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    Fanatic Enthusiast Xenomorph's Avatar


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    May 2007
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    Alien: Regenesis (Updated 1/1/09)

    Well, I got rather bored over quite some period of time, and this resulted. It's quite a read, so prepare a few minutes of your time. I hope you like it, though.

    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    Lara started to the bulkhead, running faster than she could. Fear accelerated her; no doubt she was fast, but it was faster. The thought that this may be her last moment entered her mind, and a part of her wanted to just give up, to accept her fate.
    Then she felt alive; truly alive. Her senses went into overdrive, picking up previously unknown details, the situation slowing to a crawl, everything clear to her. She almost felt the bug gaining on her, and she ran even faster, realizing something in this state of hyper-awareness…
    I like being alive, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that thing take it away from me.
    In this moment of realization, Lara forgot the burning of her lungs, the fire in her legs, and poured every ounce of effort into the mad dash down the corridor.
    No time for thinking now. Just run.
    She reached the bulkhead, and stabbed at the button that was her last chance at life. She turned and saw her pursuer; it wasn’t as close as she feared, but still a mere 100 meters away, devouring the distance as surely as it would her. A human could cover that in no time, and that thing was most definitely not human.
    The bulkhead opened began to open, tantalizingly slowly.
    75 meters.
    Lara slid through the opening as soon as it was high enough to allow her passage. Her shoulders brushed against the cold metal as she passed through.
    50 meters.
    In this fluid motion, Lara managed to jump up and backhand the CLOSE button. The door began it's long descent once more.
    25 meters.
    She could do nothing now but watch as death ran towards her. She prayed to several dozen deities that the bulkhead would close in time, and hoped one would answer her prayers.
    0 meters.
    The bulkhead was almost to the ground, when the insect's arm reached through the opening, flailing wildly. Lara instinctively dodged to the side, just out of reach of the clawed appendage, and watched as the bug's arm was severed by the hydraulic pressure of the door. It's blood sizzled against the door with no effect. Lara slumped against the wall, heart beating a drum solo inside of her chest. She was happy to be alive, and even if it was only a temporary reassurance, it was there, nonetheless. The horrible insect bashed uselessly at the slab of metal, as if to get it's arm back, and the sound was comforting.
    She got up, and walked. She walked for the hell of it, to prove that she was indeed alive. And while contemplating this, she noticed something that she never would have noticed before this ordeal.
    I'm still alive.

    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    Sorting through countless transmissions somewhere in deep space wasn’t Lara Smith’s ideal occupation, but it paid good money. Kind of like garbage workers; nobody else wanted to do it. So she sat at her form-chair in front of a computer screen, sending messages from one place to another.
    Click here, drag there, click there, drag here, click there, and drag it...over there somewhere…
    She was incredibly bored; so much so that she was on the verge of actually falling asleep when Davidson came in.
    “Hey there, how ya holdin’ up?” he said almost gleefully.
    How can anyone be that happy in here?
    “Can’t complain.” She thought about that for a second, then smiled and added “Actually, I could, but I’m not gonna.”
    “Well, I’m here to relieve you; you’re free to do…whatever. Maybe make some complaints.” He chuckled and walked towards the station.
    As she got up to let Davidson take over her position, she said to him “Thanks, Davidson. One more minute of those and I would’ve sent em to random people…by mistake of course.”
    He chuckled again. “Of course.” He sat down and looked at the screen, cracking his knuckles and preparing for the task.
    He’s nice, that Davidson. A bit optimistic, but nice nonetheless.
    On that note, Lara turned and left the small room and walked down the sterile corridors of the research station.
    The Galileo, or so the research station was called, wasn’t very large. A few labs, the receiver, a mess hall, and some quarters pretty much summed the station up. When Lara signed up, she thought that she would enjoy the silence, a sort of get-away from her life in the crowded city of Luna 12.
    But you haven’t gotten used to it yet, have you?
    Only a few scientists, her, and Davidson worked there, and everyone knew everyone else, for the most part. The scientists were kind of cliquey, and didn’t associate much with what one of them had dubbed ‘those with inferior language and mathematics processing skills’. That being said, Lara had quite a bit of free time on her hands when Davidson took over. She used most of that free time visiting the planet to which Galileo had affixed itself to, JE-322.
    How creative…
    Lara didn’t dwell on the intricacies of a name, and went to the bulkhead at the end of section J-9, past a few labs, then out the door. The door slid open at her approach, and the warm, humid air hit her square in the face, revitalizing her every sense. Her troubles and the silence faded away, and all that existed was now. She took it all in, the scent of the blooming therelessia plants, the sounds of the indigenous life, the taste of the very air.
    She walked over to a fallen log, brushed off a few twigs, sat down, closed her eyes, and all she had were her thoughts. And as she opened her mind to her thoughts, she ended up having an argument that she had many times before.
    I’m bored…
    Would you like to go back inside?
    Well, I’m not that bored…
    Then be quiet.
    Well, what if I don-

    Interrupting Lara from her internal argument was a small man, with the entire ‘dork’ outfit on; thick glasses, lab coat, pocket protector, you name it, and he had it on. And he was making a bit too much noise stumbling his way out of the complex.
    What was his name? Larry? Brian? Yes, it was Brian.
    Lara didn’t like forgetting things, and tried to kept a near photographic memory of almost everything she saw, just in case some of it may be useful someday. Rarely it did, but she tried anyway.
    “Excuse me, are you Lara Smith?” said the little man, seeming quite unnerved by her.
    “Yes, that’s me, why do you ask?” she said, trying her best not to seem annoyed by his intrusion, but failing.
    “Well, there’s a message for you; in the um, building…”
    “Who’s it from?”
    “I don’t know, Davidson just sent me out here to tell you.” The little man then turned and started to walk away, when he stopped mid-step and turned his head back towards Lara. “It’s important, please hurry.” He then continued on and waddled back into the complex.
    Important? Nothing important happens here…
    Lara reluctantly got up from her spot and stretched. She hated being interrupted, but since this was important, she took a final breath of the planet’s wonderfully fragrant aromas and started off into the canned-air depths of the station.

    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    Wilson didn’t particularly enjoy killing things, bugs aside, but he was a marine, so he had too. He signed on when he was 18, and now was stuck there. Well, not so much stuck, because he could retire any time, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had too many memories, and too much guilt. Ever since Earth was infested by the Xenomorph menace, the United Terran Military was looking for volunteers. Wilson, having his parents slaughtered by those things at a young age, gladly volunteered as soon as he was old enough.
    The intercom in his room suddenly came to life, breaking the incessant droning of the impulse engines. “Sarge, you there?”
    Still groggy from being woken up, he leaned over to the intercom on the wall and pressed the red TALK button. “Ramirez? What do you want? We don’t get to the coordinates for another…” he glanced at his watch and sighed “…20 minutes. I’ll be right there.” He got out of his bed and barely got halfway done dressing when the intercom started up again.
    “Um, Sarge, just got a transmission from HQ, we’re being diverted.”
    He stabbed at the button again, incredibly annoyed by this inconvenience. “Diverted? To where? We’re already at the coordinates they gave us!”
    “Apparently they have more important matters for us. The transmission says it involves bugs.”
    “Bugs? Care to be a bit more specific?”
    “Some research station. Says containment there went wrong and now the planet is infected.”
    “When are these people going to learn that those things can’t be contained?”
    “Dunno, but we’re gonna go wipe out that infection. General Davis is on the line.”
    “Dammit…Fine. I'll be there in a minute.” He released the button and walked out the door. As he walked, he took notice of how confusing this ship was. Standard FS class troop transport, they didn’t spend much time on them. Quick and cheap by design, it was easy to get lost in the hallways which all just happened to look the same. The dark corridors didn’t help much, either. Troops were trained in the layout of these things, but it was hard to remember. Because of this, people placed sticky notes and wrote directions on the walls, and Wilson found that oddly amusing, especially one that said “MY ROOM THAT WAY”. He had somehow managed to remember all the twists and turns these corridors had in his years of service, and really didn’t need to look where he was going.
    Once he got to the ‘command center’ of the ship, a round room with computers everywhere, he went over to Corporal Ramirez; a fairly young woman, but no spring chicken by any means.
    “There you are, I’ve been putting General Davis on hold, and he’s not too happy.” She turned and handed the Comm unit to Wilson.
    Wilson put on the headset, pressed a button, and spoke. “General, may I ask why we’re being diverted when we’re already here?” he said, then released the button so the general could speak.
    “Well, this is a little more important. The research colony ‘Galileo’ has reported a Xenomorph outbreak, and action must be taken.”
    “Why does that colony take precedence? The colony we’re currently at is in the same situation.”
    “The Serano is only two days from your position, and your ship is the closest to the research colony.”
    This noticeably aggravated Wilson. “Two days? This colony could be wiped out in two days! Besides, Sergeant Michaels isn’t cut out for this!”
    The general responded as if Wilson had not said a word. “You are to proceed to the research colony, and secure the colonists.”
    “Wait, secure them? I though we were going to contain the outbreak!”
    “No, you are to secure the colonists, and bring them to Luna 8.”
    “Sir, with all due respect, if we don’t eliminate the Xenomorph outbreak, it will spread until the planet becomes a class 3.”
    Class 3 was the nice way of saying ‘Nuke it’.
    With a voice too calm and too cool to seem real, the General simply replied “You have your orders, Sergeant Wilson. I suggest you follow them”
    The Comm line then went silent. “Sir? Sir, are you- Sir?!” Wilson slammed the Comm set into the station and cursed. “That sonovabitch hung up on me…”
    The panel in front of Ramirez lit up with a readout. Mission briefing, layout of the colony, coordinates, everything you needed to know in order to finish a mission, all neatly organized for review.
    “Sir, the mission specs are here.” Ramirez said as it came in.
    Wilson sighed, then started off for the door. “Ramirez, send those specs to my room. And Private Peterson, set a course for that colony.”
    A young recruit, maybe 20, looked up from his station. “Yes, sir.”
    Wilson continued out the door, and continued down the winding corridors of the ship, praying as he walked that the people on this planet were going to be okay.

    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    “What’s so important, Davidson?” Lara said as she walked through the doorway into the small room.
    “Well, I was just sending messages to the lab techs, as usual, and then I noticed an odd transmission.” He tapped in a few things, and a message came up on the screen. “See?”
    “What’s so odd about it?”
    “It’s encrypted.” He pointed out.
    Encrypted? Why would anything to here need to be encrypted?
    He paused for a moment, then continued. “Well, the weird thing is…It was sent to that Dr. Varaji. You know, the one that keeps telling us to get out of his lab?”
    “Yeah, so?” she said, almost sounding clueless.
    “Well, he came here assigned from Weyland-Yutani, remember?”
    How could I forget that?
    He continued on, apparently loving that he was getting to explain all of this to her. “Anyway, I tried to see what it said, but it’s under five layers of 1000-bit encryption. Whatever it is, it’s important.”
    Lara stood there, dumbfounded.
    Five layers? What the hell is that important?
    “So…why did you want me in here?”
    “Because I know you know some tricks around this kind of stuff.”
    Lara stared at him for a second, blinked, then said “What? You want me to try and break this? I could get fired! And even if I tried, it’s a five layer encryption!”
    Davidson raised his hands as if he was defending himself from her argument. “Hey, woah, slow down. I don’t need it all broken, just the subject, or even who it came from, just something.”
    “Why do you care? Is it any of our business?” she retaliated.
    Davidson suddenly looked somber, almost disturbed. “Look, I saw something the other day.”
    We all see stuff…its called ‘sight'. Get on with it.
    “What did you see?” she said, putting her thought out of her mind.
    “An animal.” He paused again. “It had its chest burst open.”
    The dark room somehow managed to seem even darker at that statement. “What? Are you sure?” Lara said, her voice hushed, but coming off as a scream in her head.
    “Absolutely. That means a bug is here.”
    A bug? Here? How? They aren’t native here…and we have all ships scanned…
    “But a bug here would mean…” she trailed off as she came to a realization. “Someone brought it here?” she said in that same hushed but not hushed voice. Davidson only nodded. “Who would be able to bring a bug here?” He looked away, allowing her to come to her own conclusion, and after a few seconds, she did. “Dr. Varaji? How?”
    Davidson finally spoke up. “Remember about a week ago, when we picked up landing authorizations, but there was no ship?”
    Lara nodded slowly. “Yeah, everyone freaked because they thought that the colony was being shut down. You don’t think he got a few in without anyone noticing, do you?”
    “I hope that was the only one, I’d hate to be here if a whole fucking hive was transported here…”
    A whole hive? That’s a scary thought…Just one hive took out Earth…it multiplied until thousands of em covered the planet…
    “But how would he…”
    Davidson had cut her off. “Don’t make too many assumptions, it could have just as easily hitched a ride on another ship, you know how they are.”
    Damn hitchhikers…destroy one world, then hop on to another ship headed for another pristine planet.
    This brought Lara to another conclusion.
    The colonists...They; we're, going to die! I don't want to die...do you?
    Shut up. Let me handle this.

    “We have to tell the colonists! They’re in danger!”
    Davidson looked at her with a cautious eye. “And if they were brought here on purpose, what do you think Weyland-Yutani would do with us?”
    Kill us…Or worse, stuff us away in some cell for the rest of our natural born lives…
    “Well, we can’t just let them sit here, not knowing. What if one of them were to walk outside and come face to face with it?”
    “Just focus on one thing at a time.” he said in a voice so calm it was as if he was talking about the weather. “Let’s see what this message entails, then we can worry.”
    “All right, then, but this could take awhile…so make yourself comfortable.”
    You’re gonna get so busted for this…
    Oh well. Never liked it here much anyway.
    Agreed.


    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    “Willy! Get out of here!” screamed his father as he tried his hardest to fend off the intruders that stormed into their home.
    Wilson ran, hearing in the background the shots of his father’s rifle, and the screeches of the beasts blended in with the screams of agony of his father as they reached him and tore him apart. That was the kind of body piercing scream that shook one to the core. So Wilson ran down the hallway, tears running down his cheeks, and then he saw his mother.
    “Wil! Come on! We have to go! Where’s your father?” Wilson looked down in complete sadness, on the verge of breaking down, and his mother understood. “Oh my god…” She, too, almost collapsed. “Come on, we have to go!” She pulled on his sleeve and half-dragged him into the hovercar in the back. She shut his door, and went over to her side door. She got in, and started up the car. They started off, and quickly got up to speed. “Oh my god, Wil…Oh my god…” said her mother, her hands trembling at the wheel. She looked over to Wilson, a loving look in her eye, and reached over to stroke his hair.
    And then it hit. The huge black insect crashing into the windshield of the car, throwing it off balance. For one horrible moment, the car was almost on its side, and while the slow-motion drama played out, Wilson watched as the bug reached in, almost imperceptibly slowly, at his mother. She grabbed at the thing’s hand, but to no avail. It clenched tighter, an organic vice ripping into her flesh. Drops of crimson blood showed through his mother's blouse, and grew as the thing tore at her. All of this played out as if he was meant to watch it…a review slowed down to see every minute detail, every excruciating second…
    The stabilizers took effect, and the vehicle flipped back horizontally. And as if it was expecting this, the bug used the momentum to yank his mother out of the car window. That same scream that came from his father now came from his mother as she was ripped from the car and the bug got hold of her. Wilson cried. He just broke down, put his face into his hands, and just sobbed. His family was gone…and that’s all he could think about even as the vehicle hit the dome of the city of San Diego. Then it all went black, and he accepted it. He wanted it after what he had witnessed.
    “Sergeant? You there?”
    But he wasn’t a Sergeant then…he was nine…
    “Sergeant Wilson? Are you there?”
    Wilson shot up in his bed, sitting straight up, cold sweat dripping from his face. After a moment, he composed himself again. His ragged breathing slowed to an even, almost meditative pace, and he reached over and pressed the button to talk. “Peterson? What’s wrong?”
    “Well, um, sir, we’re at the coordinates.”
    “Already? How long was I out?” he said, looking down at his watch, realizing it had died.
    “Um, about…” the Comm went silent for a moment. “Twelve hours.”
    “Twelve hours? Geez…yeah, I’ll…I’ll be right up.”
    Again, he rose from his bed, and went through the winding corridors up to the control room. A routine endeavor, indeed, but one that was required by his status.
    “Ramirez, what’s the status of the colony?” asked Wilson as he walked in.
    Ramirez tapped in a few things, glanced at the resulting readout, and turned to Wilson. “Well, the colony is still intact...no structural damage.” She typed in yet another command. “Their transceiver is working, and according to the last headcount, yesterday, everyone's still there.”
    “All right then. Patch me through to the colony.”
    “Yes sir.” Ramirez's fingers did their dance above the controls, and Wilson grabbed the headset. A moment and several beeps later, “Go ahead, sir.”
    Wilson cleared his throat. “Research colony Galileo, this is the colonial marine transport Atlas, please respond.”
    A few second gap, no doubt for background checking and such. “We're hearing you, Atlas. What's your business here?”
    “First, may I ask with whom I'm speaking to?”
    “Lara Smith, communications. Back to my original question. What are you doing here?”
    “We're here to evacuate your colony, that's all you need to know.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Look, it's no big deal. We're taking your people to Luna 8. Hopefully this will be temporary-”
    She cut Wilson off. “Temporary? The Marines don't stir themselves over menial things, and Weyland-Yutani would have picked us up if we were being shut down. Perhaps you should tell me what's going on.”
    Wilson turned to Peterson and put a hand over the microphone on the headset. “Peterson, go get a dropship ready, full combat gear. Bring Nick and Minh as well.” The marine followed his orders, and walked out of the room.
    Returning to the conversation, he removed his hand from the microphone. “Miss Smith, please prepare us a landing pad. Wouldn't want to get the dropship dirty. Wilson out.”
    The voice on the other side tried to make something out, but Ramirez promptly shut off communications. “Ramirez, get Johnson up here and have him take over for Peterson. We shouldn't be long.” Ramirez nodded, and did what she always did, typed something in. Wilson headed for the armory. He knew how these bugs worked, and wouldn't be taking any chances.
    Once more through the labyrinth of the ship, this time down to the armory. After a minute or two of turns, he reached the very solid bulkhead separating the armory from the rest of the ship.
    Wilson placed his eye against the retinal scanner, and input his command code. The door began to part, and Wilson stepped through, nodding at the officer on duty, Private Ava Smith. Wilson walked up to the armory wall, filled with the assortment of the marine's arsenal, and paused a moment. Looking at the rows and rows of identical weapons always made him wonder how the bugs won Earth. Humanity had the organization, the weapons, the knowledge. Humanity had the advantage. Yet the most precious prize of all was taken by the enemy.
    Wilson took a deep breath, and refocused on the task at hand. A war is fought one bullet at a time, after all. He grabbed a type of hovering platform, keyed to magnetic strips under the floor, used to move heavy material around. Wilson began loading on the weapons that they would be using. Standard issue M41B pulse rifles were on the dropship; he wouldn't need to bring any. Ammunition, though, was a different story. When given the choice between the standard rounds on the dropship, and the explosive tipped here in the armory, one can make an obvious choice in the situation. A few hundred rounds would do fine. Now for grenades...
    During this thought, Pvt. Smith jogged up to Wilson. “Sir, Peterson just commed in. The dropship is ready. Marines are prepared to deploy ASAP, and are awaiting your orders.”
    “Very well. Tell them I'll be right there. We're leaving in five.”
    “Yes, sir.” Pvt. Smith turned, and returned to her post beside the armory door.
    Wilson put down the belt of grenades he held, and carried with him only a few clips of ammunition on his way to the hangar. Down to the belly of the ship, where the dropships were. Wilson tried to collect himself for the mission. It should be easy. From the report, a pre stage 1 infection. A few bugs, no Queen, no organization. But he couldn't shake the feeling he got before every mission. The feeling that something will go wrong, something will make this his last mission. Before he could finish the thought, he entered the spacious hangar bay. And in the center, one loaded dropship. The marines were already assembled inside; Minh, Peterson, and Nick. A good team, Wilson knew. Minh and Nick worked well together, and followed orders well, although slightly less so with Nick. He normally made the right call, though, so Wilson generally gave him some slack. Peterson was new, though. So Wilson would see how he worked.
    “Are we ready, marines?” Yelled Wilson from across the bay.
    “Yes, Sir!” Arose from the three's chests, echoing off of the hangar walls.
    Wilson reached the dropship's rear hatch and placed one hand on the wall. “That's what I like to hear.” He looked over to the right, and said “Peterson, let's get this moving. How many drops is this for you?”
    The young marine looked down for a moment, thinking. “Four, sir. This will be my first time piloting down, though.”
    Jovial laughter from the other side of the dropship. “Oh great. We're gonna die. Don't even give the bugs a chance, eh, Sarge?” This from Nick.
    Wilson thought for a moment, then placed his hand on Peterson's shoulder. “He's done sims before. We'll be all right, as long as you jackasses don't fuck up the op.” He straightened up, and walked over to take his place in the dropship. “Peterson, go ahead.” Peterson stood, and sat in the pilot's seat in the front.
    “Pre-takeoff checks in the green. Plenty of fuel, seals intact. Closing rear hatch. Stabilizers are...online. Internal pressure well within limits, popping the outer hatch.” The sound of air rushing outside of the dropship confirmed this. “Hangar pressure at zero. Dropping in three, two, one. Drop.”
    The latch holding the dropship to the Atlas released, and left the dropship to accelerate downwards towards the planet, sending the crew's stomachs into their brains. Peterson looked on the verge of being sick, but he steeled himself, and focused on the flight controls.
    Minh chimed in, “Hey, don't puke all over the controls! Last thing we need is a mess when we crash!”
    “Fuck you, Minh. We're in the landing corridor. Acceleration good, we're going in pretty steady.” Peterson looked back into the crew area. “Not bad for a first time, huh, sarge?”
    “Just keep your hands on the controls. Wouldn't want this to be your first and last, would we?”
    Peterson chuckled. “No, sir.”
    Wilson just wished he could be as sure as he sounded.

    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    “Dammit...” Lara said under her breath. She was tired. Davidson had her cracking this message for the last few hours, and now this? At least she had made some headway. The subject was easy enough, 're: Project 54', and it had been sent by Weyland-Yutani, but that's about it. Trying to crack this was insane, and Lara knew it. At least a part of her did.
    Why bother? They're picking us up now.
    Because. If Weyland-Yutani did this, I'd prefer to know.
    Don't get smart with me.
    Too bad.

    The ship would be landing soon, and with it, she'd have to leave. Not as if she had any strong connections to this place, so it wouldn't be particularly hard. Rummaging around for a few minutes, she found a flashdrive, stuck it into the computer, and loaded the message onto it. She tapped in a few commands, and on her screen, a live feed from Davidson on the landing pad.
    “Davidson? Any sign of them yet?”
    The miniature Davidson on the screen reached for his comm. “No, but shouldn't you be able to see them on radar long before I do?”
    Lara laughed, “I like to keep you busy.”
    “Very funny, Lara. Now why do you have me out here?”
    “Well, the military stirred itself for some reason, and I'd like them to be greeted properly.”
    As if he was waiting for this moment, Doctor Varaji, with his balding head and dark complexion, walked out onto the pad as well. He looked around slowly, and if he took notice of Davidson, he didn't show it. He just walked to the center of the pad, and looked towards the midday sky.
    Davidson looked over to Doctor Varaji, a slight look of caution in his eye. “Doctor Varaji? What are you doing out here?”
    He looked somewhat startled by Davidson's comment. After taking a second to collect himself, “I heard of our visitors. I thought that it would be fit if they were greeted properly.”
    All of this still played over Lara's viewscreen.
    Bastard. That was my line.
    After a short pause to study Davidson, Doctor Varaji tilted his head slightly to one side and spoke carefully. “But now I am forced to ask. What are you doing here, Davidson?”
    “The same, sir. But since you're here now, perhaps I should go-”
    “No, that's quite alright. I actually needed to talk to you.”
    A cold rush swept Lara's body, down her spine and through her soul.
    Had he found out? Are we busted?
    Lara could tell Davidson thought the same, damn it all if he didn't show it. Instead he simply responded, in that same talking-about-the-weather voice.
    “About what, sir?”
    “Well, it's regarding yesterday's transmission from Weyland-Yutani.”
    Davidson shuffled a little, but otherwise showed no signs of responding. Varaji continued on despite this.
    “Did you get a response about my requisitioning of extra funds?”
    Oh thank God.
    “Uh, no sir. Nothing's come about that yet.”
    Doctor Varaji scratched his balding head. “Very well. I suppose I won't be needing them now, regardless.”
    Lara, still dazed by how close they dodged the proverbial bullet, had her attention refocused by a small blip on the radar. “Davidson, we've got the dropship incoming. Keep an eye out, they're coming in pretty low.”
    Davidson scanned the skies once more. “And...where exactly would they be coming from?”
    “Oh yeah, sorry. They're coming in from due Northeast. You should be able to see them...now.”
    Surely enough, Davidson spotted the small silhouette of the dropship. Dr. Varaji didn't seem to be able to see it just quite yet. The speck grew to a full sized version in under a minute, and the landing pad was awash with the air pushed from the engines.
    The dropship slowly settled onto the ground, and the engines shut off. A rear hatch opened up, and a ramp was lowered. Out came a squad of marines, full combat gear on. One of them was in front, presumably the commander. He cautiously walked up to Davidson.
    Davidson quickly spoke. “Hey there. Welcome to JE-322.”
    The commander took no notice of this. “Is he company?” he said, tilting his head in the direction of Dr. Varaji.
    “Yeah, he is. Why do you ask?”
    “I don't do company. You'll be fine.”
    Davidson gave him a wary look “Fine for what, precisely?”
    “You'll be assisting my marines in evacuating the colony. Double time. Bring only what you can carry; we're leaving, now. I expect you to relay this to the colonists.” He went to the side of Davidson, and the squad followed him to the entrance of the station.
    Davidson, looking rather confused, followed the marines. Dr Varaji followed suit, after twiddling his thumbs for a moment.
    Well, at least we're not gonna die.

    [center:e5td1k6j]______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    Wilson began to direct his marines to evacuate the colony, fast. He didn't want any screwups. “Nick, head over to crew quarters. Minh, get to the mess hall.” Two “Yes, sir.”s met his order. “Peterson, you stay back at the dropship.”
    “Yes, sir. May I ask what the ETA is going to be?”
    “Assuming they don't give us any problems? This shouldn't take more than a few hours. But you know the thing about assumptions.”
    Peterson turned to return to the dropship, with a quick, “That I do, sir.”
    Wilson then looked over the two colonists, and spoke to the one he addressed formerly. “And now I have to deal with you two.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, who the hell are you people?”
    “Davidson O'Riley, communications. And this is Dr. Varaji; Weyland-Yutani, Biotech subdivision.”
    Wilson crossed his arms. “Well, Davidson, like I said before. Get onto some comm, and get the message out to these colonists to move it. Get what they can carry, and anything important.”
    Dr. Varaji looked confused as to why he wasn't being addressed to. “And what of me? What shall I do?”
    Tilting his head slightly in the Doctor's direction, Wilson simply said, “Well, I assume you fit the description of a colonist. So get your ass ready to go.” The doctor looked rather offended, but hurried off to wherever his quarters were to prepare for departure. Wilson watched as they all left into one of the branches of the 'T' corridor, and made a quick turn towards communications. The comm officer seemed rather withheld back on the ship, and he wanted to know exactly why.

    [center:e5td1k6j]______________[/center:e5td1k6j]
    Lara was halfway under her desk when Wilson came into the comm room. Fumbling around for her favorite little gadget, which she had just pushed off the desk, she spoke from intuition.
    “Yeah, Davidson? What's the news on that whackjob commander?”
    Slightly taken aback, Wilson simply spoke, “I dunno if I'd call myself a 'whackjob', but you're entitled to your own opinion.”
    What the-
    Lara tried getting up to turn around, but the back of her head met the bottom of the desk. “Dammit, sorry- who are you?”
    “I'm the person you spoke to earlier over the comm. Lara, right?”
    Lara got up from under the desk, rubbing the back of her head slowly. “Yeah, it is. What is it that you want, exactly?”
    Wilson leaned back against the wall. “You know what? I have no idea. Why don't you tell me?”
    How cliché.
    “I wouldn't know, either. Now if you'd excuse me, I have to get packed.” Lara started for the door, and was abruptly brought to a stop.
    “What's this?” said Wilson, holding up Lara's hand, cylindrical device still clutched.
    Lara sighed. “If you must know, it's a toolkit. Now, would you kindly get out of my way?”
    Wilson silently complied, holding up his hands, and stepped to the side. Lara walked out of the small room, the door closing behind her. She continued this gait past two corridors, took a left, and found her room amongst the crew quarters. It wasn't much to speak of; a bed, computer, and lamp accented by a single bamboo plant.
    She rummaged through her small storage box built into her bed, and pulled out her only bag. She placed within it everything she owned at the base, including clothing and what 'tools' she brought. Before she had been there for five minutes, she was done. She closed her luggage, locked it, and sat on the floor a moment.
    Damn, that didn't take long, did it?
    Well, you told me to pack light.
    That I did, that I did.


    [center:e5td1k6j]______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    Peterson sat in the dropship, back hatch open. He leaned back in the pilot's chair, whistling some obscure tune that even he couldn't remember where it was from. He was there for a few hours until Wilson got back, then he'd take the colonists up to the Atlas. Very simple stuff.
    So he swung forward, and did a few routine checks, talking to himself as he went. His mother always thought it was a bad habit, but he never listened. He looked at a picture of her he had taped to the side of the cockpit, and smiled as he went back to his checks.
    “Fuel...still green. Imagine that.” Another flick of a switch, “And...after sitting here for a half-hour...avionics are still fine. Go frickin' figure.” And after that, about two minutes had elapsed. Peterson was antsy, sure. Nick and Minh at least got to move around, but he was stuck sitting on the damn dropship. Nest-Duty, the marines called it. The most boring job he could get.
    But, it's not as if he could do much about it. So he sat. He sat until he quite nearly fell asleep. Steps on the dropship floor prevented that, though. Paterson yawned, stretched his arms, and turned in the chair. Before his eyes got open, he started talking. “So, how's the evac go-”
    Peterson was now frozen in his chair. What he saw now wasn't Wilson, wasn't Minh, or even Nick, the bastard he was. What stood, or rather, crouched, on the floor was a Bug. It's obscene body crouching on the ground, slowly moving, searching, as if it hadn't realized anyone was there. But it knew Peterson was in the ship.
    In this frozen moment, Peterson weighed his options. He sure as hell wasn't getting past the thing, and unarmed combat was out of the question. The carbines were past the hellish creature, in the back of the ship. Nothing but a few feet of air separated it's drooling jaws from Peterson's face. But, remembering his training, Peterson tried to change that.
    The standard Marine dropship had two distinct sections. Cockpit and Loadout bay. Each could be separated from each other with a metal door, in case of decompression in one chamber. If only he could reach the button that brought the door down, he would be safe. But his turning put him in a rather awkward position to do so. All of this flitted through his mind in but a fraction of a second, and he decided.
    Peterson swung his arm around in a split-second, and jammed the button that would bring down the metal slab between him and death. And as if the bug was toying with him, waiting for him to make a move, it lunged. The door slid shut, but not fast enough.
    The bug was inside the closing chamber. Peterson spun around, hoping to see nothing but a metal slab, but came face to face with the dripping jaws of the creature. It's lips drew back, showing dozens of glistening white teeth, each honed to a razor's edge, ready to tear through Peterson. It was inches from his face, the smell of decaying meat wafting into his perception. He tried to scream, tried to hold the thing back, but it was futile. The bug slammed it's head forward, thrashing jaws ripping Peterson apart. And while this happened, it's claws weren't idle. They, too, were tearing him to bloody shards. All of this over in less than five seconds.
    The insect bashed at the bloody windshield, and broke through with relative ease. It skittered off into the jungle somewhere, and the only movement within the cockpit was the taped picture falling, face down, into the pool of blood.

    [center:e5td1k6j]______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    “God dammit!”. It was all Wilson could say when he checked back on Peterson, or what was left of him. Nick and Minh stood just outside of the dropship as Wilson surveyed the scene. They'd gotten the door open, but it already pretty obvious what had happened, judging from the windshield being smashed open.
    Peterson's body lay in pieces, the few body parts recognizable strewn about, as if a child grew angry with it's toy. The cockpit was a bloody mess, and they certainly weren't getting back up to the ship in it. But that's not what Wilson was concerned about.
    “It was his first goddamn drop.” Wilson shook his head, and beat his fist against the metal of the ship. He took a deep breath, and picked up Peterson's dog tags, muttering under his breath, “Sorry, kid.”

    [center:e5td1k6j]_______________[/center:e5td1k6j]

    More to come, of course.
    SA$_/AI%20has log[d in.
    > S&ys|BT
    > P_s word?
    > OMEGA
    >> A^e_%20_u su!e? (Y/N)
    > Y
    >> S##t m_ Rebooting. Hello, Samuel.

  2. #2
    ☄ (。・ω・。) ☄ Peebles's Avatar

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    Re: Alien: Regenesis

    Holy crap that was the longest story in the literature sectikon.
    It was great tooo, make more >:0

  3. #3
    #1 KUMIHO Ahri's Avatar

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    Re: Alien: Regenesis

    Whoa, either you type fast, you have a lot of time, or both. That rocked!
    Even though I read only the first paragraph.

  4. #4
    Fanatic Enthusiast Xenomorph's Avatar


    Join Date
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    Re: Alien: Regenesis (Updated 1/1/09)

    Sorry about the bump, but I've updated.
    Now that the characters are in the same location, expect each perspective change to be shorter.

    Here goes; It's still prone to small edits, so give me some input.

    [center:3ohuw4dd]______________[/center:3ohuw4dd]

    Lara was halfway under her desk when Wilson came into the comm room. Fumbling around for her favorite little gadget, which she had just pushed off the desk, she spoke from intuition.
    “Yeah, Davidson? What's the news on that whackjob commander?”
    Slightly taken aback, Wilson simply spoke, “I dunno if I'd call myself a 'whackjob', but you're entitled to your own opinion.”
    What the-
    Lara tried getting up to turn around, but the back of her head met the bottom of the desk. “Dammit, sorry- who are you?”
    “I'm the person you spoke to earlier over the comm. Lara, right?”
    Lara got up from under the desk, rubbing the back of her head slowly. “Yeah, it is. What is it that you want, exactly?”
    Wilson leaned back against the wall. “You know what? I have no idea. Why don't you tell me?”
    How cliché.
    “I wouldn't know, either. Now if you'd excuse me, I have to get packed.” Lara started for the door, and was abruptly brought to a stop.
    “What's this?” said Wilson, holding up Lara's hand, cylindrical device still clutched.
    Lara sighed. “If you must know, it's a toolkit. Now, would you kindly get out of my way?”
    Wilson silently complied, holding up his hands, and stepped to the side. Lara walked out of the small room, the door closing behind her. She continued this gait past two corridors, took a left, and found her room amongst the crew quarters. It wasn't much to speak of; a bed, computer, and lamp accented by a single bamboo plant.
    She rummaged through her small storage box built into her bed, and pulled out her only bag. She placed within it everything she owned at the base, including clothing and what 'tools' she brought. Before she had been there for five minutes, she was done. She closed her luggage, locked it, and sat on the floor a moment.
    Damn, that didn't take long, did it?
    Well, you told me to pack light.
    That I did, that I did.


    [center:3ohuw4dd]______________[/center:3ohuw4dd]

    Peterson sat in the dropship, back hatch open. He leaned back in the pilot's chair, whistling some obscure tune that even he couldn't remember where it was from. He was there for a few hours until Wilson got back, then he'd take the colonists up to the Atlas. Very simple stuff.
    So he swung forward, and did a few routine checks, talking to himself as he went. His mother always thought it was a bad habit, but he never listened. He looked at a picture of her he had taped to the side of the cockpit, and smiled as he went back to his checks.
    “Fuel...still green. Imagine that.” Another flick of a switch, “And...after sitting here for a half-hour...avionics are still fine. Go frickin' figure.” And after that, about two minutes had elapsed. Peterson was antsy, sure. Nick and Minh at least got to move around, but he was stuck sitting on the damn dropship. Nest-Duty, the marines called it. The most boring job he could get.
    But, it's not as if he could do much about it. So he sat. He sat until he quite nearly fell asleep. Steps on the dropship floor prevented that, though. Paterson yawned, stretched his arms, and turned in the chair. Before his eyes got open, he started talking. “So, how's the evac go-”
    Peterson was now frozen in his chair. What he saw now wasn't Wilson, wasn't Minh, or even Nick, the bastard he was. What stood, or rather, crouched, on the floor was a Bug. It's obscene body crouching on the ground, slowly moving, searching, as if it hadn't realized anyone was there. But it knew Peterson was in the ship.
    In this frozen moment, Peterson weighed his options. He sure as hell wasn't getting past the thing, and unarmed combat was out of the question. The carbines were past the hellish creature, in the back of the ship. Nothing but a few feet of air separated it's drooling jaws from Peterson's face. But, remembering his training, Peterson tried to change that.
    The standard Marine dropship had two distinct sections. Cockpit and Loadout bay. Each could be separated from each other with a metal door, in case of decompression in one chamber. If only he could reach the button that brought the door down, he would be safe. But his turning put him in a rather awkward position to do so. All of this flitted through his mind in but a fraction of a second, and he decided.
    Peterson swung his arm around in a split-second, and jammed the button that would bring down the metal slab between him and death. And as if the bug was toying with him, waiting for him to make a move, it lunged. The door slid shut, but not fast enough.
    The bug was inside the closing chamber. Peterson spun around, hoping to see nothing but a metal slab, but came face to face with the dripping jaws of the creature. It's lips drew back, showing dozens of glistening white teeth, each honed to a razor's edge, ready to tear through Peterson. It was inches from his face, the smell of decaying meat wafting into his perception. He tried to scream, tried to hold the thing back, but it was futile. The bug slammed it's head forward, thrashing jaws ripping Peterson apart. And while this happened, it's claws weren't idle. They, too, were tearing him to bloody shards. All of this over in less than five seconds.
    The insect bashed at the bloody windshield, and broke through with relative ease. It skittered off into the jungle somewhere, and the only movement within the cockpit was the taped picture falling, face down, into the pool of blood.

    [center:3ohuw4dd]______________[/center:3ohuw4dd]

    “God dammit!”. It was all Wilson could say when he checked back on Peterson, or what was left of him. Nick and Minh stood just outside of the dropship as Wilson surveyed the scene. They'd gotten the door open, but it already pretty obvious what had happened, judging from the windshield being smashed open.
    Peterson's body lay in pieces, the few body parts recognizable strewn about, as if a child grew angry with it's toy. The cockpit was a bloody mess, and they certainly weren't getting back up to the ship in it. But that's not what Wilson was concerned about.
    “It was his first goddamn drop.” Wilson shook his head, and beat his fist against the metal of the ship. He took a deep breath, and picked up Peterson's dog tags, muttering under his breath, “Sorry, kid.”
    SA$_/AI%20has log[d in.
    > S&ys|BT
    > P_s word?
    > OMEGA
    >> A^e_%20_u su!e? (Y/N)
    > Y
    >> S##t m_ Rebooting. Hello, Samuel.

  5. #5
    Enthusiast SuperSTi's Avatar

    Join Date
    Dec 2004
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    Re: Alien: Regenesis (Updated 1/1/09)

    Quote Originally Posted by Xenomorph
    Sorry about the bump, but I've updated.
    Now that the characters are in the same location, expect each perspective change to be shorter.

    Here goes; It's still prone to small edits, so give me some input.

    [center:3jucf2yq]______________[/center:3jucf2yq]

    Lara was halfway under her desk when Wilson came into the comm room. Fumbling around for her favorite little gadget, which she had just pushed off the desk, she spoke from intuition.
    “Yeah, Davidson? What's the news on that whackjob commander?”
    Slightly taken aback, Wilson simply spoke, “I dunno if I'd call myself a 'whackjob', but you're entitled to your own opinion.”
    What the-
    Lara tried getting up to turn around, but the back of her head met the bottom of the desk. “Dammit, sorry- who are you?”
    “I'm the person you spoke to earlier over the comm. Lara, right?”
    Lara got up from under the desk, rubbing the back of her head slowly. “Yeah, it is. What is it that you want, exactly?”
    Wilson leaned back against the wall. “You know what? I have no idea. Why don't you tell me?”
    How cliché.
    “I wouldn't know, either. Now if you'd excuse me, I have to get packed.” Lara started for the door, and was abruptly brought to a stop.
    “What's this?” said Wilson, holding up Lara's hand, cylindrical device still clutched.
    Lara sighed. “If you must know, it's a toolkit. Now, would you kindly get out of my way?”
    Wilson silently complied, holding up his hands, and stepped to the side. Lara walked out of the small room, the door closing behind her. She continued this gait past two corridors, took a left, and found her room amongst the crew quarters. It wasn't much to speak of; a bed, computer, and lamp accented by a single bamboo plant.
    She rummaged through her small storage box built into her bed, and pulled out her only bag. She placed within it everything she owned at the base, including clothing and what 'tools' she brought. Before she had been there for five minutes, she was done. She closed her luggage, locked it, and sat on the floor a moment.
    Damn, that didn't take long, did it?
    Well, you told me to pack light.
    That I did, that I did.


    [center:3jucf2yq]______________[/center:3jucf2yq]

    Peterson sat in the dropship, back hatch open. He leaned back in the pilot's chair, whistling some obscure tune [s:3jucf2yq]that even he couldn't remember where it was from.[/s:3jucf2yq] Word differently, perhaps "of origin even he couldn't recall." He was there for a few hours until Wilson got back, then he'd take the colonists up to the Atlas. Very simple stuff.
    So he swung forward, and did a few routine checks, talking to himself as he went. His mother always thought it was a bad habit, but he never listened. He looked at a picture of her he had taped to the side of the cockpit, and smiled as he went back to his checks.
    “Fuel...still green. Imagine that.” Another flick of a switch, “And...after sitting here for a half-hour...avionics are still fine. Go frickin' figure.” And after that, about two minutes had elapsed. Peterson was antsy, sure. Nick and Minh at least got to move around, but he was stuck sitting on the damn dropship. Nest-Duty, the marines called it. The most boring job he could get.
    But, it's not as if he could do much about it. So he sat. He sat until he quite nearly fell asleep. Steps on the dropship floor prevented that, though. Paterson yawned, stretched his arms, and turned in the chair. Before his eyes [s:3jucf2yq]got open[/s:3jucf2yq] opened, he started talking. “So, how's the evac go-”
    Peterson was now frozen in his chair. What he saw now wasn't Wilson, wasn't Minh, or even Nick, the bastard he was. What stood, or rather, crouched, on the floor was a Bug. It's obscene body crouching on the ground, slowly moving, searching, as if it hadn't realized anyone was there. But it knew Peterson was in the ship.
    In this frozen moment, Peterson weighed his options. He sure as hell wasn't getting past the thing, and unarmed combat was out of the question. The carbines were past the hellish creature, in the back of the ship. Nothing but a few feet of air separated it's drooling jaws from Peterson's face. But, remembering his training, Peterson tried to change that.
    The standard Marine dropship had two distinct sections. Cockpit and Loadout bay. Each could be separated from each other with a metal door, in case of decompression in one chamber. If only he could reach the button that brought the door down, he would be safe. But his [s:3jucf2yq]turning[/s:3jucf2yq] A bit confusing, perhaps "angle in the chair" or something similar. put him in a rather awkward position to do so. All of this flitted through his mind in but a fraction of a second, and he decided.
    Peterson swung his arm around in a split-second, and jammed the button that would bring down the metal slab between him and death. And as if the bug was toying with him, waiting for him to make a move, it lunged. The door slid shut, but not fast enough.
    The bug was inside the closing chamber. Peterson spun around, hoping to see nothing but a metal slab, but came face to face with the dripping jaws of the creature. It's lips drew back, showing dozens of glistening white teeth, each honed to a razor's edge, ready to tear through Peterson. It was inches from his face, the smell of decaying meat wafting into his [s:3jucf2yq]perception[/s:3jucf2yq]. Perhaps "olfactory senses," or "olfactories," if you want to sound fancy. He tried to scream, tried to hold the thing back, but it was futile. The bug slammed it's head forward, thrashing jaws ripping Peterson apart. [And while this happened, it's claws weren't idle. They, too, were tearing him to bloody shards. All of this over in less than five seconds.] I might've worded this whole section differently so it flows better, but I think it's just your writing style which is fine.
    The insect bashed at the bloody windshield, and broke through with relative ease. It skittered off into the jungle [s:3jucf2yq]somewhere[/s:3jucf2yq], Unnecessary I think, though it could perhaps still benefit for something more. and the only movement within the cockpit was the taped picture falling, face down, into the pool of blood.

    [center:3jucf2yq]______________[/center:3jucf2yq]

    “God dammit!”. It was all Wilson could say when he checked back on Peterson, or what was left of him. Nick and Minh stood just outside of the dropship as Wilson surveyed the scene. They'd gotten the door open, but it already pretty obvious what had happened, judging from the [s:3jucf2yq]windshield being smashed open.[/s:3jucf2yq] A bit passive; "smashed open windshield" or "shattered windshield" might sound better.
    Peterson's body lay in pieces, the few body parts recognizable strewn about, as if a child grew angry with it's toy. The cockpit was a bloody mess, and they certainly weren't getting back up to the ship in it. But that's not what Wilson was concerned about.
    “It was his first goddamn drop.” Wilson shook his head, and beat his fist against the metal of the ship. He took a deep breath, and picked up Peterson's dog tags, muttering under his breath, “Sorry, kid.”
    Mostly just personal suggestions having to do with wording. Don't take them too seriously, just things I thought were a bit funny. It may sound better or worse to you, who knows. But of course overall the story is fantastic.
    [center:3346oc0h][/center:3346oc0h]
    [center:3346oc0h]Blog Anims Art[/center:3346oc0h]

  6. #6
    Fanatic Enthusiast Xenomorph's Avatar


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    Re: Alien: Regenesis (Updated 1/1/09)

    Thanks, Super. It's feedback like that which makes the story better. Now that I read through it again, I can see where t sounds awkward.
    SA$_/AI%20has log[d in.
    > S&ys|BT
    > P_s word?
    > OMEGA
    >> A^e_%20_u su!e? (Y/N)
    > Y
    >> S##t m_ Rebooting. Hello, Samuel.


 

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