. And yes, the ground shattered some time ago and closed off a lot of areas over here. We’ve made little progress digging them out. Making tunnels was not me or my sisters prior Hive-focus.

It should be easier if I help, Amaya said, spreading her arms out. Four hands are better than two, no?

The praetorian didn’t match Amaya’s amusement. Indeed. We could be through a lot of the breaches within the day, maybe less.

“Well we’ll only have to get through to here,” Maddox said, pointing at the tall room where the ship was. He’d love nothing more than to see it with his own eyes, as all his hopes of a future were riding on it, and the fact he couldn’t see it put him on edge. “So what I’m thinking is, me and you, drone, go see if we can get something working, while Amaya and praetorian clear us all a path.”

Amaya, tempered with her new addiction to his body and his presence, as well as the guilt from all the years, responded with a hard negative. We should not separate, my love. She hugged him to her side as if to stop him. Not like last time, or the time before…

He quietly laughed. “This is different. I’ve got your daughter here, and we’re pretty safe in this Hive of yours. Besides, if we’re fast we can beat the worst of the storm, and honestly? I’ve spent enough time on this shithole planet as it is.”

You and me both, Amaya said, releasing her hold on him. I cannot deny the time saved would be worthwhile. What do you say, daughters?

The drone nodded, a slight movement she barely caught. Obviously having the Host under her protection was a pressure she wasn’t used to. This seems an appropriate course of action, my Queen.

I agree, the praetorian added. I cannot explain it, but this storm feels different somehow. It will be like no other yet.

“Hell yeah it’ll be different. None of us will be here when it hits.” Maddox was as hopeful as Amaya had ever seen him. Of course Amaya would have to level it with her own doubt, because nothing was ever so simple.

I still don’t like separating. She nudged her chin into the side of his face. You’ll have to make it up to me later.

“Oh I will, no man could deny those thighs of yours.”

Amaya blubbered something incoherent as she stood, suddenly having the urge to groom herself, as she was still a mess from all the blemishes this world had given her (not to mention their combined juices were everywhere). The daughters didn’t seem uncomfortable being in the presence of this mild flirting, and neither did Maddox, not afraid to show others how he felt about her. This in turn made her heart swell with all these new, wonderful feelings. The return of her family, and truly connecting with Maddox? All of a sudden things didn’t seem so bad after all.

As Amaya turned to follow the praetorian out, she yipped when a palm of flesh came down and clapped her on the rump, sending her jumping forward. She looked over her shoulder to see Maddox had just slapped her ass and was holding back a laugh.

She responded by sending her big tail out in a wave, and copied the gesture. All the air exploded out of Maddox’s lungs in a cough, as she sent him crashing face-first into the ground, his legs angling to the sky as he fell into the resin.

Amaya didn’t bother holding her laugh in, hissing and cackling right at him. Two can play at that game, you dirty human.

She helped him up, and the two embraced, diving head-first into hysterics. It just then occurred to Amaya she had never heard Maddox laugh this much before. And on top of that, had never even laughed herself! In those few moments, she judged that life, for what it had been and whatever will be, was good.

2

Maddox hadn’t expected the drone to be so quiet around him, given how powerful it looked, and what he knew about their race as a whole. It seemed to want to travel the half-hour or so walking to the grid in complete silence. He was reminded of himself back when he was in school, keeping to himself in the back corner, only speaking when spoken too. He would have guessed any Xenomorph would have had many questions about him, being a friendly human and all.

Then again he would never have thought the first woman he’d fuck would be a predatory alien bug queen, so all bets were off when it came to guesswork.

It didn’t feel right moving about through the Hive without Amaya, even though he could just contact her on a whim. It reminded him too much of those old days, where his life really was just an empty shell without her side of the Link to guide him along. But the fact remained that if they didn’t want to stay trapped in this Hell they needed to move quickly. Besides, they could never truly be apart from each other anymore, not with this penultimate state the Link was in after their interspecies rutting.

He was sure that any other human would see this sexual act as disgusting. The lowest of the low. But he knew what that was like, and honestly he’d take this Hive over the Bunker any day. Besides, who the fuck cared what his kind thought of him anymore? If he had to talk to another human again, it would be too soon. This place felt more like home than anywhere else already.

Despite her silence so far, Maddox was interested to get to know the drone. He decided to just man up and try to break the ice, if there was any ice here.

“So-!” he began, a little louder than he intended. “how long have you been in this Hive for?”

The drone’s pale head inclined to his direction, but otherwise she just kept on leading the way through the passage.

“Do you… uh, want me to use think-speech? I’ll do it if you prefer. I don’t even know how you know English in the first place.”

I learned your speech through the Queen’s aid upon arriving. Using one method of speech over the other, is unnecessary.

“Oh. Great. I’m not that good at think-talk, honestly. Can’t focus for very long. Says a lot about me, huh?”

There was a faint indication of an acknowledgement, but the Xenomorph just kept on walking. Maddox frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. But then it hit him.

“I’m sorry about what you saw. Before. When your mom and I, uh…” He coughed. “It must be pretty weird having a human in here, right?”

Witnessing coital activities involving my Queen was unexpected. Most humans who come inside this Hive, do not do so out of pleasure.

“You can say that again.” Maddox grinned at the drone, but she seemed oblivious to the innuendo. “But I know all about the birthing cycle you guys have, how you need another species to get going, and all that.”

Did my Queen tell you?

“No, she didn’t have to.” He remembered the discovery long ago, about the chest bursters, and wondered just how fortunate he was that Blankley and his doctors had removed Amaya from him, before he met that similar end as well. “But I don’t care about what you had to do to survive. It was a long time ago.”

The drone regarded him over her shoulder. You do not care for the deaths of the humans in this place?

“Well… N-No. No I don’t.”

You do not, why?

“Way back before all this, Solaris was filled with bad people. Still is. My kind were already killing ourselves before Amaya showed up, so…” he shrugged, as if to say no harm done.

The drone projected an aura of confusion about her. Much of my kin despised each other, but there was never one who hated another. This I assumed universal. For the first time since departing the antechamber she stopped, and man and alien regarded one another. To see a human hate his own species, fills me with great sadness for you.

Her words gave him pause, and now he was the one trying not to look at her. When next he spoke, he was a little quieter than before. “Yeah, I’m… I don’t know how much of Solaris you’ve seen, but… some of the things out there, that my kind has done to each other… I don’t know how much therapy I’ll need to be the same as I was before. If I ever could be like that again, with that outlook.”

“But then I’m also asking myself if I want to go back to like I was, and I do, but a part of me says I don’t. I’ve seen what people do, not just Weyland, but what everyone does when there’s no society holding us back. I want to be better than that, but… I think it’s too late for me.”

He looked down at his hands, saw the blood crusted up between his fingernails, in the folds of his flesh. “Drone, have you… have you ever killed another Xenomorph before?”

Yes. Madness overcame many of my siblings. There was difficulty in telling when one will would break. Survival only ends with death, for one or the other.

“I guess we have that much in common, creepy as it is. How did you end up not crazy like the rest of us?”

I was not created with many emotions you would take for granted. I do not know compassion or guilt, and I do not see my death as something of significant impact. That is the course of the curse placed on this world.

“Curse?” he asked. Did she mean the Fall, or madness? Or were those two things one in the same?

Yes. To fight its strength with all remaining will is the goal of life, the drone said. Is this not so?

“To the bitter end? That’s what you’re saying?” Maddox sighed. “No that’s not the point of life. Maybe one of the points, but not the main one.”

… Explain.

“Well If your aim in life is focused right at the end of life, doesn’t that seem a bit strange to you? If you want to learn compassion, and guilt, it’s the things before the end you’ll want to look at.”

Example?

“I… How about your sister? You two seem to have been helping each other for a while.”

Fifty-nine thousand, five hundred and nine hours since our first introduction.

“The time doesn’t matter. Well, actually, it does, but the point is you two are sisters. She’s a part of your life. She should be a goal in your life too.”

My sister does not appreciate the majority of my actions. She once said my presence could quote, ‘rid the world of insomnia’.

“I’m pretty sure she meant that in good fun, but don’t you think if you died, she’d be upset about that?”

The drone took a moment to answer. I can see the point you are making. My sisters love is the purpose of life?

“Yeah! Love is pretty powerful. It sounds like something out of a movie, but I think it’s true.”

I do not have a template to compare, but perhaps you are wise among humans. I will take your counsel into thought.

“Oh I am very much not wise. Let’s get that straight.”

The drone seemed to have warmed up a little, after this talk of death and life. She stood beside him instead of leading the way as they resumed their walk. They filled the silence with a bit of small talk, and Maddox got a glimpse of her past.

The drone had a hard time surviving during the years of the Hive’s life, which was strange given that Maddox thought the Hive being active would be a good time for the Xenomorphs. With the decay of the Hive-mind, the drone would often be ridiculed, sometimes outright bullied by her fellow sister-drones, sometimes because of her mutated exoskeleton colour.

“That’s just stupid,” Maddox said. The pale grey Xenomorph was unusual to the standard ebony black, but it made the drone stand out in his books. “I kind of like your skeleton, and how the light reflects off it, sort of like the moon. It’s nice.”

Maddox hadn’t complimented others very much, but saying to someone ‘you have a nice skeleton’ -had to be the first, and most likely, worst thing he could have said to make someone feel better.

However a grace of luck swept by, as the drone seemed to beam at him after he spoke. The moon? Was I just compared to the moon?

“Uh, yes?”

… Question.

“Yeah?”

Do you know what the moon looks like? From before?

“I saw it loads of times, yeah.”

Could you picture it?

“I think so. Why?”

I would wish to see it. I realise this request would sound dull to you, but it would please me very much.

“Sure I’ll do it, and it’s not dull by the way. Hold on.”

He closed his eyes and tried to see the moon, remembering this one time he’d looked at it through a telescope, and saw all those little craters and divots across its smooth surface. It wasn’t long before he felt the drone’s presence nearby, not in the physical sense, and she was knocking on the door to his mind. The excitement radiating off the drone made him grin. He let her in.

I only glimpsed it once a long time ago and was summarily enraptured. Then the clouds descended. Have you ever been there?

“To the moon? Sorry, no. There’s no air there, so you can’t go without spacesuits and stuff. And there’s not much to see anyway.” He hated how much that sounded like he was pissing over her dreams.

A shame. Thank you for showing me, regardless. I would ask that I take this image for myself. The way you perceive this world is fascinating.

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Sure. You really like the moon, huh?”

Yes. It is always there, moving ever onward, even if we cannot see it. The stubborn little thing reminds me of… The drone paused, tilting its head to ponder. … me.

“It’s not so little as you think.” He showed her his memories of an ancient video – the first ever moon landing, back in the Solar system where humanity originated from. This the drone drank in with great interest, adding in some poetic metaphor on how the moon representing some other aspect of her life or the Hive’s persistence.

What was the moon called in Sol? Maddox asked himself. He racked his brain for a minute before finally realising. “Hey, drone, I just thought of a great name for you. Amaya told me they’re pretty powerful for you guys. What do you think about Luna?“

Luna…? she said, tasting the word. Are you certain?

“Yeah. I mean it’s up to you, but I think it suits you. So what do you think?”

Your point is valid. I shall use this ‘name’. You are very kind.

“It’s no problem.” He elbowed her. “Luna.”

The contact made the alien chuckle. At least, that’s what the hissing sound Luna made could be interpreted as. Maddox didn’t expect Luna, a Hive drone, to be so curious about something like the moon. If Maddox imagined honey bee drones speaking Luna would fit the role perfectly, but he had to remind himself that she was much younger than he or Amaya.

They moved through the twisting passages, some of them three times his height and just as wide, until they moved into a much larger space. This deep into the Hive, the evidence that this place used to be a spaceport was becoming harder to notice. Without thinking about it, he knelt down and placed his hand on the ground.

The resin ever so slightly reached up to greet his flesh, not pulling or tugging, just resting against his fingers and palm. It was such a strange texture, a bit like the surface of an egg without the shell. If he didn’t know any better, he could guess the exact shape of this next room. The roof was curved, the length long but the width quite short, a place to store large machines.

“A hangar,” he said. “this used to be a hangar.”

Correct. Luna had gone ahead but stopped when she noticed he was kneeling. How did you know this?

“I… I’m not sure.” He pulled his hand away; half expecting the resin to resist and pull him down like something out of a horror movie. Of course it didn’t, and he put his hand in front of his face. Not even a fleck of resin had come with him. “I just saw it.”

Luna left her questions unspoken, waiting as the human recovered from his strange experience. He was giving off many signals and emotions similar to what her kin produced back during the Hive’s ‘life’ as she put it. It was odd to see these scents coming from a human, but if she closed off all her visual senses… it was hard to think the being travelling with her wasn’t Xenomorph. He even smelled like the Queen, and this led Luna to believe Amaya had done that on purpose to mark him as hers.

We have arrived, she said after a while, as they moved into the hangar’s western exit. Here the tide of resin gave way to more human influence. Dominating the space was a broken wire fence surrounding six contraptions, all lined up in a three-by-two grid. Coils and spikes jutted out of the rectangular bulks, some of them connecting via copper wires. A seemingly random number of wires fed up into the ceiling, where slivers of outside light slipped in through small slots. Those undoubtedly led to other contraptions like this one, to feed power into other parts of the Hive, and the facility it stood upon.

Maddox gave an impressed whistle, making Luna turn her head to him. She’d never heard such a weird noise. “Look at this shit. You’ve preserved all the components and everything.” The human rubbed a hand over the nearest machine, a layer of dust coming away with his palm.

Several drones used this space. I was not alone in my studies. Luna tapped a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. The motion was innocent in of itself, but she found his flesh warmer than she expected. Is this machinery functioning? Or capable of?

“It’s pretty different to the stuff we had in the Bunker.” Maddox wiped the dust on his pants. “But I wasn’t called Chief Engineer for nothing. Is there a control box anywhere? Or like a centre console?”

There are several points of interest in this room. That one over there appears most important.

“Where? Um… Yeah, that might be it. Could you go look for me while I have a take a crack at this?” He pulled from his satchel a couple of tools she vaguely recalled the names of, having used human apparatuses before.

Yes. She moved around the machine grid to the other side, the sounds of screws and panels being removed filling the chamber as she went.

She stopped before a curved pair of terminals and screen dashes. Some of the lights here were blinking on and off. Most of the machinery was covered in resin. Luna reached down and peeled parts of the substance off, revealing the metal and buttons beneath, all in very good condition despite the years. As far as she knew, she and Maddox were the first to set foot in here in a long time.

I have arrived, Luna projected across the space. Maddox shouted back a reply, despite knowing he could speak just like she did.

“Alright, do you see a main switch, or something? Bigger than the rest?”

She blinked down at the technology before her, replying after a moment. There is a large switch here, yes.

“Okay, is it on ‘off’ or ‘on’?”

… I cannot read.

“The letters are scratched off?”

No. I cannot read.

“Oh you mean-? Okay, well, is it up, or down?”

It is flipped up.

“Switch it to the other one, then come back here.”

With a loud thunk, she pulled the lever. A dying, electric whir bounced off the walls as what limited power in here was cut short. Returning to his side, Luna saw the human was digging into the guts of this particular generator. You had me turn off the electricity?

“Yeah.”

This will help, how?

“So we don’t get whopped by a million volts while we work.” He ripped out a fist-sized circuit board, little broken wires sprouting out of it like hairs. Even she knew it wasn’t supposed to look like that. “If something like that happened, we’d be in for a bit of a ‘shock’, wouldn’t we? Hey?”

His pun was met by a blank look. “Never mind. You see these wires here? Grab onto them for me, will you?”

Soon they were stuck into repairing the Hive’s power supply. At first she thought it very strange to be working with a human, taking orders from him, but she quickly overcame the hesitance, Maddox’s own confidence reflecting onto her. She asked him how he knew so much about electronics, and he went into detail of his work in the Bunker. Not all the memories were pleasant, but it was a nice distraction while it lasted.

She was up above him, rearranging wires into different slots in the fourth generator they were fixing. “Okay Luna, the red wire is positive, and the black one is-“

Negative. This I know. She fixed the copper ends into the correct places before Maddox could explain. The human blinked up at her.

“You seem to know your stuff, Luna. How do you know about all this? No offense, but I didn’t think tech was a Xenomorph’s specialty.”

I am the only survivor of the original group of ‘engineers’ you would call them, who was given more knowledge and freedom, than the later sisters who replaced our casualties. I was the most capable. Luna gestured at him. –Until your arrival. Your knowledge is unparalleled.

Maddox actually felt a bit flushed at her compliment. “Thanks, that means a lot, from one Chief Engineer to another.” He cleared his throat as he got back to work. Having someone around him who knew her stuff almost as much as he did just felt great for some reason, a much better companion than Jack had been. “So, Amaya had you fix up this place ages ago? To try and get out of here?”

Yes. Mother wasted no time after the discovery of the starship. There was one last obstacle in her way before the machine could be launched.

“The verbal launch codes,” Maddox said. “she told me about that. Hey, do you think that… that if she didn’t need those codes, she would have left this planet straight away?”

Yes.

“And she didn’t, uh, mention me at all? Nothing about her Host?”

No.

Maddox didn’t want to make it all about himself, but he couldn’t help but ask. If he took Luna’s words as the truth, Amaya truly would have forgotten him if she had left. The Link would have weakened with distance, and that would’ve been that. He would probably be lying on the beach, dead, being feasted on by that pack of Gooret that had almost got him.

But that was in the what if train of thought, and he knew going down that path was dangerous as well as foolish. He could not deny that he loved Amaya, and for all that happened, and what could have happened, was nothing compared to his feelings for her. She was his world, and pairing that with the vivid dreams she created, he could say that in more ways than one.

Plus, if he wanted to loathe Amaya again, he’d have nothing worth fighting for, and the starship would just be wasted on him. It might still be wasted regardless, but he wanted the best for Amaya, and by extension Luna. If these were the only Xenomorphs in existence (the predecessors didn’t try to deny this), then the fate of a species was on his shoulders. Better to do that with a clean conscience than not.

In a couple hours they finally made it to the last generator. Side-by-side the man and alien worked to restore the machine. Sometimes Luna would ask for one of his little tools to help, but mostly she just used her claws to do the heavy work.

Do you not despite screwdrivers? she asked, seeing he was using one right this moment. You put it in the screw, and it flicks out. She demonstrated with her hand. You put it in again the other way and it still flicks out. The human who designed that should evaluate his life goals.

Maddox laughed at the mutual annoyance. In all the years in the Bunker combined he had never so much as chuckled as acting Chief Engineer, and now he was finding alien company more pleasant than human. Just what is happening to me? Maybe the Link was, or already had, warped his mind into something different from what it was originally, and the idea couldn’t that far-fetched, could it?

He pushed the thought aside as he screwed the panel back into place. So what if the only person he could not only talk about work with, but be proud knowing she both learned from him, and vice versa, was an alien drone? Who cares? Or better yet, who was left to care?

“I think that should about do it. Let’s turn them back on.”

He put his tools back into his satchel, and followed Luna back to the main terminal. He waved a hand at the main switch. “You can have the honours, Luna.”

The Xenomorph beamed at him, giddy every time he used her name so casually. She stood proud, one hand grasping the main switch. She paused for one dramatic moment, then swung the switch.

There was an audible activation of energy swirling through the room, a whir of both seen and unseen motors gradually picking up in speed. Maddox was about to raise his arms to the sky in victory, when there was a cough of smoke from one of the terminals. The fans stopped spinning, ozone stopped burning, and all went pathetically silent.

“That’s not good.” Maddox ran a diagnostic scan and read out the coding listing away on one of the screens. “Everything should be working, but it’s… Hmm.”

There is another room below us, Luna said, having just remembered it. A point of equal interest. There is a machine similar to these, only not.

“Let’s have a look then.”

There was a curved chute leading down through the floor in the corner. Luna went first, Maddox behind. The room was small, most of the space dominated by the large machine Luna had mentioned. The model was old, but he recognised it as the main power router – and judging by a quick looker over, an easy enough fix. Another half an hour of removing panels, replacing wires, system repair scans, then replacing panels, eventually got the machine into working order.

“Okay, I think we’ll be good now, just keep an eye on it while I run another scan.”

I do not have eyes.

“You know what I mean.”She watched him move back up the passage to the room ‘upstairs’ before turning to the machine. Maddox hit the main switch again, and Luna heard the sounds of electricity boot up again. The cough of smoke didn’t come, and Luna began to feel excited, at least until the machines screwed up again, and she tried not to let her annoyance show. Fifteen more minutes of repairs came and went, and this time Luna was certain the ‘router’ would hold together.

It is done. I’m coming up now.

Luna just put a foot into the upward passage, when the sounds of scratching made her turn around. Moving in the shadows in the back of the room was a long, thin creature, with its bulbous head reared up at one end of the routing machine.

It shared many physical traits with the snake, except this one was as long as she was tall. It’s wide, disgusting body was covered in layers of chitinous plating, with liquids secreting out in various spots between the armour. Luna knew the reasons for this secretion were to mask its scent, as she had only ever been able to detect these creatures through sight alone. They didn’t even emit brainwaves that she could sense.

But that didn’t mean they were stupid. Even her big sister had trouble taking on more than one of these ‘leeches’. She called them that because they had an amazing taste for Hive resin, and electronics to, judging by the way it was gnawing at the router’s back end.

Pests… Luna growled, reading her claws and tail to strike. She thought she had the advantage of surprise, approaching the creature from behind, but she quickly earned a slice on the arm when the leech snapped away from the machine and chomped down on her limb.

She whirled around and slammed the creature into the wall, then began ripping its skull open with her free hand. Luna was not nearly as strong or experienced as her praetorian sister, a drone not a warrior. Her usual threats were stubborn machines, and occasionally the rare human or other alien, and these were usually incapacitated as she carried them to the egg chambers, and so her ability to off this pest was easier said than done.

Her claws reached the bones inside, but the leech only clamped down harder. Her tail came up and sliced away at the things belly, but the tough, armoured hide deflected her attacks. Even the acidic blood spilling out of her wound didn’t deter the creature. In fact, it began to bite down harder, addicted to anything that was Xenomorph.

Squishy brain matter rubbed up against her claw tips, but the creature didn’t seem to really need it either, the air wafting out of its nostrils still stronger than ever, angry eyes staring into her. She lifted her hand out of its skull and hooked a claw into its singular eye-hole, using the added injury to lever the thing off her arm and into the ground, where she proceeded to pummel its face with several rakes of her claws.

She didn’t feel its tail wrapping over her arm holding it down until it applied pressure. Her limb twisted the other way and she screamed. Her vision was starting to go dim with pain when she heard boots thunking towards her.

“Aahhh!” Maddox yelled, something between a war cry and a grunt, bringing his machete to the creature’s neck. His aim was true, the blade wedging between two plates of armour and working its way to the meat of the creature. Luna held the creature in place as best she could, relying on a human for support, for the first time of her life.

The blade went up, and swung back down again, wedged the same weak spot. The tip of the blade came out the other side of the skull, and the life in its eyes began to dim. With a pained screech she chucked the thing into the far wall, where it slumped to the ground in a writhing mass, which eventually stopped moving.

“The shit was that thing?!” Maddox gasped, watching the leech with a wild eye. He bent down and offered Luna a hand. Luna was just about to take it, when the leeches body snapped up and beat her to it.

The human shouted every curse word in the English language, as the snake-like body wormed across his arm and embraced his chest. The head-wounds were still gushing rivets of black blood, the flesh squelching as muscles still worked without a brain’s input. “Oh fuck-! Get it off get it off get if off!”

Luna was up and pulling the body away, claws hooking into the gaps of the chitin. The frantic Maddox twisting and turning and screaming was not helping. They were lucky that the strength of the leech began to fade, as the body began to slowly calm down and accept its death, or else it might have choked him.

She plucked the rest of the leech off Maddox at last, holding it away from her like it was a filthy, bleeding rag. She tossed it over her shoulder, where it clunked like a bag of dropped bones, then turned her attention to her wound. The bite was itchy, but the bleeding was letting up. Past experience soothed her in knowing the leeches were not poisonous.

“Whoo-!” Maddox breathed. It was hard to tell if he was scared or relieved. Probably both. “God, what the fuck-? Was that a snake?”

A pest. I had not noticed its presence, until just now. She regarded the still-twitching corpse of the leech, ready to act if it moved again.

“Are there any more of them?”

There is a possibility.

“That’s great,” Maddox sighed. Luna wondered why he would think so, considering his appearance. She looked him up and down.

Are you injured?

“Mentally, yes. But I’m fine. You?”

She came up to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, making him blink up at her. She presented the arm the leech had tried to break.

It would have crippled me if you had not come. You saved me.

“Yeah, right before you saved me just then.”

Semantics.

Careful of her blood, she reached behind and around and pulled Maddox into her embrace. He stood stiff at first, his hands by his sides unsure of what to do, but slowly he returned the gesture, making the young Xenomorph trill with glee. Who was he to deny a hug?

Smart, brave, and very warm, Luna said. This is why mother loves you.

“Not the words I’d use,” Maddox said, remembering over the years all the times he was stupid, cowardly, and cold on the inside.

Luna broke the hug, moving so that their faces were inches apart. Modest as well. If you were born as one of us physically, you would pass as a prince.

“Prince?” he asked. “Is that another type of Xenomorph?”

Yes. Princes were in the upper castes of the Hive. They possessed many traits you have. In a completely unrelated note, they were also allowed many breeding privileges with the Hive Queen. A perk you also share.

“I needed to be reminded of that, thanks.” Heled the way back into the generator room, aware of how close Luna was. “Were there many princes back in the day?”

No. The Queen – Amaya, excuse me – was not willing to produce any. The reasons, I do not know.

Maddox thought he did know, and felt flattered for it. Amaya had saved herself just for him, even though she had been consumed by madness. If he needed another reason to love her, he just found one.

For the final time – Maddox was sure – they were back at the main switch. “Unless another leech-thing comes around, I’m pretty sure we’re set.” He waved at the terminal. “Hit the switch, Luna. It’s your Hive.”

Our Hive, Luna corrected, and the words made his heart skip a beat. Not because they scared him, but because he couldn’t find any reason to deny them. He was so comforted by these organic walls. He could feel the resins vibrations through his hands and feet. He was not only calm around these alien beings, but also attracted to them. And to his shame, his eyes were lingering over Luna’s form, as she turned around and presented not only her muscular back, but her equally toned buttocks. Am I a prince? Human? Something in between?

Luna flipped the switch. As before, the sounds of ancient systems rebooting filled the room, only this time instead of sputtering to life, a healthy thrum erupted from all around, like the engine of a car purring to life. Licks of electricity sparked off the tops of the generators. Unseen currents travelled through the wires feeding out of the room.

Although they could not see it, they could feel the energy pouring back into the Hive, reviving its great consciousness. Sporadic searchlights flicked to life across the labyrinth of tunnels and passages. Halls were illuminated, sealed doors were opened, and the general din of electricity, a noise lost on this world, was slowly projected across this portion of Solaris.

And though he had no way of telling, Maddox knew somewhere in this alien haven, a starship’s systems were coming to life. The home stretch, as the old saying went. He hoped Amaya and the praetorian’s mission went as well as his and Luna’s did.

3

Amaya was so buzzing with excitement that she couldn’t stop purring. Her daughters! Alive, in the flesh, and all this time had been tending to this old place, awaiting her return! Most of her mental capacity was focused on not grabbing up the praetorian and hugging her until she popped.

Even though nothing could compare Maddox’s presence, there was just something about having another of her own flesh and blood around. Her maternal desires surfaced above all others – she would always be a mother before anything else, and now that her daughter was here – two technically – that persona, long buried, was here and it was wonderful. It was like she was on a permanent high, and she’d ride it for as long as it would go.

My Queen, could you… BACK UP, please?

They had been waiting for a few moments at a junction with an open roof. Once a break in the downpour came, they would cut cross. They could already see its acidic effects on the floor resin, melting it like black ice cream.

The praetorian had sat on her haunches patiently, while Amaya had set behind her like some sort of stalker, purring right into to her daughter’s ear-hole the entire time. Amaya looked like she’d just been slapped in the face, noticing her closeness.

Oh, forgive me daughter. I forget myself. Amaya stepped away, but still kept her within arm’s reach.

Clearly. The praetorian saw the window they’d been waiting for, and dashed through the open like a speeding bullet. Amaya followed after just in time – the rain came back right as her winding tail reached safely out of the rain’s path.

The tunnel here split off in two directions. Her daughter led the way into the left passage. Some of these tunnels seemed a lot bigger than Amaya remembered. Jumping up to the ceiling would take an effort, and she was pretty tall. Small, succinct passages were more efficient in terms of space.

Have you been renovating in my absence? Amaya asked. The praetorian sent her a positive.

I felt we could use more space. These halls barely fit anyone bigger than my current size.

A wise choice, daughter. I used to bump my head quite frequently! She chuckled at her own clumsiness. Her child did not join in, which Amaya found strange.

For ten minutes they walked through the turning passages, until at last coming to a dead end. Here a pile of earth and rocks had collapsed, and such an obstacle would have been impassable if not for the resin spreading its mass over time, absorbing the material. Now it was just a big pile of Xenomorphic flesh that could be easily cleared.

The praetorian wasted no time, raking a claw through the obstacle and pulling away a fistful of resin. Amaya approached the blocker and reached out. Her long claws passed through the resin like it was melted butter, and she easily grabbed up double the amount her daughter did, for half the effort.

You did not leave at all? Amaya said as they gradually cleared the war. This entire time you and your sister have held this ground?

We went out sometimes to hunt, but yes. The praetorian tossed clump after clump over her shoulders, burrowing into the obstacle. Where else could we go after you left?

I… I thought my last daughter had perished. The vision of the drone messenger flicked through her mind, gone but never forgotten, no matter how much it hurt otherwise. I heard nothing and no one that final day.

Just because you weren’t listening doesn’t mean we weren’t trying. We could sense you after the betrayal of those human rebels. All of us were demoralised when you up and left without a thought.

I could imagine. A thought suddenly hit Amaya. Are there any other survivors? Is anyone else still alive?

The praetorian gave her a look she could not discern. It wasn’t until later, that she realised that question made her seem so uncaring. No, her daughter said. It is just me and my sister left. And you, of course.

There was something off about those last few words, but Amaya could not place what. A few minutes later and they breached the obstacles other side, two silhouettes of Xenomorphs left in their wake. After clearing out a bigger opening so they didn’t have to hunch to enter through, they moved on.

The good news was that not every passage had collapsed, as several turns passed until they found another pass to clear. The bad news was that the obstacles got thicker and harder the closer they got to the starship’s location. She hoped against hope the silo wasn’t completely caved in.

Mother and daughter soon stopped to rest their arms. Amaya thought it a good a time as any to say, I am sorry you two had to stay here without me. It was never my intention to keep you here.

It wasn’t your will that bound us here, the praetorian said. Amaya thought perhaps she had stayed because of her, but apparently her arrival here was just as surprising to her kin. This is the only place not immediately hostile to us. Even today we are still hunted. We had no choice but to stay.

I understand. But still, I am so happy to see you! Amaya curled her tail around and slipped the blunt side over the praetorian’s shoulder.

You are surprised. It wasn’t a question. Amaya thought it odd she was the only one excited about this reunion. Wasn’t a daughter and mother relationship special for both of them?

Of course I am. To be among my own kind again is… amazing.

Your own kind, my Queen? Why do you speak like that? Satisfied with her rest, her daughter resumed clearing the path, brushing Amaya’s tail away like it was annoying her.

The isolation has gotten to me, I’m afraid. It might take some time for me to adjust again.

Another several years, perhaps? the praetorian said sarcastically. Maybe after that you could remember the layout of your OWN Hive, and not have to rely on your brood for help.

Amaya stopped in her tracks, facing her daughter. She didn’t need to do that given her lack of eyes, but she did it anyway so the younger Xenomorph took notice. Is there something wrong, my child?

No. She kept digging, burying her head in resin.

I know the Hive Mind has suffered, but I can still tell when I am being lied to. Don’t disgust me with that behaviour. Now tell me what is wrong.

She was firmer this time, but her daughter still did not reply. Instead further burying herself out of her view, so their faces couldn’t see each other. Being ignored made something snap inside Amaya, and when she spoke again, there was a note of authority buried in the words.

Stop, my child.

She did.

Come here and face me.

The praetorian found herself under a burning gaze. She was no longer under the complete control of the Queen, but when a parent spoke like that, she found herself unable to put up a resistance. Slowly she retracted from the hole she was digging, and turned around so she met Amaya, face-to-face.

Tell me what’s bothering you.

The praetorian’s claws clenched together. She lifted her younger, undeveloped crest to the Queen in a show of defiance. You want to know what’s ‘bothering’ me? How about this? My Queen returns home after seven YEARS without so much as a goodbye, and she acts like nothing has happened, and orders us to serve. The praetorian pulled her shoulders back and stared up at Amaya.

My daughter I-

Stop! Her tail thumped the ground hard. You asked, so let me finish! The first thing you do when you return is ask which way to the spaceship! And then off you go, ordering us about to fulfill YOUR plan.

Amaya suddenly found herself on the back foot. I… I do this for us all! Especially you, my daughter! We all want to escape this place!

You haven’t changed, my Queen. You come in here and get rutted by a human, and suddenly you’re back in charge, and everything is normal! Don’t think I still can’t feel your thoughts. You know I speak the truth. You think using me to get off this world will save you.

No! I would never use you for my own gains!

But you already have! Do you not remember doing so?

Y-Yes, I remember. But I have changed! I’m not the mother you knew. Things have happened, and-

You were NEVER my mother. You were a tyrant. But if you’ve really changed, then tell me who I am. Do you remember MY Host? Do you remember raising ME?

Amaya said nothing.

… I didn’t think so. You tell yourself you suffered, but you haven’t. You may have fooled the human, brainwashing him maybe, but you won’t fool me. If you want closure from me you’ll be very disappointed. She jabbed a claw into Amaya’s breast. Because I will NEVER, forgive you.

Amaya wanted to scream. She had never wanted to vent her frustrations so badly at this moment, her rage only compared to when she had turned feral all those years ago. And that was exactly how she felt, like an animal, as she seized her daughter under the arms and lifted her up, so her legs were kicking in the air.

Every day I live in agony. Amaya said, baring her teeth. Every time I want to sleep I have to hear the screams of my thousands of dead children. I remember every time they died, I remember them in death, not in life, and that kind of torment makes me want to end my own existence. Her daughter, kicking and thrashing, not out of pain but frustration. Amaya pressed on. The only thing stopping me is my human. He is a sanctuary for me, and I love him with all my being. I have faced my wrongs and I will never live without them. Maddox might supress them but the memories don’t fade.

And I will live with this agony willingly. You won’t forgive me? I won’t even forgive myself, but that doesn’t mean I will never stop trying to make amends for my children, dead or alive.

Her daughter was looking up at her in naked fear. Amaya had not hurt her despite the scene, although there had been some pain to help make her point. She let her daughter fall out of her grip, and the both of them sat back in exhaustion.

Amaya went to say something to break the silence, but she couldn’t. She could only dip her head in shame, because her daughter had seen right through her, and she was right. Careless, traitor, deserter… Tyrant. She was all these things and more. How could she expect closure from all that?

Mother and daughter watched each other across the space between them for a while. Then the praetorian slowly stood. She looked over at the rubble and flicked her tail.

We should… keep clearing the path.

… Yes. Okay.

Amaya got up, but not before noticing she was trembling all over. As if talking about her torment summoned their voices, her head was filled with the death-cries of all her losses.

I need you, Maddox. If you can hear me.

The distance, along with all the obstacles, would muffle her pleas, so she didn’t expect an answer. That made it all the more pleasant to feel his warmth, like an invisible blanket wrapping over her shoulders. The voices in her head faded until all she heard was the sounds of them clearing out the obstructing resin.

The silence between her and her daughter, was almost equally worse however.

After five more ‘blockers’ were cleared, Amaya was feeling exhaustion creep into her muscles. Her daughter was lacking in her efforts, but at least she was still trying. It was probably a way of showing Amaya defiance, and was likely lathed in bitterness, but she was proud of her determination all the same.

Amaya was just about to lay down for an hour or two, when the praetorian lifted one arm, an obvious effort, and pointed down the tunnel. We’re here.

She followed her daughter’s gesture down the dim passage, and the sight reinvigorated her. At the end of the passage, twenty or so meters away, the tight confines gave way to a great opening. And in the centre of her vision, standing stark white against the backdrop of pitch resin, was the tip of a starship.

At last.

She ignored her aching joints and crawled to her feet, leading her daughter for the first time as she approached the launch silo. Amaya stopped just at the ‘cliff edge’, and peered down the long drop. The starship resembled a bird, if the bird was made of metal, bladed, and carried twin quad-engines on its tail. So not like a bird at all, she supposed.

Much of the steel from the star port still lived in harmony with the preserving resin. Clamps protruded from tall pylons of scaffolding steel, their two-fingered hands clasping the tall length of the craft. Six on this side, and six on the other, holding it upright. Smooth walkways ringed down the sides of the silo, stairways of both steel and flesh lingering randomly throughout the grand space.

Above the starship’s nose, a huge circle of bland steel decorated the vaulted ceiling. There was a jagged line running from one side of the circle to the other, making it look like a giant mouth. She could almost see it opening up and revealing the sky, waiting to embrace the ship into its dark void. Somehow she had to find a way to open them.

The grand sight was breathtaking, an escape within sight at last! There was only one thing that could have made it more epic, and by extreme fortune, it happened a few moments later.

Floodlights blinked to life at several points down the silo walls, basking the starship in a blue glow. Even the praetorian felt her breath hitch at the display. Any being on Solaris would have the same reaction, having a way of escape be so close to them shown in such mechanical beauty

What happened? her daughter asked. The power has returned?

Maddox and Luna have done it. Amaya felt a warmth in her chest, a proudness for both her mate and her child. She had to sit down to try and calm her building excitement. Their prior argument seemed to take a pace away now that something else had their attention.

Luna? the praetorian asked. What is that?

Your sister. Maddox has given her a name. Your sister seems to like hers very much. Maybe you would… like me to…?

Her daughter scoffed, as if the offer offended her. What’s the point? Just so the human can identify me? He’s not one of us.

It’s not just for his sake. It helps you build yourself as an individual. Your sister would say the same.

Do you hear what you are saying, my Queen? We are a Hive, you taught me so when I was born! What has happened to you?

I have changed. Amaya went to touch her daughter’s shoulder. And maybe it is time you do the same.

The praetorian moved away before Amaya could touch her. And go against my nature like you did? You and I both know what that did to us, my Queen.

You don’t need to call me that, daughter. I am your mother.

Amaya would have begged on her hands and knees to be called that. But her child would not give her that satisfaction. Not to me, ‘Amaya’. Not to me

Amaya felt her heart break, and she looked between her feet in shame. It was a long time the two stood in silence, before the praetorian decided to speak. So can we use this ship right away?

I don’t know, Amaya said. Maddox could look at the electronics for us. We should return for them.

Fine.

It felt strange to turn her back on the starship, but Amaya told herself that if this place was secure for several years, it would stay that way for a few hours more. She was filled with a sense of finality, as she joined her child and moved back the way they’d come, but a part of her was wallowing in guilt. A guilt her daughter surfaced with every word spoken.

4

Amaya and the praetorian were the last to arrive back in the antechamber. She started running as soon as she saw Maddox, perched up near the throne talking to her drone daughter. Luna. She had to remind herself that names were returning to what was left of her family, or perhaps her entire species. Maybe she should ask Maddox sometime how he came up with them.

You two have done a wonderful job, Amaya said, bumping Maddox with her tail. All the lights are on and many ways are open again.

The human shared much knowledge with me, Luna said, displaying her memories with Amaya. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before, obviously, but she appreciated the gesture. He was vital in our mission.

“So were you, Luna. We did it.”

Luna gave Maddox a look, and something about it made Amaya feel strange, but she couldn’t place what it was.

“What about you two?” Maddox asked, looking to the praetorian, then back to Amaya. “How’s the ship look?”

Beautiful, at least on the outside. We should be able to pass the security doors now, but we should go together just in case.

This is a wise idea, my Queen. Luna dipped her head. There are several pests infesting our home. We combated one such pest earlier.

Those leeches again? the praetorian asked. I thought I wiped them out last time when I found that nest.

Much like your mental capacity, sister, your assessment is inadequate.

Maddox snickered, and a grin played on Amaya’s lips. The praetorian wasn’t so amused, jabbing a claw at the human.

You taught my sister how to insult me?!

“What? No! I didn’t teach her anything, really!”

It is all in good fun, Luna said. that is what I was told.

The older Xenomorph would have blown steam from her ears if she had the ability to. Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the chamber, tail snapping around in agitation. Amaya wasn’t worried she wouldn’t abandon them or even go very far, but a part of her was still heavy with shame.

I should comfort her, Amaya told the other two, before making to do just that. She was stopped by a thought from Luna.

My Queen, that role would be better suited to another.

She turned on her child. Are you saying you would do a better job than I?

The drone bowed her head, submitting to the stronger Xenomorph. I am saying, that one who would have the most success, would be one who has known my sister for an extended time. Given the added hostility she presents to you, an intervention from another is needed.

“Yeah I could tell she was pretty pissed about that.” Maddox looked to the praetorian, who was too far into the darkness to see anymore.

Amaya noticed she had said her last few words in anger, and realised she had acted much the same way the last time she had been inside these walls. She offered her most sincere apologies to the drone, who accepted them without a word. That was better than her older sister, who’d called her out and spat over her attempts, but Amaya wondered if the drone wasn’t just holding her peace for her sake.

You are right, my child. Go to her. We could use the rest, anyway.

A wise action, Highness. Excuse me, Maddox.

The drone slipped between the two, and followed after the praetorian. Soon she was gone, and Amaya and Maddox were alone.

At least one of my daughter’s accepts your presence. Amaya looked to her friend. And mine.

“What happened?” She sent him a vision of all that had transpired, and he absorbed it all in less than a heartbeat. “I’m sure she doesn’t actually hate you, you’re her mother.”

I’m afraid I’ve been gone too long to change her way of thinking, Amaya said. But… I thought you hated your mother, Maddox?

He went to speak, but nothing came out but a defeated sigh. He was trying to think up an excuse, but she had been on the ball with her observation. “It’s different. My mom abandoned me when I was… oh. I-I didn’t mean to put it that way, but-“

No, don’t apologise. She is right to hate me. As are you to hate your own. I just wish I wasn’t so similar to Rose.

“You’re not, girl. Not even a bit. You’re smart, kind, and you give a shit when it’s so easy not to. I love you more than anything. That’s a pretty big difference, isn’t it?”

Purring, she opened her arms for a hug, which Maddox gladly reciprocated. For a moment nothing else mattered, just the strange couple dwelling in each other’s thoughts, feeling themselves through each other, showering the Link with warmth and affection. “I could talk to her, if you want.”

No, I should fix my own family’s relationship, not anyone else.

“Okay,” he said. He knew she appreciated the offer. “So listen, if there are or aren’t any more problems with the ship, we’ve still got to deal with the launch codes.”

Pulling him away so she could see his face, she said, That is already done. I have memorised them, and I have written them inside the cockpit as well.

“Yeah, but I reckon you should be the one to say them. Think about it, it’s your Hive, you found the ship, and you’re the one who made sure it stayed preserved. And I know you beat yourself up every day because of your broken voice box.”

That’s because I want to speak like you do, with my tongue and teeth. Sharing thoughts was easy, but the power of words went beyond any physical strength. It was more of a personal preference, not anything important.

“Exactly. Trust me, seeing you in that cockpit, hand out like a messiah, unleashing a victory speech with a booming voice? Sounds pretty awesome, right? So while we’ve got time, let’s have some practice.”

Amaya thought about it for a moment, then agreed heartily. Her body craved rest, but verbal lessons shouldn’t tax her physically too much. Hand in hand, they moved out of the antechamber’s eastern exit. The tunnels split left and right, and down the right she could feel the minds of her two children. Down the left fork, they came to a wide room with a crack in the ceiling, allowing a sliver of rain to dance its way to the floor, where a pool was slowly filling.

Here they sat, cross-legged and facing each other, and Maddox begun his lessons. She focused so hard on his open mouth and tongue, seeing the muscles flex and dance about, striking different parts of his mouth to form various sounds. Her thoughts often drifted to what he could do with her mouth, but she quickly righted her attention before delving too far.

It was obvious her memories couldn’t be trusted – the possibility that she’d remembered the wrong codes, or in the wrong order, was always there. So Maddox just went with some of her code words, and other random letters and numbers just in case. Throughout the half hour of learning, there was one little bit towards the end that was worth recalling.

“Okay, try this. Omega. Oh-may-gah.“

“O… Oo… Ooooohhh.”

“You sound like a whale,” Maddox observed with a grin.

Shut up. Her tail came over and he was sent down on his back. He righted himself and cleared his throat.

“Thanks for that. Now come on. Oh-may.“

“O… Ooomeee-?”

“Gah.”

“Oooomeeegaaaa.”

“That’s it! Let’s try something a bit different. Echelon. Esh-a-lon.“

“Ees… Eeelahshon?”

“No, echelon.“

“Eeech.. eeeechaaa… eachano-” -Arrgh! She clenched her hands and tried again, but after a few more minutes of trying, she couldn’t say the word correctly. Whenever she failed she’d switch back to mental-speech, and she could say the word then, but not verbally.

This is so hard! Amaya thumped her tail, growing under her breath. I can’t do it, Maddox. Echelon. See! I can do it now but not… bah!

“It’s alright girl. Probably only tricky because you’ve got a bad teacher, but I know you’ll get it.”

You’re a fine teacher, Maddox. She put a hand on his knee, and slowly traced up the length of his thigh. It’s just my mind is… preoccupied.

“R-Really?” He saw movement between her legs, and watched a drop of her own juices flood down her leg. She must have been holding herself back for a while now. “Any way I can help?”

A couple ideas. Her claws traced over his genitals, then she squeezed his dick through his pants. You could bend me over and fill my womb up for me.

“I think I can do that.” In a flash he started undressing, his mouth invaded by Amaya’s tongue as soon as his shirt was off. They both giggled like kids as Maddox was stripped in record time. Once Amaya had explored his mouth as far as she could, she pulled her lips away, turned around, and pressed her back into him.

Maddox had to nimbly duck away before one of her dorsal spikes caught him in the face. Another spike was poking into his ribs that he couldn’t avoid at their current orientation. It hurt a little, but was bending away so it wasn’t running him through. Amaya was pressing her full weight into his chest and stomach, but he just managed to keep his balance.

He put both hands on her spine, then slowly ran his palms in opposite directions across her exoskeleton with the pressure of a feather. Amaya’s gasps were heaven to his ears (verbal and not). Soon his hands stopped when he reached the biceps of her smaller arm set. The fact that she didn’t have breasts was a slight let down, but her toned backside, with all those flexing muscles defined under a layer of body fat, and her perfect rump behind her thunderous hips, were perfect substitutes for her breedable, matronal body.

Don’t be so slow, my King. Amaya bumped into him, his rod pressing in between her cheeks, the tip rubbing up against her lips. Mama Amaya needs your children right now.

“Geez…” She didn’t learn this kind of talk from him! Wherever it came from, it was a massive turn on. He reached down to guide himself in, but Amaya kept his king sandwiched between their bodies. “I can’t fuck you if you don’t- Ow!“

He’d lost his footing after Amaya towered her full weight on him. He might have been crushed beneath her if they hadn’t backed up into the wall. All Maddox could see now was Xenomorph flesh on all sides, as Amaya compressed him between a wall and a soft place.

Her liquids were spilling over his legs for how much she was squirting. Whatever state of mind overcame her when sex was approaching wasn’t listening to his mental pleas, telling her she was starting to hurt him. If he didn’t want to get crushed he’d need to think of something quick.

His eyes trailed across the nearest dorsal spike, just above his left temple. Maddox hadn’t seen any sort of purpose for them thus far, and he had an idea. It was far-fetched, but he didn’t have much other choice. He pulled his arms from around her breast, reached up, and yanked at a spike.

The reaction was instantaneous. Amaya lifted her face to the sky and moaned something fierce. Her hips bucked back into him hard enough to leave a dent in the resin. He soldiered through the pain, lifting up his other hand to the next spike, and pulled that one down.

Maddox was reminded of reigns when Amaya’s spine rolled away, and she fell to her hands and knees. Her generous hindquarters arched up, Maddox bending over the twin globes at the edges of his flexibility. He squeezed the two generous orbs of flesh as he righted himself. Amaya, no doubt affected by his moves, stayed down as he mounted her.

Her puffed insides were practically begging his dick for attention. Maddox pushed away the length of her tail obstructing him, and squeezed his way into her folds. The lips of her vagina tightened around the base of his cock, and her walls attacked him from all angles.

Both shared a collective groan as they joined, Amaya’s royal pussy instantly setting to work. Maddox had to focus just to not come on penetration alone. Amaya craned her head over her shoulder at him, a seductive grin playing on her panting mouth. I’ve… Ah! -I’ve adapted since last time. H-How does it fit?

His answer was a thrust of his hips. It was hard to do since she kept pinning him into the wall, using it as an anchor to switch her angles so he pressed against every inch of her alien vent, but she appreciated the effort.

Amaya let her face kiss the floor as she gyrated her hips to match Maddox’s movements, and they built themselves a comfortable rhythm. Each time she sheathed him he went further inside her than ever, his head brushing up against the entrance of her womb.

Come o-onnn, Maddox. Father a whole b-brood for me nowwwww…

Maddox’s knees began to buckle, as the electrical pleasure built up to the brink between his legs. Amaya sensed his approach to the brink, and started pumping him into the wall while smiling over her shoulder at him.

His face contorted, and he emptied himself into her greedy hole disappointingly too fast. He felt her walls expand and contort all up his length in a pumping motion, gobbling up all his baby-batter. The pleasure drove Maddox up the wall, literally. His legs gave up on him, and he collapsed forward onto Amaya, who then fell to the ground.

Normally the individual pleasure in the aftermath of such an act would come next. But this was neither normal, nor were Maddox and Amaya considered truly ‘individuals’. The bliss was multiplied tenfold, as the afterglow from one mind traversed to the other. Maddox’s world was pure bliss in a sense that he could just melt into it.

He rolled off Amaya, his cock plopping out wetly, but still standing tall despite how tired he felt. He felt Amaya nibbling on his neck, the tickling making him grin. Maddox grabbed one of her hands and held it to his chest.

“So… you’ve got a clear head now? We can go back to our lessons?”

Soon. Lay with me for now.

They did, her many hands caressing his body as they stared up at the ceiling together, watching the thunderheads roll on through a crack in the resin. The hand he was holding gently moved lower, a claw touching him between his pectorals.

You were my whole world when I was born. Amaya’s head curled up beside his, and they both saw the little scar from where he’d been cut open during a surgery long ago. His heartbeat was racing in both their minds. I’ve forgotten what your heart sounds like. Perhaps if I had heard it sooner… none of this would have happened.

“Maybe.” He kissed her on the cheek. “But it doesn’t matter now. We’ve made it. We’re going to make it. I could never have done any of this without you, girl.”

We may have parted physically, but in here? She tapped her crest. You were always there; I can see that now. I was a fool to ever have pushed you away. I could never expect you to forgive me for that.

Maddox could see how much it hurt her. All the possibilities that she’d abandon him from her mind and world were hard things to forget, especially for her alien mind. He understood her perfectly, but they were still vastly different in general. He couldn’t get angry at her for what could have happened, not anymore, but that didn’t mean the guilt disappeared.

“There is one way you can make it up to me,” he said, guiding her hand down to his waist. Amaya’s lips were a surprised ‘o’, until she saw his cheeky grin.

I’ll accept this compromise, she said, and rolled on top of him. Her grin was wild and hungry as she took his erect member into her mouth. Maddox clutched the thorns of her crest, lifted his head back and moaned like a monkey.

But when he closed his eyes to wait out the blowjob in darkness, he saw a whole new landscape through shut eyelids. He was back in the forest, the one he’d seen when he was near the beach, and the night after they’d defeated the Cleaner. The trees were massive and disappeared into the sky, the grass was green and the water was clear. The dreamworld. As his physical body squirmed in the fellatio, his younger dreamworld-self looked around in frustration. He was enjoying that!

You’ll like this better, said a soft voice, and there Amaya stood, her tail up and her chest down. She wiggled her hips at him, and he went to her like an obedient dog. Perhaps Amaya was manipulating him, to increase his vitality, to be ready for a second, or third round, using his body like she would a toy, but he didn’t really mind, not in the least.

Maddox found that dream-sex was better than anything they could do when limited with flexibility, or gravity. Pretty much everyone had at one point dreamed of going down on or getting downed on by someone, but this was something else. They used every position he could think of, and then some. At one point there were even two Amaya’s, one riding his face, one on his dick. She fulfilled all his fantasies, and he fulfilled hers. He could have looked through her to see what those were, but wasn’t sure he wanted to see himself like that.

All through those dreams they mated in real-life, with the two other Xenomorph’s watching from around the corner. Luna was rather curious, given her own developing bond for the human. The unnamed praetorian wasn’t so eager to watch, though for some reason she couldn’t pull her gaze away. Much as she despised her parent (she wanted another word for it, but that was the best she could do), seeing her writhing in pleasure like that – not to mention the pheromones and thoughts she was emitting – made her imaginative.

We should wake them up, she said to Luna. We could be moving on the starship’s repairs right now instead of… rutting.

That is a more efficient assumption. Luna scratched at her thigh. The sooner you remind those two, the better.

Why am I the one who has to go up and interrupt them? She scoffed down at her little sister. What if I fall over and the human probes me again?

You sound like that disgusts you. Luna looked up at her. Yet you are content watching from a distance.

What? N-No I am not content! I’m just here because you yelled out that I should come look.

Indeed?

Yes, ‘indeed’! Now get away from there. I’ll go interrupt in a few minutes if they don’t snap out of it. She peeked one final time into the chamber and saw their faces. … Or a few hours, she corrected.

5

The praetorian, having the most intricate knowledge of the Hive out of all of them, lead the group through a mess of passages. Maddox was behind her, holding the rifle Amaya had stored in her nest. A couple test shots earlier had proved it was working (he still kept his two pistols and machete on him, making him look like a walking weapon collection). Luna was behind him, and Amaya brought up the rear.

It seemed Luna was the more accepting of the two daughters, and Maddox thought it was probably because of him, even though that sounded like he was full of himself. Whatever strange connection he had with the Xenomorph race; it was showing its symptoms in full force now. He could almost see these ‘predecessors’ Amaya talked so fondly of – a long line of ancient Xenomorph Queen’s, a bloodline that evolved into Amaya over millions, perhaps billions of years. And they could sense him, too. He had a lot of questions for them, but not now. When this was all over, there would be time enough for everything.

“So you’re sure this control room’s alright?” Maddox asked. “Nothing’s smashed too much?”

It will be just like the power room, the praetorian replied. Our Hive preserved most of the machinery – Queen’s orders. We are not the barbaric monsters you see us as.

“I… didn’t say that you were. I’m probably the only guy that thinks you’re alright.”

So arrogant. Any one of us could kill you where you stand if we felt like it.

“I’d like to see you try. I’ve been killing people while you’ve been sitting here doing pest control.”

She whirled around on him, and for a moment he thought she was going to go through with her threat, when Amaya’s voice boomed through both of them. Enough! We’re supposed to be working together. Stop threatening your ally, my daughter.

But he-

And Maddox, I’d thought you better than picking fights with my family. You’re supposed to be one of us.

Maddox opened his mouth to retort. Something childish like ‘but she started it’, or ‘it wasn’t my fault’, but he didn’t, because she was right, and fighting would only prove the praetorian’s point.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, praetorian.”

If Maddox was expecting any sort of gratitude, he was disappointed when the daughter huffed, and continued leading the way without a word.

Are there any more obstructions in our path? Luna asked to no one in particular. The praetorian answered her a moment later.

Only one. I saw it when the Queen and I looked over the silo room. This should be the quickest route.

This is acceptable. The biosphere is reaching hazardous levels.

You think the storm will try and stop us? Amaya asked.

Possibly. From what Maddox has shown me, we will be flying straight through the storm’s influence. This is troubling.

“Starships are made to withstand zero-g,” Maddox explained. “I’m sure a few raindrops won’t stop us. How can you tell it’s getting worse anyway?” As far as he knew, Luna hadn’t left the Hive during his stay.

As you humans would say, I feel it in my bones.

That made Maddox smile, only because it was strange to hear a shared interspecies saying. He was confident in this starship’s ability to keep them safe, but then again he’d never experienced the full wrath of these apocalyptic weather changes. They could end up being blown up in the atmosphere by a huge lightning strike. That would be cruel to be killed like that, without any way to fight back, and right before escape.

He could see the faint traces of Amaya and her daughter’s clearing work as they made their way deep into the Hive. Sometimes the tunnels would shrink to the size of their silhouettes, forcing them to enter through the gaps sideways.

Soon they were all through to a particularly wide, but low space. Amaya idly explained its purpose as one of her planned egg-laying grounds, though it was never used for obvious reasons. Maddox sent his warmest thoughts to console her – stillbirths just happened, in no way was it her fault. It was a hope she held on tight, letting the Link shine bright in this dark room.

They were halfway across the grounds when Maddox felt a tail slap him in the chest. For a moment he thought the praetorian was trying to attack him, and had raised his rifle a little before noticing her intent was to stop, not harm.

Mind your step, she said, and pointing a claw down. He followed her hand and saw a knee-deep hole in the floor, and he’d almost walked into it, and might have broken an ankle or something if not for her.

“Thanks,” he said. He gave the hole a wide birth. “Hey, isn’t it strange how I have eyes and you don’t, but you saw it before I did? Think about it.”

One could say my sister possesses a very good ‘eye’, Luna said. Or maybe you could not. I believe that is one of those ‘word plays’ of yours, Maddox.

Maddox’s eyes must need more time to adjust. That might be the ‘resin’, Amaya said, holding out a clump of the Hive material. Ha. Get it?

Up ahead, the praetorian produced a snort. This human’s influence is starting to drone on you, sister. She gasped. Oh no, now I’M doing it!

The praetorian wasn’t laughing as much as the other three – not at all in fact – but at least she wasn’t left entirely out of the group. For the first time since the Fall, Maddox felt he was actually part of something. Before all this he was a loner, and after the apocalypse, an outcast to his own race. This wasn’t to say what he had with Amaya wasn’t special – she was everything he could ever want and more – but having more than just her around made him feel truly part of a Hive mind, a collective consciousness, a team effort. He could never stand to let it go. Having only his thoughts to listen to, like a normal human did, was just too cold and despairing to endure.

Another twenty minutes passed, until at last they came to a final passage, leading to a dead was a dead end to the Xenomorphs, but Maddox felt comforted seeing preserved steel from the other world, the one before this current living hell.

The sign above the door was a stark white against the surrounding resin. Control Room, Level 3. It was strange to think they were all up in a spaceport tower’s highest level. He’d assumed they were deep underground. Or maybe level 3 was underground. His sense of altitude was all out of whack.

Maybe because that’s the human part of me still thinking.

A DNA scanner sat beside the security door, a bright green shape of a hand in the middle of a black screen. Just for kicks Maddox put his hand on the outline. A little note confirmed he was human, but another, stern blip -sound told him he was unauthorised.

“Show time.” Maddox cracked his knuckles, a little more dramatically than he intended.

What’s that Maddox? Amaya said.

“Uh, I said no time. This should be easy.” He knelt down, and as he got his tools, he noticed a few dents on the bulk of the door, like someone had smashed a rock there several times. “Anyone know what those are from?”

I tried to bust down this door a long time ago. The praetorian seemed to blush as she explained. That’s how I lost this. She pointed to at her crest, to a little thorn that looked like it had been cut in half. It’s tougher than it appears.

Actually, it does appear tough to me, Amaya said. but you used your head, so that’s good.

A broken panel, a few swapped wires, and a thousand questions from Luna, and they were in. The room was shaped like a hexagon, six sloped panes of glass presented a panorama of more flexing resin, except for the one on the eastern side. Maddox’s breath hitched when he saw the view.

It was only the bottom quarter of the starship, with the two giant wing tips curving along its rear, where the twin, giant engines rested on the launchpad, but he was still taken back. A wide walkway stretched across a dark abyss separating the starship from the flight deck, like a moat of ink. This walkway ended at the ship’s airlock, the one entrance into the giant vessel. Yet he knew the interior space was smaller than one would think. The four of them should be able to fit inside. Amaya might have trouble, but she was pretty flexible (as he knew quite well).

We are so close, Amaya said, standing by his side. Together they watched the ship, willing themselves to be inside it already. I wonder what the stars look like up close.

“You won’t have to wonder for much longer, girl.” He held her by the waist. “Long as I can get these things working.”

I know you can do it. I’ve always believed in you.

With a small kiss, he parted from her, moving over to the terminals lining the room. Luna was busying herself peeling away lingering bits of resin covering the desks and equipment (Amaya joined her), while the praetorian stood guard by the door. Even though they were quite alone in this place, he didn’t say anything. Maybe it was just her guardian instincts kicking back in, now that a guest was here.

Most of the equipment had the life of electricity running through it, fortunately. After a bit of playing around on a keyboard, he pulled up the status board of the starship on a screen. The 2D picture displayed the hull and its integrity – green for good, red for damaged, orange for in between. Only a small section of the lower hull was orange, the rest was intact. That meant it was okay, but maybe it would be better safe than sorry to take a look.

Above this ship display were the words Forlorn Star. Maybe that was the name of the ship by whoever had captained it from before. Funny how he associated before as ‘the Fall’ now, without needing to say it. He wouldn’t need to soon, though. As far as he could see, the ship only needed a few more tweaks.

“Okay, looks like the fuel tanks are good to go, but aren’t full.” The keyboard clacked away beneath his fingers.

Is that a bad thing? the praetorian asked. She stood on his left, looking at a screen her vision couldn’t comprehend.

“Unless we want risk drifting in the void, it is. It says here the fuel pumps need a restart, but they’re all the way on the other side of the silo, and I need to stay here so I can activate them. Running from there to here will take ages.”

Perhaps I can assist in this problem, Luna said. I can be your ‘eyes’. You can guide me through the process from afar.

Plus we can navigate the Hive much quicker than you, Amaya said. Maddox had to agree there – squeezing through vents may have been his strong suit when he was little, but not anymore.

“Good idea Luna. The pumps are here.” He closed his eyes and conjured the map of the Hive they all shared. There was this game he used to play way back when, where you could put down a blinking waypoint wherever you wanted on the level. He used that as an inspiration, focusing on the fuel room and making it pulse with light. Luna sent him an acknowledgement that she saw this.

“Oh and we have to fix one of the ship’s panels on the hull. If it breaks while we’re in space, we’ll…” He didn’t need to say what the worse could be.

Nor did Amaya have to ask him how to fix this problem. Reading his mind was as effortless as breathing. That should be easy. I’ll head down and deal with it.

Maddox gave her a look. “You know how to fix it?”

We are more one soul than two, my love. Your skills are mine, and mine are yours.

“Does that mean I can jump across buildings and crush steel with my bare hands?”

If you put your mind to it. She wrapped his mind with her warmest thoughts, making him sway a little from the sheer power of her feelings for him. Amaya turned to the praetorian. Please watch over him for me. And you watch over her too, Maddox.

Why am I left here with HIM? the praetorian asked. I can fix machines! I’m not stupid!

I never said you were, but please do this for me. This place is important, and it needs your protection.

The Xenomorph scrunched her lip in thought. Then I’ll stay. Not for you, Highness. Let me make that clear.

I understand. Amaya turned on her heel. She sent Maddox a message telling him that she knew he didn’t need coddling, but merely wished to put some space between her and the praetorian.

Maddox sent her an affirmative, giving her his loving thoughts, telling her to be safe. Amaya was purring quite loudly when she left the control room. He could hear her all the way until she rounded the outside corridor, then silence returned.

Perhaps the most awkward five minutes of Maddox’s life went by, as he sat by the terminal while the praetorian stood by the door. Occasionally he’d catch her glancing his way every now and then, and the only conversation they’d had was cut off on her end.

“It’s, uh, pretty exciting isn’t it? Getting off Solaris after all these years?”

Yes.

He raised a confused brow, waiting for her to go on, which she never did. With a sheepish “Okay…?” -he busied himself staring at the diagram of the starship. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable having this warrior-Xenomorph watching his back – it wasn’t like she was going to stab him for no reason – but her obvious demeanour against him and Amaya was a big old elephant in the room, as the saying went.

He drilled holes into the terminal for minutes that felt like extended hours. Amaya was like a warmth just out of reach, as she had to detour around the Hive’s networks to get into the silo. Too far to communicate normally, but close enough to sense each other.

It was the biggest relief when Luna ‘called’ him. The aura of the praetorian was no longer his biggest concern. Now he had something else to focus on.

Luna! Thank God. So you’re at the pump station?

Yes. Who is ‘God’? What did they do to deserve your thanks?

What? Oh, never mind that. Human thing.

Explain.

Later, okay? So can you see the pumps?

Yes. He felt her presence closing beside him. The only way he could explain how it felt, was that a door had manifested next to him, much in the same way as what he had with Amaya. Couldn’t compare to the love they had, however, but the process was similar.

What’s this now? he asked.

I can see machines, but not like you do. If you would guide me, assistance shall be needed.

Right. Okay, here I come.

He wriggled his presence into hers, and was surprised how easy and painless it was. Maybe that was because Luna was a drone, more subject to the Hive’s will. Did that mean he could… control her? He didn’t want to admit he was curious, but he was ashamed that he actually wanted to try it out.

All that was happening to him – feeling the resin like it was alive, absorbing into the Hive mind, strong enough to go hand-to-hand with other humans – it felt like he was being corrupted, warped into something that wasn’t human. A hybrid? He’d imagine Weyland would love to keep him in a lab and run tests. He’d be inclined to agree if it meant figuring out what was happening to him.

-can work now? Luna said.

What? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.

I said, is your vision working?

It was. He was looking through her ‘eyes’ now. All the shapes of the walls and objects in the room were warping and twisting, but with his added sense of colour, these apparitions washed themselves into objects he could make sense of. Confusion and joy were radiating off from Luna – colours were alien to Xenomorphs.

Alright, that big thing in front of you is one of three pumps. Head on over to that screen there.

By the ancestors… Luna genuinely sounded shocked. The whole ‘drone talk’ was gone for a moment. Your world is so bright and… and…

I get that a lot. I don’t want to piss on the whole experience, but we should hurry up.

… Yes. You are right. And there it was again. Maddox felt bad for interrupting her, but he had to. There is a keyboard here, much like the one you have in your location.

Yeah, I see it. I need you to push the top left button on it there… Good. Now, you see that little pad thing on the right? The one that looks like a square? Put your finger on it. No, Luna, that’s your claw, your actual finger.

She angled the claw away in an awkward pose, but eventually she got it. Okay, if you slide your finger around on it, the little cursor on the screen above you moves with you. Put it over that green word that says ‘Scan’. Can you do that?

She could, coming on to the touchpad quickly. She didn’t even need to ask how to click on the command, tapping the pad and initiating the scan before he could tell her.

Okay, that’ll take a few minutes, see if there’s any errors. Hopefully there aren’t.

He was about to move away to his own body – likely standing there with wide, blank eyes while his presence was elsewhere – but Luna reached out to him. Wait. How does the machine understand my inputs?

You mean the keys? There’s… circuits and wires and stuff hidden underneath them. Think of it like the power room, but all crammed into that keyboard.

How is such capacity scaled down?

You really want to know everything, don’t you?

It pleases me to learn from you, Maddox.

An odd feeling brewed in Maddox’s chest. All he could understand of it, was that it was a good feeling. His body grinned as he tried his best to explain keyboards and interfaces to Luna. He wouldn’t figure out what the sensation was of teaching her until a bit later. It wasn’t exactly a mentor-apprentice thing, but similar. But Luna was enjoying him talk on and on, and he was more than glad to share his knowledge with someone so passionate.

A thought occurred to him. Could he have… multiple bonds? He supposed he already had those when he first met the sisters, but what if they blossomed like his did with Amaya? It was already starting to change with him and Luna, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t attracted to the Xenomorph body – and the variance these females had. Was this betraying Amaya? He loved her more than the world (literally), and she reciprocated these feelings. With humans, coming on to your girlfriend’s daughter would earn you a slap to the face or a kick to the balls. Probably both!

Mother and daughter, he thought. What have I gotten myself into?

But, unlike humans, they all had one thing over anyone else. Pure honesty. It would be better if he just told Amaya, and sought her advice. Out of both of them, she was the more Xeno. Who knew how alien relationships worked, especially with a Hive mind to go on top of it?

It would have been easier to just share his life-long memories and experiences with Luna, then he wouldn’t have to stutter and elaborate on the little things for minutes at a time. But that kind of technique he could only share with Amaya, it seemed. Luna expressed that she would like to give him her own memories, so that he might absorb some of her own skills – how to be more agile, stealthy, and work as quickly as she did. With her speed and his human skills, it seemed stupid not to acquire the best of both worlds.

There may be a way to do this, Luna explained. I will think on it.

Okay, he said. But just focus on the pumps for now. Let me know when that light there goes green.

He disconnected himself from her, and the next time he opened his eyes, he was back in the control room. A smooth update let Amaya know Luna was on the right track. He turned back to the overview panel and saw the pumps were starting up after a long absence.

“Okay, we’re looking good.” He said this aloud for the praetorian’s sake. “Uh, praetorian, do you think you could-?”

He heard rapid footsteps behind him, and turned around to see the praetorian had zipped over to the door, opened it, and was looking down the hall, like she was a dog alerted to the mailman’s presence. She was holding up a shooshing finger at him. With his thoughts he asked her what was wrong.

Something’s moving out there.

Probably just a leech? Walking over, he peered over her elbow down the hall, seeing nothing. How can you tell?

Ever since you rutted her Highness I’ve attuned myself. I know a two-legged creature when I hear it.

Two-legged? Unless it was an alien, like the Vylk or some other species (of which he hadn’t seen in a long time) that could only mean one thing. Human? he asked.

The Xenomorph didn’t answer. She bolted down the hall into the dark, her speed rivelling Amaya’s. Maddox put a hand on the door and called out. “Where are you going? We need to stay here with the ship!”

So stay, she said, and was out of his sight. Maddox let out a disgruntled sigh, looking back at the terminals and desks. Any further delays would hinder more than help their efforts, but leaving the Xenomorph alone would make him responsible if she got hurt.

Why did he think this when the Xenomorph was clearly a warrior/predator who’d seen her share of fights? He had no idea. Regardless, he hissed out his favourite curse word, and took off down the resin-strewn path, not looking back.

Through the Xenomorph material he could sense the praetorian’s bounding footsteps to his south, so he took off down that way. As he ran, so did his mind of explanations of who she’d sensed. The first and most believable reason was that the cannibals had followed them. They weren’t completely helpless like the Xenomorph thought – he could tell by the aggressive aura she was giving off – but any attempt to sway her was met with silence.

Soon there was light at the end of one final passage. Light that was more shadow than proper illumination, but enough that he could see the surrounding cityscape being pounded by rainfall. The praetorian was crouched near the Hive entrance, peering over a lump of resin.

Maddox slid next to her and whispered: “The shit did you run off for? No sane human’s going to just walk in this place. Not including me.”

I don’t think it is.

“‘It is’? What are you…?” He looked over the resin, and his eyes went wide. Just walking out of the rain’s downpour were three figures. Two of them were wearing the bug-eyed gas masks much like the one Maddox used to wear, but the third one was not. This bold – as well as bald – leader strutted confidently onto the resin, slowly turning his head down the passage. Maddox had to fight the urge to duck – no way anyone could see them in this darkness.

But there was something wrong with this unmasked man. His steps thumped all the way down the resin for hundreds of metres. “That one in front’s got some heavy boots or something, the whole place is shaking.”

The Xenomorph beside him was equally confused. They’re walking inside? Wh… How?

Another look, and sure enough, the three men were coming this way, each one carrying some sort of firearm. The two flanking the leader appeared as Maddox would expect – pensive and terrified – but the leader was stoic. “Maybe his balls are massive, that’s why he’s so heavy,” he whispered.

Balls? What balls?

“Forget it. Should we wait for Amaya and Luna?

No time. They’ll see you if you try and run now. We must take them here and now.

“Shit.” He thought he was done with killing, but seemed all he got was a quick break. When would it stop? If ever? The footsteps were getting louder now. He switched to thought-speech. I can probably take one out from here, he said, bringing Amaya’s collected rifle off his back, the metal and plastic creaking quietly.

No, you will stay here. I’d never hear the end of it if you were killed.

Thanks for making my death sound annoying, but you’re not doing this alone.

Fine. Shoot the lead one on my signal. Not before, not aft-

Yeah I know when. Geez, just hurry up, they’re almost here!

The Xenomorph slunk away to the right, gluing herself to the wall and moving up its surface, all while managing to scowl at Maddox the entire time. Maddox was too nervous to return the gesture – the humans were less than ten meters away.

Maddox thought he heard one of them talking, and made out the words ‘weather’ and ‘New Batera’. That last one was a neighbouring city to the capitol, way up north. He wondered how they were doing there, if they were all dead or struggling on just like the Capitol was.

Maddox was almost out of willpower to keep himself still, his hiding place washed over by torchlight, when his companion sprung the trap. The men never thought to look above, so they never saw the alien lying in weight with her perfect camouflage. The human on the left was pinned on his back by the shoulders in one, swift movement, and the praetorian’s teeth were the last thing he ever saw. His skull exploded behind the visor, but he still screamed a wet gurgle for a few seconds after the puncture.

The other two men whirled on the alien, pistol and rifle coming to bear. Maddox beat them to it, leaning out of cover and shooting the big man in the back of the head with a three-round burst. He was more comfortable with pistols at this point, but he wasn’t picky. The recoil blocked his view, but he heard the man thump to the ground like a fallen punching bag.

The tunnel went bright with muzzle flashes, as the remaining man sprayed the praetorian down with an entire magazine. A pained screech echoed through the tunnel, and the Xenomorph trailed blood as she ducked back into the resin, climbing and scurrying away from the deadly barrage.

Maddox lined the iron sights up on the other man and fired. Blood and meat burst out of the human’s chest in a pink cloud behind him, and he fell against the wall, still strong enough to realign his weapon. Maddox felt the wind snap as he ducked at the last moment, barely avoiding his head being split open by a bullet.

The praetorian swallowed down her pain and advanced on the remaining human from the side. With a snap of her tail his arms were separated at the elbows, and she held his wailing head as she closed in for the kill.

But a big hand clasping her neck from behind stopped her. At first she thought it was Maddox, but when she focused her attention to her rear, it was in fact the big man with the bullet holes in his head. It was when she felt tremendous pressure on her neck that she realised this was no ordinary man. He was bleeding out of his wound, but the blood wasn’t red, but white, like oozing pus.

The passage fell into sharp, white instances as Maddox dumped his remaining ammo into the big man, who shrugged off his ammo like it were a series of errant flies. He threw the praetorian into the wall, slamming her in the chest with a massive fist, emptying her lungs, before turning his attention on to Maddox, approaching him with an eery calmness.

Maddox’s gun clicked as it went dry. The big man’s eyes were lifeless, little pinpricks of light in the centre of the iris’ were artificial, dead. He brought the stock of his gun up and smashed the thing’s head in, but it bounced away leaving only a dent in the skull.

The big man spun around, leading in a roundhouse kick before Maddox could react. He felt hot pain in his chin as the tip of his boot connected with Maddox’s face, and he was sent flying back. The resin cushioned his fall, but the landing still hurt like a bitch.

Picking up his fallen gun, the big man turned on the Xenomorph, who had just recovered her breath. She was shot three more times before she spear-tackled him to the ground. She pinned the arm holding the weapon with a knee, then began to shoot her secondary mouth into its skull. Each ‘bite’ was bounced away by a thick casing of metal.

The human grabbed her by the shoulder and twisted, and she felt something inside her dislocate. Fighting through the pain, alien and abomination inflicted wounds upon each other with no clear winner. It was forever until Maddox finally recovered and stumbled his way to the fight. He pulled out his pistol and shot the thing in the head, more white-bile leaking out of a hole in its ear. He shot it again in the chest – perhaps vital bits were there two, but the bullet bounced away with a loud pang.

You shot me! the Xenomorph shouted. Stupid human you shot me! Stop firing!

Shit! was all he could ‘say’. Favouring his machete, he brought it above his head in two hands. Out of the way!

She lifted her head to give him, and her enemy, room. Her windpipe was crushed by an inhuman hand, but the pain began to wane when Maddox chopped down at the neck of the big man. Blood and blue licks of energy sprouted out from the thin, but wide wound. Maddox lifted up again, standing like the executioner before the chopping block, and came down as hard as he could.

Hurry! The praetorian could see stars, and not the good kind. Hurry… The hand was crushing her neck in two, right through her armoured exoskeleton, a feat even she could not do!

Maddox gave it all he had, growling like an animal as he came down for the final time. His blade, blunted from all this effort, at last met the resin through the thing’s neck, and he kicked away the dismembered head, cursing every single machine in existence. The body still tried to choke the alien, but with whatever sensors in its head now separated, the praetorian could finally pry herself away. She was alive – gasping, bleeding, and with a few broken bones – but alive nonetheless.

Maddox saw the head roll to a stop, perfectly aligned so the machine could look at him in its final moments. The lights in its eyes died out until they were dull, and with that final action, he and the alien collapsed onto their rears.

“Fucking androids,” Maddox gasped, putting a hand to his lip. He spat out a wad of blood. “Weyland’s long gone but they’re still here. Oh man…”

He looked over, and the praetorian was watching him from over her sternum. She looked like hell, bullet wounds all over her, blooding leaking out and creating little pools underneath her. After putting his weapons away he came over. He felt something wet on his arm but didn’t bother looking.

Is that their name? she asked him, hissing at the broken machine. I just like to call them abominations, freaks of nature. I thought they were partly human.

“They could be for all I know.” From prior experience Xenomorph’s didn’t bleed out, but Maddox helped anyway, taking a bandage from his satchel and pressing it into a bullet wound on her arm. “Shit, are you alright?”

Do I look alright to you? She turned her crowned head to him. It wasn’t comparable to Amaya’s own crest. It was more like a princess’ crown, smaller, and cute, like her head was too small for it to fit properly.

“Well… without the blood and everything, you did.” She held his current bandage while he fetched another, snorting in amusement. At least that’s what Maddox thought.

Is that your way of complimenting me? she asked. If you try and probe me again I will kill you.

“That was an accident. Besides, you jumped on me, remember?” He smirked. “That’s not a complaint, by the way.”

… What was wrong with him? Just in general? Was the adrenaline from a fight almost to the death fuelling him on? He snapped himself out of it, turning back to her wounds and tried to forget he just tried hitting on her. “You seem pretty calm about being shot.”

It’s happened before. And will probably happen again. Luckily she wanted to forget the last five seconds as well. Don’t bother picking out the metal, I’ll do it myself. Thanks for adding to my list of wounds by the way. Stupid bitch.

“Oh, right. Sorry about that.” He saw his own bullet on her skeleton and winced. “Doesn’t seem like it’s hurting you though.”

Say that again when it’s YOU who gets shot, human. But if we’re doing apologies, I am sorry about my blood.

“Huh?” She nodded her chin at his arm, where he’d felt that wetness before. He looked, and saw a small glob of bright green blood on his forearm. His mind went wild with panic, but then he realised it wasn’t painful, even though he could see it was melting his skin.

With a half-scream, he flicked the blood away, getting some on his finger in the process. He wiped it down on his clothes, which were already battered, so he didn’t care if they melted. Where the blood had touched his skin, his flesh was red and swollen, but again, not painful, even though it looked like it should have. His face was scrunched up in confusion as he struggled to comprehend this.

You seem to be taking it well. Sometimes I’ve used blood to ward off intruders.

“Really? Maybe I’m… immune, or something.” Yet another strange, alien thing that had happened to him. What was next, he bled acid? If it wasn’t for all these changes bolstering his will, he’d probably start freaking out right about now.

The praetorian pinched two claws together, and started fishing out a bullet from a spot on her breast. Watching it was painful for Maddox, but she didn’t seem really bothered. He could admire that about her – the guardian must have been the one of the toughest Xeno’s alive.

All things considered, you… fought quite well, for a human. Maddox raised a brow.

“Is that your way of complimenting me?” He grinned.

Ah, the human uses my own words against me! At least you have some measure of intelligence about you. She flicked her talons free of her acidic life-juice. To be blunt, my sister… Luna… she’s become a bit dull over the MANY years. She’s is a drone in the sense of the word, at least until you two came along.

“Aren’t you supposed to look out for her, not just bully her, and talk about her like that?”

I looked out for her for so many years when we were all alone. I love my little sister, don’t you try and tell me otherwise.

“I-I wasn’t! I was… I’ve never had a sister, or brother. I don’t what it’s like.”

An only child? That must have been nice. You were the centre of attention of your parents.

Maddox huffed. “And it must have been nice to have others your age to talk to. You don’t get people like Luna if you’re the only kid.”

But your parents only gave their love to you. They did not have to split it.

“It wasn’t like that for me. I’d like to think that you’re right, but I can’t see that happening with my mom and dad.”

Both of us are ignorant of the each other’s past. And we desire what the other has, or HAD. Maybe there is no better option over the other.

“Maybe. Agree to disagree?”

She nodded, going back to cleaning her wounds, with claws and determination as her only tools. Maddox broke the silence after a moment.

“Speaking of being blunt, I want to ask. Why do you hate Amaya?”

For a long minute the praetorian simply looked at him, the cogs spinning. Let me answer you with another question. Why do you love her? You rut her like she was your soulmate, but would a soulmate abandon you? I was one of her first clutch of eggs, and through all my life she never mentioned your name, or anything about a Host.

There was a point she almost succeeded in her mission, the same one you now have inherited. She would have left me, you, Luna, and everyone else behind if she could. You would say she was consumed in madness, but what you don’t know is she embraced that madness because it helped her supress her pain. That pain would have let her see reason.

But she chose ignorance. I know you gave a great sacrifice to preserve her life at some point long ago. How could you let her squander that without so much as lifting a finger in defiance? How could you love someone who has wronged you, destroyed your entire world, and was willing to leave you purely because it was the easy choice? How could you NOT hate her?

Maddox took her short speech with a brave face, and when it ended he was quiet for a long time. When he was ready, he cleared his throat. “I did hate her. That’s what you don’t know. I hated her with every bit of my being. I blamed her for everything, I let myself fill up with all that anger, and do you know where it got me? It made me go to the point that I was this close to killing myself.”

“I had nothing. No friends, no family, I was alone in a world of people, and then she came along. That last point I let myself forget. When my family sold me off, she was there. She’s my only friend, the first person I loved, the one who brought me back from suicide.”

“I know she’s made mistakes. Who hasn’t? But holding in all that hate brought me nothing but pain. She’s the most honest person I know, and when she told me she was willing to make things right, I believe her. She went across the world to save me. Isn’t that enough proof she’s changed? Because it is for me.”

“You know, a couple hours ago, she told me how much it meant to her to see you and Luna alive. She thought she lost everything, but you two are still here. I’m her Host, but that’s nothing against seeing her own kind again. Her own family. How do you think she felt when you told her you hate her?”

“I understand why you do. But trust me, I’ve gone down that path you’re on, and it’s just not worth all the suffering. There’s enough of that on this world. We don’t have to add to it.”

The praetorian’s shoulders, tensed up, relaxed as she let out a long sigh. Maddox was surprised at himself by his long answer, praying he got his point across. I can sense the honesty in your voice, huma- Maddox. You really love her despite her mistakes?

“Yes,” he said. “She loves me despite mine, and being angry over something now, when we’re so close to the end of all this, I just don’t see the point anymore.”

So lack of time heals wounds? All the years of pain and death, and you expect me to accept her apology. Forgiveness is stupid. If someone wants your forgiveness, then they’ve done something horrible if they had to ask for it. And Amaya is horrible.

“I don’t expect you to do anything, praetorian. I’m sorry you feel that way about Amaya, but she’s… just don’t judge her so hard. She’s trying. That’s all anyone can do.”

Fine. I will consider what you’ve told me.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

When she was relatively healthy, the praetorian stood up again. Maddox offered to help, but the Xenomorph shooed him away. Before they left he took one last look at the android. “So you’ve fought one of those things before? When?”

A few months ago, by your standards. It looked less human than that one, however. Still possessed great strength.

Maddox wondered aloud where it came from, but neither of them could find a reasonable guess. Maybe Weyland had sent in a few androids to mop up the survivors – the world’s biggest cover up in the most literal sense. A part of Maddox wanted to pursue this other android the Xenomorph had seen, something telling him it was very important, but before he could ask he felt the overwhelming concern coming from the rapidly approaching Amaya flood the gates of his mind.

His questions were swiftly forgotten, and the approaching catastrophe remained obscure to the members of the Hive.

Chapter 15

Premonition

1

We should find out where it came from.

The android, battered and broken, lay like a corpse between the three Xenomorphs and the human. Only difference to say this wasn’t a corpse was that it didn’t stink. The stench of death was all too familiar to Amaya – she herself reeked of it.

After Maddox and the praetorian had dragged it here, they’d waited for Luna to catch up, before deciding as a group on what to do. The aforementioned suggestion had been the praetorians.

That would mean going out into the rain, Amaya said. Not to mention that we will be using up more time than necessary.

“That’s right,” Maddox said. “we don’t need to know anything about this thing. Those men probably just jury-rigged it and it led them here, and now they’re dead. It’s probably nothing.”

Even you don’t believe that’s the case, Maddox. The praetorian huffed. How did it know where to find us? Or better yet, why was it coming here?

Did it possess knowledge of our spacecraft, and its existence? Luna wondered out loud.

“Maybe it was tracking Amaya and I while we were out there. Or maybe we alerted some hidden sensor when we got the power running. If that’s the case, who knows how much attention this place has right now.”

So all the more reason we should investigate this abomination’s presence. The praetorian rolled her shoulder, the one that’d been shot.

But who would go? Amaya asked. The weather will kill you, Maddox, if you went out for long. We could survive for a little while, but all of us need to stay and repair the starship!

I thought it was obvious that I was volunteering, the praetorian said. If the Hive is in danger, I must be the one to protect it.

I appreciate your sense of duty, child, but having you by our sides is protection enough. I can’t send you out to danger on my behalf.

I say this of my own free will, Highness. I know my way around the ruins. I won’t be at risk of the storm.

Amaya bit back her retort. At the mention of free will, Amaya could not dissuade her. The option to enforce her order was always there, but if she took it she would only prove her ways had not changed. She paused and took a different approach. I should be the one to go, Amaya said. I am faster, and I’ve fought my share of machines.

Question, Luna interrupted. They all turned to her.

Go on, daughter.

Your absence from the Hive, my Queen, would deteriorate our shared connection. Since your arrival, our Hive-Mind as repaired itself. Were you to depart now, risks would present themselves. Such as loss of memory, degradation of willpower, injury and likely death. My sister’s absence would provide a much scaled-down otherworldly threat and deduction in efficiency in our mission, given her lack of intelligence and finesse. Therefore, out of all candidates, my Queen is least sufficient.

“That… wasn’t really a question, but I see your point,” Maddox said.

That was just a really long-winded way of saying I’m dumb, and better suited for brute force, but yes, Luna’s right.

Amaya found herself outvoted, and the sensation was very alien, and she didn’t like it. But why wouldn’t she, with her past as the overarching, uncontested will of her race? Amaya conceded, but that didn’t mean she liked the idea.

If you would do this, daughter, then fine. But what happens if we repair the ship, but you haven’t returned? As Maddox said, the eyes of the world are on us now that escape is coming.

Then leave, her daughter said, as if she was explaining colours and shapes to a child.

Absolutely not, Amaya said. We are a family. The ship does not launch until we are all on board, and that is final.

I will not take long, Highness. If I have not returned after the ship is ready for… an hour. Then something has happened to me, and you must leave.

This is an acceptable margin of time, Luna said. Maddox was silent, but the look on his face told her he wasn’t about to argue.

I cannot believe you all agree to this! Amaya said. I’ve come too far to start leaving people behind now. Maddox? Tell me we’re not leaving anyone in this place.

He met her gaze with an even stare. Maddox appeared collected, but there was a bit of hesitation in his voice. “We’ll wait as long as we can, yeah. But you’re the priority, Amaya.”

What? I am not above any of you! I’m not, don’t you say that!

Her heart was starting to race, because Maddox had not said that because of his love for her, but because of her importance in the physical sense. She was the only one who could breed, the only one who could kickstart the population of her race. More important. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, it was true, and she hated it.

She didn’t care about things like ‘saving the race’. She cared about these three! They were everything she had. But Luna’s prior warning put all sorts of ideas in her head. If she died, the Hive died with her, the daughters would go mad, and Maddox may too. These three, her family, they were just support. Pawns for her use.

Not pawns, the praetorian said. A bit of her doubt must have slipped out of her own, private thoughts. I told you I do this of my own free will.

Amaya tried to hide her shame, but had no idea if she succeeded. And she thinks I don’t hate myself. Curling her legs so her knees were near her face, she wrapped her lower arms around her legs, tucking herself into a ball.

Promise me you’ll come back, Amaya said. And that you’ll be careful.

Of course I’ll be careful. And if it comforts you… fine. Promise.

A ghost of a grin played on her lips. It wasn’t much, but Amaya felt a bit better. She just wished she hadn’t been so naive earlier, thinking that they’d just walk in and be off straight away. Hope dying was hard to get used to when you didn’t get much of it.

“There’s not much left to go in the way of repairs,” Maddox said. “Could you stay here just a little bit longer? Luna says she saw some resin blocking this room we’ll need to get into.”

And here I thought I was done being the bulldozer. Fine, I shall help you again. Call it even for SHOOTING me.

“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

Nope. Run along, then, show me this pesky resin.

Together, the four of them left behind the wrecked machine without as much as a look back. Amaya sent Maddox a private message. You know I could have cleared the resin, not my daughter.

I know. But I figured you wanted a bit of extra time with her before she goes.

Extra time? What would she and I do? We can’t exactly go out and have a mother-daughter bonding picnic, and if you haven’t noticed, she loathes me more than you, and you’re the alien here.

You’ll think of something, he said with a wink. That left her dumbfounded – usually he helped her, not left her in the dark.

It wasn’t long before they reached yet another dead-end. The praetorian unsheathed her claws and went to work. The blocker this time was a lot smaller than the others had been, and Amaya’s getting involved would only crowd up the limited space rather than help, so she opted for sitting back for the few moments it took her daughter to clear the way.

Soon there was a breach of light from the other side, and they were through. There. Go play with your little machine’s, you three. Get that thing flying.

“Will do, ma’am,” Maddox said, waving farewell. Luna offered her own goodbye’s before turning to follow Maddox. Kneeling down before a curious device with several canisters lining the front face, human and drone chatted away about all the gimmicks electricity could offer. Amaya watched them with a soft smile, happy the two had something they both enjoyed doing. Her love for Maddox reached an all-time high as she sensed his growing affection for her biological daughter.

Family. At long last.

Her head turned to the left, and her older daughter was busying herself massaging her biceps after all the recent strain put on her. It was then she realised Maddox had given them some time alone, and if she were to say something, now was the time.

Daughter? Amaya began, walking up. The younger alien stopped grooming herself, straightened up like she was standing to attention. Oh, sorry. Praetorian. You’re leaving now?

If no one else has need to delay me, yes. Didn’t we just talk about this?

I’ve… I’ve had a thought.

Really? Well it’s no wonder you were chosen as the Queen. You’re positively brimming with intellect.

Ignoring her sarcasm, Amaya pressed on. How long has it been since you’ve been in a fight?

Hmm. About… eight minutes ago. Around there, yes.

Before that, Amaya growled. Weeks, months?

Months, yes. Leech nest was the last big brawl, and they don’t really provide a challenge. Haven’t been wounded this much longer still. Credit to Maddox of course.

Then maybe… maybe you’d like to train your skills? Amaya continued when her daughter made to speak. I am not criticising your skills, don’t get me wrong. But if you’re going out there, it would be better if you were at least… warmed up?

That… makes sense. You’re saying we should lure another robot in here?

What I’m saying, is that you and me could… spar. Now don’t give me that look, I’ve spared with Maddox dozens of times these past few days, and we’ve both improved tremendously.

Yes, and by ‘spar’ you mean you’ve both fucked each other senseless, the praetorian whispered to herself, even though Amaya could hear her without trying. This isn’t some way of you making up to me, is it?

No. I want you to be safe out there. I understand if you don’t want to. It’s just an offer.

Her daughter sighed, then stood up and met her gaze. No lovey-dovey business?

No lovey-dovey business.

Then I… guess it wouldn’t hurt.

Yes! I-I mean, very well, Hive guardian. Two or three rounds, that’s all.

Two rounds should be more than enough.

Of course.

The two Xenomorphs made their way out into the wider rooms beyond. Amaya wasn’t leading the way or falling behind her daughter, just pacing by her side. Not much to any onlooker, but to her it was a great step up from before.

By the way I have a question, the praetorian asked.

Anything you want to know, I’ll answer.

Really? Well in that case, does Maddox actually improve? Each time you two do it?

Poor choice of words on my part…

Just like with Maddox, she and her daughter found a wide space, readying their claws for a bit of practice. I promise to go easy on you, Amaya said. You’ll need your strength when you’re out there.

I don’t need your promises.

The Xenomorphs collided with a flash of claws and fangs. Since they were both up against a tough exoskeleton, they could fight a lot harder with less risk of injury. Amaya danced away from a swipe at her knees, gaining space to use her longer tail. Her daughter prowled on all fours, watching for an opening. The two displayed the essence of predatory in its most primal state, though Amaya wasn’t looking to mortally wound of course.

Couldn’t tell if that was the case for her daughter, hissing and snarling and clawing as she was. Maybe it was a way for her to vent her frustration, and if so perhaps a spar was the correct choice. She did not need to tell her daughter what her weaknesses were, or how to counter her own attacks – her daughter learned much faster than Maddox, and they had the advantage of being biologically related.

A couple minutes into the brawl (hadn’t it been a spar?), and her daughter was the first to draw blood. It was only a small cut across the elbow, but blood was blood. The action seemed to surprise the both of them.

I’ve not lost my edge, have I? Amaya smiled warmly down at her daughter, radiating with pride.

No you haven’t little one. Another round?

Let’s.

They lost themselves in the dance of predator-against-predator. And in it, her first-born’s loathing of her was mysteriously absent for a while. She’d much rather have ‘quality time’ be spent doing something innocent, besides trying to wound each other, but hey, she’d take it.

About fifteen minutes later and Amaya was walking the praetorian out to one of the exits, both huffing from the exertion. Her child told her of all the little routes she’d mapped out across the surrounding suburbs, where one could safely navigate through the rain as long as you were quick. Her daughter seemed confident she could spend days out there without a scratch.

That’s not your task, little one. Don’t be gone any longer than a day. Half a day, in fact, and not even that. Just please come home quickly.

I will, stop worrying.

The walk came to an end. Wide waterfalls of rain dripped over the lip of the entrance, creating little puddles. Seemingly harmless at first glance, they both knew how much the liquid could sting the flesh.

Looks like I’m off now, her daughter said, looking at her. Whip that human into fixing us a ship while I’m gone. She paused for her Queen to answer, but Amaya just gave her this downcast look. She considered hopping off then and there, but something held her back. With a small sigh, she touched Amaya on the arm. I’ll be fine. You worry too much.

A spark of life on the Queen’s face. I know, I know. Be safe, and good luck.

With a nod, the praetorian was gone. She zoomed though a curtain of acid and came out the other side without a sound, taking cover beneath a half-ruined roof. Crawling like a spider across the rubble, the last thing Amaya saw was her trailing tail, and then her daughter was gone. Her mind’s presence faded a few moments after.

Please return soon, little one. Though you’re not so little anymore… The thought gave her an idea for a name. But would she like it? Did it suit her? How did one answer those questions? How did Maddox make up her own, or Luna’s? She’d have to ask.

Amaya stood there, watching the rain obscure the world for a while,, eventually turning back into the Hive. She wanted to sit and wait for her daughter’s return, but the cold was biting into her, and you had to be mad to enjoy the chill of a dead world’s poison-rain. She had a family she had to protect, not sit on this porch and wait like a… well, like a concerned mother.

Family. She let the word fill her thoughts. The responsibility for their protection scared her, but that fear was drowned away by its perks. This is what she’d always wanted. Escaping was her priority at first, but say the ship was beyond repair? She’d live out the rest of her days on this wasteland, yes, but she would not die alone. That post-mortem isolation scared her above any other monstrosity birthed out of the bowels of Solaris’ hellscape. To go into the cold void beyond life alone, with the suffering of all who had died for her forgotten. That was true despair, at least in her books.

With that in mind, she made her way back to her mate and daughter, all the more determined to start anew, something better than this world, to make all this suffering and effort worth escaping for.

2

If the list of errors and malfunctions involving the starship was written on paper, that paper would trail down to the ground and roll on for a kilometre. Maddox didn’t doubt getting the ship ready would take weeks, perhaps a whole month, just to be in the green, assuming he did the heavy lifting. But Luna was handy (in her case it might be called ‘clawy’), with human technology, and she was checking off the list of errors just as fast as he was.

In those following hours his mind was intertwining with hers, to a point that she didn’t need to ask him many more questions or even converse much more. And yet she still found a way to bypass this, and Maddox wasn’t blind to see that she did this because she liked him. Her tail would always find itself caressing his back when she walked by, she’d trill whenever he complimented her, and each time they got one step closer to complete repairs, she’d bring him in for a big old bear hug in celebration.

No chance of mixed signals there. He was still nervous about returning these affections however. What would Amaya think if he started, what, smooching her kid behind the resin-covered bleachers? He loved Amaya, he couldn’t betray her like that.

You could never betray me, Amaya said, coming into thought-range. I love you so much, you know that? You were my first, nothing can ever take that from us.

You’re not angry? he asked. He certainly would be if he saw Amaya coming on to some other guy. Maybe that meant he really was a shitty person.

Never. You’re always mine, my love. Our bond is eternal, and no amount of negative emotion can stop that. I’m happy for you. When I first met you, you were quiet, and I’m honoured to have helped you branch out.

Maddox honestly expected a fight, or at least a shred of anger, but no. Amaya understood. She could never not understand, that was how perceptive she was. I love you too girl. You’ve helped me a lot more than that, words can’t do it justice. You’re the best.

I know. Now come here. You’re tired, and need rest.

In a minute, Luna and I’ve got one last thing to do here.

Putting his focus back into the real world, he went back to clacking away at the terminal before him. On the far side of the room, Luna was noisy in her work reassembling one of their final system repairs needed. Another half an hour passed before the sounds of her screwing, wrenching, and occasional hissing in anger stopped, and she sent him a message.

The generator is working, Maddox.

“Oxygen going through to the canisters?”

Yes.

“Man, it took some effort, didn’t it? But I think that’ll do it, Luna. Let’s go check.”

Together they went back to the control room. Resin squelched under their feet, but there was no sign of leeches anywhere. One had appeared an hour ago, back when Amaya and the praetorian had gone to the edge of the Hive, but this time he and Luna handled it well. He hadn’t even screamed this time.

“Now that is satisfying to look at.” Maddox and Luna were stood right before the overviewing console. All was green, the hull was intact, and the fuel was near full capacity. All that was left, was the last thing they were working on.

How long until the oxygen fills the starship’s tanks?

“Three hours it says. That’ll last us long enough to get out of the system and then some. This button here starts the launch sequence, which takes, like, fifteen minutes. So really less than three hours from now we’ll be off.”

Where will we go, once we leave this world?

“Hm. Good question.” From here he could plot an autopilot course to any of the local planets – but they were all either gas giants or barren moons. They’d have to look at the on-board database for a location. “I don’t know,” he said. “Anywhere but here obviously. We could do a fly by near the moon, do you want to-“

Yes.

“Alright. And…” He tapped the screen, dragging his finger from left to right, charting a course out of the Solaris system. “… done. We’ll find a place when we’re out of here, don’t worry.”

I will not. You are here to save us. There is no cause to worry.

“Exactly. Now we just have to wait. You did amazing Luna, never have got this far without you around.”

Her response was a cute little purr, as she bumped her head into the side of his face. She almost pushed him over, and he playfully pushed her away when she tried to do it again. “Hey, quit it Luna!”

The Xenomorph beamed at him, and Maddox knew that look. He’d seen it many times on Amaya’s face, and last time she’d made it, she’d pinned him against the wall with her buttocks. A bit of his mirth died away as he tried to ignore her obvious intentions.

“I should, uh, get going, I’m pretty burned out after all that.”

As am I. I would express a note before departure. I have seen and felt the pleasure my Queen emits during your coital sessions.

“That’s pretty creepy Luna.”

It is only curiosity that drives me. I would wish to experience this warmth. With you.

She put a hand over his elbow. Not with force, just resting it against his skin. He looked up at her and was tempted. The more corrupted side of himself wishing nothing more than to lay with her and experience as many alien vents as he could. But eventually it was his Bonded thoughts that won him out, and with a long sigh, he removed her hand.

“I like you Luna, really I do. I just… don’t feel comfortable doing that behind Amaya’s back.”

She is informed. I have expressed as much to her personally. It is not behind her back, as such.

“Yeah, I know, but it just feels… just give me some time to think about it, okay? This whole Hive-mind thing is new to me. Let me get adjusted for a little while. Then we’ll see. Okay?”

Luna was silent for a while. Then: This is acceptable. Would you agree to an embrace at this point?

“I would.” He came to her open arms, and he rested his head against hers as they hugged. he could smell the pheromones she gave off in his closeness, but fought down the growing desire to change his mind. It felt like hours had passed before he eventually broke the contact, her mind warm against his own.

He opened his mouth to explain further, but he didn’t have to, did he? The Hive-mind washed away all conflicts. Luna knew when he would be ready, and she respected his decision. There’d be plenty time after this was all said and done, wouldn’t there?

Luna bent down, planted a quick kiss on his lips, leaving Maddox wide-eyed and blinking. I will watch over the equipment in your absence, Maddox.

“G-Good idea, but you don’t have to, it’s mostly automatic at this point.”

This is known. I will rest soon. One last check will bring no harm.

“I guess so. I’ll… see you later, Luna.”

Farewell, friend Maddox.

Maddox left the control room, the automatic door sliding closed behind him. Wiping his forehead of sweat, he turned down the passage, confident he’d made the right choice. A few minutes later and he reached Amaya’s private chambers.

She was laying on her side, her back to him and her tail curled in her arms. He sat down on the edge of the nest, a hand her on the shoulder as he watched her chest rise and fall. Something about seeing the world’s most dangerous being resting like a baby next to him was exciting as well as humbling, that he could be so close to her without need to worry.

He slipped off his shirt slowly, but he wasn’t as quiet as he expected, as Amaya turned onto her other side, looking up at him. Her tail reached around and pooled on his lap. How’s the starship, my love?

“Good, great actually. Once the air tanks are full we’ll be ready to go.”

Plenty of time to… ‘bond’, then?

“When you put it that way…”

He let her tail pull him down onto his back, and Amaya folded him up within her body. They kissed, they touched, and they made love in the dream-world, their real bodies a bit too exhausted to go again right now.

Amaya draped a leg over his waist, her tail coming over to pull him against her. Her left hands were tracing circles over his chest, while her right ones cupped his head and hand. In that long silence they bonded, the others touch bringing more comfort than anything else. Maddox? she asked suddenly.

“Yes girl?”

When we leave this world, are you going to track down your parents?

That made him frown, the mood spoiling. “I… You know, I’ve had enough of sick, terrible people for one lifetime. I hope they rot wherever they are, and I’d like to see their faces if I come knocking on their door after all this time, but… no. No I don’t want to see them. I wish Willow had erased them from my memory.”

They caused you so much pain, my friend. Even I am angry at their actions.

“I know, but through them they gave me you, so… So it’s best if we just forget. I know you hate that word, but this time it’s for the best. Let’s not let them spoil this moment, though. They go their way, we’ll go ours.”

You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“Don’t apologise.” He deepened the cuddle as best he could, making Amaya purr. That sound was music to his ears. “I love you Amaya. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And I love you, Maddox. You are perfect in every way. My friend, my bonded, my mate. Goodnight.

“‘Night girl.” He closed his eyes, and into the world of dreams they went.

3

Maddox had never left Solaris, not even so much as visited an orbiting space station, and he could have afforded a trip or two with the money left behind by his parents. He’d never looked down on his own home from afar, or experienced that sensation of stepping foot onto an alien world. Until now.

His and Amaya’s little private dream-world counted, of course, but this was different. After bonding in the forest of their imaginations, they’d laid together to rest. But the next time he’d opened his eyes, he knew instantly that something was wrong. Gravity was different, his place in the universe had altered that home seemed a whole galaxy away.

Amaya’s body wasn’t folding around him or his mind. He noticed that before anything, even the fact that he was surrounded in darkness when he opened his eyes, his body laying on nothing but void. His breathing echoed through the emptiness, loud in the quiet. Pressing a hand against the ground confirmed it was in fact, ground, but his mind betrayed him into thinking there was nothing, and that he should be falling forever, but wasn’t. A loop of dizziness lapped through his mind.

“Amaya?” he asked. His voice echoed and died, garbled in this strange place. Every direction there was nothing. He was the only being of contrasting flesh in this eternal night, and he began to panic. Had he entered some sort of dream within a dream? Like that old movie? Maybe some sort of limbo between the real and dreamt worlds?

He heard something behind him, a noise so alien in this horrible place that he could not resist looking. There was something in the distance, just far enough away that he couldn’t make out what it was. Looking down he saw he had nothing but his clothes, so the safety his weapons brought made him feel like a little fish in a very big pond.

He went towards the shape, his boots thumping on nothing, but his feet still colliding with a surface. The shape ahead morphed into a figure, and at first he thought it was another human. But when he was closer, ten or twenty meters, he saw it wasn’t a human at all.

Its skin was onyx, just a shade lighter against the eternal blackness. Rib-like muscles bulged out of muscular limbs, and an eyeless face capped the end of a curved head. A four-pronged, split crown spiked away from the face, towering above itself like some sort of tribal totem. Maddox tilted his head, eyes squint in suspicion.

“Amaya?”

The creature reacted a few moments later, sound travelling slowly in this place. The Xenomorph peered up at him from behind an armoured visor of exoskeleton, its mouth concealed except for the bottom lip. Its lips didn’t move, but he heard its voice all the same, words burying into his brain.

Not quite. Come.

He obeyed, until he was close enough that he could reach out and caress one of its thorned shoulder pads. The sheer power radiating off this creature made him fight the urge to flee. It gestured for him to sit, the claws almost as long as his arms.

He crossed his legs and sat down on nothing across from the alien, resting his hands on his knees. The creature regarded him, and he tried not to shy away from its powerful gaze. When it was clear it would not speak first, Maddox decided to ask the obvious question. “Who are you?”

Who do you think? it asked back. He couldn’t tell if it was threatening him or simply asking. He looked over its strange body, noting the similarities and the differences.

“You’re a Queen.”

I was. Its voice was like listening to a thousand musical voices, and one of them he could pick out the familiar sound of Amaya’s tone. I am not the one you know. Similar, but not. It was about time we talked, wouldn’t you say?

“You’re the predecessor? Amaya’s… ancestor?”

That is one way of putting it. She has warped your way of perceiving us. But that’s to be expected from one such as her.

“Is she here?” he asked, looking around. The answer was a shake of the head. “Why not?”

Is it not obvious why we only brought you here? In a long line of many, you are the first to live through a birthing. That makes you a… special addition.

“‘We’?”

The Queen grinned, and something behind her moved. Another four-armed, crowned creature stepped to her left, and another one appeared on her right, both he hadn’t noticed before even though he should have. From behind those two, four more appeared, Behind them, eight, each one similar in appearance except for the crown, each one unique in their shapes and angles. In a few seconds, hundreds of tall, Xenomorph Queen’s stood around him. Maddox didn’t think he could feel so insignificant.

None of our Hosts have ever lived, said the one in front, the ‘leader’ as Maddox saw it. Each one of us lived a life of sequestered coldness. All except her. Through her we feel your presence, and from that, peace of mind.

“That why you helped her find me?”

A nudge in the right direction was all she needed. She truly hated us for a long time. It was difficult to put aside our own rage to assist her.

“Well I’m… I’m grateful that you did. We’d both be dead by now without you all.”

Your efforts in survival were largely yours and hers. Our help was negligible. A small push is all that is needed for one to see their own greatness.

Maddox watched the faces around him. Some Xenomorphs were much, much different than the ones he knew. Some were resting on all four primary limbs like dogs, some were huge, others as small as him. A whole bloodline of a race was looking back at him, and that thought surfaced a question.

“Where did Amaya come from? Was she native to Solaris?”

Her egg was stolen from me, someone said, and a different Xenomorph stepped forward. This one was layered in ribs and external flesh marks that made her look like she was covered in badass tattoos. My world was burned in fire, except for her. I protected her until my last moments, and from my corpse did they pry her from my arms.

“Weyland… So she’s it? She’s the last Queen? There’s no more of you?”

No, the leader said. Either by ourselves or others, we have all been slain.

“So this place is… heaven? Or the afterlife or something?” He looked about the darkness. “If this is what death is like, I’m pretty terrified.”

This is but a pocket of our after being. It is strange inviting one such as you here.

“You’re telling me. How come there’s just nothing here?”

We felt that otherworldly objects would distract you.

“From what?”

We brought you here to us for two reasons. The first is yours to take or leave at your will. We would ask your permission to meld your mind with ours, so that our memories of a species live on in the waking world. As it stands it is your right to have our knowledge. We believe it would be of practical use to you.

Maddox wasn’t sure his mind could take that. With the number of Queens here they had to go back tens of thousands of years, maybe more. He thought about it for a while, and the predecessors waited patiently. In the end he couldn’t give up this opportunity, nodding his head at the leader.

“I’ll do it.”

The Queen before him bowed her head, offering out her open claws. He took her hands into his own, and closed his eyes without thinking. He felt a presence slipped through his mental barriers like they were nothing. Another came, then another. He could tell without seeing that every Queen was reaching out to him in some way, physical or otherwise.

And through them, he saw each and every one of their lives as if they were his own. Every bit of happiness, sadness, anger and pain and all emotions were his to live through. He saw planets covered in Hives, millions and millions of minds reaching out to him, begging him for guidance that he gladly provided. He washed away infestations and cradled newborns in his arms. He felt entire worlds collapse under decay and ash. His children died before his eyes, screaming for his help as fire burned them to cinders.

Stars blinked out from the sky as horrors just as horrible, of not more so than Weyland, battled his kind only for one leader to emerge. He wept for the passing of unthinkable amounts of life. So much potential wiped away by the second. He fell over into a ball and begged the pain to stop, but it did not. Life and colour died away to black death. The screams of millions echoed through his head, and there was no silence, not for an eternity.

Years passed in the blink of an eye, life and death were as one, and when the time came to open his eyes at last, his vision was blurred with tears. The Queens were looking down at him, all their highs and lows shared with him fading into obscurity, and he was thankful. Who could live knowing the pain of a dying planet? Of a thousand planets dying? He felt so terrible that all that pain was real, and these females had to know it every waking moment.

Wiping his eyes, Maddox got slowly to his feet. He thought he would feel weaker knowing the suffering of countless ages, but actually it was quite the opposite. No strength came without effort and pain, and he had a whole lot of both right now. It took him a moment to get his breath back, and when it did his voice was hoarse.

“You’ve all lived through this? All that… All that pain?

The leader Queen titled her head. We did, and we still do. But do not weep for us. Take comfort instead. Know that you and her will be the ones to ease our torment, and to bring an end to all the suffering that follows. This leads us to our second reason for summoning you. A warning.

Leaving your world will bring up many conflicting ideas in her. She appears collected, but a part of her remains obscured to you and her. You must be prepared to help her through this conflict of emotions. Many of us made the mistake of seeking vengeance and finding only our deaths. We have tried to warn her, but our strength has waned too much, and her thoughts drift elsewhere. Don’t let her go down that path like we did, or all your efforts will have been for nothing.

“I-I won’t.” He sniffed. “I won’t.”

We believe in you. Know you will always be a friend to us.

He blinked, and in that split second where his eyes were closed, the Queens were gone. He’d felt no sensation as he returned to the dream-world, the one Amaya created for him to share. There she was before him, concern on her face as she stroked his hair.

Maddox? Is something wrong? You were quiet for a while there.

“Oh… No, I’m fine. Just had a dream. I feel better than ever actually.”

You do seem different somehow. She came down and gave his nose a nibble, making him laugh. Must have been one hell of a dream.

“Yes it was. Let’s wake up, I want to check on Luna and the ship.”

Okay my love.

She brought him in for a kiss, and this time Maddox did feel the world change. One instant, and they were back in the waking world, laying in her nest with their arms around each other. Only a little over half an hour had passed in real-time, but Maddox felt as if he’d rested for a solid few hours. More likely than not the new strength from the predecessors had something to do with that.

But more than that, the Hive-mind seemed so much more open now. So easy to understand. He could just feel a pull towards where Luna was without needing to ask. He still could not communicate at this distance, but he felt closer than ever to becoming truly Linked to this place, to Amaya’s family, or ‘people’ as a whole, if that was the right way to explain it. It no longer scared him that he was changing, because it felt so damn good not to be a part of the loneliest species to exist. To not be so isolated, as he’d been for most of his life.

Amaya wrapped her tail around him as they left for the silo. She would agree that the changes happening were certainly for the best. He walked with a new vigour in his step, and it made her wonder why he hadn’t been this fuelled beforehand. A gentle probe into his mind would have been deflected a few days ago without permission, but she entered his mind like it was her own.

I saw them Amaya. I saw your ancestors. They love you so much.

They love us both. I’m so happy they spoke with you. You’re becoming one with me more than ever, and soon we’ll be perfect. Nothing can stop us now.

That elicited a thought from Maddox, one from his more corrupt side, the side that liked the killing, liked the slaughter and enjoyed this life without any sort of rules. Wasn’t Solaris’ destruction just a new, clean slate? In the entire Capitol, this Hive was the only place with power, a fortress among the rubble. With Amaya by his side, plus Luna and the praetorian, they could be a force unchallenged with the Hive-mind ready to accept him. He could be a King in the literal sense. He could forge a new, better world from the old one, a world where they were on top.

It was difficult to dissuade this hunger for power, but the reasons were there. What could Solaris become after this point? It was done. It had had its beginning, and now it was at its end. What reason would one have to rule over a fallen world? None. It was better to make a life someplace new. Somewhere to start again, make things better.

Luna had been resting in her own nest somewhere near the silo, and had swiftly come over to them when they called out. Maddox apologised for waking her, but Luna said it was no problem.

I could not rest with that incessant noise. But this is a good problem.

The noise she was talking about was the rumble of the starship engines. Amaya had only faintly heard it in her nest, but now it was overpowering the pounding downpour of the acid rain, which itself was loud and ferocious. They were lucky so far no lightning had hit the Hive, or they’d have a lot more than blocked passes to worry about.

Are you sure everything’s ready to go? Amaya asked them, her little engineers, whom she showered with praise. It would be really annoying if we all got ready and something broke on us.

“A hundred percent. We just have to open up the silo doors, but we’ll do that when it’s ready. We could open it now and tough out the rain, but better to not let the ship get poured on by a ton of acid before we’re ready.”

How do we open them?

“The control room, everything happens there. Come on I’ll show you.”

The party of three followed him up to the familiar room. Halfway through the walk, Amaya turned her attention to the drone beside her, striking up a private conversation. You’ve done very well, little one. We could never have fixed this ship without your help.

It is of mutual benefit; I see no reason to deny my help.

I know… I understand how this may not seem like much to you, but I am so proud of you. I know I have been a terrible mother to you, and your kin, and it’s my fault entirely. You, your sister, and your fallen siblings all deserve better than me. I wish you would one day forgive me, though I do not deserve it.

Luna looked up at her, calculating mind searching her for deceit, which Amaya had done a lot in the past. Luna remembered this one time her Queen had sent one of her sister messengers to die, the one Luna had developed a personal connection to, and hadn’t not so much as wept for her passing. Ignorance was hard to forgive, even for one who called herself ‘drone’.

You have shown us the worst things we are capable of, my Queen. And yet you have also shown us the greatest. To be able to come back from the curse and cross the threshold to find your soulmate, is a determination I could not achieve. These steps prove your sincerity. My sister on the other claw, may not be so convinced.

But how can I show her? And you? That I’m different from who I was back then?

Luna gestured to Maddox. He convinced me to befriend him by his first few actions. Name my sister, as you have always said you wished to do.

Amaya tilted her head. Of course! Names had power, and if Luna could accept her by that simple task, why not the praetorian? But what do I call her? She directed the question to her mate.

A name’s got to come from the heart, and it’s got to suit her, or something like her, a physical attribute or something. I called Luna, ‘Luna’ because of her lighter hide.

So… should we call her… Strong? Fighter? Crest-head? Miss Brute?

Maybe, uh, try something less literal. I don’t want to help you too much, girl, I feel like you’ve got to do this one.

I understand, my friend. Can I at least run my suggestions by you?

Sure.

The walk to the control room took fifteen more minutes, and in that time Amaya listed off hundreds of names, and the very last one she said actually gave Maddox a reaction. Even Luna nodded like she was impressed – a human gesture Maddox obviously imprinted on her.

I think it will suit her, Amaya said. She didn’t need to ask these two’s thoughts – she herself was confident, and that was all she needed. Once inside the control room, Maddox cleared his throat to get their attention.

“See this one here?” Maddox asked, pointing at a specific button across a dash-full of controls and inputs. “That opens the door, and this one here releases the clamps. We’ll hit them when we’re ready, and then we’ll be away. Until then, we wait.” He turned to the Xenomorphs. “You guys got like, a deck of cards or something?”

I do have one thing we could do in the meantime, Amaya said, her gaze shifting over to the window. This place, our Hive, it’s more of a graveyard than a home. Humans bury their dead to rest their spirits, don’t they?

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

As will I, Luna said. Amaya was humbled, having no need to ask for their assistance.

They decided that to scour the whole Hive would take too long, so they focused on the closest areas near the silo. They couldn’t even get to the bodies within the launch deck because of how many were already in and around this quadrant, not to mention the egg-laying chambers near the throne room. Their efforts amassed over forty corpses of her children – neonates, firstborns and adults alike. Pulling memories from her mate, she decided to dedicate a whole room to bury her children, to act as a burial room. Digging the graves was easy on the arms, but not mentally.

Pouring the piles of resin back on her dead daughter’s faces was something she’d never forget. Maddox and Luna offered numerous times to do it for her, but she waved them away, no matter how hard the crying got, she told them that this was her responsibility, and that she must be the one to bury them.

But burying her own children was so, so difficult. It should have been her in their place. It was simply unnatural that a child dies before the parent, and on this scale, she could not hide her shame. She kneeled before the mass graves, head tilted down, fists planted to the ground, chest hitching as the longer she stared, the more she sobbed. Maddox and Luna stood by her side, quiet and watching, but she didn’t care how she presented herself, she let the crying go on until there was nothing left.

“They’re in a better place, Amaya,” Maddox said, voice hushed. “They don’t have to stay on this world a second longer.”

If they would see you now, they would forgive you. Luna reached out and took her by the shoulder.

The words brought her some comfort, and perhaps some closure as well. The Hive was no longer reeking with death, and she wouldn’t have to see a corpse every couple steps, at least around this area.

When the mourning was done, she brought them both in for a group hug. The Link was alive with love and warmth, and their hands on her back soothed her worries. Thank you, both of you. You didn’t have to help, but you did. Thank you.

You are more capable than I, Luna said. I did not know what to do with the dead. Nor did my sister. This is acceptable.

“I think so too,” Maddox said. He broke away from the hug and tilted his head, as if he were listening to something. Amaya focused, but all she heard was the wind and rain pounding on the roof and the starship warming up.

What’s wrong? she asked him.

“Your girl, she’s back!”

Amaya probed out with her mind, surprised that she had not felt her presence before he did. Sure enough she felt her daughter’s mind approaching the Hive, but something was off about her. It took Amaya a second to figure out why.

She’s hurt! Oh, I knew this was a bad idea!

She took off in a sprint, Maddox and Luna following behind. The intensity of her child’s pain only increased the closer the two of them got. She took the quickest route to the Hive’s perimeter, sometimes ducking and weaving through the ‘vents’, leaving Maddox to play catch up, as Luna also followed after.

Soon she made it to the place she and Maddox had entered from a few days ago, before she even knew of Luna or her sister’s existence. Buildings and rubble lay near the edge of the resin, and out of the dark she saw her child approach at a crawl.

Daughter! Amaya cried, seeing her limping out of the rain, and collapsing onto the resin as soon as she was sheltered. Amaya was on her knees beside her in an instant, her hands cupping her child’s shoulders and feeling cold blood there. Oh, my baby, what happened? Your wounds!

Quit it! The praetorian whined, pawing her hands away. I’m not a baby I’m a… ow…

Hold still, child. Amaya was already retching up her royal jelly and spitting a glob of it into the palm before her chin. As much as the praetorian willed to defy her, she could not resist the warm healing properties as Amaya applied the gel.

Luna ran up beside her, followed by Maddox a moment later, out of breath but strangely quick enough to catch up. The three of them watched the praetorian’s writhing slowly wind down, all waiting to know the answer to the obvious.

Maddox carefully avoided a splotch of blood and knelt down. “You must have found something important.”

It looks that way doesn’t it? Now back up, all of you! I’m FINE. It’s only gunshots.”

‘Only’ gunshots, little one? Amaya moved the jelly to another wound, quickly digging out a bullet before the gel stitched up the flesh. Don’t play it down, you’re hurt. Tell us what happened.

Showing you will be faster. And I think we need a whole lot of ‘faster’ right now.

Her daughter presented her memories, and Amaya took them carefully, making sure Maddox could see through her so he wasn’t clueless to what was happening. Both her daughter and her mate’s vision’s flooded into one, and in a second she was her daughter, out there on the prowl in search of threats.

And threats she did find. Hiding beneath a collapsed wall, she looked out across the wide path spread before her, a stretch of highway splitting between two crumbled blocks of housing.

There she – she as in Amaya – saw a terrible sight. Hundreds of humans, many armed with guns and all with some form of melee weapon, marching across the rubble and dirt, hungry and desperate eyes wide behind bug-like masks, their breathing heavy though their air filters. Four humans held up a wide sheet of scrap metal, one at each corner, so that the other humans cowered beneath the sheet to hide from the rain. Dozens of these sheets were being carried, to keep the whole convoy safe from the weather. Rolling along at their centre like a flagship, was a machine of war she’d never seen before, guns and barrels sticking out of all its sides, all trained forward. All trained towards the Hive.

And at their lead, a man ushered his loyal followers forward, empty promises spewing out of his puckered mouth. Seeing him elicited something inside Amaya, but she couldn’t define what it was or why. She – as in her daughter – tried to sneak away but was spotted, and the last thing she saw was a belch of fire, then indescribable pain. Gunshots filled the air as her daughter fled, and then there was silence.

When the vision faded, Amaya turned to Maddox, and seeing the naked fear on his face made her more frightened than she already was. Maddox? Who was that?

“B… Blankley! That was him, a-and the whole Bunker! They’re coming for the ship!”

Chapter 16

Battle for the Hive

1

His original plan was a far cry from what it had become now. Fighting through a living hell can do that to a plan, can do that to anyone who isn’t prepared to fight for themselves, and he had a lot of those certain individualsin tow.

Fortunately, lot of them had perished ever since day one of this escapade, and although it was perverse to celebrate a death, dozens of deaths in this case, Blankley could only think of it as fortunate. He’d rather let them die than having their last moments watching him rise to freedom through the starship, while they remained here, on this dead world. If there was a point where one eventually sacrificed too much, he thought he was coming close to crossing it.

Blankley had left the Bunker with just shy of eight hundred people, and now only a quarter of that number remained, and only half of them were capable of fighting, but most were damn well good at it. They had to be, since cutting right through the Capitol’s black heart had summoned truly nightmarish beings, including the more exotic and alien wildlife Solaris had tamed once upon a time, the kind of things they laughed at while penned up in the local zoos. Now free, they were out for blood, and Blankley’s people had provided well.

The former (or perhaps still currently), Mayor couldn’t get much sleep any more. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d hear monsters crawling up behind him on hundreds of little legs, ready to pluck out his eyes and feast on his entrails. He’d seen that happen close up. Some sort of enormous, beetle-like thing had attacked them a few days ago, swooping up five of his followers and falling back into the shadows to feast on the still screaming bodies. Their battle tank could only protect so many, could be only so fast, only had so much spare ammo. The sad thing was, there was just too many survivors, and that should have been a good thing, but the drawbacks of such a large number outweighed the pros of a numerically large group.

“You’ll come back for us, right?”

The woman who’d said that had been left back at camp with the rest of the walking wounded, as the military liked to call them. After their recon-team had failed to return, Blankley was confident the Hive was still crawling with beasts, so he’d gathered all abled fighters and armed each one with the weapons they had left, leaving the walking wounded unguarded, and undefended. Even the tank had to come with, as it was their most capable asset. The acidic rain had started melting bits of the armour off, but it had held so far, and would hold just a little bit longer.

“I will,” he’d said, raising his voice for all the gathering crowd to hear. “I assure you all that I will. We must deal with these abominations before we secure our victory, and for that we must pool all our strength.”

He saw something in a few of the eyes looking up at him. Just a hint of doubt they quickly hid, for none of them knew most of the times how obvious their thoughts were. Blankley knew he was lying, of course, but as anything, nothing should be taken at face-value. He might take the ship as soon as they repaired it. Might being the keyword. And when that happened, he’d plot a course to the nearest Wey-Yu ship or station and tell them who he was and what had happened, assuming they didn’t know any of those things already. Then? Then he might send help for the rest of them. The ones who couldn’t fit on the ship. They were low on numbers, but not that low.

‘Might’ is better than saying ‘wont’, of course. Who knows? Maybe a ship’s waiting in orbit for me.

Terribly rude if that was the case, for his employers to watch him struggle from orbit. But Blankley knew the stakes. Word of this kind of cover up, on a literal world-scale? Weyland was in trouble if anyone talked. That was why he and only his most trusted companions would board the first launch. And then? Then they’d see. Better to watch the storm in front of him, rather than the one on the horizon. Once could take that literally given this strange, acid-rain coming down hard this night, which seemed darker than any other.

It all depended on what happened in the next few hours. The Xenomorphs would try to stop them, might kill a few here or there, could even kill him, and if that was the case, he’d like to be remembered as the man who would have come back. That was good enough. ‘Abandon’ was such a horrible word. But of course, compared to what they’d seen, Xenomorphs were child’s play. What were they to stand up to a tank with a thirty-millimetre cannon backed up by men with flamethrowers? From his time inside Sierra Lab 3, all those experiments he’d performed had come with valuable knowledge – Xenomorphs were not invincible.

“We have this in the bag,” Jess said, his official second-in-command. He’d shown a lot of potential ever since leaving the safety of all the underground concrete, the savagery of the Fall bringing his blood lust alive. His whole official security team had spiked in numbers, but most of the originals were still alive, and ready to kill for their freedom. Powerful friends indeed. He was glad he hadn’t pissed them off.

“Easy there, Jessy.” Blankley had taken to calling the killer by a childish nickname, a self-satisfied grin on his face all the while. Jess would kill if his Mayor asked, that was how desperate these people were for leadership. “We don’t know how many there are. Hundreds? Thousands? They destroyed our world, let’s not let them destroy us.”

“Hell no we won’t.” The young man switched his weapon from left to right. He was capable with a flamethrower, but he’d taken quite well to knives especially. “I used to live around here. Before. I’ve been looking forward to some payback.”

“Haven’t we all,” Blankley said. The rain smacking the sheet above them, carried by four of his men like it was some sort of upside-down palanquin, filled the silent pause. “Only the strongest and most vicious Xenomorphs had to have survived this long, much like ourselves, so I dare say whatever we find is probably responsible for taking our world and turning it into its nest.”

“All the more reason to hunt them down to extinction,” Jess said. “You’re sure this plan’ll work? Tanks have to be in the front when attacking shit. Saw that in a war doc a long time ago.”

Blankley patted the side of his belt, where he hid his own personal insurance ever since stepping out into the world. He hadn’t needed to use it so far, though there had been some close calls. Probably wouldn’t need to fire a shot at all, and that would be an achievement wouldn’t it? Get through hell without getting up and personal with the demons.

“I’d trust my instincts more than some show aired in a time long past. Trust in me just a little bit longer, friend. These aliens won’t know what hit them.”

2

Maddox couldn’t think straight. He had just started to become acclimatised, maybe even fully in control of these new alien sensations, but seeing Blankley, and all his ‘kind’ out there, on their way here made his skin crawl, not to mention all the memories living with them – terrible one’s of a life he’d hated with all his being – were coming back and distracting him.

A quick check on the ship confirmed they would be ready to launch in just over an hour, and another scouting run by the praetorian told them the humans would be here well before then. He and the Xenomorphs had gathered round to come up with a defence strategy, but the only thing he’d contributed was his knowledge of the tank they were going up against.

“That thing’s got cannons that can rip holes through this place. I don’t know how much ammo they’ve got, but it’s just as deadly as the Cleaner, maybe even more.”

Then I must face it head on, not either of you three. Amaya didn’t say this like it was an insult, or a request. If any one of us is to be wounded by that thing, I have the highest chance of surviving an attack. Can something that large get inside our home?

Yes, Luna said. She pointed at their imaginary Hive-map. This point here, where the other mechanical contraption entered – the android – provides sufficient room to manoeuvre. There is another point of entry here. Her claw pointed to another spot. Observations suggest a group have split off and are moving here, too.

If they’re splitting up, we have to as well, the praetorian said. The stubborn Xenomorph seemed antsy for the coming fight, despite being wounded more times today than the past couple months combined. We can’t let them run amok through our home, even with our advantage of terrain. They can flank us, or reach the ship too easily.

I’ve despised the idea of separating ever since I was born, Amaya said. but Rita is right. Two pairs of two will have to be enough to hold them back.

That was another thing. Amaya had thought Rita would be a fine name for the praetorian, suggesting it after her wounds had – once again – healed. Her initial response was not exactly hoorays and praises, and on the whole she thought the idea silly and stupid and every other word that insulted one’s intellect, but sometimes, like just now, she responded to the name without saying something like ‘don’t call me that’, and Maddox suspected she wasn’t even aware of it, and couldn’t help grinning.

I won’t let you go up against that machine, Maddox. Too many risks. I must face it with one of my daughters.

Maddox blinked, surprised this time she suggested splitting up, though it wasn’t exactly like they could be apart, given their linked minds and souls had reached its highest potential, at least until age waxed their strength. He wanted to fight by her side given their outstanding teamwork in the past, but she was right. Nodding, he slipped off one of his bandoliers and held it out to her. “You’ll need a couple ‘nades then. I don’t think tooth and claw will go up against something like that for long.”

I destroyed the Cleaner, didn’t I?

“After I wounded it, yes you did.” He shook the strap of leather for emphasise.

Amaya took the bandolier, metal clinking under her claws as she brought it up to her face. She knew how to use these explosives, but leaving Maddox without his weapons would be dangerous. She settled for taking two explosives, while he kept the rest. Looping the leather over her shoulder, so that it rested across her chest just like how Maddox wore his, she sneered, the fabric rubbing up against her breast weird and kind of itchy. She looked to her daughters. Unless you two have objections, does two teams sound good to you?

This is acceptable, Luna said. More coverage leads to victory, less to defeat. Who would you wish to accompany you?

I’ll let you two decide.

The sisters turned to their own private conversation, Amaya pulling away a bit so she didn’t accidently eavesdrop. She felt her worries washed away by her human friend, and she started trilling when he put a hand on hers. They flooded the Link with their combined warmth, and then Rita, the praetorian, gestured at her.

You and I will deal with this ‘tank’ thing, Highness. Not to brag, but I’m better at destroying crap than Luna is.

You can’t just say ‘not to brag’, and then start bragging. You cancel out your own words. But very well, it’s you and me, Rita. Neither Luna or Maddox felt demeaned that the stronger fighters would take on the tank, because it was common sense that they’d stand a much better chance. Luna was capable, as was Maddox, but capability didn’t matter if a machine gun mowed you down while you weren’t protected by armour or a tougher exoskeleton.

When the plan was settled upon, something strange overcame the four of them. Maddox couldn’t discern the feeling until a bit later, when he was checking over his personal arsenal in the Queen’s antechamber. Splayed out before him were his two pistols, one from the Bunker and one from the Cannibals, with two spare magazines each. Next was his own bandolier with six grenades in the pouches, his machete of course, the sliver blade black with dried blood, and finally the rifle he’d gotten from Amaya’s collection, with plenty of ammo, although he wasn’t nearly used to it than his one-handed weapons. He thought about cleaning these weapons before the final fight, in case they jammed or something, but he didn’t know how to disassemble any of them, much less knew where to find gun oil or whatever one used. Wasn’t like he had a father to teach him much anyway.

Maddox blinked. The final fight. This was it. They were just a step away from the end, they just had to hold out until the ship was ready, then they’d fall back and lift off to… whatever waited for them out there. Either that, or they’d die in this graveyard-turned-Hive, and Blankley would take the ship. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and the thought of dying was making him nervous. He needed to focus, because if his doubt bled its way into the Hive-mind then they were all doomed.

Normally he’d turn to Amaya for help, but she was a few rooms away training her daughters, and also coming to terms with the possibility the last of her family would die tonight. So for the time being he tried to find something to take his mind off things. He tried recalling a movie he once watched, hoping his memory and improved imagination did the trick, but that didn’t help much – a lot of movies way back when had been kind of trashy. He tried to get some shut-eye and count sheep, but sleeping was impossible with all that was going on. He did find a pencil and paper after a bit of wandering, his weapons tapping against his torso as he walked, and he wrote his thoughts down. That helped a little.

His scribbling eventually turned into a story. It was silly, something about a guy with psychic powers teaming up with his mentor to compete against another psychic with their mentor as they journeyed to save the world, but he ended up striking thick lines over most of it, then decided to just scrunch up the paper and toss it over his shoulder with a growl. Just like how the Xeon’s growled, he noticed.

Nothing seemed to calm him down, and why should it? Sure, he’d been dancing with death a lot these past few weeks, but now this was it, this was the time he had to keep his cool, and he just couldn’t. His friends, his only friends he’d ever had were in danger, and they counted on him, and if he couldn’t get it together, they’d die because of him.

His mental clock told him it was almost midnight. Almost the time of the attack, and soon either he or the Xenomorphs would sense the humans, then it would be ready battle stations for all of them. A little while later, as he leant against a wall of resin, excited and terrified at the same time, the call did come, but it wasn’t the one he expected.

My love? There you are. How are you?

On his right, Amaya approached from behind a corner. He grinned over at her, but it was an empty gesture, and it soon faded. He rubbed his eyes, desperate for sleep but unable to get it. “Pretty shitty. How about you?”

A little peak into his mind was all it took to understand his worries. Amaya held him close, doing all her best to calm him. He could tell that she and her daughters had talked, and while she was scared for their wellbeing, she was determined all the more to defend them all with her life. Take comfort with us, Maddox. Let me help you.

She invited him into the Hive-mind, and Maddox tried to enter, but all of his self-made distractions couldn’t quite let him focus. Amaya moaned, sad that he was so preoccupied. Maddox thought that would be it, he’d just have to face this fight as he was, but once again his first love came to his rescue.

I have an idea. Though I don’t know if you will like it.

“Anything. Anything to help me I’ll take it.”

She thought to him her plan, and Maddox’s eyes slowly widened as she finished. He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, but the look on her face told him it wasn’t the former. “You’re serious? I-I don’t know, it feels… fucking weird, to be honest.”

For you, yes. But my daughters have agreed, even Rita. It is simply a way to hone your mind in the short time we have left. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I-I’m pretty sure it does mean something!” It felt like he was getting ‘the talk’, but the positions were reversed, and the concept was the same, if that made any sense.

I told you before, Maddox. I know you love me, and I love you. If this is the only way to help you, then it must be done. Your doubts are your own, remember that. Human standards don’t really apply to us.

He ran a hand through his hair, not quite on board with the idea, but then he had to remember that these were aliens. Totally different way of thinking and living. As much as he was used to them, he was more of a guest than a fully-fledged member, so the concepts were still new to him, even if his mind had warped and his standards changed.

Eventually he relented, and Amaya moved away, and soon in her place the two sisters stood. For a while they simply looked at each other – at least he wasn’t alone in his nervousness – and then it was Luna who stepped forward first.

There was no need for words. Maddox undid his pants, while Luna reached up and grabbed on to the resin over his head for support, so she could lift her legs off the ground and mount him. There was a hiss of pain from both of them, and then he was inside her all the way. Luna’s walls were different to Amaya’s – tighter, and hooking upwards a short way into her womb. The pale Xenomorph rubbed and bumped against him, head resting on top of his own as they rode out a building climax.

Maddox had to tell himself the fact over and over. This didn’t mean anything, it was just sex so they could bond quickly, and his love for Luna was different than his love for Amaya. It didn’t make sense, of course, she was a different species, not related in any way, and yet he couldn’t help kissing her on the neck, making the young Xenomorph gasp in surprise, washing his head in her warm breath. Her walls clamped down on him as she squealed through a quick and messy climax. The sudden tightness soon forcing him over the edge as well. Luna made some sort of croon as she milked him for everything he had, her knees squeezing his sides like he was a mount being bucked into action.

Caressing his neck, Luna climbed off from him, stumbling a little as sat down a couple meters away, panting hard as she wiped at her groin, covered in their fluids. This she did without ever speaking a word, so maybe similar, confused thoughts were raking through her as well. He’d have to talk to her some other day and figure out what was going on between them, because he didn’t know what she was to him. But he would, sooner than he thought.

Rita looked from her sister to him, and although he was still sensitive from the early finish, he steeled himself as the older sibling came up to him, giving his dick a glance, then looking up at him.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you for shooting me. Or that I like you, or anything else. Okay?

A small grin played on his face. “Okay,” was all he said.

Rita copied her sister and took her spot mounting him. Small, bulging muscles lined the walls of her vent in a strange, alien way that immediately got his attention. Not better or worse than the others, just different, although his harder thrusts into her slowly rocking waist could say otherwise.

It was a little creepy that she shared so many physical characteristics with Amaya, so much that he could almost convince himself this was her in a slightly younger form. Maddox could sense Rita’s disgust at this ‘necessary’ mating, but there was a hint of pleasure buried somewhere deep down in her actions. Or maybe that was just Maddox fooling himself. It didn’t matter. She milked him for all he had as they finished together, though there wasn’t any kissing, just a few rubs here and there, and then that was that.

He slid out of her dripping hole and fell on his butt. Amaya was beside him after a moment, caressing him with her tail and warming their link, but there was something else that had Maddox’s attention. His link with Luna and Rita was now just as intimate as his and Amaya’s had been back when they were kids. Whatever sort of boost linking their physical bodies together did, they had become closer together in a few moments than say, five years would have taken. He could feel Rita and Luna’s minds, and they could feel his own. And now suddenly everything made sense.

“I’ve been so stupid,” he said, scratching his nose. “I can’t even remember what I was worried about. We’ll be fine, I know we will.”

We are family, Amaya said. We are one. We will leave this world. Together.

“Together,” Maddox agreed, joining his hand with one of her larger ones. Luna took Amaya’s other primary hand, her own warmth and love flowing through her mother and the human. The three of them looked to Rita, standing nearby with her arms crossed.

Group huddle, huh? Figures. With a dramatic sigh moved over, left hand linked with Luna’s, right hand with Maddox’s. There was a small moment where none of them said anything, just held each other’s hands in a last act of coming together. Just so you know, ever since you and Maddox came here, life’s been… fun? That’s not the right word. Great? No, no… It was… ‘nice’, having you two here. There, I said it. Happy?

Very, Amaya said. Maddox smiled, agreeing without needing to speak. I can hear the sounds of engines, faint but there. I’m afraid we’re out of time. I love each of you. I cannot say that enough. Be safe, and promise you will all come back to me.

Each of them promised. And when all was said and done, they split off for the last time, two going one way, two going another, to entirely different fates.

The Battle for the Hive was about to begin.

3

Luna and Maddox set themselves up at the far end of the entry tunnel. The northern end of it – theirs – widened into a chamber that had once been a security lobby for the airport, and here they got a clear view down the fifty-odd meters separating them from the open night. Maddox was currently down in a prone position, rifle raised in one hand, the grip of the machete gently brushing by his fingertips of the other.

Where would one such as I, provide able assistance? Luna had asked him a few minutes ago. She didn’t want to split up too far, as without support from the other they would be in big trouble.

“Can you use this?” He slipped one of his pistols out with a click and held it out. Her only response was to stare at the thing. “Oh, right. Claws. How about we just hang back, lure them in, then we pounce. We know where all these passes go, they don’t.

This is acceptable.

“Okay, good.” He slipped the gun back into his pants, then looked down the iron sights of the rifle. Luna melted into the shadows a few paces to his right, claws coming out of their sheathes with a wet slick. No one would be able to see her until she moved, that was how well she could blend with the resin, which she’d personally discoloured to match her hide.

They waited. For another ten minutes all they heard was the occasional movement of resin behind them, dripping off the walls like melting ice, and the infrequent gushes of wind whistling through the tunnel ahead. The storm was almost at its peak, lighting and thunder crashing away every few seconds, a like nature was having its own battle out there. Maddox felt his heart-rate climbing as nothing seemed to be moving out there. Maddox contacted Amaya and Rita to see how they were going.

Amaya, Rita? You girls in position?

We are, Amaya replied. Rita took a peek outside and saw the humans coming our way. We’re ready.

Did she see the tank?

It was hanging back, but coming our way. Rita replied. At least they didn’t have to switch positions if that was the case. Maddox wanted to say something instead of just cutting off right then – it was always possible this would be the last time they’d all get to speak with each other. In the end he did say something, but it wasn’t ‘goodbye’ or ‘I love you’ or something so dramatic. It was just the first thought off the top of his mind.

Hey, this is kind of like we’re all talking through walkie-talkies, isn’t it? We should add a little static sound once we’ve finished transmitting. Kshh.

We are not doing special effects, Amaya said sternly. We have to remain focused on the task at hand.

-Kshh. Amaya you’re supposed to go ‘kshh’. That’s what they do in the movies!

Rita huffed, the sound of someone who couldn’t quite hide their amusement. Yeah my Queen, at least let us pretend we’re an actual fighting force. Kshh.

If this suggestion gives off the right impression, Luna said. this would improve our efficiency, and effectiveness. Therefore: kshh.

Amaya sighed. You’re all a bunch of children, and not in a good way. I thought keeping our eyes – and in our case ears – keen and ready would also improve our efficiency… After a meaningful pause, she sighed again and added: Kshh.

Maddox snickered over the ‘radio’ – he even heard Rita and Luna express their own amusement, via chuffs and hisses. Amaya was right, they were a bunch of children, joking at a time like this. But it seemed fitting, if only because it was outright strange to do so.

There is movement beyond the perimeter, Luna advised after a while of further silence. If Maddox would confirm this for me, this would be reassuring.

Shit, she’s right, I can see people coming.

So can we, Amaya replied. They’re coordinating a two-point strike, as we guessed. Good luck Maddox, Luna. Kshh.

And with that, Amaya was gone. All Maddox had was Luna, his guns, and a whole troupe of humans he’d once lived with. Even though the humans were still a hundred meters out from his spot, he could see the whites of their eyes and hear the clumps of their boots. He watched them down the sights, willing himself to be calm.

Twenty, give or take, human males mixed with a few females. They were walking in five messy columns. A rather small number, so he guessed there were many other groups out of his sight, waiting for the go-ahead from this lead team. The five at the front of the columns were carrying rifles similar to his own, while the five behind them were holding handguns out in shaking arms. At least they were scared too. Unlike Maddox, they were all wearing some sort of respiratory system on their faces.

Maddox would have known during his ‘life’ in the Bunker if they had some way of manufacturing ammo, and to his knowledge they did not. That meant they had a lot of firepower, but might not be able to sustain it, and they’d have to rely on melee, just as Maddox would once his ammo was gone. Hopefully the skills he’d picked up with Amaya and fighting the cannibals would give him the upper hand, though he had no idea if these people had gone through similar trials on their way here too.

The first ten humans stepped through the resinic threshold, their bodies swallowed in a darkness Maddox was used to, but they weren’t. They watched every moving bit of Xenomorph ‘flesh’ with wild eyes, trying to aim their weapons every angle at the same time, handheld flashlights illuminating a place born from their nightmares.

Human and alien waited. Maddox trained the sights over the head of the one in the lead, keeping track of the rest of the troupe, who had just touched boots with the Hive – a thing he could sense rather than see. The humans were none the wiser, even as they strolled straight past his hiding place, even as they washed his body with torchlight, only to look away at some other place. Luna’s idea about concealing him with a bit of resin had worked (though the process was like covering him in her vomit), and now it was time to spring the trap.

Maddox sprang to his feet, bits of resin sticking to his arms as he pulled out of its web, and whirled around, one-handing his rifle. One of the humans in the back line sensed him before he could spin around fast enough, and Maddox could have been shot right then if the man wasn’t so stunned by his presence.

Maddox let fly a wild spray of bullets from the hip, and the Hive went bright with muzzle flash. The man facing him had his brains blown out the back of his skull, where it painted the woman’s back behind him a sickly pink colour. Maddox swung the rifle to the right, trigger clamped down, and the cone of death spread to the three others on this side of the troupe. Faces crumpled in agony behind gas masks, dying bodies falling forward into the tightly packed group, knocking people around like a human version of a domino effect.

The ones at the very front had much more time to prepare and separate, but as they whirled on Maddox at their flank, a foe they actually had been expecting snuck up on them from the side. Without a sound, Luna reached out and caressed the ‘leader’ on the neck, and the man died instantly, head separating from the body and falling to the floor with a wet thud. The Xenomorph let fly her most intimidating screech, loud enough to rattle even her own voice cords.

This brought her the attention of the living members of the troupe, seconds from nailing the vulnerable Maddox with a wave of gunfire. Bullets whooshed by her head as she galloped to the left, while Maddox sprinted right, leaving the humans to shoot into the surrounding darkness, without guidance or leadership, but plenty of confusion.

The pack of humans focused their fire on the right when they heard footsteps, a vanguard of melee defenders holding the flanks of the ones with the guns. There was a blur of darkness, and one of their comrades at the back fell to the ground, a line of blood gushing from his neck.

One of them cried a warning as they saw the Xenomorph running away, and their attention turned from Maddox to Luna. Maddox peeked around a corner and fired into the crowd, scoring an easy kill before ducking away to find a different spot. They played cat and mouse like that, picking them off one by one, the attackers unable to face the right way before one of them started an attack, the Hive-mind a wealth of tactical knowledge no humans could hope to compare to. After a few more attacks only three enemy humans remained.

One of them, a man just as young as Maddox, turned tail and ran back for the outside. Luna beat him to it easily, dropping down from the ceiling, holding him by the shoulders as her second mouth shot out and caved in his skull. Maddox dumped the rest of the magazine into the remaining pair, and they fell, arms flailing as they joined the mass of dead piled up by their feet. None of them got any further in from the entrance than a few meters.

How many had there been? Twenty, thirty? All dead in less than ninety seconds? Maddox imagined General Mattias would be proud, not that he cared much anyway.

I would suggest ducking, Luna said, sprinting past him and climbing up the wall on one side of the tunnel.

A moment after he’d hit the deck, a storm of bullets snapped through the spot he was just standing. He sensed another troupe of humans just outside the entrance, supressing down into the Hive even if they didn’t see anything. Crawling back to the safety of the wall, Maddox got up on his knees, slipping out the magazine from his rifle and replacing it with a fresh one.

He returned fire at the next batch of humans, but flinched back when a bullet pinged off his rifle, luckily bouncing to the off-side, down into the darkness behind him. He couldn’t count on one of the shooters to not get lucky if he peeked out again. Some of them were advancing while the other half were keeping him pinned.

Back, he told Luna. Go back, we need more space.

They dashed into the darkness, swallowed up by it and gone to the naked eye. He was pleased to hear the suppression go on for a few more moments time after they’d departed – every wasted bullet counted. When it did stop, he could hear more fighting off somewhere in the distance, and guessed Amaya and Rita were also engaged.

He and Luna came to a room with a bit less resin blanketing it. Bulbs covered by shades were angled towards the arch they’d just come in from. The lights were off. Two sets of stairs moved up to a balcony, converging to one path that led through an automatic door. Up there, Maddox crouched next to a terminal and a wall-mounted switchbox, his hand on one of the knobs as he listened to the sounds of approaching footsteps.

When they’d split into teams, he and Luna had cut power to many of the doors, so they could funnel and predict where the humans would go. Sure enough, they were coming right towards them, unaware of what he’d have waiting for them.

Luna hung above and ahead of him, curled over a protruding rib of resin like a monkey hanging head-down from a bar. They’d practiced this a couple of times, and though the risks were great, they were sure it would work.

The darkness was soon lit by torches and filled with grunts and gasps. Another twenty humans had followed them in, and Maddox noticed, just before he acted, that the one in front was holding a strange green-lit device in both his grimy hands. Intently did the user watch the small screen, which blipped noisily every few moments, and a quick angle showed Maddox the screen represented something very similar to a sonar wave, like what you’d find in a submarine. The man unknowingly pointed the device towards Maddox and the stairs, and two blips sounded off.

Motion tracker, Maddox had time to think, when the man holding it looked right up at Luna’s hiding spot. Before the man could warn his companions, Maddox turned the knob he’d been holding, and the room flooded with bright light, but only around the entrance, where the human group was.

The sudden splash of blindness caused a few panicked shouts, and triggers were pulled instinctively, but panic was washed away by pure fear when Luna jumped on the mass of flesh from above, and started to tear apart the group from the middle. Maddox emptied his ammo into the resulting carnage, trusting his aim to his instincts, confident he would not shoot Luna like he’d done to Rita accidently. They were easy targets in the light, but it wasn’t like he relied on sight much anymore, not like these humans, who shielded their eyes with one hand while flailing their weapons about in the other.

The troupe of attackers couldn’t get their guns up in time, too cumbersome now that something in their ranks was killing them off. So they switched tactics, unsheathing blades and blunt weapons alike, striking the towering form of Luna every chance they could get. Someone had a massive warhammer clutched in two hands, something you’d see in medieval times, likely stolen off some antique shop. It swung up high and crunched down on Luna’s shoulder blade, the little nub on the hammer end burying itself deep. The Xenomorph cried out in pain but kept fighting, red blood flying about in thin wisps of fluid with each swipe and chop of claws. The warhammer went to the sky again, but Maddox was faster. He shot the man holding it square in the chest, and he fell over, his skull only to be crushed beneath Luna’s retreating heal. He spasmed like a fish out of water, then went still.

A glance to his left, and Maddox saw a few humans had split off from the group to rush him, axes and knives in hand. They’d reach him before he could be reloaded, so he slung the rifle away in favour of his machete and pistol. They were much comfortable in his grip anyway. He met the group of five at the top of the steps, and they looked up at him as if they hadn’t been expecting him to be there. This surprised Maddox but for only a moment, as he raised his gun and dumped a couple rounds into the one in front.

She went flying back, chest open and insides spilling over the steps as she rolled away over the steps. The rest of the humans dodged out of the corpse’s way, and charged their former neighbour. Maddox blocked an overhead strike and then slashed left, opening up the stomach of a man trying to get around him. A kick in the chest sent the first attacker over the railing, where he screamed until he hit the ground below. A crack of bones, and the scream turned into a long, pained moan.

While Maddox duelled with three opponents, Luna was thinning the dozen strong group. Although she was not used to combat, her sheer presence was enough to press her advantage of surprise, until only five of them remained. Each one had her surrounded, blades drawn but blind fear painted on their partially concealed faces, too scared to get close, too scared to bend down and pick up a gun. The one on her left made to swing, and she met it with her tail, blocking. The length of her appendage moved out in two. This she did while taking the brunt of an axe-slash to her wounded shoulder. Only when the one with the broken arm stopped resisting, did she pull his arm right out of the shoulder, pulling it away from the skin on the shoulder like one takes a foot out of a sock. She used the human’s own arm to knock him away before flinging the limb into the human in front of her. Blood rained and flesh was ripped, as Luna traded an acceptable amount of hits to wipe out as many humans possible.

The slaughter Maddox had taken part of in the trench was nothing compared to this. It wasn’t long before he was drenched in blood from head to toe, as he stabbed and shot and killed without pause. Perhaps his eyes betrayed him into thinking these people, the ones he’d lived with for many years, recognised him right before he plunged his blade through their chests, and if they did, who did they see, he wondered? Former friend? Monster? Both? It wasn’t really all that important anymore though, was it? Nobody here wasn’t a monster.

Another two humans slain, one by gun and one by machete, and he was on the last man trying to slip past him. Maddox thought he recognised this one, and as he blocked the man’s katana from slicing his guts, he knew who it was. One of the other engineers, a colleague but obviously not a friend, since he didn’t know his name. He used to hang out quite a lot with old Jake.

It also seemed he knew his way around the sword he carried, as Maddox didn’t immediately kill him with the first riposte. The man still died, just a few moments longer, and when Maddox ran him through he thought he heard him say behind the gas mask: “You’re-!” -before Maddox tossed him off his blade, and his words brought blood instead of words. He didn’t think much about it before dashing off to help Luna.

He unleashed on the final trio from behind. Luna screeched, Maddox roared, and people died. Someone gave Maddox a deep gash across his temple, leaking blood down the side of his face, Luna’s shoulder was crushed, but both were still standing in the ankle-deep pile of goo after all was settled.

Gasping for air, Maddox wiped at his face then reloaded his pistol. The silence only lasted for a moment, and was broken by the distant sound of an explosion, muffled like a grenade going off underground. His attention was split between that, and the many footsteps coming after them from the chokepoint they were originally holding. A few pairs of feet were splitting off, probably to try and find a way to get around him and Luna.

Allowing these persons to get behind us, is insufficient, Luna advised, helpfully.

“You take them, I’ll go this way!” With the Hive-mind he didn’t need to specify any more than that. As Maddox dashed out of a side passage, Luna going another way, he prayed to the Queen’s – a higher power to him than there ever was one – to keep Amaya safe.

4

“Sir! Report from team two!”

Out here in the open, thankfully sheltered by the ruin of an old house, Blankley was startled by the sudden voice behind him. With their main fighting force battling up ahead, he was sure the sounds of battle would draw unwanted attention, and he’d be stabbed in the back by some claw or probiscis. He should have heard the bootsteps, but what was happening some hundred meters north of him had his and his vanguard’s eager attention.

No sooner had the point-team walked a few paces into the Hive had they encountered hostiles. The shouts of warning died away to a hellish shriek, and then the big bad monster had shown itself. Only for a second, but a thing like that couldn’t be mistaken. It was her. And boy was she pissed.

Thankfully the point team had done its job, exposing the Queen for a few precious moments, so pot-shots from the fire team set up behind them could whittle her down. The corner of his mouth curled upwards as he saw bright green blood dance away in waves. Another smaller alien was darting in and out of the fight, one of those royal protector types, and Blankley frowned, wondering why her personal entourage wasn’t a hundred strong.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Just how have you managed to do all this and still live?” he wondered out loud. And then his thoughts were interrupted by the messenger.

“Let’s hear it,” the Mayor told the young man. God he wished they had some working radios, relying on messengers was as ancient as it was inefficient.

“Sir, team two’s ran into trouble, they’ve lost more than a quarter of their force and… and one of the men said there was a human inside.”

Blankley raised a brow, searching the boy’s face for any hint of a lie, but found none. A survivor within? It seemed so unbelievable! Was this human working with the aliens? Or was it somehow avoiding them? Either way this was something he hadn’t taken into account. And to lose so many so quickly…

“Tell team two to hold what ground they’ve got until back up arrives, then push in. Stick to our original plan. Surround the Queen and we’ve won. Go.”

The male nodded, and took off in a run. Eyes back on the Queen, Blankley held a hand to his chin. Perhaps the back-up would have been more suited here, set up on that hill over there, but of course the Queen fucked with his plans, she’d always been more clever than Weyland wanted to admit. And this human… how could they get in there with these beasts? Perhaps there was a way he could try to sneak in?

No matter. People would die, that was certain, but so many more would be saved, and if his readings were to be believed, safety was just within their reach. He underestimated the cunning of these Xenomorphs. Hopefully they reciprocated the feeling.

5

Amaya hadn’t thought she could bleed so much. Her life-blood poured and poured, its acid effect matching, perhaps even outdoing, the outsides downpour of burning rain, melting the skin off those unfortunate enough to be close to her. One could fill a water tank to the brim with the amount of fluid around her, and she wasn’t even feeling woozy. Maybe it was the adrenaline fuelling her on, or maybe it was her worrying for her family, maybe it was both.

Whatever it was, she used it to her advantage in this overwhelming attack putting her and Rita on the back foot. They came in hard and in great numbers. Melee at the front acting as meat-shields for the gunners at the back. For every human slain, there would be another to take their place, and Amaya’s dance of death wiped out several humans at a time. The amount of kills she got per moment was a little jarring, especially how unsympathetic a lot of these humans appeared.

What surprised her, and her daughter more so, was the skill some of these humans had with their weapons. A couple times her tail blade had been knocked away from an otherwise deadly strike, and once she had been forced to release a choke-hold she had on a human male after he sliced open her artery before she could rip his throat. Not that she hadn’t felt pain there before, but it still hurt enough to release her grip.

Dozens of humans had her surrounded in a giant circle, poking at her from a random direction every few moments, mostly at her flank. The force cut her off from getting to Rita, who was also in a similar situation – slowly whittled down and surrounded. Bullets nicked Amaya across her body from afar, but her face was protected by her crown, which had slunk down over her cranium to act as a sort of helmet, minus any visual impairments. She hadn’t had to use such a tactic before, and that scared her.

Lifting her foot up over the swing of a hammer, which whistled by beneath her ankle, she stepped down on the would-be attacker and crushed him like he was an annoying ant beneath her high-heel. She placed her tail over her shoulder in her usual scorpion-like stance, and with the speed of a snake, it whipped out and to the left. In the time it took the appendage to come back to her, three heads had toppled to the floor, their former bodies spurting blood and crumpling over, arms flailing like they were trying to literally find their heads.

She was a goddess of death to these humans, swinging away left to right, left to right, sending bodies flying away, chests caved and limbs torn off and apart, and yet they kept coming. Bullets sprayed over her from down the passage to the outside, some bouncing away, some digging into her flesh. Her blood leaked out and joined the layer of human life-juice caking the ground, the mixing of flesh and blood creating a chocolate-coloured mix filled with worm-like intestines. The soup was high enough to splash against her ankles.

A jab to her left knee by a lucky swing of some sort of scythe weapon. She killed the perpetrator by running him through with her left hand(s) claws, then chucked him into the wave of reinforcements coming her way, knocking a couple of them down like bowling pins. She saw the cluster of humans as an opportunity. Unhooking one of the explosives from her bandolier – or Maddox’s depending on how one looked at it – pulled the pin and let it fly, just as her mate had done to the Cleaner.

The grenade detonated right in the thick of the group, sending ripped chunks of bodies flying in every direction of the compass. The sonic boom rattled her bones at the proximity. Shrapnel cut her along the arms. A glance down the passage displayed the night, and yet more encroaching humans, but nothing else. No vehicles anywhere.

Rita! To me! We can’t hold here!

Not with that attitude, Rita said as she tore the arms off a human and used them to slap the gun out of another’s hands. We can take them!

Don’t be a fool! Link up with me in the antechamber, throw them off us.

Rita thankfully put aside enough of her lust for blood to fall back down one passage, while Amaya cleared the way to another. To humans this place all looked the same, so just a little deeper in and they’d find themselves in a maze of resin. The humans gave chase but she was faster, even with her slowly increasing number of wounds. But where was the tank? Rita had seen it with this group, and she’d sensed its presence too!

Running up to a hole in the ceiling to catch her breath, she focused her senses to try and find it. Without having to worry about defending herself in combat, she could easily do so. After a moment, she found it, and there in the vent, listening to the low din of gunfire, rain and thunder, the clashing of steel and flesh, Amaya’s mouth dropped.

Maddox! Luna! It’s coming right for you!

6

Maddox frowned at the warning. After killing off a pair of stragglers, he looked around for any company before focusing a reply.

Are you sure? It’s not-

The wall to his left exploded, like someone had placed a breach charge on the other side, and Maddox was sent flying, landing on his ass ten meters from where he was just standing. His skull throbbed with pain as it smacked into the ground hard. The front end of two pairs of tracks rolled through the smoke, followed by the pointed-end of a bulky vehicle.

Two groups of three men, armed with pistols and blades, moved past the tank and through to the next passage, fortunately not spotting the groaning Maddox as he tried to stand up, hurting all over. He would have given chance to stop them getting any closer to the ship than they already were, but a loud cranking of motors and gears drew his attention.

The tank’s main turret, comically tiny in size compared to the main bulk, was whirling its cannon in his direction. The thing’s armour was dented all over, as if someone had hit every inch of it with a hammer. He guessed the acid rain was at fault there, but he wished it had crippled it a bit more. The barrel of a gun built into a kill slot on this side of the tank opened up a fully-automatic machine gun on him.

Maddox felt the fabric of his shirt tear away as he dived behind a nearby column of sticky resin. The trail of bullets followed him, then began chipping away at the resinic cover. The Xenomorphic material was strong, but wasn’t invincible against this kind of onslaught. Maddox screamed as he held his head in his hands, any of these moments being his last as the barrage continued to destroy everything around him. He was too scared to move, and he’d die if he didn’t. He could feel his cover shrink to the size of his hunkered outline.

Then the barrage shifted seconds before there wouldn’t be enough protection to save him. The machine gun moved over to his right, peppering the walls with holes as the gunner swung around to face the front. Maddox peaked around, and went wide-eyed as Luna dashed across the open space to the front of the tank, where she began digging her claws into the armour.

There was no port on the very front, and the main cannon couldn’t get an angle on something that close, so she was safe for the moment. Whoever was on the main gun tried anyway to shoot, and a high explosive round tore apart a massive crater a few meters before the tank, leaving a mouth of black in the floor, smoke sizzling along the edges. The newly made hole lead into the catacombs of tunnels below, the ones Maddox hadn’t yet explored. He felt Luna’s pain as a massive shard of shrapnel stabbed into her spine, but still she continued to claw her way into the armour.

“The turret!” he cried, standing up and fiddling with his leather sash. “Go for the turret!”

Luna obeyed, scurrying up the bulk, getting on top of the vehicle. The tank fired another shell, and she narrowly dodged it by the width of a hair. The round blew apart the far wall of the room, exposing more adjacent chambers and tunnels. Resin and shards of metal alike rained down across the chamber.

Luna squatted on top of the turret, which was swivelling around to try and spot her. Holding on like a cat perched on a cliff, she reached down and grabbed the main barrel with both hands, and pulled. The barrel didn’t break, but her biceps did. Hot pain washed through her limbs like liquid fire as she exerted herself as hard as she could, but she only managed to bend the barrel slightly over one way. At least it’s aim would be off by an inch or two.

Jump Luna! Maddox warned her mentally. She did so without needing to ask, launching off and smacking her chin into the ground hard enough to dislodge a few fangs. The tank’s bulk rotated around, and she rolled away moments before being crushed by the multi-wheeled treads.

Maddox grunted, and one of his grenades went flying in a steep arch by an underhand throw. It bounced off the top of the right-side track and detonated, a ball of flame and metal spraying into the flank of the vehicle. Maddox heard someone inside scream. Wiping blood from his eyes, he pulled the pin on another grenade and let it fly too, this one overhead. As soon as the grenade left his hand, the machine gun opened up on him again in a short, accurate burst, and he felt pain like never before in his right hand, his throwing arm.

Maddox half ducked; half fell back behind the column. He looked down, and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His pinkie and ring finger were there a second ago, and now they weren’t, along with a chunk of flesh making his palm. He cried out in pain, tears stinging his eyes, but no one heard him over the great boom! -as his thrown explosive detonated with a cough of soot and flame, right on top of the tank by a throw he would never be able to achieve again.

The turret was blown right off its hinges, flying like a hat taken in the breeze and landing beside Luna, who’d curled into a ball to shield herself from the flames and flying detritus. One of the tank treads flipped off the front two wheels, the belt flapping around uselessly, and from inside the vehicle they could hear yells and warning alarms.

When the vehicle seemed unable to move anymore, Luna went to all fours, ready to pounce on whoever was stubborn enough to still be alive. She saw a helmeted head peak out over a hatch that popped open towards the front, and she sprung forward in a kill-leap, a move her sister had taught her. Halfway through her flight, something appeared beside the human head. It looked a lot like the gun Maddox used, but bigger. The human held it out before him, one-handed. Her war-cry turned into a scream of pain, as bullets slipped into her skull through her face. Her claws, outstretched to kill, went slack, and she harmlessly bounced off the tank’s burning bulk, landing too short to kill. She slumped up against the vehicle in an awkward pose, tasting blood in her throat.

The gunman tossed himself out of the wreckage, and he fell with a thump to the floor. His back was lit a red glow from the slowly birthing flames. Hands beneath his chest, he pushed himself up to a knee, then fished his belt for another magazine. The three other crewmen in the tank had burned up pretty bad before he’d ditched. No need to check, he was sure they were dead, or just about to be.

He put the ammo clip against the grip, missing the slot by a centimetre. But before he could fix this, he saw movement, and a slivery blade was swinging for his face. He just about blocked it with his gun, but the magnum went flying out of his hand, landing somewhere on the other side of the tank – their back up. He looked up into the face of the attacker, sensing betrayal, but when his face met the other man, Jess’s jaw went slack.

“Oh shit, look who it is! How are ya, Chief? Remember me?”

Maddox eyed the human face behind the gas mask, trying to ignore his flaring hand, the one with less fingers, the one leaking blood like water out of a faucet. “Nope,” he said, and swung again.

The man danced away from Maddox’s chop, and pulled from his waist a small combat knife. “You interrupted our little night of fun way back when. You smashed my face with that fucking bottle, mister town drunk.”

“Oh,” Maddox said. This was half in pain of his hand, half in recognition. “Blankley’s little dog in heat. How’s the lip?”

“Better. How’s exile? I thought you’d be turned into monster shit by now.” Jess switched the knife from right hand to left. “You’re the one some of our guys saw earlier? Who woulda thunk? It’s about time I got some payback, Chief. No Mayor to protect you now.”

Both men lunged at each other. Jess ducked under the machete and swung his knife. Maddox felt blood spill over his belly as he blocked a second jab. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Luna, and she wasn’t moving. The machete felt like it weighed a ton now that his fingers were gone.

“Just how the hell are you in here?” Jess asked between an exchange of blows, neither one landing a hit. “Them aliens haven’t eaten you up yet? How? The smell of booze throw them off?”

“You’d be surprised how-” Maddox managed to cut into the other man’s arm, drawing a river of blood. Soon Jess’s arm was painted red from the elbow down. “-how nice they are. I’ve been helping them out.”

“Figures a freak would be taken in by things that aren’t human. But how’d you do it?”

Maddox ignored him and went in for an overhead swing. Jess swung underhand. Both of them just managed to catch the hand on the others weapon, and they began to struggle for dominance. Maddox felt his hand on his machete begin to weaken, blood from his missing chunk of palm birthing an uncanny amount of life-juice.

Jess sniffed at the air, exaggerating it enough that Maddox heard it. “Christ man you stink. How long you been here? Wouldn’t surprise me if you fucked these things. Did ya, Chief? How’d it feel? I bet you liked it you fucking freak.”

“At least they wanted to,” Maddox grunted in effort. “Not like you. You’ve got to strap down your women, wait your turn while you watch your friends. You probably pop before you even drop your pants.”

The knife was inching closer as Jess’s strength was overpowering his own. The pain of Maddox’s missing fingers was making his vision go red with pain. “Fuck you. Alien-loving fuck. You’re dead. You hear me you’re dead!”

Maddox’s muscles flexed as he tried as hard as he could to counter Jess, but his strength was fading as fast as his blood was leaking from his wounds. The knife entered his belly with a terrible slowness, and he growled through clenched teeth. The blade entered through his skin and dug inside, one slow bit of steel at a time.

Maddox’s face contorted in pain, and Jess grinned down at him. “Say goodnight Chief. You shouldn’t have fucked with us. Now you’re- AHHHH!”

Through tears, Maddox saw something poking out through the other man’s elbow – the sharp end of a tail. Luna had crawled forward enough to just about reach, and the knife clacked to the floor out of Jess’ spasming hand.

Maddox threw his weight back, his machete coming free from the struggle. Jess stood like a deer in headlights as he watched the blade come down. It chopped into the webbed flesh between the shoulder and the neck, and the man screamed, the sound whistling through the ports in the gas mask. He fell to his knees, buckets of blood pooling out of his neck.

“No! Ch-Chief wait-!”

“Stop calling me that.” Maddox sent the blade forward and buried it between Jess’s eyes, lodging it into the skull like a lumberjack hacks a log of wood. Jess’s eyes rolled up in their sockets, mouth falling into a drooping ‘o’. His arms went slack, and Blankley’s second was no more.

Maddox freed the machete and kicked the corpse away, which banged up against the front of the tank, the skull splitting again, even more blood spilling across the dead man’s shoulders. Maddox fell on his back, dropping his weapon and cradling his hand minus two fingers. He couldn’t look at it, he couldn’t understand the feeling of not having two fingers there anymore. He cradled it against him, trying to stop the violent bleeding by putting pressure down. He fished in his pockets for some cloth.

Maddox? Is your injury… sufficient?

“Luna!” Her voice was slow and groggy, and she herself didn’t look much better. Luna was crawling up to him using only one elbow, and he feared the other arm was broken. Forgetting the cloth, he staggered over to her and fell beside her, the sounds of fighting all around them, but not in the immediate vicinity at least. He didn’t know this, but many of the leeches, woken by all the noise, had come out and attacked some of the humans. This was their territory in their tiny minds.

Luna managed a small little smile at him when he looked at her wounds, which would have killed him if he were in her position. Above her lips were the butts of bullets, buried a fingers length into her head. Her spine had a shard of metal as long as his hand sticking out, and her shoulder blade wasn’t in that position before. “Luna y-you’re okay. You’re okay.”

This is not the appro… appropriate word I would use. She moaned in pain when he held her head. You knew this… this one? She nodded to the corpse of Jess.

“Yeah. Long story. C-Come on, we have to get out of here. The ship should be ready soon.”

Six hundred, and eighty-t… excuse me… forty-two seconds, precisely.

“Really? Okay. Okay come on.” He helped her up, using his good hand. Both of them hissed in pain, but they got to their feet eventually. “I need to open up the silo doors. While I do, you go find Amaya and Rita.”

This is… inefficient.

“Why? You’re hurt worse than me. I can take anyone still around here, you need help.”

If the task at hand involves pushing buttons, you are less capable in your… current status.

He groaned. “I’ve still got one good hand. You’re faster, you can get to Amaya quicker.”

This is the point. It would take me minimal effort to reach the… control room, where as you would take m… more time than currently provided. By my estimates, my… my going would take less time, specifically three hundred and th-

“Okay. Okay. We… we’ll both go then.”

This seems unnecessary. And not cost-effective in relation to time. A-And this is more the case the further we converse and remain unmoving.

Maddox clicked his tongue. He couldn’t put her in danger for his sake – there were still people around even though they’d wiped out a lot of them. But her logic, of course, seemed flawless otherwise. It was just pushing a button and leaving, she’d be back before he knew it.

“Fine, Luna. This… This is acceptable, as you’d say. Just be quick about it.”

That is implied throughout any action.

“Doesn’t hurt to remind. Alright, get going. See you in the silo.”

This will be done.

Luna took back her arm, the one supporting Maddox, and he ran off towards the east. Luna watched him go for a moment, seeing him get out a length of bandage to tie around his hand, before casting her gaze up. That vent their led right to where she needed to go, and with a jump, she launched the ten meters up easily, grabbing a rib of resin with the arm she could still feel. She slipped into the vent and was gone.

She bumped into the ceiling a little too hard when she turned a corner, and the flare of pain was enough to stop her in her tracks. Luna felt like lying down, her body demanded her to stop, but she pushed that pain aside, and made haste through the vent’s confines. Her family relied on her efficiency, and she would provide, as she always had, as was always her focus in life.

Up ahead, artificial light washed through the top of the vent in a small circle. Head-first, she dove through the gap and landed on her feet, surrounded by the familiar machinery that mastered most of the complex. Checking the hall outside the control room for humans – which there wasn’t – she moved over to one of the computers.

Her numb arm curled over her stomach, she recalled all that Maddox had taught her, and examined around for the inputs that would open the doors and release the clamps. She hadn’t mentioned it to him in person, but all that time he’d spent with her – all the knowledge he shared and all the times they’d repaired what she otherwise thought irreparable – they were the happiest moments of her existence. It forced her to branch out her ways of thinking, overcome problems, think more. It was a sensation Rita could never understand, but Maddox did. Because Maddox was something special to her. Not a mate. Different than that. Speaking the word was warming to the heart, and she’d love to say it as Maddox does with his lips and tongue, just to surprise him. She knew he’d like it as much as she did.

The word, was father.

She hummed as she twisted a dial from left to right, and a thunderous noise sounded off. Through the window overlooking the silo, ancient gears creaked to life, as the hatch towering above the starship began to split down the middle, opening up the skies. Light casted by the moon washed over the dusty hull of the ship, the clouds parting and the stars shining down. This she imagined more than actually saw, but she liked to think that’s what was happening.

She moved her hand over to the right, to the buttons needed to release the clamps holding the ship in place. But right before she could press them, the door behind her creaked open, and two humans walked inside. She turned, her bad arm making her unable to pounce. She’d have to sprint the distance.

But the space between her and them was far, and the human in the front was carrying something. A weapon she hadn’t seen before, and she tilted her head curiously down at it. It’s bulbous nozzle in her direction, and she noticed a little bit of blue gas leaking out from it. The human turned some sort of valve on the side of the contraption. Luna bared her fangs, lips peeled back, but before she could act, the human pulled the weapon’s trigger, and her world lit up in a blaze of yellowly red light.

Hot flames spewed forth from the nozzle, washing her in a bath of blistering heat. She screamed, her lips singing black as flames caressed them and poured down her throat. Her good arm thrashed about, trying to smother the flames, but her whole body was covered in its hot touch. She was a walking inferno, and the human kept pouring it on.

Luna tried to ram into him, hoping to knock the weapon away, but in her thrashing she disoriented herself, and she crashed right into the glass window instead. Her legs tipped up over the consoles, and she fell backwards into free-fall. She screamed the thirty meters down to the launch deck, a soaring ball of red-hot flames and burning flesh. Luna felt her shins pop through her knees as she struck the ground.

Mother! Father! It hurts so mu… That was the last thing Luna ever said, and then death took her from this world.

7

Amaya had gone through a lot of pain. She’d seen blood pour out of every inch of her body, been shot, stabbed, poisoned, chopped up and ripped apart. One time she’d even bathed in the ground zero of a nuclear bomb without ever knowing what radiation was. Yet none of that could compare to the loss of a child.

She actually tripped over her own feet and face-planted into the ground, as she just happened to be sprinting when Luna’s life ended. A part of her very soul had been ripped out and crushed, one more voice lost to the void because of her. Why, she wondered, did love bring with it so much pain? It didn’t make sense. They were doing so well and it didn’t make sense.

Face lifting to the skies, Amaya hung her mouth and screamed, a sound so piercing it gave every human intruder in the Hive pause for concern. Luna’s death kept replaying over and over in her mind – her life now but a bad memory that couldn’t ever be forgotten. One of her human pursuers shot her square in the back as he came upon her fallen form, and the shot would have paralysed her if she wasn’t a walking death machine. Oh yes, death was her specialty. She proved this by spinning around and bearing down on him, weeping all the while as she tore him into two parts by cutting right down the middle, forehead to groin, and chucked the pieces away.

You’re my cause of death, Luna said from beyond, where all her dead children went. Why didn’t you save me? Which number satisfies the amount of death given in your name?

You’re not real, Amaya thought right back. Two humans came around the corner, blades waving around like they were kids holding long rulers in class time. She impaled one with her hand and chopped the other’s legs off with a sweep of her tail. You’re not real!

This is because, you killed me!

My Queen! Another voice said. It took her a moment, but she recognised Rita’s presence. My Queen, the starship! You must move!

Luna… Luna’s gone. She’s gone!

I know. There’s nothing we can do about her now. Mother you have to go now! Before we lose you as well.

Like many times before tonight, this was the part where Amaya crawled back into her shell and let the world go by while she stayed in her personal bubble. But two things stopped this, two valuable things she’d learned throughout this journey through Solaris. The first was that indeed, she still had people who needed her. Regardless of who was gone, the ones who were alive needed her. And the second, perhaps just as strong a reason as the first if not more, was what Rita had called her just then. Not Highness or Queen, but the term she’d always craved.

You’re… right. I-I don’t… Amaya took a moment to keep herself from babbling. Maddox? Maddox where are you?

Through the metaphysical Hive-mind, his voice replied. I’m coming to you now. The tank’s gone, but Blankley’s still around somewhere.

This ‘Blankley’, Rita said. I think I see him, with his own group of human praetorians. He’s been eating rich in this poor world.

Daughter, do not fight him! Wait for us!

Too late! They’re coming straight for me!

Rita! Amaya didn’t wait for Maddox; contradicting her own words as she took off down the tunnels to her last daughter, where she could feel the touch of death dance around Rita’s flesh, tempting her with every added wound. Another fire team of humans stood in her way, trying desperately to find the starship without a fight it seemed. They slowed Amaya down to a crawl, and she roared in evident frustration as she slaughtered her way through, not nearly fast enough. Too many times was she never fast enough. Why didn’t they just give up?! Didn’t they know they were finished without their vehicles to help them anymore?

A warning alarm blared out through the tunnels, and with Maddox’s knowledge she knew what they meant, and she guessed Blankley’s forces did too. The starship was moments away from being ready to launch. Just a few more seconds and she’d be with Rita, then they’d finish this.

She dropped down from a ledge into a wide space – a former egg-chamber is she wasn’t mistaken. Waves of fire lit up the other side of the area, and she saw humans wielding flamethrowers trying to corner Rita, heading her into a trap of flame and death. It seemed they’d saved their most deadly weapons for last. Bodies were everywhere, but a dozen humans still remained, weakening Rita with pot-shots while others whittled her down with blade and blunt weapons, keeping Rita pinned with flame. Cowardly, but efficient in fighting through attrition.

Maddox was just a few hundred meters to her right somewhere, getting closer. Amaya, perhaps foolishly, wasn’t so concerned for him in this heat of the moment, and she dropped on the back line of the human group like a lioness pounces a pack of deer. She grabbed the hilt of a swinging blade before it sliced into her shoulder, ripped the weapon away (severing the arm as well) and ran through the human woman with her own cleaver.

Gas sputtered and flames danced over Amaya in a terrible wave of agony, yet she pushed through the wave of heat, stamping on the flamethrower and impaling the human with her claws through his chest. She lifted him up to eye-level, stared into his sheepish eyes, opened her mouth and scooped out his brains with her ‘tongue’.

One human carrying a chainsaw revved the handheld engine and swiped at her knee. Dropping the now dead human, she blocked the machine with her tail at the last second, but hissed and snarled when the rotating blades dug in and actually chopped away pieces of her appendage, cracking and blunting the once fine tail blade. Rita came to her rescue, darting by as a dark shadow. Not even Amaya saw the movement, as the chainsaw-wielder’s head fell one way, the body going another.

The slaughter continued to spill more human and alien blood. Amaya lost herself in the following carnage, her mind only focused on killing, nothing more. She didn’t notice Maddox entering the chamber’s northern entrance, nor a certain stocky human retreating that way while she and Rita slew his vanguard.

The two humans paused, a few meters between them as they both tried to catch their breath. Maddox recognised that fat mug anywhere, and judging by the way Blankley’s eyes went wide, he guessed the feeling was mutual.

Maddox! We’re coming! Amaya’s voice was quiet in his mind. Maddox was too focused on the Mayor, too focused on all the shit this man had put him through.

His pistol and rifle were out of ammo, the last of it used up in getting here, and the thought to pick up a weapon had slipped Maddox’s mind, but he didn’t care. A bullet was too good for Blankley, and he wanted to savour this moment.

“Where’re you going, Mayor?” Maddox asked him. He lifted up the machete and pointed it over Blankley’s shoulder. His hand wasn’t bleeding now that he’d covered it up, but the bandages were dark red all over. “Fight’s over there.”

“I fear combat isn’t much my style,” Blankley said, eyes darting from Maddox’s to the machete. He didn’t seem keen on moving any more than that. “You seem much more suited for such brutality, Chief Engineer.”

“At least I’m not running like you, now that the army of sheep you hide behind is dead. Maybe in the next world they’ll think again before following someone like you.”

“People always need guidance, Chief. I simply provided, nothing more.” Blankley lowered his hands to his sides. “I can see the Fall’s gotten to you as well, you’ve got that look in your eye. Tell me, how is it you’ve managed to befriend these Xenomorphs? Just indulge me, for old times’ sake.”

“Ever since you cut her out of me, we’ve always been close.” Maddox tapped his chest, indicating the faint wound there from a surgery long ago.

“Ah. So you know? I’ve always theorized you and the Queen were closer than we suspected. You know that’s why I let you stay in the Bunker all that time? A lot of people warned me against it, but I ignored them.” A question lit up in Blankley’s eyes. “How do you even know about that anyway? The memory wipes…”

“She reminded me,” Maddox jerked her head at Amaya in the distance, where the battle was turning in her and Rita’s favour.

“Truly? She tell you even your parents abandoned you? Admit it, Chief, you’ve always been an outcast, even to your own family. The irony wasn’t lost on me when you forced me to turn you out into this world.”

A spark of pain came across Maddox’s face, making him break eye-contact for but a moment. “The Xenomorphs are my family now. Far as I care, you and every other man or woman that follows you can rot in this place.”

“You think you’re one of them? Please, Chief, you’re human, just like the rest of us. You’re creating your own illusion to fool yourself. You’re not better than me. I’ve done everything to save our race, our people, our home, and all you’ve done is destroy it. You’re not worthy enough to leave Solaris!”

“Maybe you’re right,” Maddox said. “Maybe none of us deserve to escape. But the Xenomorphs? They deserve better, and I’ll help them until the end.” Maddox paused. “You know it’s funny, without you I never would have left the Bunker, and would never have reunited with my girl. I should let you live for doing that for me.” Maddox’s eyes went hard. “But fuck that. This is what you get, Blankley.”

At those last words, the Mayor tensed up. He’d actually thought he would show mercy, and for some reason that made Maddox even more angry than he already was at this sad sap of a human. Blankley palmed one side of his coat away, and Maddox looked down and saw something silver clinging to the Mayor’s belt. It was so obvious to tell Blankley was packing, but Maddox was too busy talking to notice. One last trick by the former Mayor.

Maddox threw all of his weight off his heels, machete aimed front and high, teeth gritted in effort. Blankley drew his gun. Both presented their weapons to each other, and attacked. Maddox’s blade met flesh in a wet crunch, but the sound died away to a single bang of a gunshot. Maddox rammed his weapon home, driving the machete all the way up to the hilt, straight through Blankley’s chest and out his back.

The two went tumbling to the floor, and Maddox found himself lying beside Blankley’s head, the Mayor writhing left to right as the man tried to pull the machete out of his chest, but failing. Maddox saw the gun sitting by his right hand, and just in case Blankley decided to reach for it, Maddox went and got it first.

But as he sat up, then bent over, exerting from the effort, the air came out of his throat in a thin wisp. He tasted something metallic on his tongue, finding himself hard-pressed to get enough air in his lungs. Something wet ran down his pectoral. For some reason, Maddox was terrified to look down, but he willed himself to.

Gazing down at himself, he saw a hole in his shirt, and his pink flesh peeking out through it. Blood was dribbling out in long, bubbly lines, drying up against his already ruined clothes. He’d thought being shot in the heart would hurt, but really he just felt lighter, young even. Wait… was the heart on the left or right side? He’d honestly forgot.

His hand reaching for the gun slipped, and all he managed was to push it away, as he laid slowly back down on the resin, like he was falling on his mattress for some much-deserved sleep. All he heard was Blankley groaning and the sounds of gunshots through the walls. The resin was thin enough for that. Man, Amaya was taking her sweet time! How long was he lying here for? Long enough to start seeing a puddle of his own blood spread out in a circle beneath him, it seemed. Moving his legs and arms was just as hard as breathing, and those paper-thin wisps of air weren’t nearly enough to help him speak, verbally or otherwise.

An eternity later, something brought him back to his senses. A hand on his shoulder, turning him over so he faced a ceiling so high he couldn’t see it. A face he loved entered his vision, slightly upside down, and he couldn’t help smiling at it.

“Amaya,” -was what he meant to say, but instead all that came out was a gurgle of blood, and he coughed, spraying some of the redness across her breast. He exhaled for a long time, but the inhale was short. Too short.

Oh, Maddox… Amaya said, wrapping an arm behind his shoulders and another over his waist, cradling him like a babe. We weren’t fast enough. Y-You should have waited!

“G-Gun,” he managed, swallowing down what seemed a pint of blood to clear his mouth. “Didn’t see… the gun. I’m… I’m so stupid Amaya. So stupid.”

No, never in life. She cupped a hand under her chin and was already retching up her jelly. After a moment, Rita entered the corner of his vision. She said nothing, but he could tell by her face alone she was struggling to not look away from him. He must have looked pretty done in.

“R… Rita? Hey, it… it doesn’t really hurt, you know? Getting shot. I think you were… overreacting.” His head rested back into the crook of Amaya’s arm. “Just like your mother.”

Rita’s small little smile was enough for him. He laughed, a shallow sound, but he meant it. Amaya lowered the jelly onto his chest, and the contact made him wince, but he bit through the pain. Every other time it healed him; it took less than a minute to feel the effects. But this time he didn’t feel much better, just a little woozy.

“Amaya,” he hissed. “Luna. She… Luna’s…”

I know, she told him. She held him close, their private link filled with cold mourning for a loss. I know.

Rita voiced a low moan as she placed a hand on Amaya’s back. The three of them shared a moment of silence together, but it was short, circumstances always found a way to cut off some needed time, but time wasn’t healing Maddox as it should. His chest was still wrecked.

We need to get the bullet out of him, Rita said, hunkering down, her claws moving.

No, Amaya said. His flesh is too weak for that. The jelly will save him. Amaya sounded like she was trying to convince herself. It has before, and it will now. It will. Just give it some more time.

Maddox winced in her arms, and on instinct she hugged him tighter. She didn’t know the first thing about medical help for humans, only that the gel worked, but why wasn’t it?! Maybe if she’d read up on some medical reports back in that lab, she could have figured out some sort of procedure. Fool!

“W-We have to…” Maddox moaned as he tried to stand up, but failed. Amaya caught him before he fell. “Ship. Amaya, the ship. Maybe there’s something on board. Maybe… fly to… somewhere. Get h-help. Blankley’s people… get there before them.”

He’s right, Rita said. I can feel them investigating. We need to be quick. Stand him up, we can’t stay in this place.

Amaya wanted to cry at how painful it was for Maddox to use his legs, even with her assistance, but she fought through. He held a hand to his chest tight, like he was holding together a flimsy dam protecting him from a tide of blood threatening to spill. Arms all out for help and support, Amaya glued to him as he got upright.

Can you walk? she asked. He nodded, hand over her waist. She pulled her big arm across him and took most of his weight. She was bleeding all over, but careful enough so he wouldn’t touch any of it.

They moved off, but Maddox waved her back. “Wait. B-Blankley! That’s him, girl…”

She followed his finger back behind them, and had not noticed the man’s body until he pointed him out. A memory at the far reaches of her mind came running to the front. Blankley. The one with the knives. She bared her teeth.

The man with the sword run through him looked up at her, eyes filled with fear, and a hint of recognition. “P-Please,” he said. “Mercy. I-I spared you both. You owe me that much…”

Amaya limped over to the prone man, one spare arm’s claws splayed out, mercy the farthest thing on her mind. She couldn’t risk this man living through this night, no matter the slim odds.

“Hey, Mayor.” Maddox coughed, and through all the pain and the state he was in, he managed a grin. “If you’re smart, you’ll close your eyes. It’s easier that way.”

Blankley opened his mouth, perhaps to state the recognition of his own words, but his voice failed him. To Maddox’s ultimate surprise, Blankley heeded his own advice.

Amaya reached into the Mayor’s throat, and pulled away. Flesh and blood came with her. Blankley gurgled and died in obvious, painful suffocation. A twitch of movement, and then it was over. Maddox shook his head at the corpse, then turned away. It was done.

Rita? Amaya said, moving Maddox up to a side passage. Her daughter stood proud nearby, covered in her own blood but still strong enough to fight. Don’t let that ship take off without us. Kill anyone that stands in your way. We’ll be right behind you.

Yes, mother. With pleasure.

Amaya turned back to Maddox. Her Host’s skin was already going a shade pale, his attention as sluggish as his movements. Maddox, focus on my voice, alright? Just hold on. Please, just hold on. We’re almost there.

Chapter 17

Ship

1

The pain was shared, as was everything that came between one and Host, so every time Maddox sucked in a gasp of air, each one becoming raspier and harder to do, Amaya felt her own lungs contract unhealthily even though she had no mortal wounds. She silently begged him to stay quiet, for the sound of Maddox gagging on his own blood was the worst thing imaginable on this world.

Through the twists and turns, she supported his smaller frame ever onward, down and deeper towards the core of the Hive – the launch deck. They passed numerous corpses; Amaya losing count after fifty. Most of the slaughter was Rita’s doing – every now and then they’d hear her screeching and killing somewhere up ahead – but this was just a portion of her, Maddox’s, and her daughter’s joined work. The Hive was a killing ground, as it had always been for the last seven years. Its most recent additions now included one of her own.

The thought of her dead daughter made Amaya sob, choking on her spit as she tried not to let Maddox hear her. If he saw her losing her will, his body might follow through and give out. It wasn’t helping that she was only a small push away from crying, and she was only calmed because Maddox was warming their link with his love. Still he managed to do this even with a bullet in his chest, and for this she was grateful as well as adoring. This man, this little human, was her source of strength – he was the toughest, most caring, lovable person she knew. He’d made mistakes, but who wasn’t guilty of that? His will would not fail now.

Clutching Amaya round her waist, grabbing onto an especially charred part of her exoskeleton, she was his shield as she ushered him through the tunnels and chambers, both limping along as fast as they could. They only encountered one living human on their path, some woman holding up a pistol at the approaching, wounded duo. Amaya slapped the gun away with her tail with minimal effort, the woman looking too horrified to even be considered a threat. She growled down at the human as they passed, letting her know that should she follow, this Queen would not show mercy a second time.

“Hold on,” Maddox gasped after a while. “Hold on girl. Stop.”

Reluctantly she did, and was about to ask why when Maddox keeled over and vomited out his lunch, and whatever gunk his body was creating to combat the gunshot. She’d seen many humans live through outstanding odds. The body must be tougher than what appearances showed, and this went double for Maddox. Not many could summon the strength to walk on after what he’d been through.

Blood mixed in with the yellowy syrup of Maddox’s vomit in a wide splatter, and Amaya winced at the horrid smell and even more brutal display. For a few minutes, which felt like a few hours to her, he stood there trying to even out his breathing, not even close to matching her own sense of urgency. Out of patience, Amaya tugged on his arm. Come, Maddox, we have to move.

“In… In a minute. Just let me catch my breath. A minute.”

She counted, and when she reached seventy seconds she pulled his arm again. He resisted, asking for a breather, but she asserted herself, her ‘voice’ paired with an underlying growl. If you don’t move I’ll drag you, now let’s go!

She thought she’d have to carry him, but he came along under her protective arms, all his focus strained on putting one foot in front of the other. His only complaint was a hiss of pain, but he offered no further argument.

Amaya siphoned her own mental energy to his to keep him from falling asleep – she could feel his body threatening to pass out on him. She needed him awake, as the temptation of the light as all too easy to be swayed by. She knew that better than most.

She was about to check on Rita, when they rounded a corner and saw her child standing there, looking over her shoulder expectantly. Amaya showered her with warmth, but as she and Maddox approached, her attention was stolen away by the view up ahead.

The last time she’d been inside the launch deck from this angle specifically was years ago, and it looked much the same then as it did now. The men from Mattias’s force of traitors were scattered around the deck, as were her daughters from that time now long gone, their bodies decaying, but not quite skeletons just yet. She could still pick out the body of the messenger drone over there, near the starship’s bulk, slumping onto her left shoulder.

But right before that body, another drone’s corpse obscured the view partially. Tiny waves of flame still danced across Luna’s breast, burning her pale skin into a crispy black. She was a mess of crippled limbs, surrounded by thousands of glass shards and pooling, green blood against the steel-white ground.

Gaze turned up, Amaya followed the path she’d fallen, saw the control room’s window, broken, and her vision unconsciously slipped over the starship’s towering length. The hatch above it, the very top of the silo thirty meters away from the nose of the ship, was open, the perfect width of which said ship could fly straight through. Through it, the thunderheads had appeared to have lost their intensity during the battle.

We’re here, she told Maddox, reaching a claw down to caress his jaw. Look, Maddox, we’re here!

For a moment Amaya thought he wouldn’t look, couldn’t force his muscles to work, but he did. Peering under his sagging eyelids, he straightened his back a little and examined the ship with his dark eyes. He sighed in evident satisfaction. “It looks even prettier up close.” His hand on her waist squeezed a little. “You know, I thought the same thing when I first met you.”

A laugh almost broke through her veil of pain and sadness. How lucky she was to be bonded with this cheeky little man. She managed a light trill as she hugged him closer to her. Just a little further, my love. Just a little further.

Rita on her left, Maddox clutched on her right, Amaya led them across the space to the ship. Great waves of steam rose from the starship’s engines, burying the flanks of the wide space inside its white mists, and for a moment she was reminded of the Cleaner’s concealing mechanisms.

The thin bridge leading over an inky moat of darkness to the ship’s airlock was held aloft by twin rods of purified steel, the railings barely wide enough for Amaya to fit across. The bridge groaned as she walked across it, and for a second she thought it might break, as some distant metal spring loudly snapped, but the contraption held. Coming up to the side of the starship they’d worked so hard to get working, Amaya set Maddox down against one side of the bridge, and was about to open the airlock when shouting made her glance back.

At the tunnel mouth they’d just come in from, a squad of humans were sprinting down to the deck, flamethrowers and rifles in hand. Rita went down on all fours and placed herself in front of Maddox, ready to take a bullet for him should any be sent their way.

We must get inside! Amaya said, she turned to the airlock, but a hand on her leg stopped her.

“Wait,” Maddox said. “not yet. Clamps.”

What? Kneeling down, seeing he was offering his hands, she took them in her two, smaller ones. Maddox breathed in, showing his teeth and the blood filling up between them, and used her arm to guide up his pointed finger. She followed the finger up and over her shoulder.

“Clamps. Ship won’t move with them still on. Luna didn’t… couldn’t remove them. They need to go.”

Mother! Rita said. The humans!

Hold them back, daughter, Amaya ordered. Don’t let any of them near this ship, for all our sakes!

Rita sent an affirmative, and rushed head-first into the slaughter. Amaya watched her go for a moment, before turning to Maddox, squeezing his hands for emphasise. Let’s get you inside.

“No,” he said. “Clamps. Go and… get rid of them. Quick. Don’t worry about me.”

Maddox… Those words hurt her so much.

“Just go, Amaya. Hurry. I’ll get inside.”

She looked up at the clamps, then back to him. If she was quick, she could be back by his side in a few minutes at least. It took her a lot of effort to admit, but the situation called for them to split up once more.

Her tail came down and rubbed his leg. Just stay here, Maddox. I’ll get rid of the clamps, and be right back!

“Go,” Maddox said, hand waving her on. “Go, Amaya, and you-“

As she scampered up the side of the airlock door, she thought she heard him say something else, but she dipped out of hearing range before she heard it. She thought about going back, or asking him what he’d said, but Rita was already under attack and the clock was ticking, so she moved up the starship as hard and fast she could.

Just as she’d seen earlier, six bright yellow clamps held the east and west sides of the ship to support beams, all placed up from engine to nose an equidistance from each other. Amaya resembled a speeding spider as she slipped across the smooth surface, her feet gluing to the unblemished ship’s hull, hopping over the starboard wing without losing her balance.

She hung before the first, lowest clamp on the west side, taking a precious moment to figure out what to do, exactly. She saw a manufacturing number printed along the side of the steel arm, and a little box of words about how to safely operating the mechanism. Reading would take too long, and both their engineers were down, that left Amaya with only one rather head-on approach.

A little safety traded for speed. I think that’s acceptable.

Tightening her hand into its longest length, she reached up, and brought her arm down on the clamp in a kind of kung-fu chop. On impact the metal bent into a deep ‘v’, and on the second chop, it almost snapped right down the middle. The little fingers on the end of the clamp holding the starship bent away, and with one last tug, the clamp screamed its protest, but was soon completely removed from the hull.

Satisfied, Amaya moved up the ship, the little nuts and bolts digging into the soles of her feet as she went. The second clamp was destroyed in a matter of moments, battered and broken much the same way as the many corpses were in this place. On her way to the third, she had to duck underneath an outcropping deck, one of the many levels spiralling up the height of the silo.

Just after she dealt with the third clamp, she noticed a human standing on the aforementioned deck behind her, frozen in fear as he saw the Xenomorph Queen climbing the ship and wrecking parts of it for whatever reason. Amaya and the man had a moment where they did nothing but stare, and the former was about to let the latter go, when his hand reached down for a gun lying on the ground nearby. As his torso was cut in half and the pieces fell away, she reached out with her mind and told him that he asked for it.

Clamps five and six went quickly by, and it wasn’t long before she was stood on the very top of the starship’s nose, and the stars felt so very close now. A peek up through the silo hatch showed her the sky, the world above the world. The acid rain had stopped falling, though parts of the distant thunderheads were still streaking with the occasional blue-red lightning strike. Directly above her, a cluster of stars were shining through the parting clouds. One star was much brighter than the others. She’d once stared at that very distant spectacle, hadn’t she? Right before finding the Donavan house. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

But this wasn’t time to dawdle. She moved down to the east side, and the seventh and eighth clamps broke away with a bit of pain but not much effort. Climbing down to nine and ten, she saw far down on the deck, her daughter, dodging flame and burying claws into chests. Some of the humans had split off to get to the decks higher up the silo, for reasons Amaya did not know. Perhaps they were confused, scared, unsure of how to use this ship now that their bastard of a leader was dead.

By the time eleven clamps were destroyed, Rita reached out to her. They’re falling back, mother. They’ve lost the will to fight.

Good, come back and we’ll…

She saw Rita heading after the stragglers, claws ready, teeth bared. Amaya thought better than to stop her from getting her revenge. Her own sister had been slain by these savages, it seemed only right to let her vent it out on them – that was just Rita’s way.

Clamp twelve was soon battered away by her claw, and Amaya felt an assurance of victory swell in her breast. The humans were routed, Blankley was dead, and the ship was finally ready. Yet for all that, it wasn’t enough for her to celebrate outright. Luna’s body was still nearby and burning away to the bones, but she did allow herself a measure of excitement at the overall situation. Last time she’d felt like this was when she discovered Maddox was her Host.

Amaya scurried across the starship and back to its front side. Slipping around the airlock doors, she said, Maddox? Maddox I got the clamps, and Rita’s finishing off the humans. We’ve done it. It’s over.

With two bangs of metal, she landed on the bridge in a kneel, then turned to her Host. In her absence he’d slumped over and was laying on his back, looking up at the distant hatch in the ceiling. He must have passed out while she was gone.

As she reached down to grab him from under the shoulders, she saw his chest had reopened, and streams of blood were coming out and spilling down his sides, dripping through the grates of the bridge and landing below into darkness.

Maddox? She sat him up in her delicate arms. She produced a handful of jelly and gently smothered it on his hide. She saw his eyes were lidded, but clearly open.

Her hand met wet life-juice as she cupped the healing substance on the very spot the surgery had cut her out of him long ago, and was now opened again by a bullet shell. For many nights she’d slept to the sound of that heart beat ever since she was moments old, living in that warm place as she grew. Yet as she rubbed in her royal jelly, all she felt was a cool stillness there.

Maddox?

She gave him a little shake, then probed his mind to wake him, as she’d done before when they went into dreams and had to force themselves out. Maybe the human unconsciousness went a range deeper than her mind could reach. Brushing a strand of hair that had fell in front of his eye, she focused her strength into the muscles in her throat.

“M… Maddox?”

By how human she sounded right then, Maddox would have blinked up at her in surprise. But he didn’t. Her hand palming in the jelly went harder in its efforts, her claws dangerously close to his organs, but she would never harm him. Her breath caught as she summoned up a larger glob of royal jelly in another hand and put some of it on his lips. She pushed his jaw up to force it down his throat.

“Maddox…?”

His chest was a mess of jelly, blood, and a few strands of vomit. If that was his lung she could see just a few inches in, and his heart the pink thing beside it, then why wasn’t it working? The jelly worked every time!

“… Maddox?”

Her friend didn’t respond. His organs were still, his body heat, once so comforting, was cooling in her arms.

Please, she said, this time going back to mental-speech, cupping his cheeks and bringing his face to hers. Please don’t, Maddox. Don’t you leave me. You… You said you would never leave me. You promised. You promised you wouldn’t!

His eyes, the one’s that had been so bright, stared passed her. She shook him, again and again as if to wake him, and his head lolled forward onto her neck. She hugged him like that, coughing and sobbing against his soft hair.

Maddox! Maddox please! I… I can’t… I can’t do this w-without you. Don’t go. Don’t… don’t leave me…

She burst into a tearless cry. The warmth of the link was no longer there. His presence not next to hers anymore. And she hadn’t been there. Hadn’t been there to save him from the bullet, hadn’t been there to save him from passing from this world.

Her lover, her mate, her Host, her everything… gone.

She didn’t know how long she held him like that, crying and begging for him to come back, and she was only brought back into the present when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Amaya held Maddox tighter against her, as if to protect his spirit from anything that wasn’t her. Her tail raised up halfway, but held still when she saw it was Rita.

She was covered in blood, most of it fresh. Her claws were dulled but splattered with many taken lives. She took one small look over her mother’s shoulder. Mother? Is he…?

Now you call me that, was what Amaya wanted to scream. Now you call me mother when everyone is dead. Everyone is dead and now you grant me my wish when THAT DOESN’T MATTER ANYMORE YOU STUPID GIRL!

But rather than that, Amaya simply wept. Rita knelt by her, a respectable distance away as her mother mourned a passing of someone more than just her other half. She didn’t try to hurry it on, didn’t try to speak with her, for words weren’t needed in times like this. She only waited, dwelling in her own pain, which was coming in strong now that combat wasn’t distracting her, and the adrenaline was gone, replaced by two horrible losses, for she had grown fond of Maddox in the short time she knew him.

Mother and daughter wept and moaned under the scrutiny of the sky; the Hive-mind now too weak to be called such. The ship continued to spin its engines, but the craft was invisible behind the veil of sorrow that was covering Amaya. It was a veil she would never be able to lift.

Slowly rocking with Maddox in her arms, Amaya dreamed of a future without colour. The voices of the thousands of dead were already starting to come back, whispering in the far reaches of her mind. Soon she would go mad again. Feral. And it was all her fault.

Rita? she asked after what felt like an eternity. Her daughter was brought out of her thoughts. Rita, what I s-said before still stands. This ship doesn’t leave until we’re all on board. Will you… Will you bring your sister for me? It hurts me so much to this ask of you, but I… I’m not… I can’t-

I know, mother, Rita said, stopping her from rambling. Don’t say any more. I’ll get her.

Rita got up and went over to her sister’s corpse. She had to bite back a cry when she got a view of all her wounds up close. Bones were out of sockets, limbs were twisted – Luna had obviously lived her last moments in great pain. After smothering the flames still licking her dead, cold body across the arms and chest, Rita picked her up, and made her way back to the ship. Luna’s arms draped over her sides, bobbing with each of Rita’s heavy strides. She saw Amaya duck into the airlock with Maddox in her arms, carrying him like a babe, and her heart sank. No matter how much she had wanted to disown her mother, a daughter could never not share in a mother’s pain.

Ducking into the airlock, the cramped interior of the craft closed in on all sides. Obviously the ship wasn’t intended to carry many people, or even ones of Rita’s size, but it still amazed her how tight human design was. A few pairs of space suits hung on one side of the airlock in confined cabinets paned with glass. She moved passed them and into the airlock’s other door, to the ship proper.

A small circular space here split off into two rooms, and a ladder in the middle led the way up to the upper decks. Amaya was knelt beside the foot of the ladder, placing Maddox’s body down gently, folding his arms across his stomach. One of her smaller hands reached up and closed his eyes.

Rita put Luna’s body down beside Maddox’s, caressing her sister’s smooth head with a hand. I love you, sister. I never got to say it much, but I hope you know I did. With all my heart.

Amaya turned to her, and was about to say something when voices and footsteps turned them both around. Outside the airlock doors, a group of humans were walking onto the launch deck. Rita was already snarling under her breath, about to prepare herself again for battle, until she noticed the humans weren’t armed, and very much different than any of the attackers beforehand. She couldn’t explain why the difference, until another similar group moved into her view.

The eyes of human’s intent on killing, or used to killing, was something obvious, but these ones lacked that particular aura. There were a lot of them, too, maybe even more than the attacking force had been, and yet they looked so much more helpless. She had to turn to Amaya for answers.

Her mother chocked on her words. Maddox said the Bunker’s numbers were large. These must be the civilians.

Civilians? Rita asked with a growl. Monsters, more like. They followed our family’s killers, they should die.

Yes, Amaya said. they should, and they will without this starship. She put a hand on the ladder. Wait here. If they get any closer than they are now, kill them.

Rita didn’t want to add any more despair to the situation, but she had to ask. Can we use this ship? Even with Maddox, and… and Luna gone?

I don’t know. Amaya looked up the ladder, towards the cockpit. I’ll try, but Maddox was supposed to start the launch. Now… I’m afraid we might be trapped.

Without another word, Amaya reached up and climbed the rungs of the ladder, her tail last to depart the room, leaving Rita alone. The praetorian stood her ground in the threshold of the airlock. A couple of the approaching humans seem startled by her presence and backed away. Easy prey, but she held her predatorial instincts in check. The sheep would not die by her claws, unless they tried something, and she was practically begging them to do so.

Amaya focused on reaching one hand out at a time rather than think of what she could do, if anything could be done anymore. Her mind was too cold and empty to focus with the link no longer just that, linked. It occurred to her that this was what most humans lived like for their entire lives. It was no wonder people like Blankley could so easily take advantage of it.

The cockpit was barely large enough to fit her inside it, but she managed to crawl her way up out of the ladder’s hatch, and pull herself into the room. Half the space was filled with two pairs of crash-couches, all four sat before a bulky set of computers and terminals, all of it oriented to face upwards, while Amaya stood sideways in relation. From the hatch her tail came and pooled by her ankles.

She looked over at the chairs, and from one of them, a face stared back in wild surprise. Amaya hadn’t sensed the human’s life on the way up even though she should have. By her ancestors, she was so weak without Maddox, and just reminding herself of that nearly started her crying again, but the sudden movement from the human managed to distract her for the moment. His face was covered in bandages, but one eye was visible, and it was wide with fear.

“Oh no! Oh no no no!” the human said, trying to get away but only succeeding in bumping his head on an overhead screen. In this tight room with only the one exit behind her, she could easily kill him, and was just about to do just that when she saw a bit more of his face – the lower half. He wasn’t wearing a breathing mask, and after scrutinising him, she swallowed down a lump in her throat and said:

“J… Jake?”

The man seemed startled, whether by the name or her speaking it was unclear. Trying to make himself as small as possible in his seat, he nodded frantically. “Y-Yes? You’re… talking? H-How is that-?”

Shut up, she said, focusing her thought-speech into his head. Climbing around a seat to get closer to him, she held him in place with her gaze alone. The man called Jake whimpered and turned what remained of his face away. Amaya smelt the lingering stench of urine after she came close enough to touch him. Why?

“W-What?” the man asked.

You hurt my friend, you made his life so difficult. Why?

“I-I don’t know what you’re-“

And why are you here? You ran away, didn’t you? Snuck in behind us while the rest of us fought. Why?

“P-Please, please I-“

Because you’re a coward. That’s why. You’re a bully and a coward, and for that you must die.

“No! NO PLEASE WAIT-“

Amaya grabbed him by the neck and threw him behind her, where he landed against the ladder hatch. Amaya made a show to turn on him and stalk over, growling like a hungry lioness. Jake flailed about and scurried down the ladder moments before she reached him.

Jake actually fell the last half of the ladder’s length in his frantic haste. Only by sheer fortune did his neck not snap when he fell hard enough for his vision to blur at the edges. Sitting up on his elbows, he let out a little yelp when he saw the two bodies nearby. Some of his fear was replaced by a touch of surprise, as he recognised the one on the left.

The Xenomorph completely forgotten – for his mind went blank quite often after it had been stitched back together – he made to get a closer look at the human body. Right before he could get in touching distance, Amaya pounced on him from above, one high-heel coming down on his chest and pinning him to the ground. Amaya hadn’t even landed that hard, but still the man wailed like a baby, writhing like the worm he was. Cowards were always weak, so she wasn’t surprised by his pathetic display.

You don’t touch him, she told Jake. You’ve hurt him enough. Now I’m going to hurt you. You, Weyland Yutani, every bit of scum like you I’m going to hunt down and slaughter.

Jake cried when Amaya flexed her hand, and the claws attached to it displayed their fullest, deadly lengths. She reeled her arm back as far as it would go, so she could inflict the most amount of pain, but when her shoulder stretched as far as it could, and she was about to swipe and make the kill, a hand fell on hers and stopped her.

Back off Rita! This man deserves to die for what he’s done! THEY ALL DO! They…

But as Amaya looked behind her, she noticed it wasn’t Rita who had stopped her. Her daughter was still stood just outside the ship, ten meters away behind her, warding off the sheep/humans, with her back turned.

The one holding her arm with uncanny strength grinned up at her.

M… Maddox?

But it couldn’t be. His body was still laying over there, beside Luna, both gone. And yet the man before her looked so real. His clothes were undamaged, his skin without blemish, his little face cute and polite as he gently let her arm go. And then it all made sense.

He deserves to die, she said, jabbing a claw down at Jake, who trembled in her tall shadow. He hurt you. He hurt us, so much. They all deserve to die.

Maddox looked past her at the other man, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. After a moment, his eyes met hers and he bobbed his shoulders in a small shrug. Amaya knew what he was saying. He’s dead one way or another.

Jake followed the Queen’s gaze to the spot behind her that was holding her attention. He saw nothing, obviously. Maddox was only in her head.

You tried to kill him Maddox, she said. You showed me. You said you’d do it again.

Again that little shrug, but this time he added a little movement with his hands, opening them and gesturing at her.

That’s what you want? he seemed to say. That’s all you want on this world? The killing?

I want you, she said. You’re all I want.

His mouth dipped a little into a frown. Then he looked at Jake, then her. Shrugged. It’s up to you now.

Amaya knew what he was asking, and to her it seemed so trivial. Not until later would she recognise this moment as the time she decided to either save or destroy herself, by choosing a life of continued death or not.

She sighed, just so tired of it all. Maybe it was time she should just stop. Stop all of it. If she was to blame for the start of all this mess, perhaps it was her responsibility to end it.

The man called Jake shouted in surprise when Amaya whirled on him, seizing his collar and dragging him through the airlock doors. His shouts turned into screams as Amaya said to him: It’s your lucky day, Jake the coward. I won’t kill you, but maybe your fellow humans will.

Chucking him like one disposes of a bag of trash, Amaya tossed him by a particularly startled Rita, and Jake landed hard on the walkway, near the spot where Maddox had died. He scurried away on his back towards the mass of humans on the deck, who watched him with no small measure of frustrated anger. They would all be dead a few weeks from now, without protection, food, or water and with many leeches on the prowl, and Amaya liked to think Jake would die by one of his friend’s hands, as the last of the Bunker joined the many ghosts of Solaris.

Making her way back to the cockpit, Amaya searched for Maddox, but he seemed to have departed, and her heart broke a second time. The mind could be such a cruel thing sometimes. If Maddox was going to haunt her like this for the rest of her days, she was afraid she couldn’t stand it for very long. Either he was here or not, and being something in the middle was just not right to her.

The cockpit rumbled with pre-flight preparations Jake was so kind enough to provide. From what she knew, only a few more actions were required until take off was possible. And of course, one of those steps was the verbal launch codes. They were right there in the cockpit, scratched into the wall just beside the panel with the microphone built in. The writing was messy and jagged from her ancient hand as she’d scratched it into the metal, but it was clear enough to read.

Pooling her strength and focus into her speech, she started to read the first line out, one hand on the button that activated the microphone. She got to the second phrase before her voice cut out into a harsh cough, and her words sputtered. If only Maddox had taught her more often, if only she was strong enough to save him, if only she had died instead of him…

She pushed the button. This time she didn’t even get to the second line before her voice went hoarse and she coughed. Amaya fell onto her knees in defeat. For a long time she sat there sobbing, until a hand wrapped over her shoulder, and she looked up into her Host’s face. Still he wore that small smile, though Amaya couldn’t figure out how one could be happy at a time like this.

I’ve never felt so alone before, she told him. It’s so… cold. Her breath hitched. I can’t do it Maddox, she said, burying her head in her hands. Not without you. I just can’t. It’s too hard.

His hand came down and lifted her head up by the chin. As he gave her jaw a little scratch, one end of his lips curved up, as did one of his eyebrows: We both know that’s not true.

But it is! My voice is ruined. My life is ruined. You died because of me. And now my only family will die in this place because I’m too weak! Rita deserves better. Luna… you… all my kin, you all deserve better. Instead… Instead you got me, a monster… who kills anything she touches.

Maddox frowned, as if those details were as important to him as the daily weather was. The hand on her chin moved down and fell onto her hand. With it, he moved her finger back onto the microphone button, where it cackled with static as he pressed it for her. From his eyes she discerned what he wanted to say. You can do this. Follow my lips, girl. You ready?

There’s no point anymore. There’s no-

His eyes tightened. I asked you if you were ready. Are you?

If this was some deep corner of her mind conjuring itself up, it was doing a good job imitating him. Or maybe she was just so helpless, that any advice coming her way would be taken. She put aside her pity for the moment. Y-Yes. Ready, she said.

Her mouth opened, and from it, sounds slowly formed into words as she once more tried again, this time with a little bit of help. “O…One. Ninnne. F-F-Fourrrrr. Gam… Gammaaaa…” If there was an onlooker, they might have heard both her alien voice, and Maddox’s own, intertwining with each other to form into an echoing double-sentence. “One, f-fiiive. Threeee… two zerooo.”

She paused to cough and rest her throat, but the phantom-Maddox pressed her on, and by the end of it, she was speaking as fluently as he used to, as if she’d always known English and was just faking her struggles this entire time. If her vision remained ‘closed’, she could fool herself into thinking Maddox was in the room talking with her. “B-Beetaa. Zero zero s-six. Three, nine, echelon. Two, four, four, two. Confirm codes.”

Somewhere in the panel came the sound of a beep, and her heart danced as a woman’s voice answered her from somewhere within the machine. “Codes accepted. Command?”

“Check status, please.”

“Fuel tanks, full. Hull integrity, ninety-eight percent. Navigation computer, online. Oxygen supply, full. Launch clamps, error. Control tower, unresponsive. Warning, deck is not clear of personnel, safety compromised. Command?”

She looked to Maddox, and her friend grinned back.

“Launch,” she said.

As soon as the word left her mouth, the steady thrum of the engines suddenly turned up into the next gear. The woman’s voice told her it was sealing away all ports and disconnecting the fuel lines.

“Rita! Come and…” She realised she was talking and switched to thinking. Rita get on board, we’re leaving.

At once, mother.

The airlock sealed shut a moment after Rita slipped the last length of her tail inside. The mass gathering of humans on the launch deck outside watched the ship buzz and shake, and many turned tail to get out of its way. Some of them, too stunned to see there only escape they’d come so far for be stolen by alien beings, couldn’t force their legs to move. They would be incinerated within seconds, and many would consider that a mercy.

Amaya squeezed her body into one of the small chairs, hastily strapping the leather belts over her chest, then looked at a small screen showing an external view pointing up the nose of the craft from the side. She sensed Rita moving the bodies into one of the lower rooms of the ship, where other crewmembers would strap themselves in for this violent launch. Amaya’s heart was racing as the woman’s voice counted down from five.

And when the voice reached zero, Amaya felt her guts sink to the back of her body, as gallons upon gallons of fuel were burned up to propel the craft towards the sky. At the autopilot’s behest, Amaya could do nothing but pray and hope. As the starship made its way up the silo, Amaya thought for one terrible second it would crash into the edges of the giant hatch because she’d missed a clamp, or something else had knocked its aim astray.

But the craft sailed past the hatch without so much as a bump. As the ascended from the surface, the screens displaying the side and rear views showed her the most expansive display of Solaris she’d ever seen, spreading out and below like a great map, the size growing with each moment. The dustbowl that was this world stretched on all the way to the horizons and to places beyond she would never know the names of. This ship would be seen as a rising star to all who remained on the surface, never knowing that it housed the two beings who had begun all of this.

It felt like an elephant was standing on Amaya’s chest, as G-force compressed her into the seat as the ship began to pick up in speed, fighting against invisible forces she had no idea of. Even though Amaya was built to withstand incredible amounts of damage, she almost started puking at how much turbulence was affecting the craft, and how hard her body was being crushed to the couch.

Her whole world rumbled and quaked with incredible ferocity. The clouds were pierced and the world turned into a dark mist. A lightning strike cracked across their path, and the ship turned violently away from its original course. It felt like Solaris was using its hands, buried in her mind, to try and drag her back down into its embrace. And then, just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, everything stopped. The great engines below stopped burning, the clouds dissipated, and the shaking halted in way of a listless, floating sensation. On the screens, a cloudy wasteland was gone, replaced by an expanse of inky space dotted with stars.

In front of all the dashes and screens was one wide, plain window, and through it, Amaya saw the moon, a little white dot against the black, and near it, the sun, from which Solaris got its namesake. Too long had it been since she’d seen them like this. Too long, and much too late to make her feel anything about it. From one of the control boards, a little lever device drew her eye. She used it to pirouette the starship around, and the sun and moon were swivelled away, and Solaris came into view.

A once great, green world now caked in brown death. Swirling clouds matted most of the surface, once close, now very far away. The ball of life (death?) rotated very subtly around its axis, sitting on nothing, surrounded by nothing. The whole image was hard to comprehend, but the truth was not.

That was it.

They’d escaped.

Won, was a word that could not apply here, because even if Amaya could call this a victory, it was an empty one, with far less people on board than she’d intended. No, they had not won, but they had lost, and that made what should have been a celebration, nothing more than a silent mope of what could have been.

Unbuckling herself from the chair, Amaya’s body gently rose out of the chair like she weighed nothing. For a moment the sensation of zero gravity was enough to distract her from the growing emptiness in her heart, at least until she looked out the window again, at the stars sparkling away out there in the void.

As the sun warmed her skeleton, she realised that from where Maddox had been laying where she found him, he had been looking up through the silo doors, at the sky, and the stars – they’d been the last thing’s he’d seen in life. And now he’d never get to see them up close, and that conclusion made her feel empty inside.

A hand winding its fingers through hers. She swam out of her pity to see her Host, floating there in front of her, looking out the window and proving her quite wrong. She couldn’t help herself from thrusting forward and embracing him. He seemed startled, but quickly reciprocated the gesture. His warm skin on hers felt so real, how he squeezed her back, how he buried his face into her shoulder, she could almost fool herself into thinking he was in the cockpit with her, two souls merging into one as they floated through the ship.

But of course, the next time she looked again, she saw her hands reaching out to nothing, holding nothing. Maddox was gone, he wouldn’t haunt her, she knew that. None of her family would haunt her again, because in a way, they all lived through her, and now that she had escaped, some part of them had escaped too.

For a while the starship simply drifted through the orbit of Solaris, Amaya at the helm, alone, suddenly feeling a wave of tiredness collapse over her. She let herself drift away, just as the ship drifted through the faint clutches of Solaris’s orbit. A while later, she was woken by the sound of hands and feet on a ladder, and Rita came up through the hatch, propelling her weightless body forward, a hand on the couch to stop her.

Mother? Are we… Are we free?

“Yes.”Amaya beckoned her over, so Rita could get a good view out the window. Her daughter softly gasped, a sight so beautiful it almost didn’t belong. She’d grown up in the Fall, it was all she knew, and it would be a long time before anything after this point didn’t seem so very alien to her.

Mom? Rita said, floating over to her. Mom, I’m… sorry. For all I said before. I’m sorry.

Amaya didn’t need to say anything. She opened her four arms and invited her last family member into her embrace. Rita had, at first, fought against her family instincts, but deep down, she’d secretly wanted her mother’s attention. It was so cruel that she only got it now when everyone else was gone. Only now did she realise how much pain she’d caused her parent, and for that, no words could express her guilt.

“I forgive you, daughter. Do not wallow like I once did.”

I won’t. Rita was surprised at how different her mother sounded. A particular voice could be discerned, or maybe that was just because she wasn’t used to proper speech yet. Soon she broke the hug, and Rita examined all the electronics around them before asking: What do we do now?

Together, mother and daughter watched the stars spin by. One of the screens, the navigator computer, was silently asking for a destination.

“Now,” Amaya said. “Now we try and do things differently. Make sure Maddox, Luna, my daughters, our family, a whole world, did not all die for nothing.”

Even though the curse of the planet would stay with Amaya and Rita for life, for no one goes through that much pain and death clean, if anyone stood a chance at stopping another Fall from happening, it was them.

As the ship slowly pulled away from orbit, Amaya pondered that once, there was once a time she could walk around the surface of a world without being shot at, or being attacked by some horrible creature that lived in the shadows up until the humans obliterated themselves and their world.

Perhaps, she thought. there will be a time like that again.

Epilogue

1

It’s called Sentinel.

That was one of the first bits of information I learned about this place, all those years ago. I remember it like it was sixty years ago, and I admit some of the details do escape me.

The starship’s computer called it a ‘sea world’ because of its overall low amount of landmass, but that has proven quite well for my family. Some of my little ones even learn to swim before they walk, and I’ve never seen Rita enjoy something so much before than just drifting in the blue-green waves in the early morning.

I can’t be sure if it was the computer that chose this world for us, my own actions, or my Host’s distant touch, or maybe some combination of the three. All I know for certain is that we were lucky. I didn’t know anything about core worlds or solar systems beyond Solaris. We could have landed on a Weyland capital-world for all the fortune we have, but instead we got Sentinel. Landing down in the depths of its mountains was a harrowing experience I don’t want to relive again, but that’s okay. I much prefer the ground.

Was it two, or three years we’d been drifting the cosmos in search of a world? We’d come so close to dehydration, and the bodies we kept down below had unfortunately begun to stink up the confinements of the starship, something we’d overlooked. At least I was not alone in my suffering. Rita and I agreed establishing a Hive as soon as possible was important, but my lost daughter, and my best friend, deserved some final bit of peace.

We climbed up out of the vine-stricken canyons and up to one of the mountain peaks, on a plateau with a grand view of the eastern wedge of the continent. It was there we buried them, Luna on the right, Maddox the left, two stone slabs marking their respective spots. Neither of us cried during the ceremony, but my heart remains heavy for irreplaceable losses. I cannot be certain if Rita feels the same, as I no longer consider invading her thoughts to be an option, but often we come together and just sit quietly side-by-side, slipping away for a time from the constant buzz of our new Hive. We don’t say anything, and when we part hours later it is mutual and never talked about. I surround myself in newborns and family, but the bond I have with Rita is different. I’d rather not play favourites, but Rita’s been with me the longest, went through what I went through, and that deserves recognition.

I say family because, a few months after arriving, my first egg-batch hatched. There have been many reminders over the years that the Fall still lingers inside me, but stillbirths are the most obvious sign. But since we left that place, it is much easier for my surviving young to go out and find their own Hosts who dwell in the wild.

If only I had saved some sort of information that allowed me and my Host to live from… what was it called again? Solaris, that was it. I’d only heard of that place twice since departing, and both were in town on my infrequent trade visits.

Oh yes, Sentinel wasn’t completely our own home. Humans had settled here a long time ago, along with a few other alien species I’d spied from afar. A two hour-long run from the Hive-grounds towards the coast there’s a little town called Crossway. Thirty, maybe forty buildings all gathered up near a river, the water splitting it right down the middle, and its world-famous bridge connecting the two halves in its exact centre.

After a week in the mountains I’d decided to head over and assess the situation from up high on one of the cliffs. The place looked remarkably old-fashioned – the buildings were either wood or scrap, the yards small and sectioned of by meagre fenceposts, as if the town was one giant ranch. The bridge I mentioned was made of cobblestone, as were many of the paths winding through the buildings. I saw maybe half a dozen vehicles. It was nothing like the last world at all.

I took that as a good sign.

I considered leaving then and there, but something held me back. If I was to make the mountains my Hive, I’d have to at least see who led this little town. I wouldn’t want to cause a panic when some day they saw a big part of their wilds covered in resin.

Obviously someone like me, with blood on my claws, tail, tongue, faded but there, couldn’t exactly walk on in and declare this world my new home. But I had an idea.

There weren’t many people about in the late afternoon I made my first appearance. Even as I snuck into someone’s backyard and ransacked their clothesline, I was scared to death that something terrible would happen as soon as I made myself known. Stealing clothes being my first major act wouldn’t do me any favours, although does it count as stealing if I plan on giving them back later?

When I was satisfied with the amount of clothes I had, I rushed back into the outskirts and up the cliffs hugging the north of town. Beams of light shone through the net of leaves above me as I spread out the stolen mess of cloth. I tied leggings to sleeves, collars to waistcoats, and ten minutes later I had fashioned myself a crude, oversized robe. A far cry from any royal garments I knew of, but it was the best I could do at the time.

I slipped it over my crest, pulled my two primary arms into the sleeves, the cuffs hanging open like huge black mouths, while keeping my smaller arm set clasped over my ribs. I’d failed to remember that my tail would take up just as much room as my body would, and it stuck out of my robes just enough so that no matter where I put it, it would always peek out just a fraction. Long as nobody looked for too long, it would work.

Taking a deep breath, I emerged out onto one of the roads leading into town, almost tripping over the excess bundles of clothes dragging by my feet. I approached the settlement as obviously as I could, whistling a loud tune so I didn’t startle anyone. A moment later, I was the one who was startled when two females blasted out of the house on my right and started walking across the street, laughing and giggling like children. Mind you, it had been years since I’d seen a human, let alone whatever the green one on the left was called, and every living thing outside of my species had tried to kill me, so naturally I was cautious.

It’s okay. Focus, I thought to myself as I continued striding in as casually as I could make myself. A rush of air slipped over the tip of my tail, and I tucked the appendage back into the folds of my robe, scared out of my mind that someone was watching me. I felt like a bumbling idiot as I tensed up and kept my distance each time a human or alien came close to walking by me, and they probably saw me as one too. Their stares bored into me as I almost lost my footing at one point, after I saw some sort of four-legged animal come racing around the corner. It looked up at me and sniffed with its little wet nose, the short tail wagging quickly from left to right.

I only barely held back the urge to flee. I like to think that my mate and Host keeps an eye on me in times like this, lends a hand when he can, but of course I have no proof of this, except for the fact the furry animal promptly ignored me, went over to the gutter, lifted a leg and commenced urinating, seemingly content with my scent.

Close one.

A little further into town and the buildings began to change, replaced from homes and shacks to more commercially-focused industry. Many of them had big, neon signs out front shouting their colourful names into the world. Things like The Snookey-Pookey, Spit and Glass, and one called Fleshden. There were some interesting smells coming from that last one.

Beyond them, I found a place a few minutes later, the letters up above the roof of the porch spelling the word Sheriff. The ‘e’ was a different style, like it had been stolen then replaced. The place looked empty except for a single lantern I could see through one of its windows, and the unmistakable movement of someone slouching on a chair inside. I went up the steps to the porch and raised a fist to knock, clearing my throat before proceeding.

“Come in,” a voice said after I knocked. I turned the door knob and pushed. A desk dominated most of the small space in the foyer, and behind it, an old man with deep trench-like wrinkles buried in his face looked up at me. The coat he wore was khaki green, and it looked like I’d just interrupted some very not-so thrilling paperwork judging by the clutter on his desk. Two jail cells on my left drew my gaze for a second. Neither one was occupied.

“Hello, my name is-” Whatever rehearsed greeting I had planned was cut short when I stepped through the portal and bonked my head on the frame. “-Oh you fucker! Every time with this stupid crown and your human-sized piece of sh…”

I clapped a sleeved hand over my mouth when I saw the sheriff looking up at me, wild-eyed and not a little startled at my outburst. “That’s quiet an opening, miss Ohfucker. Have a seat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry sheriff.” I moved the chair back so I could squeeze my caboose into the cushion. The poor chair screamed out its protest beneath my weight, I swear I saw its legs bend near the middle. “I’m a little too big for human houses. Should be used to it by now, but…”

“Naw it’s the other way round, ma’am, our buildings are too small,” the man said with a grin. “We get that a lot from the large-types.”

I guessed that meant any alien’s bigger than average. Crossing one leg over the other, always careful to keep myself concealed, I tried to appear as comfortable as I could. There was a short pause where the man looked me over, and only then did I even consider my disguise might be made up of underwear or something as inappropriate, or maybe I had raided the sheriff’s own stockpile and he recognised it! Ancestors, what a train wreck this was turning out to be!

But the only reaction the sheriff had was the scrutiny he likely gave to all who enter his office. I noticed just behind him a wall-mounted locker where he no doubt kept his weapon, just within arm’s reach from where he was. I wondered if he ever used it much.

“Normally the new patron’s go down to the tavern first,” the sheriff said. “or are you here looking for directions?” The man picked up a pen and resumed what I’d interrupted a few moments ago.

I opened my mouth to say something, but caught myself when I processed what he said. “How do you know I’m new here?”

“Sheriff Harlyn always remembers a face, or hood in your case. I know everyone in Crossway.” He glanced from me to his paperwork. “So what’s with the cloak? Kind of intimidating walking around late in the day like that.”

“Forgive me, sheriff, I’m… not comfortable showing my face.” Or my teeth and claws, I thought.

“No harm or shame, ma’am. Unless you got a bounty – and we haven’t had one in years – you do you. So, you from up north? Can’t really place your accent.”

“No, I’m from… it’s a little hard to explain, you might not believe me if I tell you.”

“Ma’am when people say that that means I’m probably going to believe it. Lotta people round here come from far and wide, and I’ve heard it all. Lay it on me, hell I can use a break from filing reports all day.”

Placing his pen down so I was his centre of attention, I felt his gaze bore into my own, hidden in the shadows of my disguise. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling he somehow could see me through it anyway.

“Sheriff, have you ever heard of the world Solaris?”

“Sure,” the man said. “the one a couple system’s over? Cousin moved there about a dozen years ago. Teacher. Haven’t heard any news from out that way in a while.” A bushy eyebrow went up. “That’s the story I’m not supposed to believe?”

“Yes. Well, no, not quite. See, Sheriff, something bad happened there. Something really bad. The whole world is… gone, destroyed, and as far as I know, I’m one of the few who actually know about it. Nuclear war, chemical weaponry, enormous armies, and everyone is… it’s all gone.”

The sheriff folded his arms, and I couldn’t tell if he was believing me or not. I pressed on. “My husband he… he died there. I brought his body with me when we escaped. I couldn’t leave him there, you understand? I couldn’t. But I still left so many of my children there. Too many.” I looked away.

Something passed over the sheriff’s face, whatever suspicion he had now gone, at least for the moment. “O-Oh, I’m sorry for your loss. Here.” From across the desk he produced a tissue and handed it over to me.

The gesture almost made me laugh – a man offering a monster respite. It reminded me of someone. I humoured the sheriff and took the cloth, pretending to wipe at my snout with it. “Thank you. Didn’t want leave them there. But I had no choice.”

“I understand, ma’am. We have a cemetery on the east side of town. You can bury your husband there if you want.”

“You’re very kind, sheriff, but we’ve already taken care of that, up in the mountains where we landed. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. So you were in that ship that flew over a few days ago? I noticed you said ‘we’ landed. You have someone else with you?”

“My daughter, Rita. We escaped together. Oh, I haven’t even introduced myself to you yet, sheriff. I’m Amaya.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Amaya. Please, call me John. If what you’re saying is true, I might have to organise a probe to send out that way, see what kind of state Solaris is in. Not that I’m calling you a liar, it’s just precautions is all.”

“I understand,” I said. I thought about not saying what came to me next, but I felt like I had to reassure this man. “Nothing could have followed us here, sheriff. My past is buried on that planet, and I’m not ever going back.”

“If you’re telling the truth, I couldn’t blame you.” Sheriff Harlyn started rummaging through a drawer. “If you’d shown up last week I could have lent you a house on the edge of town, but someone just bought it. You can stay here in the cells if you want while you get back on your feet.”

“That’s generous of you, sheriff. Thank you. But if it’s no trouble, we prefer to live out there. We can handle ourselves.”

“Up to you, ma’am,” Harlyn said, the rummaging stopping for a second. “Nobody owns the wilds, but the offer’s always open. But there is still the matter of immigration if you’re planning on staying for the long-haul, which I’m guessing you are. All new arrivals go through processing, especially refugees.”

From his desk he produced a few folders, and for a moment I considered leaving and heading back to my daughter. I’d forgotten humans didn’t simply accept things at face value, and that the simple outcome I’d expected was not going to happen. But of course, if I was going to live by my own words, this is what I’d have to go through.

“Let’s see here.” The sheriff took his pen to paper, and wrote down as he talked. “Name, Amaya… and your species? It’s just for the record.”

“The, uhm…” I’d almost told him the truth when I stopped myself. Who knew who would look through this paperwork and discover my species name? Just because Solaris was behind me didn’t mean I could be careless. “It doesn’t translate well in your language.”

If he had a reaction to my lie, he did not show one. “We get a lot of that. Some people don’t even have species names cause their people don’t think of it like we do. I’ll just make up something later on, sound good?” He scribbled down something. “Right. Occupation, let’s put refugee down for now. I’ll leave Solaris out of this until we find out what’s going on. You don’t know how the planet fell, do you?”

“I’m not sure,” I lied. Two for two. Go me. “There was a rebellion at one point against the government. After that it was just chaos.”

“Bet you’re putting that lightly. Anyway I’ve put down your place of residence here in my cell, but that’s just formality, obviously I can’t force you to stay here. Anyone finds out I let you stay in the wilds I could get in trouble.”

“Oh, my apologies sheriff. If that’s the case, we can stay in here as long as you’d like.”

“No no, I said I’d get in trouble, not fired. Can’t exactly fire the one person who wants the job, and my bosses only come around once in a blue moon. It’s alright, ma’am. Really.”

“If you say so. I promise to give your town a wide birth, sheriff. My Hive can expand quiet quickly.”

“Hive, eh? So you’re one of those bee-types?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a type that uses Hivemind’s, nests, colonies, drones and workers, things like that. Sound familiar?”

“It… does.” Maybe the cannibals were right and that I am a bug. Weird.

“Okay, here’s a copy for you, Amaya.” After filling out another slip of paper he slid it over the desk. I looked down at the parchment suspiciously.

“What? Why?”

“Forgive me for presuming, but I took a wild guess and thought that you’ve got no ID. This should pass if anyone asks you. As of right now-” The sheriff lifted a stamp and clicked it on the bottom corner of the ID. When he lifted it up, there was a strange symbol was now on my slip. “-you’re officially on record as a resident. Not a full citizen, of course, you have to live on-world for at least two years, but after that you can come take the test if you want.”

Resident. The word certainly had a better ring to it than alien, or monster. A whole wave of emotions came down on me as I picked up the slip. Just like that, this place was more home to me than Solaris ever was, and the slip in my hand was proof of that. Wherever he was, I knew Maddox would be proud. I managed to bite my lip to hold back my sob as I said softly: “Thank you, sheriff.”

“Everyone’s welcome on Sentinel. Come back anytime if you need anything, my door’s always open. You want an escort back to your ship?”

“You’ve done so much for me already, it’s not necessary, sheriff.”

As I stood up, my big robes flowing up with my movements, I was surprised when Harlyn stood as well. “Nonsense ma’am, it’s my job to keep people safe, ‘specially the new ones. Oh, and that reminds me. Welcome to Sentinel, Amaya.” He held out his hand.

I was so enthralled at his warm welcome that I took his hand without thinking, my long claws brushing his wrist as I wrapped my larger hand over his. The tip of a claw exposed itself from my sleeve, and the sheriff’s brow furrowed a little. I pulled my arm back into the sleeve after a single pump, my heart racing to see if the sheriff would fight or flee. But instead the human just smiled at me, maybe a little startled, but nothing more. Solaris had imprinted that fear in me that anything could attack, and I’m afraid to admit it still haunted me. I’ve improved since my talk with the sheriff, yes, but there are the odd days my paranoia rears its ugly head.

The kind sheriff escorted me out of town. He didn’t try to insist that I take off my hood and show myself, and I quietly thanked him once we were out of town. He brought me up as far as one of the canyons, waving my concerns for him away, saying he liked getting his old bones moving again. We traded a little small-talk, and I found out the human had also lost his significant other a decade ago, and had not remarried since. There’d been no official law enforcement back then, and John Harlyn decided to change that himself.

There was one last thing I had to ask him before going back to Rita, however. A question that would decide whether this world was truly for us or not. “Sheriff?” I said. “what do you know about Weyland-Yutani?”

He glanced up at me. “That’s that megacorporation isn’t it? They used to have an embassy over in Wolfpine – that’s the big city way up north – but they demolished it years ago. I guess we weren’t selling what they were buying, and good riddance too.”

“You’re not very fond of them?”

“Bet if you asked that question to ten others round here they’d all say the same thing. Sentinel’s small and boring, and that’s the way we like it.”

When we reached a cleft in the earth, where somewhere down below my daughter was waiting for me, I crouched down so that I was eye-level with the sheriff. He looked at me quizzically, for I’d never gotten within arm’s reach of him until now. The slip he’d given me was safely tucked away in my sleeve, and it rustled as I brought the human in for a hug.

“I was expecting the worst when I came into your town, sheriff, and you’ve done so much for me already. I’m glad that I was wrong.”

“Woah,” the human said, surprised by my rather forward gesture. I trilled when he put a hand on my back, almost touching one of my dorsal spikes. “It’s no trouble ma’am. Come see me from time to time, if you like. Can keep each other in the loop.”

He watched me go as I slipped over the cleft and climbed down its rocky walls, using vines and tree roots that would be impossible for any human to replicate. I could tell from his scents and signals he’d meant for us to be more than simple friends, but I would never look for someone like that again.

In fact, the next time I met sheriff Harlyn was two years later, where I and four of my young had gone to Crossway to express a desire to trade. Wildlife, not all of which was friendly, was abundant near town, and in exchange for supplies we protected the place from predators. It still surprises me how well human medicine works on us. The probe Harlyn mentioned sending out had come back and confirmed my story. I turned him down when the sheriff asked if I wanted to see the details for myself and confirm them. I saw too much of that place.

Because of my actions, a world-wide cover-up was discovered, and the culprit was unmistakable. I’ve willingly ignored what goes on outside of this world, although it was only a matter of time before Solaris’s fate was uncovered. I don’t know what will follow, but at least justice will be served, of that I am sure.

But while that goes on, I just live my new life as best I could. The rate of stillbirths plummeted, and soon my Hive was greater than my previous one had ever been. At one point I even went back and took the citizenship test Harlyn mentioned once, and passed with a nearly perfect score. I still have the certificate mounted near my throne. Amaya, Citizen of Sentinel, it says.

I fill my time teaching Rita the ways of being Queen. She shows great promise, but loses focus when she openly remarks on my state. My bones are cracked and weary, and sometimes it takes great effort to stand when I’ve stopped to rest. I tell her its fine, but my joints say otherwise.

A few dozen years after land-fall? It feels so much longer. The standard age for a Queen is a terribly long time, but each night I can feel my strength dwindle. The decay that affects me can be slowed, but not stopped.

But I am content. My Hive thrives, my children are happy, and the world and its people accept us. Maddox had wanted me to live my life for life, and I believe I’ve done as well as I can.

The days fly by now. Rita told me that I was sixty just before, or close enough to it since this world has a slightly different sense of time then I’m used to. I will be the youngest Queen to die, for my link with Maddox is faint, and reflects on my own life energy. But as I said, it’s what I want, and living like this where each day is a blur isn’t all that enjoyable anymore, though seeing my Hive grow every day is a memory I will always cherish.

I crawled out of the canyons to the mountaintop where Luna and Maddox are buried. Rita had to help me up the whole way, my arms very thin and my muscles waned of their energy. Me and my daughter exchanged a few words we knew to be final. They were only for mother and daughter to know, and it will stay that way. The rest of the Hive gathers below, respecting our privacy.

I lay my head back against a tree, the sunset warming my face and crown, the grave of my love just inside my vision to my left. I don’t remember much after that, only that as I drifted into my last sleep, I was hoping that all my lost family would forgive me for all my wrongs.

The next time I woke up I was no longer on that mountain, no longer on that world, but in another. This one had towering trees and emerald-green grass, an oasis surrounded by a fog that kept out all other distractions. Maddox used to call this the dream-world. It had been so long since I’d visited that I’d forgotten about it.

It remained much the same as it used to be. The crystal-blue pond, the gentle wind caressing my face, but there were differences. Before, I couldn’t see a hundred meters beyond this haven, but now the distant mist was breached by rays of light, and I could see figures moving across the light, casting long shadows over the forest floor.

He was there too. Standing just there by the pond’s edge with his back to me. I approached as if I was coming out of a dream, put my hand on his shoulder, and saw my exoskeleton was touched with the tenderness of youth. His young face turned to me and smiled. We were always young in each other’s eyes. Singular in this case, of course.

“Hey girl,” he said.

“You waited. All this time, you waited.”

“Yep.” He examined our little heaven as if seeing it for the first time. “It didn’t really feel that long to me, honestly. I’m so proud of you, Amaya. You did it.”

“We, did it, my friend.”

“Yeah,” he said with reluctant admission. “I didn’t really do much, though. Just waited around here.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I noticed you called me your husband back there.”

I smiled. “Aren’t you? You’re everything a girl could ask for.”

“A charming, rogue, dashingly handsome young lad? You think that’s me?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of beautifully silly. I think that sums you up pretty well.”

He held my two larger hands in his own, and our heads leaned in. Our kiss was deep and full of love, a passion I’d not had the chance to feel in over sixty years. It was as perfect as I remembered.

“Luna and the others are just up ahead,” he said, nodding behind him at that bright light with the figures walking across. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,” I said. We turned, my left hand in his right, and faced the light. “Maddox?”

“Yeah?”

“In the next world, will we be together?”

His smile was answer enough before he even spoke.

“Always.”