It’s the last
Monday of the month, which means two things: 1.) make sure you have enough
money for rent, and 2.) aww fuck it’s another edition of the Annotated Aliens versus Predator: The Story. Sit
back and crack open a bottle of Thunderbird while we take a look at my grade
school stab at the art of adaptation. This month’s chapter takes place minutes
after the last, when the worst security system ever designed shut down the
defences around Weyland-Yutani’s main lab complex on LV-1201.
Major
Dimitri Henson paced impatiently behind the technician. Dunya wanted him for
dinner a half-hour ago, and now he had to guard some repairwoman as she slowly
repaired a sentry turret.
“It
beats the Hell out of me why you worry about one turret. We’ve got nineteen
others patrolling the area,” Dimitri complained with a Texan accent.
Dimitri reserved his French accent for flirting
with his wife, and his New England accent for expounding on how sometimes, dead
is bettah.
“I’m
moving as fast as I can, Dimitri. Not only do I have to set this thing back up,
I’ve got to rewrite the tracking code for this unit,” the technician said.
“Cut
the chatter and keep working,” Dimitri ordered. He looked around the dark
canyon in fear. “I don’t like this place.”
Up on
the ledges in the canyon walls, a pack of Aliens waited. In the front of the
group stood Jimrakh, thirsty for both blood and information. One Alien, a
former captive of the POC, whose name was Morachai crawled down a slope toward
the leader.
“Makay,
ouy da tsa?” Morachai asked in his language. “Translation: Alright, what do we
do?”
In the first edition of this feature, I mentioned
how for the purposes of my novel I came up with a basic language for the
Aliens. No conjugation, no special syntax, just one for one word substitution.
It also serves no purpose that I can think of, for reasons that will be
apparent a few chapters from now.
Jimrakh
shifted, and spoke, “Hai ta barak. Translation: Here’s the plan. Tsa cra ikfo
duak adags. Translation: We split into two groups. Ja poit sevat, tuk poit
sevat. Translation: I take seven, you take seven. Tuk poit jamai a dakoma jat
ta bakas. Translation: Your group creates a diversion at the bottom. Wheih ta
oomans ete damor tha bouch, ja poit tad de ta toj du ta Pods. Translation:
While the humans are defending themselves, my group heads for the top of the
Pods.”
“Bah
barak. Translation: Good plan,” said Morachai. “Takoh onee un kajay.
Translation: Though only one problem.”
“Whik
ij? Translation: Which is?” Jimrakh asked.
“Thak
ete guhs dut jat ta bakas. Translation: There are guns at the base,” Morachai
said, pointing.
I don’t say this enough: I’m really sorry for
putting all of you through this.
Jimrakh
winced
You and me both, brother.
“Crad! Wa di ton appe?! Translation: Crap! Why did this happen?!” He picked up a
rock and threw it against the cliff wall, shouting, “Daht! Translation: Damn!”
“CURSED
BY OUR EXTRATERRESTRIAL HUBRIS!”
Down
on the ground, Dimitri had almost had enough. “Alright,” he said to the
technician, “you have ten minutes to fix this thing, and then I’m out of here.”
“You’re
just scared,” she snickered. “There, just finished.” She reconnected two
conduits in the turret, and packed up her toolbox. “Let’s head back she said.
Just
then, the Marines had accidentally cut the security system’s power. All at
once, the turrets shut down. The green lights on each console turned red, and
the tracking beeps suddenly stopped. All that could be heard were cricket-like
insects, Dimitri’s heart pounding, and - clawing. Clawing, as if something
almost metal was hitting against rocks. And that clawing sound was increasing
by the second. Dimitri gripped his pulse rifle even harder, and the technician
slowly started to walk backwards.
Suddenly,
a controllers voice sounded over Dimitri’s radio, “Get inside, now! We’re
picking up readings on the long-range trackers!”
“I see
them,” Dimitri said, worriedly examining his motion tracker. A sharp,
raptor-like scream echoed throughout the gorge, and small, moving shapes could
be seen running down the canyon walls.
“We’re
going to die. We’re going to die,” the technician repeated over and over again.
“Don’t
worry,” Dimitri said. “Can you get the auxiliary generators online?”
“They’re
offline,” the Pod controller responded over the radio.
“You’re
right. We’re going to die!” Dimitri groaned. “Get to the Pods!” he shouted to
the technician.
I have no idea why I made this guy such a shitty
soldier. Like, he’s fairly competent in the game but here you have to wonder
how he ever made it past basic training. Perhaps budget cutbacks weren’t just
limited to the United States Colonial Marines.
Near
the Pod 2 cargo lift, Eisenberg and a combat synthetic waited as the technician
rushed toward them.
“Get her
one and start the lift,” Eisenberg ordered.
“Sir,
the Ground Shelter is safer. I suggest we evacuate there immediately,” the
android droned.
“I’m
not going underground!” Eisenberg growled, as the technician got on the
platform. “Start the lift.” The platform began to rise, and the doctor shouted
into his radio, “Major Henson, please evacuate to the Pod 4 lift.”
“I’m going to hold them off,” Dimitri explained. “Tell Dunya I’m going to be a bit late for dinner.” As eight Aliens tore through the security fence, Dimitri emptied his pulse rifle clip. Every Alien dodged the blasts, and continued towards Dimitri.
“I’m going to hold them off,” Dimitri explained. “Tell Dunya I’m going to be a bit late for dinner.” As eight Aliens tore through the security fence, Dimitri emptied his pulse rifle clip. Every Alien dodged the blasts, and continued towards Dimitri.
Startled,
Dimitri did a 180 degree turn and fled. He was busy loading another clip, when,
out of the shadows, an Alien, which was a half-grown Queen, charged out toward
the soldier. As her jaws closed tightly on Dimitri, the human was snatched off
of the ground, screaming. In a second, Dimitri was in two halves, dead.
"Rest
in peace, Major Henson. You were really, really shitty at your job."
Far
up, on top of the Pods, the other eight Aliens, headed by Jimrakh, sped across
the structure supports. Jimrakh finally found two open fans; one on Pod 2, the
other on Pod 4. They split up into two groups of 4, and headed into the
facility.
Jimrakh’s
group took Pod 2, and the four creatures scurried into the structure. As soon
as they got into the Pod, they crawled into a vent to keep from being seen by
the guards below. Jimrakh motioned for the other three to split up and cause
havoc, so he could find what he was looking for, without being annoyed by pesky
humans.
Jimrakh
continued down the rest of the shaft, pausing as he came to a junction. One way
continued the shiny steel airshaft further down into the Pod. The other way was
filled with wires and hatch keypads; a maintenance shaft. He hurried down the
shaft, activating keypads to allow him deeper into the Pod systems.
Where’s
a damn computer terminal?! Jimrakh groaned. An Alien his intelligence would be
able to activate one, and use it. He needed a computer to find what he was
looking for.
The
reason why the damn humans were on Lv-1201.
From the start, none of the Aliens knew why the humans had arrived on 1201. It was designated territory for Jimrakh’s species. Well, that was pretty much known only to the Predators. But humans were not allowed here. Jimrakh needed to find out the reason why the humans were terraforming, studying, and altering his species’ way of life. He knew it had to be something more.
From the start, none of the Aliens knew why the humans had arrived on 1201. It was designated territory for Jimrakh’s species. Well, that was pretty much known only to the Predators. But humans were not allowed here. Jimrakh needed to find out the reason why the humans were terraforming, studying, and altering his species’ way of life. He knew it had to be something more.
Jimrakh
noticed a panel, labeled, “Mainframe Systems,” with an arrow underneath it. The
Alien turned in the direction of the arrow, and sped off.
I just don’t understand why I’d make his species so
intelligent and yet have them get by without clothing or advanced technology. I
think it’s because I wrote this around the time Jurassic Park III came out, and liking it at the time I assumed the
best way to make the Aliens intimidating was to make them smarter, like the
velociraptors in the film. You’d think being remorseless space rapists would be
frightening enough.
Dr.
Eisenberg paced patiently around his office, occasionally examining notes and
records, while taking sips from a flask of Scotch. The Aliens were now in the
complex, in his Pod and Number 4. Intercom warnings were heard every five
minutes or so, saying things like, “Pod 4 has been placed on Yellow Alert,” or
“Pod 2 has been placed on Red Alert,” followed by “All security officers please
report to Operations.” He had found out that the Aliens had invaded five upper
levels by the time he took another swig from the flask.
I imagine Eisenberg and Major “Jim Lahey” McCain
would get along pretty well.
Suddenly,
a growl startled him. He turned around to see an Alien, opening and closing its
jaws as it looked at him. Eisenberg wheezed a cry, and then ran toward his
desk. He quickly reached into a drawer and pulled out a pistol. He was bust
loading it when the Alien bounded toward him. He almost screamed as its
secondary jaws came out, but it didn’t matter.
Eisenberg
didn’t feel anything.
He
looked up and around. The Alien was gone. Had it been real, retracting its jaws
just before they blew apart Eisenberg’s skull; or was it an illusion, a mirage
tricking him into thinking the worst.
The
doctor couldn’t stand it. He got up, pistol at its ready. He walked around the
perimeter of the room, examining every vent, making sure they were locked shut.
As he exhaled with relief, two more snarls could be heard. He turned around
again. Sure enough, two Aliens were behind him; one on the floor the other on a
wall.
Eisenberg
moaned and ran the other way. Another Alien blocked his path. He turned to his
left; an Alien. He turned to his right; another Alien. Aliens lined the walls
and ceiling, and the gleaming white room turned into hive substance.
The
doctor screamed, shoved a cabinet in front of the room’s door, and huddled in a
corner, as more and more Alien mirages filled the room.
Suddenly, Eisenberg could remember something: screams, shouts and begs for mercy filled the air. The visions of Aliens running around Operations, killing, devouring. He could see images of an Alien clawing at a mangled corpse. Eisenberg could see himself, firing at the Alien. He could see the Alien bleed, but it faced Eisenberg and swiped at him. He could remember the pistol falling out of his hands. Him, screaming in pain. He clutched his right hand in fear. All the death, destruction and carnage. All because of the Aliens. All because of the containment.
Suddenly, Eisenberg could remember something: screams, shouts and begs for mercy filled the air. The visions of Aliens running around Operations, killing, devouring. He could see images of an Alien clawing at a mangled corpse. Eisenberg could see himself, firing at the Alien. He could see the Alien bleed, but it faced Eisenberg and swiped at him. He could remember the pistol falling out of his hands. Him, screaming in pain. He clutched his right hand in fear. All the death, destruction and carnage. All because of the Aliens. All because of the containment.
All
because of him.
“Get
away from me, you beasts!” Eisenberg shouted. He was furious. He hated these
damn Aliens. These creatures were stopping him from reaching his one and only
goal, which only the doctor and a few other executives knew about. “Die!
Die!!!!!!!!” He fired his pistol at the mirages, and one by one, they seemed to
disappear.
Outside
the room, Rykov, Ivan and Dunya approached the door. Ivan noticed that the door
was locked, so he knocked. No answer. He tried again and again, with no
success. He reached for the intercom.
“Hello,
Dr. Eisenberg?” Ivan started. “It’s Lieutenant Smitchuk. I’m here with General
Rykov. He wishes to speak with you.” No answer, again. “Dr. Eisenberg, can you
please unlock the door so you can let us in? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?”
As
Ivan jabbered into the radio, Dunya groaned, motioned Rykov out of the way, and
fired her pulse rifle, gunning down the door. A piece of shrapnel barely missed
Ivan’s head, and the lieutenant growled, “Do you always have to rush into
things and be the Princess of Darkness?”
“It’s
my way of life,” Dunya said, grinning. She shoved open the remains of the door,
and stepped over the cabinet. They quickly noticed Eisenberg twitching in the
corner.
“What
the Hell are you doing?” Rykov grumbled. “Get up!”
Eisenberg
slowly got to his feet. “Sorry,” he said. “An Alien was darting in and out of
the room here.”
“Alright, who left the liquor cabinet open? Someone
better fess up!”
“The
Aliens have only invaded the upper levels of Pods 2 and 4. We’ve managed to
lock off the other two structures, so our chance to evacuate is now,” explained
Ivan.
Eisenberg
changed the subject, “How did you lock off the other to Pods?”
“We
closed the doors,” Rykov said. “I think it is safe to assume that they can’t
activate keypads.”
You can really tell I had just learned about
dramatic irony in class that week.
Meanwhile,
Jimrakh was storming through the computer mainframe of Pod 2. He sliced a
technician in half as he searched for the right computer. The one, which had
the agenda for the entire Lv-1201 project. Finally, after inner-jawing a fifth
technician, Jimrakh found what he was looking for: Project Agenda.
Jimrakh
activated the computer, and used his heightened intelligence to make his way
around the system. There were medical files, rosters, inventories, and - what
was this? Jimrakh examined a file labeled Hive Siege. Jimrakh opened it and
examined its contents. After reading the file, Jimrakh had only one thought in
his head:
My
God.
If Aliens had eyes, you could be damn sure Jimrakh
would be slowly removing a pair of glasses in astonishment right then and
there. BUT WHAT ARE THE CONTENTS OF THIS MYSTERY FILE? You may find out next
month!
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