AVP 3: Mankinds Best

[Jack_S]

That chapter in 2 days! :-O something that much would take me over a week and it still wouldnt be as good as this. well done.

[Ain'tGotTime2Bleed]

Chapter 9: “I Prefer The Term Artificial Person.”

They had made their way to the entrance that they had created when all five xeno slayers had arrived, sunlight relentlessly bombarding their eyes causing them to squint and clench them closed. When they finally adjusted to the brightness, they could see the entirety of the clearing, the trees all around it, and a sea of black on the horizon; xenomorphs, unmoving, dead. The faint outline of the large, grey drop ship was visible a kilometre away. They stood in the hole in the side of the massive ship, gazing around at the outside world, at the trees and grass and natural light. It was, even with all the dead xenomorphs and the possibility of many more, a beautiful sight, such a drastic change from the pitch black, claustrophobic hallways of the infested Nostradamus 8. They stood, Malone with his pulse rifle and Leonard with his swords, just basking in the warmth of the sun.
It was then that they heard the roar; Shi’Vai’s victory cry.
“It killed the fucking queen!?” asked Leonard incredulously.
“Well, I’m not going to find out,” said Malone, straightening his stance and gripping his weapon tightly. “Let’s go.”
They jumped from the ship and hit the ground running, helmets bobbing up and down, equipment thrashing around on their straps, and yet they didn’t stop. The long grass was flattened as they ran, the trees whirring by. They were exhausted, completely worn out both emotionally and physically, so much so that Malone didn’t even have a cigar in his mouth.
They made good speed, pushing themselves to the limit. In several minutes, even weighed down by all their equipment, they made it to he piles of dead xenomorphs. They immediately slowed down, gingerly stepping over the bodies, scanning for survivors. They were confident that, if any xenomorphs were faking and attempted to assault them, the special turrets would take care of the problem. Their only concern was getting in the crossfire. So, as quickly and as carefully as they could, they made their way through the dead and broken bodies and charred ground until they reached the turrets. They both walked between the space separating two turrets to get to the untouched grass beyond, where the drop ship was parked. The door was open and the inside intact with no sign of a xenomorph presence. They stepped confidently inside and secured the door tightly, locks clamping into place.
The drop ship was almost exactly as they had left it. Nothing in the main seating bay had been moved or changed.
“We fucking made it,” said Leonard, laughing with relief. “We actually fucking made it!” Malone smiled in response, taking out a celebratory cigar and lighting it in his mouth, an expression of utter ecstasy spreading over his face as he inhaled that first whiff of smoke.
“You know, I managed to steal some champagne from a refrigerator back at headquarters,” said Malone. “Been storing it for my own personal use. But now seems like the perfect time to get piss fucking drunk.”
“Aye, sir!” yelled Leonard enthusiastically, smiling from ear to ear.
“I’ll go…” started Malone, before pausing and looking inquisitively at the ground behind where Leonard was standing, the ground which lead to the cockpit.
“What is it?” asked Leonard, turning around to follow the General’s gaze. What he saw was a thin trail of white fluid, random drips spattered about, yet ultimately leading towards the cockpit.
“Is that xeno-spit?” asked Leonard quietly, on edge as he turned to the General.
“Taste it,” ordered Malone just as quietly. Reluctantly, Leonard obliged. He took two fingers and put a little of the fluid on each, the liquid slowly dripping into the gap between his two fingers. He then placed them in his mouth and tasted it.
“Well, isn’t that a welcome surprise,” said Leonard/
“What is it?”
“Milk.”
“Milk?” asked Malone incredulously. “What the fuck brought milk onto…” he stopped suddenly, eyes widening in realization.
“What is it, sir?”
“There’s a mother fucking synthetic on board the ship,” said Malone.
“Holy shit,” replied Leonard. “Who do you think sent it? When do you think it got here? HOW do you think it got here?”
“Only one way to find out,” said Malone. “We follow the bread trail.” Leonard stood up and armed himself with one of his swords, before slowly walking towards the cockpit after the General. They made it to the door, and Malone silently motioned for Leonard to open it. As he moved forward to obey, the General took up an offensive position, gun pointed at the entrance.
The door hissed open as Leonard finished typing in the access code. They were greeted by a puddle of milk. But what really caught their attention was the pilot’s seat.
The android was sitting in the pilot’s seat, back turned to them, typing quickly and noisily into the onboard computer. Malone motioned for Leonard to enter with him. They walked carefully inside, making no noise whatsoever. The only sound came from the incessant typing of the android.
When they were within two feet of the pilot’s seat, Malone pointed his gun at the artificial person’s head, whilst Leonard brought his sword back, ready to swing a lethal blow.
“Who the fuck are you, what are you doing on this ship, and who sent you!?” asked Malone harshly. “Try ANYTHING, anything at all, and we’ll blow you synthetic brains out.”
“That wouldn’t be very nice,” said the android, not turning around, but stopping his typing. “After all these years I never thought it’d be YOU who killed me, General.”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘all these years’?” asked Malone. The android slowly swivelled its chair until it was facing them. When they saw the face both men lowered their weapons but stayed on high alert, ready to attack should the robot try anything stupid.
“Julius?” asked Leonard incredulously. “You’re an android?”
“Combat synthetic version 1.0,” said Julius calmly. His chest was blown wide open, wires hanging down from his upper half, milk dripping constantly. “Weyland-Yutani saw great potential in the program you started, General, and wanted someone on the inside to study the Internecivus Raptus. They have learned copious amounts of information from me concerning their habits, lifecycle, hierarchy, biology and combat tactics. I even managed to bring them several dead bodies! It was far easier to send a combat synthetic in to study them in action than to risk lawsuits sending people in to capture one alive, what with deaths and all.”
“But you’ve killed more xenomorphs than me,” said Leonard. “If you’re here to study them, why kill so many?”
“Every mission we’ve been on has been recorded and sent back to Weyland-Yutani for study,” said Julius calmly.
“Fucking sneaky bastards,” said Malone, diligently smoking his cigar.
“However,” said Julius, “Their interests have recently changed to another species, as deadly or, dare I say it, deadlier than the xenomorphs.”
“Those monsters with the mandibles!” exclaimed Leonard.
“Ah, you saw them as well,” said Julius. “Weyland-Yutani came across records from hundreds of years ago of these creatures visiting earth. In 1987, a team of rescue specialists, perhaps the world’s best, were killed one by one. There were two survivors, each making claims of an alien life form.”
“It was them, wasn’t it?” asked Malone.
“It was the creatures that waylaid us and gave me this…unfortunate injury,” said Julius, motioning at the hole in his chest. “Then, in 1991, one of them came to Los Angeles, California, Earth. It killed numerous people, and yet still no one believed these aliens existed. In 2004, Mr. Charles Bishop Weyland, the founder of Weyland industries, found a pyramid buried far below some Antarctic ice. It housed xenomorphs, which turned out to be bred for these creatures’s hunting purposes. Suffice to say, all but one woman died on that voyage.”
“These things hunt xenomorphs for sport?” asked Leonard. “Holy Fuck!!!”
“Continuing on,” said Julius, eyeing Leonard cautiously. “Several weeks later, a small town in Colorado was invaded by xenomorphs. Once again, the four survivors made claims which almost exactly match those of the previously mentioned survivors. And, we have reason to believe these creatures have been hunting xenos on earth for thousands of years.”
“There was a massive one which killed a queen...” said Malone, letting the statement hang.
“Ah, yes, Dawkins and I encountered that charming fellow. Eight feet tall?” Malone nodded. “Yes, he seems to be their leader. Dawkins and I killed one of the three that attacked us, meaning there’s still two out there…”
“No,” interrupted Leonard. “There’s only one. Mort killed the other. We saw its body on the way out, Mort’s knife on the ground beside it, covered in green blood. Seems as though the eight foot guy killed Mort afterwards.”
“Mort was a good, tough soldier,” said Julius, his face expressionless and calculating. “Now, as you have probably already witness first hand, these creatures have weapons and technology far beyond human capabilities.”
“Evident in that hole in you chest,” said Malone.
“Precisely. Their shoulder weapons seem to be plasma based, easily cutting through my flesh and innards. I managed to take the weapon from the one Dawkins and I killed.”
“WHAT!?” asked Malone incredulously. “Where is it?”
“It is safe in this ship,” said Julius, still calm. “They don’t have tracking devices on it, so we’re safe…for now. Now, I have some information you might find helpful in your mission. The miners…”
“We’re not finishing out mission, we’ve lost two men already!” exclaimed Leonard.
“Yes, you are,” said Julius. “Colonial Marine code dictates all missions must be completed unless ordered otherwise, on penalty of death.”
“You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” said Leonard, throwing his arms up in the air and rolling his eyes. “Did you know anything about this, sir?”
“Yes,” replied Malone.
“You knew about this?” he asked again, incredulous.
“Oh, the General knows all about it,” said Julius. “In fact, he added that little snippet to the USCM code himself. Made the commitment more, shall we say, permanent.”
“Why, sir?” asked Leonard, turning to the General. “Why would you do that? Now we either risk our asses here, or get fucked back home! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!!!!!”
“I added that to the code,” said Malone, “because cowards would do more harm than good when dealing with xenomorphs. I wanted only those willing to commit their lives to the cause. I didn’t want people joining just so they could brag to their buddies at home about fighting xenos, then pussying out when the going got tough. Surely you understand?”
“Yeah, I understand, but do you realize how fucked we are now? Now we have to get the cargo from the ship AND look back there for survivors!”
“We won’t be getting the cargo,” said Malone firmly.
“Actually, yes you will,” replied Julius calmly. “The orders were explicit; rescue survivors and get cargo. You will retrieve the valuable mineral ore, or you will be killed by a firing squad.”
“No, that is where you are wrong,” said Malone, just as calmly as Julius had. “I will incite the very first clause of our code, which states that one may abort any mission if the commanding officer deems the xenomorph infestation uncontrollable, which it undoubtedly is in this case. We’re going home.”
“Ah,” said Julius. “and that is where ‘you’ are wrong. If there is a human presence in a xenomorph infestation, investigation is mandatory. You may have wiggled you way out of retrieving the Nostradamus’s cargo, but there is no code to refute this.”
“How are we supposed to find any survivors, if there even are any, in this fucking planet? It’s huge!” asked Leonard.
“Weylnd-Yutani put their employee’s safety first and foremost,” said Julius, smiling. “After the tragic events on the mining vessel Nostromo, each employee was tagged with a tracker/vitals reader, with a range of one hundred kilometres. And, it just so happens that there is one miner with active signals, alive and ticking.”
“I just fucking love this mission,” said Leonard, putting his eyes in his palms.
“Hw far?” asked Malone resolutely.
“Seventy four point seven kilometres, approximately North twenty four degrees West,” said Julius.
“How the fuck did he get so far away from the ship?” asked Leonard.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Malone, sitting down in the co-pilot’s seat. “What does matter is getting this bastard of a mission over and done with. Now, we’re going back to the Marvel to arm ourselves to the fucking teeth, get some rest, and then some chow. I don’t know about you, Leonard, but I’m fucking ravenous. Julius, fly this thing.”
“Aye,” said the android. “What about the turrets?”
“Leave them, we’ll get more.”
“Aye.”
The drop ship engines roared as they took off, the ammo detaching as they left the turrets behind. What none of them noticed, however, was the four smashed and broken turrets, acid marks all around them, and large footsteps leading towards where the drop ship used to be.

[Jack_S]

Never saw that twist coming! Nice one!

[Ain'tGotTime2Bleed]

Chapter 10: “I Say We Grease This Rat-Bitch Motherfucker.”

They soared through the planet’s atmosphere, the drop ship shaking violently as the clouds rushed past the cockpit windows. Leonard was strapped securely in his seat in the back of the vessel, the only man sitting in the six capacity area. Before, four of the six seats were occupied. Now, only one was. It was a solemn reminder of those who had been lost in such a short period of time. At first, Leonard and Malone thought they had lost three of their brethren. They now knew it was only two that had been lost. Yet in actuality, Julius was gone as well; he was not the comrade they had experienced so much and developed a brotherly love with. Nay, he was a machine, built to infiltrate their squad and research the xenomorphs. He was nothing more than a complex toaster oven.
The ship finally broke free of the planet’s atmosphere, the darkness and infinite expanses of space lying before them. The shaking ceased abruptly, and for several moments all was at peace. Malone and Julius piloted the ship towards the USS Marvel, which had maintained an orbit around the planet during their stay. They slowed down as they approached it, using the drop ship’s onboard computer to remote open the docking bay. Malone and Julius slowly manoeuvred the ship through the opening, spinning it slowly to avoid any unwanted collisions. Finally they were inside, and while Malone brought the ship down to land, Julius remote closed the door. They landed with a jerk, and then all was still.
They all unbuckled their straps and got up, Julius still dripping milk from his massive wound. All three of them met up at the door, but before any of them could open it Malone began to speak.
“Julius, I want you to try and patch up that wound,” he ordered. “I don’t want you dripping Milk all over the place; it’ll get rotten and begin to stink. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,” said Julius.
“Leonard, I want you to freshen up.”
“Aye.”
“After you have completed your designated tasks, I want you to meet me in the mess hall for some chow. You got that?”
“Yes sir,” Julius and Leonard replied simultaneously, Leonard saluting while Julius stood perfectly still.
“Julius,” said Malone quietly but dangerously. “Usually you salute a superior office. I am still your superior officer, even if you are a synthetic.”
“Sir…” started Julius.
“SALUTE ME!” roared Malone. Julius immediately snapped to attention and saluted the General. “Good,” said Malone, smiling. “Now get to work.” He grabbed the handle to the drop ship door and pulled, sliding it open easily. They all jumped out onto the familiar deck of the Marvel and rushed to complete their tasks, Malone popping a cigar into his mouth and heading straight for the mess hall.
It was twenty minutes later when Leonard arrived, finding the General seated at a table devouring some food.
“Where would you like me to sit, sir?” asked Leonard.
“Anywhere,” replied Malone, not looking up from his meal. Leonard grabbed a plate from a wall cabinet and sat down beside the General, serving himself healthy portions of food. They sat in silence for several minutes, quietly devouring their meals. They were so hungry that when they had finished, they piled a second serving onto their plates, regardless of the sub-par tastes.
Finally, Leonard broke the silence as he drank a glass of cold, refreshing water.
“Sir, do you really think that it was the minister of defence who sent those orders?” he asked between gulps.
“What do you mean?” asked Malone, putting his knife and fork down on his full plate and leaning back in his chair, exhaling as he did so.
“Well, now that we know Julius is a synthetic sent by the company, don’t you think that Weyland-Yutani could have something to do with this?”
“You saw the transmission; it was from the office of the minister of defence.”
“Yeah, but Weyland-Yutani is a company that encompasses a lot of things, not just mining and terraforming, am I correct?”
“Yes,” said Malone, leaning forward again. “They have several divisions set aside for technological advancement.”
“Exactly,” said Leonard, putting his drink down. “Do you think it’s possible that they sent us the transmission, and made it look like it was from the minister of defence’s office?”
“That’s a pretty big risk,” said Malone. “If they got caught they’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah, but look at it from their perspective. They have a combat synthetic on board doing their dirty work, and a multi-billion dollar mining ship which they have lost contact with in the immediate vicinity. It just so happens that the ‘minister of defence’ sends us a transmission right as we pass the planet. Coincidence…?”
“I think not,” finished Malone. “Holy fuck, Leonard. Do you know what this could mean? Weyland-Yutani could have been giving other marines orders right under Colonial Administration’s noses! Countless marines could have been killed because of them!”
“I know,” said Leonard. “What…” he stopped suddenly as Julius walked in. His chest was no longer leaking milk and was covered with square sheets of metal.
“It was a rush job,” said Julius, smiling awkwardly as the two men stared at him.
“Take a seat, Julius,” said Malone forcefully. Julius complied immediately, grabbing the seat across from Malone so that they could stare directly at each other. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Shoot,” said Julius.
“Oh, that will come later,” said Leonard. Julius immediately changed from cheerful to dead serious.
“What seems to be the problem, General?” he asked, his voice monotone.
“Where did our orders come from?” asked Malone.
“The office of the minister of defence,” replied Julius calmly. “You read the transmission just as clearly as I did.”
“No,” said Malone. “Where did our orders really come from?”
“The office of the minister of defence, as I said,” replied Julius. “I don’t know why…”
“Bullshit!” said Leonard, jumping from his chair and removing one of his swords. He made his way quickly over to Julius and placed it at the base of his neck. “WHO SENT US OUR ORDERS!?”
“The office of the minister…” started Julius.
“BULLSHIT!” roared Leonard, punching him in the face as hard as he could. Julius’ head was thrown sideways, and slowly straightened out. “WHO SENT US OUR ORDERS!?”
“The office of the minister of defence,” he repeated. Leonard took his sword back, and was about to permanently deactivate the synthetic when Malone interrupted.
“That will be enough, Leonard,” he said calmly. “We shall let cooler heads prevail on this one.” Leonard looked at the General, then back at Julius. He lowered his sword, and before he could make his way back to his seat he gave Julius another solid punch to the face. The skin around where the two blows had been delivered was slightly askew, giving the android an inhuman look.
“Julius,” said Malone calmly. “I order you to tell me who sent us that transmission.”
“The minister of defence,” he replied coolly.
“You are still part of the United States Colonial Marines,” said Malone. “I am your superior officer. You don’t really want to disobey a direct order, do you? You yourself told us the punishment for that sort of thing. So I will ask you again, Julius, who sent us our orders?”
Julius sat silent, looking at the table, his eyes moving back and forth quickly. They sat patiently, awaiting the answer. Finally, Julius looked up at the two men, his face expressionless.
“Weyland-Yutani,” he answered. Leonard cringed and put his head on the table, eyes closed. Malone stared at the android, his face also expressionless.
“Why?” asked Malone. “What was our real objective?”
“To die,” replied Julius. Malone smiled in reply.
“I’m so happy to be able to disobey such an order,” he said jovially. “They didn’t want us to actually retrieve the mineral ore and survivors, did they?”
“You are still obliged under Colonial Marine code to retrieve the survivor, whether or not Weyland-Yutani wished so,” said Julius. “However, that was not what they wanted. Weyland-Yutani has sensors hidden on each colonial vessel, far more advanced than the ones Colonial Administration provides. The transmission was sent to you because these sensors detected a cloaked vessel in the vicinity. It was a predator ship, as the species is referred to on earth. Their destination was the same planet that a mining vessel had recently visited and not returned from. The opportunity to gain technology from this species was too good to pass up. So yes, the orders are from them.”
‘YOU FUCKERS KILLED DAWKINS AND MORT!” roared Leonard.
“No, that was the predators,” said Julius. “I succeeded in the mission I was assigned; I have one of their weapons. The advancement in human warfare will be swift and unmatched. We will take their technology and improve upon it, and we will soon become the greatest species in the universe.”
“Unfortunately,” said Malone. “You aren’t human. So please, don’t refer to yourself as one.” Julius frowned at that statement, but continued nonetheless.
“Surely you, General, would like to see how humans wield such power? Surely you, of all people, would appreciate such effective xenomorph killing methods? No more bullets and grenades; this plasma technology is the way of the future!”
“The company is sick and twisted,” said Malone. “They are willing to have innocent people die for a small piece of technology because they aren’t smart enough to think of it themselves? Well, not anymore. When we return from rescuing the survivor…”
“We’re not still doing that, are we?” asked Leonard.
“We must, or we will die,” said Malone. “When we return, I will have you deactivated and every single person responsible for this gross breach of security imprisoned and killed,” he stated, pointing and staring at Julius. “Leonard, tie him up and put him in the prisoner’s chamber. Activate all security measures.”
“With pleasure,” said Leonard. Julius did not move as Leonard took a rope from a wall cabinet and expertly detained the synthetic, tying the rope around his legs, arms and head so that there was no way he alone could escape. When he was finished, he pulled the robot out of his chair and began to lead him away. Before they could exit the room, however, Julius began to speak.
“Human advancement always requires sacrifice,” said the android as he was led out the door. “And we are willing to sacrifice any amount of people to achieve it.”
With that, the door hissed closed, leaving the General alone with his thoughts.

/|\

Leonard led Julius through winding hallways to the prisoner’s chamber. It was specifically designed to be exactly like prison; the walls were made of bullet-proof, sound-proof, acid-proof plastic, there were cameras all around it, and the only things inside were a toilet and a bed which was always too small. This chamber was almost never used, for the Colonial Marines rarely took prisoners. Thus, to add to the prisoner’s misery, the chamber was full of dust. It was never cleaned, and the toilet had nowhere to flush. It was, quite literally, a torture room.
Julius went where Leonard guided him without question, for he had a secret. He knew of the stowaway xenomorph. He knew it was hiding somewhere on the Marvel after hitchhiking a ride on the drop ship. And he was excited at this prospect. If he could somehow get free, he would be able to pilot the Marvel back home, and bring the xenomorph alive to Weyland-Yutani while the two marines were looking for the survivor. It would be a glorious return for him, with both a live xenomorph and predator technology in hand. He would also save the company from unwanted legal trouble, for the marines would be left on the planet to die, along with their knowledge of Weyland-Yutani’s illegal actions. And the most astounding fact of all was the creature itself. It would provide insight into both xenomorph and predator biology, for this was no ordinary Alien; this was a hybrid, the xenomorph spawn of a predator host. Who knew what abilities this creature would display? It would be a fantastic prize, one which would bring Julius the respect, admiration and power he deserved.
And so he complied with Leonard’s demands, not really listening to him, but imagining the glory and honour he would gain. He would be the greatest and most successful synthetic ever built, the envy of all those to come. What would he name the creature? Could he possibly cross the names of the two species and call it a Predamorph? Or would he give it the title of Predalien? All these thoughts of victory raced through his synthetic mind, his favourite being the one about leaving the marines to die.

[WALLABE]

Ain'tGotTime2Bleed? I Ain'tGotTime2Read

[Ain'tGotTime2Bleed]

Ha, that was pretty good! By the way, were you the one who voted "No"? Because you can just vote "Summarize".

[Jack_S]

Wallabe - it is well worth giving up your time to read it fully. :-)

[BooGNiSh]

Keep up the cool awesome work.

[Ain'tGotTime2Bleed]

Thanks...I am doing an in-depth scientific study of the predators, so i shan't be posting a new chapter for a little while...

[Mother]

That sounds interesting.