Man, that was a
long month. I was actually starting to miss this. Yes, it’s time for the
seventh installment of the Annotated Aliens
versus Predator: The Story. When we last left off, the xenomorphs had
proven their capacity for advanced language, had broken into Weyland-Yutani’s
Forward Observation Pods and driven Dr. Eisenberg into a mild, temporary state
of insanity—all thanks to the Marines overriding a pretty poorly designed
security system. And that’s going to give you a good idea of how awkward every
character interaction in this chapter is going to be.
The
APC finally arrived at the base, and the Marines inside swore at what they saw.
Turrets were offline, fences were sliced up, and the two halves of Dimitri were
lying by a damaged pulse rifle, his corpse starting to decay.
If that’s the case, 1.) Jesus Christ how much time
actually passed, and 2.) seriously, no one could have put him in a body bag? I
understand WY is a callous, mostly faceless corporation but c’mon, that’s just
asking for a PR disaster.
“I’m
seeing survivors at the base,” Shugi said. “There’s definitely some still
alive.
“Pull
up and stop. Harrison and Blackwell, you’re coming with me,” McCain ordered.
“Sure
thing, amigo,” Blackwell said.
The
survivors at the base were Eisenberg, Rykov, Ivan and a few technicians.
“Thank
you for arriving, Major McCain. It’s been more than Hell at this facility since
the Aliens invaded it,” Eisenberg said. “Luckily we’re not as bad as the POC
and the tunnels.”
“No
doubt,” McCain said. “Both are infested but salvageable.”
“Good.
I’ll try to get some more men down there,” Eisenberg said.
“So,
how did this Pod situation start?” Harrison asked.
“Well,”
Rykov grumbled, “it all started when you shut down our defense grid - “
“It
isn’t our fault your tunnel lock controls were hardwired to your security
system,” Harrison objected.
“Seriously, beta test that shit. Or at least run
debug, y’know?”
“I’m
afraid there’s not much fighting to do for you. The chaos has dramatically died
down.”
“Then
what’s our job?” McCain asked.
“To
enter Pods 2 and 4 and search for survivors. We’ve lost contact with both of
them,” said Rykov.
“OK,”
McCain replied. “Though, there is something else we need to do.”
“Yes?”
Eisenberg asked.
“I
need Harrison here to access one of your terminals. Since you’ve lost contact
with the POC. We set up a booster transmitter in the tunnels. With his help,
Harrison can activate it,” McCain said.
“Technician
Stiles,” Eisenberg started without turning, “please escort Corporal Harrison to
Pod 3, so he can use a computer.”
Stiles
nodded without turning, and started toward the Pod 3 lift. Harrison quickly
followed. Both got on the room-sized elevator and activated it.
“So,”
Harrison started. “Been really bad here?’
Corporal Andrew Harrison: dick.
On the
ground, there were two other conversations going on. One was between Rykov and
Ivan.
“Have
you made the rosters of the dead?” Rykov asked.
“Without
bodies and access to the two Pods, we can’t tell who died. We’re going to
definitely need those Marines,” Ivan answered.
“Do
you know any who did get killed?” Rykov questioned.
“Just
one: Dimitri Henson. He was Dunya’s fiancée.”
“She
isn’t going to be happy about that.”
“I’ve
known Dunya for a long time. She can handle anything.”
“Hmm.”
“But she’s going to be PMSing like crazy,
gnomesayin’?”
Across
the lift pad, McCain and Eisenberg were engaged in a long conversation.
“So,”
McCain started, “you were part of Expedition 1, right?”
“Why,
yes,” replied Eisenberg. “How’d you know?”
“Project
report from WY.”
“Damn
executives. They just love giving out everyone’s personal information.”
“Tell
me about it.
By the mid-22nd century, Facebook has
become its own country.
What
was it like?”
“I
can’t remember. It was almost too horrible, being the lone survivor and all.”
“Wow,
that’s bad. And you escaped without a scratch?”
“None
whatsoever,” Eisenberg replied calmly. Well, almost calmly. It was either his
mind playing tricks on him, or McCain could notice that the doctor was tightly
gripping his right hand, twisting it anxiously. “OK, so maybe a couple cuts and
bruises, but nothing really bad.” That was it. Eisenberg’s right hand was
acting strange. Its fingers were twitching about, almost nervously. Every other
part of his body, including his face, was steady and relaxed.
Oh man, there’s some foreshadowing up in this
bitch. Not that I won’t be reminding you throughout the rest of the novel, but pay attention to this.
Harrison
followed Stiles down the winding Pod corridors. Without the technician’s
direction, the Marine would have surely gotten lost.
“So
how’s it like working for Eisenberg?” asked Harrison.
“Not
bad at all. Why?” replied Stiles.
“Just
thinking about something,” answered Harrison. “He was in the first expedition
to 1201, right?”
“Correct.”
“Interesting.
It just so happens that my fiancée was a researcher there.”
“Oh,
I’m sorry.”
“About
what?”
“Well,
it’s known fact that Dr. Eisenberg was the only one to arrive alive from that
incident.”
“Yeah.
Damn lizards. I told her she shouldn’t have gone out there.”
“Don’t
worry. She must have thought she made the best decision.”
“I
guess so,” said Harrison, very solemnly.
Good thing there wasn’t a bird of prey in the room
or it might have gotten
As the
two approached an intersection, Stiles stopped.
“Damn,
now which way to the terminals?” he wondered aloud. Just then, a beautiful
Oriental woman, in her twenties walked past them.
LOOK I STILL HADN’T LEARNED YOU SHOULDN’T CALL THEM
ORIENTAL OKAY.
“Hey,
Tomiko,” Stiles started. “Which way to the terminals?”
“To
your left,” she replied. She eyed Harrison for a second. “Who are you?”
“Corporal
Harrison, USCM,” Harrison answered. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Same
here, “ Tomiko said, smiling. “Hope you find something here.”
“Sure
do,” Harrison said. He watched as she walked away, and then he turned to
Stiles.
…winked, and fired off two finger guns. The
technician was not impressed.
As
soon as the technician was out of sight, Harrison switched on his radio. “This
is Frosty, come in.”
“Here
you loud and clear, Harrison,” McCain replied over the radio.
“Something
in my mind tells me I’m not activating the booster transmitter,” Harrison
presumed as he opened the door to a terminal room.
“Your
mind is right,” McCain chuckled. “I need you to access the records for the
project.”
“All
of them?”
“Just
to six weeks ago. I need to find out what started this incident.”
“It
was accidental. An egg being transported hatched, it infected a civilian, the
thing grew up, set loose some others, and everything went to Hell. Eisenberg
said so himself in the report.”
“That’s
exactly it. Eisenberg said it. Don’t believe what that report said.”
“What?
Do you have something against the guy?”
“Let’s
say I can’t trust him.”
“Jesus Christ, man, he dresses like yuppie
Professor Snape. He has a semi-English
accent! If he isn’t evil, I’m drunk.”
“Sir, you drank an entire hip flask of Wild Turkey
on the drive here.”
“Well, yes, but that’s beside the point.”
After
a couple minutes, he reported back to McCain.
“Sir,
I can’t find records up to six weeks ago.”
“What?”
“It’s
exactly what I said. The files have been erased. Every single one of them.”
“When
were they deleted?”
“About
ten minutes ago. What the Hell?”
Suddenly,
a voice arose from behind a console. “Is something wrong?” a female Russian
voice asked.
Startled,
Harrison quickly closed the window he was in, and looked up.
“It wasn’t Victorian erotica, I swear!”
Dunya
appeared from behind another terminal.
“Uh,
nothing really. Just missing some files,” Harrison replied.
“Really?”
she replied coldly. Her menacing eyes stared down at the Marine.
“Yes,”
he said.
“I can
help you. Follow me and I can lead you to the file recovery systems.”
“Thanks,”
Harrison replied anxiously. He got up and followed Dunya out of the room. She
couldn’t help but notice that she was gripping her pulse rifle almost too
firmly.
Dunya had been the monkey-in-the-middle for far too many games of Keepaway for her
to relax her grip even in the slightest.
As
they crossed a gantry, Harrison said to Dunya, “So, you look pretty good for an
army officer.”
Hey Harrison, remember that time your fiancée died horribly at the hands of carnivorous
extraterrestrials? I know there’s something to be said for moving on, but
man, he makes Quagmire look subtle.
“I
have a fiancée - “ she started.
“Oh,
well then. . . “ Harrison apologized.
“ -
but he is dead. A casualty,” she continued sadly.
HOISTED BY YOUR OWN PETARD, HARRISON.
“Anyway,
the recovery systems. . . “
“Of
course,” she replied. Harrison turned toward their next set of doors. As he
walked forward, he noticed that he could hear none of Dunya’s footsteps.
“Well,
are you coming or not. . . oh, crap,” he groaned as he turned around. The last
thing he saw was Dunya swinging the butt of her pulse rifle at his forehead.
Crack. Harrison was out cold, lying by Dunya’s feet.
Satisfied,
Dunya turned on her radio. “Dr. Eisenberg,” she started, “I have managed to
subdue Harrison.”
“Excellent,”
Eisenberg chuckled over the radio. “Take him into custody. I’ll make up the
story.”
“Good.
He was close to finding out,” Dunya said.
“That
is as close as he’ll get,” the doctor chuckled. Over the headset, he turned to
Major McCain. “I’m very sorry, major, but we have had a casualty.”
Dunya
smiled, even more satisfied than before.
Oh fuck,
son, this chapter was called “Betrayal” and everything, too! I should have seen
that coming a mile off! I mean, I did, but still that’s some Chekhov’s Gun shit
right there.
Harrison
groggily awoke, cursing and wincing at a new pain in his body. He got up,
banging his head on something above him. It was a bunk. He was sleeping in a
bed somewhere. He touched his head, and felt a bandage. He wondered how it had
got there. Then he remembered: Dunya swinging her pulse rifle at his head. Damn
Company soldiers. None of them could be trusted.
He
crawled out of his cot, and looked around. He was in a prison cell, with an
observation window overlooking the room.
“I’d
never thought you would wake up,” somebody said. Harrison turned and saw a
convict in the room with him.
The man was, thankfully, still wearing pants. That
would have been just a little too
awkward, even for this veritable Michael Cera of chapters.
“Why
the Hell am I in here?” Harrison groaned.
“Well,
you should know what you’re in for,” the convict replied.
“In
for?”
“The
crime you committed,” the convict explained further.
“I’m
not a convict, I’m a Marine.”
“Really?
Than why are you wearing that?” the convict asked. Harrison looked down.
Instead of his USCM armour, the Marine was dressed in a blue convicts uniform.
His weapons, his radio, his armour, everything was gone.
“What
the Hell? I have got to get out of here,” Harrison complained.
“What?
They’ve got guards in here. You’ll never get out.”
“But I
didn’t do anything. Somebody just knocked me out, and I’m here.”
“Alright,
you want me to get you out?” the convict asked. “Next time a guard comes down
here to inspect us, I’ll use this.” The convict produced a dagger from his pant
leg.
“You
seriously wouldn’t kill somebody,” Harrison said.
“No,
just cut them. Enough to get both of us out of here.”
I honestly can’t tell if I was having this guy be
sarcastic or not.
Just
then, a guard entered the room, armed with a pistol.
“So,
Mick, like your new cellmate?” the guard asked the convict. As the man
inspected Harrison, Mick started toward the guard with the knife. The man heard
Mick, and he whipped around. Before the convict could do anything, the guard
shot him dead.
Though
horrified at what the Company man had done, Harrison didn’t hesitate to attack
the guard. He quickly pinched a nerve in the man’s neck. The guard dropped to
the ground, unconscious.
God forbid a guard might want to protect himself
from being stabbed. Also, for a regular marine Harrison has some real Vulcan
trickery going down here.
Harrison
grabbed the guard’s gun and exited through the man’s entranced. He entered a
hallway, with cell doors lining the walls.
“Come
on, come on,” Harrison panicked, looking for an exit. He found a door labeled
Maintenance Access, which Harrison opened. Behind the door was a ladder, which
lead up into the maintenance shafts.
“Thank
you,” Harrison muttered to himself. He climbed in and closed the hatch.
Frosty
had left the building.
*drops the mic* I got nothing’. See you next month.
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