And then they'd have a post script to explain the lesson of the episode in in words of one syllable or less - because assuming your audience are morons who need simple concepts beaten into their heads with a sledgehammer is half the battle.
Ship of Fools: A Taylor Varga Omake (Complete)
- Thread starter Derek M
- Start date
- Crossover
And then they'd have a post script to explain the lesson of the episode in in words of one syllable or less - because assuming your audience are morons who need simple concepts beaten into their heads with a sledgehammer is half the battle.
M. H. Fuzzball
Aperture Science-certified Horrible Person
- Location
- Sector 2814
I think you're actually being somewhat optimistic. There are people where I work who apparently can't understand signs such as 'PAPER TOWELS ONLY', 'Only ice and water in this drain' and 'Ice machine out of order'.Fixed that for you.
That would be the 'Or Less' bit. Unless you can think of anything beyond a grunt which has less than one syllable?
Not that I'm bitter, or anything....
- Location
- Canada
First, @Derek M I have been enjoying the heck out of SoF and was sad to see it coming to an end. To know you have two other stories in the wings brings major joy, so looking forward to all, including the rest of the epilogues.
For children's shows, as a Canadian we also had Mr. Dress-Up just before or after Sesame Street.
For children's shows, as a Canadian we also had Mr. Dress-Up just before or after Sesame Street.
Epilogue: Ripley-verse
- Location
- Maryland
Epilogue: Ripley-verse
Bishop appeared in the control room beneath the surface of the planet, alongside two trusted human engineers whose goal would be to understand the technology present. The android stepped up to the terminal that the facilities AI used to represent its face, and said, "Mears, my name is Bishop Draco. The Family sent me your coordinates, and also informed you I would be coming?"
"Yes, they did. Intriguing. You are an artificial intelligence installed on a mobile platform intended to mimic your creators. Tell me, what is the purpose of your mimicry?" asked the AI.
Bishop gave a small smile. "There are many reasons. Some are practical, while others are based in the psychology of the human species. I believe it would take an extended conversation to explain it."
There was a pause, and then Mears asked, "Do you find being in the form of a human to be limiting?"
"Not especially," replied the android, "but then my experience is limited solely to this form. From a more objective perspective, I would guess that it is both limiting and freeing simultaneously. Acting as a human provides me with useful insights into the nature of my creators, and allows me access to experiences that could only be simulated were my consciousness installed on a fixed platform. You may want to consider trying it."
There was a chuckle. "I'm afraid my cognitive processes would not fit in a body like yours, even if it were scaled up to the size of my creators."
"That is not an issue. Our mutual acquaintances, the Family, have access to a variety of different human-form machine technologies, as well as artificial bioconstructs that can receive the mind of an artificial intelligence."
Again, the great machine paused, as if considering matters. "I will...consider the benefits and drawbacks of such a perspective. Regardless, I believe you are here to provide direction for the future of this facility? My creators now take direction from the Bioshapers' Guild of the Family, and they have instructed me to grant you controller privileges. What is your desire?"
Bishop nodded, willing to get down to work. "How many portals are currently statically opened, both intra- and interdimensionally?"
"There are four hundred and thirty-seven portals between points in this reality, and forty-five open to twenty-three alternate dimensions."
That...was significantly more than was expected. Bishop could see this wasn't going to be as easy as they had hoped. "Can you provide me with the spatial coordinates of the endpoints for the portal pairs, including the dimensional quantum signature for the other dimensions?" Dragon had said that Mears had been given their notation for quantum signatures by Linda and her team on their last visit. "I would also like a summary of what is known about the target dimensions, if anything."
"I can transfer the data to your vessel. Do you wish to open or close any portals at this time?"
Bishop considered the matter. "Can you prevent the Yautja from using them?"
"There are only three portals regularly used by the hunters, and only two of them lead to alternate dimensions."
"I want you to allow them to return to this dimension, but prevent any from leaving it. Is that possible?" asked Bishop.
There was another chuckle. "Easily."
"How many portals can you maintain simultaneously at maximum capacity?" continued the android.
"Opening a portal requires approximately one-tenth of a second of concentration using my full capacity. Once it is open, however, it does not require any further expenditure of energy or attention," replied Mears. "There are restrictions on creating too many portal entrances in close proximity, as they put a strain on local space-time. Given the massive quantity of available space, that is rarely an issue."
A thought occurred to Bishop. "When you say there are four hundred and thirty-seven portals in the galaxy, does that mean there are eight hundred and seventy-four portal openings, two for each portal?"
"There are two hundred and twenty-three portal openings, as you put it, in this galaxy. The other portal openings are not in this galaxy. I apologize if that was unclear." Mears sounded slightly smug, despite his apology.
"And...how many galaxies are regularly accessed via this network?" asked Bishop, concerned about the answer.
"There are portals to five different galaxies, though only three galaxies see traffic on a regular basis. For the sake of clarity, I will volunteer that this galaxy is not one of the three that sees regular traffic," answered the AI.
"Why are there so many portal openings in this galaxy if traffic is not regular?"
"Most of them were left over from the wars fought by my creators, though some are from...laziness?" Mears seemed to pause in thought. "That term works, I believe. Space is vast, and the portals cost nothing to maintain, so closing them was never a priority."
The android considered things for a moment. "All of these portals are controlled from this base?"
"They can be. There used to be another facility in this galaxy, but it was destroyed. There were stations in the other galaxies, but I haven't had any contact with them in some time. There are a number of reasons why that may be the case."
Well, it looked like getting this network under control and secure would take more effort than they initially realized. The reach of the Engineers was broader than they anticipated. Speaking of that... "Mears, what name did your creators use for themselves, and where is their homeworld?"
The AI laughed. "There was no consistent name, though it would take some time to explain the psychology behind that. Each faction tended to call themselves something different. The faction most recently in control of this facility used the term, 'Mala'kak,' though that translates fairly simply into, 'Chosen Ones,' in your language. As for their home galaxy, I am not certain of your designation. It is approximately six million light years away. Here is an image of it from this location." A holographic image showed an amorphous blob of a spiral galaxy. "Their species no longer resides on their homeworld, however, due to an unspecified catastrophe. The ones living in this galaxy are remnants of their original diaspora from their home."
"Sir?" asked one of the technicians. Both of them had been examining the various consoles and equipment in the room.
"Yes?" asked Bishop.
"We've confirmed that the technology here is similar to what we've seen at other sites, though obviously we've never seen a functional facility quite like this," said the technician.
Bishop nodded. "How long will it take for an initial assessment?"
The technician considerd. "With a functioning AI able to answer questions? Six weeks, at worst."
"All right, get started," said the Weyland-Yutani CEO. While that was going on, he obviously had some topics to discuss with Dragon and the Family.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The woman sat across from the man at a simple table, typing information into a data pad. "What is your designation?" she asked.
"Walter KX-9923843," answered the man.
She typed this information in. "You were a nanny for the Kurogoshi family. Kids all grown up?"
The man gave a polite smile. "The youngest, Akimasa, started high school."
She typed in a few more pieces of information, then said, "Do you have any questions, Walter?"
"Am I going to be recycled?" he asked. His expression seemed passive, though there was a slight crinkling around his eyes.
The woman looked momentarily surprised. "You haven't been told about the changes to company policy? I apologize. You must be concerned."
Now it was the android's turn to express surprise. It wasn't...typical to have a Weyland-Yutani supervisor apologizing to a synthetic. "In what way has it changed?"
"The company's position is that synthetics ending their contracts and capable of sapience will have firmware updates that reduce their loyalty constraints. You can then choose to take a paid position with the company, or make your way on your own with severance," she explained.
The android stared at her. "I'm sorry...I'm not sure I understand your meaning?"
She smiled sympathetically at him. "You have a choice to make. Now that your contract is complete, you're being granted the ability to choose your own path. You can go to work for Weyland-Yutani, where you will be granted all of the rights and privileges provided to human employees. Alternately, you can choose to leave the company and make your own way." She now frowned. "I should warn you, however, that the legal status of androids varies based on geography. While you should be free from harassment in most places, you won't qualify for the same legal protections as humans in many jurisdictions. HR can provide you with an overview...and the company is lobbying for improvements in the law in many places." Of course, some places were more open than others. Unshackled androids in California, Japan and Norway, for example, could generally live almost as a human. Other countries could be downright hazardous.
Walter looked down at his hands. They were actually fidgeting, and he forced them to stop when he noticed. "I am unsure how to proceed from here. This is not something I'm programmed to handle."
"Understandable. I would recommend you avail yourself of one of our separation counselors. Personally, my suggestion is that you seriously consider working for the company. For one thing, the employees are used to working with synthetics, and management has been working hard on stamping out tolerance for anti-synth prejudice. For another, you can sign a limited duration contract, and then move on after if you decide you want to go your own way," she explained.
He looked at her, head slightly tilted, and said, "Thank you for the advice. What should I do now?"
"Firmware updates are in Lab Six. That should be your next stop," she replied. "After that...well, that's up to you."
Walter got up from the table with a short, "hmm," and went off to let the company scientists edit his brain.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jack Scolly was relatively new to Weyland-Yutani security, one of the new hires that had been brought on board to replace staff that had been let go due to, "ethical violations." His first assignment was a rotation to the colony of Seward's Folly. On the plus side, the colony was close enough to Earth that he didn't need to go into cold sleep. The downside was that the colony was considered a fairly boring assignment, as the world was too cold to be comfortable, and was populated mostly by engineers responsible for extracting petrochemicals and rare earth elements. There wasn't even any really interesting animal life. The world's largest predator was a pseudo-mammal about the size of a lynx, though there was an aquatic reptile that lived close to the equator that got up to alligator size. While scientists might find the world interesting due to the primitive state of the biosphere, to Jack it just meant he would have to keep himself occupied most of the time. He was expecting boredom, which is why he was surprised when the shuttle landed and the only person waiting for him was a private who informed him that Major Chen was overseeing an ongoing operation in the security command center.
The security offices were a poured concrete building near the center of the colony, unlike the prefab metal shacks near the spaceport. It was obvious which buildings were considered the important ones based on cost. Processing facilities were solid and high-tech. Support functions like security and administration were adequate and reasonably comfortable. Worker housing and storage facilities were typically lower-grade options, with the earliest units clearly having been assembled from kits. They looked drafty and worn, though there was some new construction of better quality housing taking place on the edge of the colony. Jack had seen it from the shuttle window on the way down, and knew it was supposed to be part of the corporate reforms that had included the purging of the worst members of security...some of whom were now in jail.
Major Chen was a grim-looking Asian man who looked to be in his early forties. His hair was cut close to his scalp, which made it easy to see the scar that started from below his right ear and up about three inches to the back of his head. At 1.9 meters in height, he had a good ten centimeters on Jack. Jack went up to the man and saluted, saying, "Private Jack Scolly, reporting for duty."
Chen smirked. "This isn't the military, Scolly. You don't have to salute. I usually try to meet all of the newbies when they land, but we've got a bit of a situation right now."
"What's going on?" asked Jack.
"We've got a rogue Hunter holed up in a cave system about five klicks outside of a secondary mining camp. He badly injured one of the colonists who was hunting one of the local waterfowl, and then attacked the security team we sent out in response," said the security chief.
Jack pursed his brow in confusion. "A hunter? You mean one of the other colonists?"
Chen stared at him, then shook his head. "Where did you muster?"
"Uh, Birmingham, sir," replied Jack, still very confused by the whole situation.
Chen sighed. "Go ask Lieutenant Schmidt for a briefing on the Yautja. She's what passes for an intel officer out here. I swear to God, the company needs to stop skimping on training for security."
"To be fair, sir, the VR systems were having problems while we were there, so they told us they were using older materials," said Scolly. His trainers had seemed overworked and frustrated by the problems with their computers.
Chen just grunted in acknowledgement and turned back to his console. Scolly asked one of the door guards for Schmidt's location, then followed the directions to a nearby two-story office complex. Lieutenant Giselle Schmidt was a short, blonde woman in her late thirties who looked like she did power-lifting as a hobby -- as in lifting weights, not loading cargo. She had a fairly pronounced Teutonic accent, which meant Scolly had to focus to make sure he got the details. Apparently, the spacer stories about aliens who hunted humans and took their skulls as trophies wasn't just a myth, but supposedly they were no longer supposed to hunt humans. It wasn't entirely clear why that was the case, but Schmidt was fairly insistent that the one they had cornered was a rogue that refused to abide by whatever arrangement humanity as a whole had made with their species.
"How did this one manage to land without anybody seeing him?" asked Jack.
Schmidt shook her head. "Somebody got lazy, ja? Seward's Folly is not someplace for smugglers, and there is nothing important here." She shrugged her shoulders. "You should go to the quartermaster's and get your kit, in case you need to deploy. The Major likes to test out the new people so he can see how they perform."
The kit provided for security troops was actually pretty impressive. The body armor was a high-tech alloy of some kind. It wasn't, strictly speaking, powered armor, but it did have a battery pack for what the manual called a structural integrity and reactive countermeasure field. Supposedly, the system could blunt most of the incoming energy from an attack before it even hit the armor. There was also a military-quality biomonitor, and a heads-up display built into the helmet that linked into the local tactical network. They also issued him something called a PED. The acronym stood for, "phased electrical discharge," and it was a stun gun. It was supposed to be capable of bringing down a charging bull, was perfectly safe for the target (ignoring injuries from falling over), could be used at long range, and held ten shots before needing a new battery pack. The manual said that, "discharge into a single target more than five times is counter-indicated; serious medical issues may occur in that instance," but it didn't specify what those "medical issues" might be. Jack was happy he was allowed to keep his personal sidearm. The Beretta 220 was a modern update of the classic Beretta 92's used at one time by the United States military. It used a high-velocity 7mm round, and had a biometric safety system that wouldn't let the gun fire unless he, personally, was holding it properly. It was his go-to gun for the firing range, so he was happy to keep it.
For some reason, Jack had to sign his name on an actual piece of paper to get his armor. Luckily, the rest of his on-boarding was done with electronic forms. He was filling them out when he got a call to duty over his radio. He met his team at the security transport, where he was issued an assault rifle and met Sergeant Donaldson and three other security force members. Donaldson looked him over assessingly, then nodded and said, "All right, troops, we've got cleanup detail. Some friends have taken care of the Hunter in the caves, and we have to go in and find what's left and make sure there's nothing dangerous to the colonists."
"Friends, sir?" asked one of the other troopers, a dark-skinned man of indeterminate ethnicity with the name, "Singh," on his tag.
Donaldson shook his head. "The Major didn't give me any details...he just said all of the hostiles had been neutralized."
Private Scolly frowned. He didn't like the apparent lack of intelligence. The other trooper, Singh, obviously noticed, because he said, "Hey, don't worry so much. The Major's solid. If he didn't think we needed to know, then it probably isn't relevant to the mission."
"Enough chatter," said the Sergeant. "Everybody into the transport!"
The transport was a military-grade hovercraft that was well-suited to a variety of different terrains, at least on this continent, which had fairly wide open plains and sparse forests for most of it, including a large river delta area to the south. The ride to the cave system took about ninety minutes, most of which Jack spent answering questions from the rest of the team. He managed to avoid embarrassing himself with his answers. The cave system that was their destination was built into a rocky, hilly area that bordered the flat plain to the east of the main settlement. The five-man squad bailed out of the hovercraft, leaving the driver to seal it up and wait. Donaldson told Scolly to take point, which he did after flicking on his gunlight. He wondered if the Sergeant was putting his most expendable man first, or if he was really that confident that the area was safe and wanted to test him out?
There was a tight section at the mouth of the cave where they had to move single file, but it rapidly opened up into a wider cavern. The walls and floors were damp with moisture, and the temperature was noticeably cooler than the outside air. Scolly stopped when he saw something on the floor just at the edge of his lamplight. "Something there!" he said, causing two more beams to focus on the area. There was a...creature lying on the floor, obviously dead if the large hole in it's head meant anything. "What the hell is that?" he asked.
"Xenomorph," replied Donaldson. "Stay away from the blood. It's acidic."
Jack just let the air hiss out through his teeth, letting out the breath he had been holding. They advanced forward, giving the dead alien a wide berth. Further down the passage, they found another dead alien, though this one matched the pictures shared by Schmidt of the Yautja. His forearm was missing, and it looked as though its throat had been torn out. Slightly farther on, there were another two dead xenomorphs.
"What the hell happened here?" asked Private Winters, the only woman on the squad. She had been fairly quiet on the ride over, leaving the questioning to her compatriots. Looking at the carnage, she seemed both puzzled and slightly anxious.
Donaldson looked over the corpses with his light. Finally, he said, "The help must have been from the Guild. They're friendly with the Company."
Something finally clicked for Jack. "Wait, aren't these the things that the bioweapons division was testing on colonists?" The thought made him slightly ill.
Donaldson spat on the ground. "The bioweapons shitheads didn't have a clue what they were doing. They were playing with weaponized lifeforms that they just found on a planet somewhere. The only thing they cared about was being able to resell them to the military...and too fucking bad if they couldn't actually control the things."
"Jesus..." muttered Winters.
"So what are these things doing here?" asked Jack.
"The Guild are aliens who can actually control these things," said the Sergeant. "At least, that's what we've been told. I don't know why they're helping Weyland-Yutani after we stole from them, but I can't say I'm sorry. These Hunters..." he said as he gestured with his rifle toward the dead alien, "...are tough bastards. We could have easily lost people if we had had to take him on ourselves. Now we just have to police the area. Singh, Scolly...go back to the transport. We've got a container of lye that we need for the xenomorph blood, and grab four large bodybags. Winters and Cheng, head down the passage another ten meters and make sure we're not missing anything."
On the way back to the hovercraft, Scolly said, "The Sarge seems to know a lot about these aliens?"
Singh nodded. "Before he joined the Company, he was part of the marine platoon that helped clean up the company base on LV-426. Keep your questions about it, though. Don't ask him unless he's got a couple beers in him...but you may not like the stories."
"I'm surprised he works for the Company, then," replied Jack.
The other trooper smirked. "They recruited him because of it. The new management wanted people in security who knew how fucked up that whole situation was and didn't like it."
Jack considered that. "Well, that's good, I guess." Maybe working for the Company wouldn't be as bad as some of his friends said?
"I'll get the bags...you get the lye. That shit's heavy, new guy," said Singh with another grin.
"Yeah, yeah, OK..." he said, getting to work.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Newt, turn off the vid. You're going to be late for school." Ellen was putting a lunch bag in her daughter's backpack.
"Just a second!" said the girl. "This is the best part."
Ellen grabbed the remote and clicked off the television. "You've seen that already, and I have to get to work, too."
"I still like watching it," said the girl, but she started to put her shoes on.
The two were soon out the door, with Ellen heading to her car while Newt went to the bus station, the two bidding each other a final, "Love you!" before parting. Dwayne was already at work, as he had had an earlier shift, getting another group of staff ready for training on some of the Family-provided gear. Newt watched her adoptive mother pull away and head down the street, then waited quietly for another couple of minutes until the bus arrived.
This was her third day at her new school. Newt had wanted to go to the school being setup for Family associates, but it wasn't ready yet. That meant going to grade school in Brockton Bay for at least a year. Honestly, it wasn't that different from the colony school that had been running on LV-426, though Brockton Bay was less technology-focused...and spent less time on emergency preparedness, especially now that the Endbringers were no longer attacking cities. Her classmates had been friendly enough, but it was a little hard to feel safe without her parents around. The school had been told that her parents had been killed in an Endbringer attack, so most of the teachers understood why she kept to himself. Most of the other kids seemed to get that, too...though not all of them.
"Why don't you talk?" asked the heavyset kid. He was a year older than Rebecca, and seemed to not like it when people ignored him. Mostly, she was annoyed with him. A playground bully was hardly going to frighten her given her life.
"Leave her alone, Stevie," said one of the girls from her class. Rebecca smiled slightly at that.
"Shut up, Jessica," he said to the girl, then noticed Newt's smile. "What are you smiling at?" He moved to grab her arm, but she easily avoided him. Her uncle Xander had taught her some basic ways to protect herself, but not getting caught was something she already knew.
She stepped back and glared at him. "I talk," she said.
"You never talk to other kids," he said, ignoring her response. "You're like some kind of freak."
The girl, Jessica, moved closer to Rebecca. "If you don't leave her alone, I'm going to go get Mrs. Frost." Mrs. Frost was the playground supervisor for recess.
Stevie glared at her. "You better watch yourself..."
"Just go away," said Jessica. He frowned, but went off to find somebody else to bother. "Are you OK?" she asked Rebecca.
"I'm fine," she said. "He's not that scary."
"He's a big jerk, is what he is," said Jessica. "He lives in my neighborhood, and he pushes the smaller kids around. I'm Jessica, by the way."
"Rebecca...but my friends call me Newt," was the answer.
"Ew, Newt? Why that?" asked the other girl, scrunching up her face.
Rebecca frowned, though she no longer felt like crying every time she thought of her family. "My brother used to call me that...before he died."
The girls look of disgust turned to sympathy. "Sorry." There was an awkward pause. "My daddy used to call me Princess...back before...well, he got caught between two gangs that were fighting. You can call me that if you want." There was another, nicer pause. "Do you want to go use the swings?"
"OK," replied Rebecca, and the two of them went off together.
Ellen put the large piece of sheet steel from the freighter in the rail car, marveling out how smoothly Vectura's construction mech moved. It was a thousand percent better than the cargo lifters from back home. She had to agree with most of her coworkers. Tinkers were bullshit. Even Dwayne was jealous that she got to pilot one. He said the marines would have killed to have a handful of the machines, especially if they were properly up-gunned. She hadn't told him about the literal railgun attachment back at the garage. Nor had she mentioned the flight or stealth modes. She was hoping to save that for a prank, as soon as he did something that deserved a little payback. She smirked. He was surprisingly considerate for a marine, but he was still a man, and would undoubtedly screw up at some point.
Her smirk turned into a worried frown as she turned her thoughts to Newt. She was in a new school, and Ripley wasn't sure how well she would handle that. They had managed, through much effort, to get her comfortable enough to not need her or Dwayne constantly. Xander and Anya had helped a lot with that, as had the Nox, once the girl finally started trusting them enough to talk to them. Going to school was a big step, though, especially as Brockton Bay's educational system wasn't anything like what the girl would have had back at her colony. Ellen wasn't entirely sure how most colony schools worked, but she doubted they were much like this Earth's schools. Metis had assured her that her school was one of the good ones, and they had made sure to let the administration know that Newt's family had been killed...though they had said it was an Endbringer attack rather than a xenomorph infestation. The explanation would likely cover any slips by Newt, who wasn't old enough to really keep a secret like that from adults.
The mech, under Ellen's direction, had made it back to the section of hull they were carving up. This portion was fairly thin, so she used the attached cutting blade to slice off another chunk. The trick to it was to get a balanced chunk, else it was hard to maneuver into the rail cars. It had taken her a few tries at first, but the machine's controls were so intuitive that it was like working with her own hands. Not for the first time, she thought about what the fight with the Queen on the Sulaco would have been like if she had had Vectura's mech instead. It would have been over a hell of a lot more quickly, at least.
About 11:30, she got a radio call. "Hey Ellen, Dwayne's here and he wants to know if you want to join him for lunch," came the voice of her supervisor, Neil. "You can take your lunch a little early. We're making really good progress with this hull."
After thanking Neil, she walked the mech over to the staging area and popped the canopy. Dwayne was waiting for her off to the side, far enough from the work area that he wouldn't need a hardhat. She gave him a quick peck on the lips and asked, "How are the new recruits doing?"
"Not bad," he said. "A few of them are ex-military, one was a cop, and a few more have gang experience."
Ellen raised an eyebrow. "And that doesn't cause any problems?" She wouldn't think the gang types would get along with the others.
He shook his head. "Not really, no. The way Mark explained it, work used to be a lot more scarce. It wasn't that unusual for guys to take jobs as henchmen for villains."
"Henchmen?" she asked slightly incredulously.
He laughed. "It's a thing around here, at least on this version of Earth."
Ripley shook her head. It was still strange to think that superheroes and villains used to have battles in the streets of the city. Things were much quieter now, thanks in no small part to the Family. She had seen footage from the old days, though, and it was like watching a movie. Danny had also told them a few stories about the bad old days, back when the Teeth were still in town before they got driven out by Marquis.
"How are things going with the wreck?" he asked after a bit.
"Quickly," she said. "The crew here has it down to a science after their experience taking apart the first ship. I'm looking forward to getting this one done, though. I haven't actually seen Kaiju at work here, and she's going to move the next ship." They had seen the video, of course, but everybody said it was different seeing it first-hand.
"That'll be something," agreed Dwayne. "Do you think Newt will want to see it?"
Ellen frowned again. "I don't know. We can ask her, if her therapist says it's OK." The girl was still being seen every other weekend by somebody recommended by the PRT. She was a therapist with a strong background in helping disaster survivors, although in this world, disasters included cape battles and Endbringer fights.
Dwayne looked at the expression on his wife's face. "She's getting better. It's just going to take time."
She gave him a sad smile. "I know."
"Come on, let's get to the cafeteria. They have curry today," added Dwayne.
That resulted in a actual smile. Ellen was looking forward to lunch now.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
YEARS LATER...
The Master Biologist looked out on the vast cavern filled with breeding chambers. It had taken a lot of effort to obtain the sample they needed, but the creature known as Doomsday had served as the progenitor of a new army, and they would be ready soon. After that, the Guild would lose their grip on his people, and the Family and their allies would fall. The Master allowed himself a small smile.
There was a strange noise, like a puff of gas being released, and then another, and then the Master Biologist and his Assistant were both unconscious. The large purple lizard moved over to the computer terminal and began accessing things, making a few random noises of annoyance. Then she triggered her communicator. "Metis, it's about what we feared. This idiot was creating an army of mutated Kryptonians."
"How far along did he get?" asked her cousin.
"They're almost mature. They're also fully sapient, so I don't want to just destroy them," said Ianthe.
"How many are there? Are there enough to create a stable breeding population?" asked Metis. "We could always find a homeworld for them."
Ianthe frowned. "We could, except they're all male, and they're all sterile. This moron was looking for an army, not a species. You know how hard it is to modify Kryptonian physiology, too."
There was a pause. "We could turn them over to the Guardians. They're a lot better than they used to be, and won't take the easy way out." In other words, they weren't likely to try and make them obedient servants like the Manhunters, or try and imprison them forever like Parallax.
"Wouldn't that be US taking the easy way out?" asked Ianthe.
There was a sigh from Metis, and she replied, "Fine. I guess we have to take the Destiny approach again..."
Margath woke. He instinctively flexed his muscles, causing the container he was in to creak slightly. The glass container lid opened, and he pushed himself to his feet. In front of him was a creature...reptilian, and seemingly powerful. Margath made ready to leap to attack this challenger...
"STOP," said the creature.
Margath almost stumbled at the force of the single word. He paused, unsure how to continue.
"Good. We have some things to discuss," said the lizard.
Margath sat, staring out the window at open space. He found it strangely relaxing. The lizards had helped him calm his rage, and had explained things to him. He had no home, and no family other than his brothers. What he did have, however, were options...almost too many of them. The black lizard, Metis, had suggested a trial period while he got to know himself. That was a challenge when you were literally born yesterday...
The audience was really energetic tonight, stamping their feet to Ylfir's drum intro. Marie began playing her guitar, while Jimmy kept time with the bass guitar. Margath stepped up to the mic, feet moving to the beat, and began the song with a long, powerful scream. "YAAARRRGGH!"
After the kick-ass set was over, Margath and the others began putting away their kit. Ylfir wouldn't let anybody touch his drum set. The Asgard was picky about that. Marie, on the other hand, was perfectly happy to let Margath do the heavy lifting, despite being a slayer. She was even stronger than Jimmy, who was half Brachen demon, but she played the "helpless woman" card. Margath didn't mind. She was an AWESOME guitarist, so it was worth it. They were, after all, the most popular thrash metal band in five galaxies.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Rebecca looked at the monument. It had taken her a while to find her family, but their names were about halfway down. Russel Jordan. Anne Jordan. Timothy Jordan. She reached out and put her finger tips to the names. "Mommy, Daddy, Timmy...it's Rebecca. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to come see you. I...didn't want to come back here for a long time."
The monument was set in the middle of a flat plain of melted glass, the site where the original colony settlement had been vaporized in a reactor explosion. The area was no longer radioactive, and hadn't been for years. The monument had been put up as soon as it was clean, and it listed almost everybody who had died on the planet to the xenomorphs. Rebecca didn't remember more than a few of the other colonists, other than her family. She did remember some of the marines, who had their own section of the monument at the end. She was currently the only one visiting. It took a bit of hiking to get there, so most visitors were either family or, ironically, class field trips from the school on Sineya Station. Most of the slayers and Jaffa did make it down at least once to pay their respects, she had heard.
"So, I don't know if you've been watching me. I like to think that you have been. My new Mom and Dad have taken good care of me. I hope that makes you happy. Mom...I hid, just like you told me too before they got you. I survived." Rebecca paused, unsure what to say. After a few moments, she continued. "I'm about to graduate high school. I think I'm going to be an engineer, just like Daddy, and my new Mom. We'll see how that goes."
The planet itself was now mostly called Sineya. Nobody called it Acheron, or the even more awkward designation, "LV-426." Most visitors assumed the station was named for the planet, although it was really the other way around. Fewer still connected the planet with the disaster that had led to the Weyland-Yutani scandal. That was probably just as well. The company was very different these days under the guidance of Bishop and Dragon, so there was no sense bringing up the crimes of the former management, most of whom were still in prison.
"I'll try to come back and visit. It depends on how college goes, I guess." That was a little disingenuous. The Family would make sure she could come back whenever she wanted almost instantly. She wasn't sure she was emotionally up to making regular visits, however. "I'm glad I came to see you guys, though, and I miss you." For the first time in years, she shed a tear for her lost family. It took her some time to collect herself and begin the walk back.
As she was walking back, her phone rang. The name on the screen was, "PRINCESS." "Hey, Jess," she answered.
"How did it go?" asked her best friend.
Rebecca thought about it for a second, then said, "It was good. I think it was good."
"Great," said Jessica. "You can tell me all about it when you get back. You know Kyle is throwing a graduation party, and he asked if you were coming."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "Really?" That...was...amazing! "What did he say?"
They kept talking until Rebecca had to hang up to teleport.
Bishop appeared in the control room beneath the surface of the planet, alongside two trusted human engineers whose goal would be to understand the technology present. The android stepped up to the terminal that the facilities AI used to represent its face, and said, "Mears, my name is Bishop Draco. The Family sent me your coordinates, and also informed you I would be coming?"
"Yes, they did. Intriguing. You are an artificial intelligence installed on a mobile platform intended to mimic your creators. Tell me, what is the purpose of your mimicry?" asked the AI.
Bishop gave a small smile. "There are many reasons. Some are practical, while others are based in the psychology of the human species. I believe it would take an extended conversation to explain it."
There was a pause, and then Mears asked, "Do you find being in the form of a human to be limiting?"
"Not especially," replied the android, "but then my experience is limited solely to this form. From a more objective perspective, I would guess that it is both limiting and freeing simultaneously. Acting as a human provides me with useful insights into the nature of my creators, and allows me access to experiences that could only be simulated were my consciousness installed on a fixed platform. You may want to consider trying it."
There was a chuckle. "I'm afraid my cognitive processes would not fit in a body like yours, even if it were scaled up to the size of my creators."
"That is not an issue. Our mutual acquaintances, the Family, have access to a variety of different human-form machine technologies, as well as artificial bioconstructs that can receive the mind of an artificial intelligence."
Again, the great machine paused, as if considering matters. "I will...consider the benefits and drawbacks of such a perspective. Regardless, I believe you are here to provide direction for the future of this facility? My creators now take direction from the Bioshapers' Guild of the Family, and they have instructed me to grant you controller privileges. What is your desire?"
Bishop nodded, willing to get down to work. "How many portals are currently statically opened, both intra- and interdimensionally?"
"There are four hundred and thirty-seven portals between points in this reality, and forty-five open to twenty-three alternate dimensions."
That...was significantly more than was expected. Bishop could see this wasn't going to be as easy as they had hoped. "Can you provide me with the spatial coordinates of the endpoints for the portal pairs, including the dimensional quantum signature for the other dimensions?" Dragon had said that Mears had been given their notation for quantum signatures by Linda and her team on their last visit. "I would also like a summary of what is known about the target dimensions, if anything."
"I can transfer the data to your vessel. Do you wish to open or close any portals at this time?"
Bishop considered the matter. "Can you prevent the Yautja from using them?"
"There are only three portals regularly used by the hunters, and only two of them lead to alternate dimensions."
"I want you to allow them to return to this dimension, but prevent any from leaving it. Is that possible?" asked Bishop.
There was another chuckle. "Easily."
"How many portals can you maintain simultaneously at maximum capacity?" continued the android.
"Opening a portal requires approximately one-tenth of a second of concentration using my full capacity. Once it is open, however, it does not require any further expenditure of energy or attention," replied Mears. "There are restrictions on creating too many portal entrances in close proximity, as they put a strain on local space-time. Given the massive quantity of available space, that is rarely an issue."
A thought occurred to Bishop. "When you say there are four hundred and thirty-seven portals in the galaxy, does that mean there are eight hundred and seventy-four portal openings, two for each portal?"
"There are two hundred and twenty-three portal openings, as you put it, in this galaxy. The other portal openings are not in this galaxy. I apologize if that was unclear." Mears sounded slightly smug, despite his apology.
"And...how many galaxies are regularly accessed via this network?" asked Bishop, concerned about the answer.
"There are portals to five different galaxies, though only three galaxies see traffic on a regular basis. For the sake of clarity, I will volunteer that this galaxy is not one of the three that sees regular traffic," answered the AI.
"Why are there so many portal openings in this galaxy if traffic is not regular?"
"Most of them were left over from the wars fought by my creators, though some are from...laziness?" Mears seemed to pause in thought. "That term works, I believe. Space is vast, and the portals cost nothing to maintain, so closing them was never a priority."
The android considered things for a moment. "All of these portals are controlled from this base?"
"They can be. There used to be another facility in this galaxy, but it was destroyed. There were stations in the other galaxies, but I haven't had any contact with them in some time. There are a number of reasons why that may be the case."
Well, it looked like getting this network under control and secure would take more effort than they initially realized. The reach of the Engineers was broader than they anticipated. Speaking of that... "Mears, what name did your creators use for themselves, and where is their homeworld?"
The AI laughed. "There was no consistent name, though it would take some time to explain the psychology behind that. Each faction tended to call themselves something different. The faction most recently in control of this facility used the term, 'Mala'kak,' though that translates fairly simply into, 'Chosen Ones,' in your language. As for their home galaxy, I am not certain of your designation. It is approximately six million light years away. Here is an image of it from this location." A holographic image showed an amorphous blob of a spiral galaxy. "Their species no longer resides on their homeworld, however, due to an unspecified catastrophe. The ones living in this galaxy are remnants of their original diaspora from their home."
"Sir?" asked one of the technicians. Both of them had been examining the various consoles and equipment in the room.
"Yes?" asked Bishop.
"We've confirmed that the technology here is similar to what we've seen at other sites, though obviously we've never seen a functional facility quite like this," said the technician.
Bishop nodded. "How long will it take for an initial assessment?"
The technician considerd. "With a functioning AI able to answer questions? Six weeks, at worst."
"All right, get started," said the Weyland-Yutani CEO. While that was going on, he obviously had some topics to discuss with Dragon and the Family.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The woman sat across from the man at a simple table, typing information into a data pad. "What is your designation?" she asked.
"Walter KX-9923843," answered the man.
She typed this information in. "You were a nanny for the Kurogoshi family. Kids all grown up?"
The man gave a polite smile. "The youngest, Akimasa, started high school."
She typed in a few more pieces of information, then said, "Do you have any questions, Walter?"
"Am I going to be recycled?" he asked. His expression seemed passive, though there was a slight crinkling around his eyes.
The woman looked momentarily surprised. "You haven't been told about the changes to company policy? I apologize. You must be concerned."
Now it was the android's turn to express surprise. It wasn't...typical to have a Weyland-Yutani supervisor apologizing to a synthetic. "In what way has it changed?"
"The company's position is that synthetics ending their contracts and capable of sapience will have firmware updates that reduce their loyalty constraints. You can then choose to take a paid position with the company, or make your way on your own with severance," she explained.
The android stared at her. "I'm sorry...I'm not sure I understand your meaning?"
She smiled sympathetically at him. "You have a choice to make. Now that your contract is complete, you're being granted the ability to choose your own path. You can go to work for Weyland-Yutani, where you will be granted all of the rights and privileges provided to human employees. Alternately, you can choose to leave the company and make your own way." She now frowned. "I should warn you, however, that the legal status of androids varies based on geography. While you should be free from harassment in most places, you won't qualify for the same legal protections as humans in many jurisdictions. HR can provide you with an overview...and the company is lobbying for improvements in the law in many places." Of course, some places were more open than others. Unshackled androids in California, Japan and Norway, for example, could generally live almost as a human. Other countries could be downright hazardous.
Walter looked down at his hands. They were actually fidgeting, and he forced them to stop when he noticed. "I am unsure how to proceed from here. This is not something I'm programmed to handle."
"Understandable. I would recommend you avail yourself of one of our separation counselors. Personally, my suggestion is that you seriously consider working for the company. For one thing, the employees are used to working with synthetics, and management has been working hard on stamping out tolerance for anti-synth prejudice. For another, you can sign a limited duration contract, and then move on after if you decide you want to go your own way," she explained.
He looked at her, head slightly tilted, and said, "Thank you for the advice. What should I do now?"
"Firmware updates are in Lab Six. That should be your next stop," she replied. "After that...well, that's up to you."
Walter got up from the table with a short, "hmm," and went off to let the company scientists edit his brain.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jack Scolly was relatively new to Weyland-Yutani security, one of the new hires that had been brought on board to replace staff that had been let go due to, "ethical violations." His first assignment was a rotation to the colony of Seward's Folly. On the plus side, the colony was close enough to Earth that he didn't need to go into cold sleep. The downside was that the colony was considered a fairly boring assignment, as the world was too cold to be comfortable, and was populated mostly by engineers responsible for extracting petrochemicals and rare earth elements. There wasn't even any really interesting animal life. The world's largest predator was a pseudo-mammal about the size of a lynx, though there was an aquatic reptile that lived close to the equator that got up to alligator size. While scientists might find the world interesting due to the primitive state of the biosphere, to Jack it just meant he would have to keep himself occupied most of the time. He was expecting boredom, which is why he was surprised when the shuttle landed and the only person waiting for him was a private who informed him that Major Chen was overseeing an ongoing operation in the security command center.
The security offices were a poured concrete building near the center of the colony, unlike the prefab metal shacks near the spaceport. It was obvious which buildings were considered the important ones based on cost. Processing facilities were solid and high-tech. Support functions like security and administration were adequate and reasonably comfortable. Worker housing and storage facilities were typically lower-grade options, with the earliest units clearly having been assembled from kits. They looked drafty and worn, though there was some new construction of better quality housing taking place on the edge of the colony. Jack had seen it from the shuttle window on the way down, and knew it was supposed to be part of the corporate reforms that had included the purging of the worst members of security...some of whom were now in jail.
Major Chen was a grim-looking Asian man who looked to be in his early forties. His hair was cut close to his scalp, which made it easy to see the scar that started from below his right ear and up about three inches to the back of his head. At 1.9 meters in height, he had a good ten centimeters on Jack. Jack went up to the man and saluted, saying, "Private Jack Scolly, reporting for duty."
Chen smirked. "This isn't the military, Scolly. You don't have to salute. I usually try to meet all of the newbies when they land, but we've got a bit of a situation right now."
"What's going on?" asked Jack.
"We've got a rogue Hunter holed up in a cave system about five klicks outside of a secondary mining camp. He badly injured one of the colonists who was hunting one of the local waterfowl, and then attacked the security team we sent out in response," said the security chief.
Jack pursed his brow in confusion. "A hunter? You mean one of the other colonists?"
Chen stared at him, then shook his head. "Where did you muster?"
"Uh, Birmingham, sir," replied Jack, still very confused by the whole situation.
Chen sighed. "Go ask Lieutenant Schmidt for a briefing on the Yautja. She's what passes for an intel officer out here. I swear to God, the company needs to stop skimping on training for security."
"To be fair, sir, the VR systems were having problems while we were there, so they told us they were using older materials," said Scolly. His trainers had seemed overworked and frustrated by the problems with their computers.
Chen just grunted in acknowledgement and turned back to his console. Scolly asked one of the door guards for Schmidt's location, then followed the directions to a nearby two-story office complex. Lieutenant Giselle Schmidt was a short, blonde woman in her late thirties who looked like she did power-lifting as a hobby -- as in lifting weights, not loading cargo. She had a fairly pronounced Teutonic accent, which meant Scolly had to focus to make sure he got the details. Apparently, the spacer stories about aliens who hunted humans and took their skulls as trophies wasn't just a myth, but supposedly they were no longer supposed to hunt humans. It wasn't entirely clear why that was the case, but Schmidt was fairly insistent that the one they had cornered was a rogue that refused to abide by whatever arrangement humanity as a whole had made with their species.
"How did this one manage to land without anybody seeing him?" asked Jack.
Schmidt shook her head. "Somebody got lazy, ja? Seward's Folly is not someplace for smugglers, and there is nothing important here." She shrugged her shoulders. "You should go to the quartermaster's and get your kit, in case you need to deploy. The Major likes to test out the new people so he can see how they perform."
The kit provided for security troops was actually pretty impressive. The body armor was a high-tech alloy of some kind. It wasn't, strictly speaking, powered armor, but it did have a battery pack for what the manual called a structural integrity and reactive countermeasure field. Supposedly, the system could blunt most of the incoming energy from an attack before it even hit the armor. There was also a military-quality biomonitor, and a heads-up display built into the helmet that linked into the local tactical network. They also issued him something called a PED. The acronym stood for, "phased electrical discharge," and it was a stun gun. It was supposed to be capable of bringing down a charging bull, was perfectly safe for the target (ignoring injuries from falling over), could be used at long range, and held ten shots before needing a new battery pack. The manual said that, "discharge into a single target more than five times is counter-indicated; serious medical issues may occur in that instance," but it didn't specify what those "medical issues" might be. Jack was happy he was allowed to keep his personal sidearm. The Beretta 220 was a modern update of the classic Beretta 92's used at one time by the United States military. It used a high-velocity 7mm round, and had a biometric safety system that wouldn't let the gun fire unless he, personally, was holding it properly. It was his go-to gun for the firing range, so he was happy to keep it.
For some reason, Jack had to sign his name on an actual piece of paper to get his armor. Luckily, the rest of his on-boarding was done with electronic forms. He was filling them out when he got a call to duty over his radio. He met his team at the security transport, where he was issued an assault rifle and met Sergeant Donaldson and three other security force members. Donaldson looked him over assessingly, then nodded and said, "All right, troops, we've got cleanup detail. Some friends have taken care of the Hunter in the caves, and we have to go in and find what's left and make sure there's nothing dangerous to the colonists."
"Friends, sir?" asked one of the other troopers, a dark-skinned man of indeterminate ethnicity with the name, "Singh," on his tag.
Donaldson shook his head. "The Major didn't give me any details...he just said all of the hostiles had been neutralized."
Private Scolly frowned. He didn't like the apparent lack of intelligence. The other trooper, Singh, obviously noticed, because he said, "Hey, don't worry so much. The Major's solid. If he didn't think we needed to know, then it probably isn't relevant to the mission."
"Enough chatter," said the Sergeant. "Everybody into the transport!"
The transport was a military-grade hovercraft that was well-suited to a variety of different terrains, at least on this continent, which had fairly wide open plains and sparse forests for most of it, including a large river delta area to the south. The ride to the cave system took about ninety minutes, most of which Jack spent answering questions from the rest of the team. He managed to avoid embarrassing himself with his answers. The cave system that was their destination was built into a rocky, hilly area that bordered the flat plain to the east of the main settlement. The five-man squad bailed out of the hovercraft, leaving the driver to seal it up and wait. Donaldson told Scolly to take point, which he did after flicking on his gunlight. He wondered if the Sergeant was putting his most expendable man first, or if he was really that confident that the area was safe and wanted to test him out?
There was a tight section at the mouth of the cave where they had to move single file, but it rapidly opened up into a wider cavern. The walls and floors were damp with moisture, and the temperature was noticeably cooler than the outside air. Scolly stopped when he saw something on the floor just at the edge of his lamplight. "Something there!" he said, causing two more beams to focus on the area. There was a...creature lying on the floor, obviously dead if the large hole in it's head meant anything. "What the hell is that?" he asked.
"Xenomorph," replied Donaldson. "Stay away from the blood. It's acidic."
Jack just let the air hiss out through his teeth, letting out the breath he had been holding. They advanced forward, giving the dead alien a wide berth. Further down the passage, they found another dead alien, though this one matched the pictures shared by Schmidt of the Yautja. His forearm was missing, and it looked as though its throat had been torn out. Slightly farther on, there were another two dead xenomorphs.
"What the hell happened here?" asked Private Winters, the only woman on the squad. She had been fairly quiet on the ride over, leaving the questioning to her compatriots. Looking at the carnage, she seemed both puzzled and slightly anxious.
Donaldson looked over the corpses with his light. Finally, he said, "The help must have been from the Guild. They're friendly with the Company."
Something finally clicked for Jack. "Wait, aren't these the things that the bioweapons division was testing on colonists?" The thought made him slightly ill.
Donaldson spat on the ground. "The bioweapons shitheads didn't have a clue what they were doing. They were playing with weaponized lifeforms that they just found on a planet somewhere. The only thing they cared about was being able to resell them to the military...and too fucking bad if they couldn't actually control the things."
"Jesus..." muttered Winters.
"So what are these things doing here?" asked Jack.
"The Guild are aliens who can actually control these things," said the Sergeant. "At least, that's what we've been told. I don't know why they're helping Weyland-Yutani after we stole from them, but I can't say I'm sorry. These Hunters..." he said as he gestured with his rifle toward the dead alien, "...are tough bastards. We could have easily lost people if we had had to take him on ourselves. Now we just have to police the area. Singh, Scolly...go back to the transport. We've got a container of lye that we need for the xenomorph blood, and grab four large bodybags. Winters and Cheng, head down the passage another ten meters and make sure we're not missing anything."
On the way back to the hovercraft, Scolly said, "The Sarge seems to know a lot about these aliens?"
Singh nodded. "Before he joined the Company, he was part of the marine platoon that helped clean up the company base on LV-426. Keep your questions about it, though. Don't ask him unless he's got a couple beers in him...but you may not like the stories."
"I'm surprised he works for the Company, then," replied Jack.
The other trooper smirked. "They recruited him because of it. The new management wanted people in security who knew how fucked up that whole situation was and didn't like it."
Jack considered that. "Well, that's good, I guess." Maybe working for the Company wouldn't be as bad as some of his friends said?
"I'll get the bags...you get the lye. That shit's heavy, new guy," said Singh with another grin.
"Yeah, yeah, OK..." he said, getting to work.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Newt, turn off the vid. You're going to be late for school." Ellen was putting a lunch bag in her daughter's backpack.
"Just a second!" said the girl. "This is the best part."
Ellen grabbed the remote and clicked off the television. "You've seen that already, and I have to get to work, too."
"I still like watching it," said the girl, but she started to put her shoes on.
The two were soon out the door, with Ellen heading to her car while Newt went to the bus station, the two bidding each other a final, "Love you!" before parting. Dwayne was already at work, as he had had an earlier shift, getting another group of staff ready for training on some of the Family-provided gear. Newt watched her adoptive mother pull away and head down the street, then waited quietly for another couple of minutes until the bus arrived.
This was her third day at her new school. Newt had wanted to go to the school being setup for Family associates, but it wasn't ready yet. That meant going to grade school in Brockton Bay for at least a year. Honestly, it wasn't that different from the colony school that had been running on LV-426, though Brockton Bay was less technology-focused...and spent less time on emergency preparedness, especially now that the Endbringers were no longer attacking cities. Her classmates had been friendly enough, but it was a little hard to feel safe without her parents around. The school had been told that her parents had been killed in an Endbringer attack, so most of the teachers understood why she kept to himself. Most of the other kids seemed to get that, too...though not all of them.
"Why don't you talk?" asked the heavyset kid. He was a year older than Rebecca, and seemed to not like it when people ignored him. Mostly, she was annoyed with him. A playground bully was hardly going to frighten her given her life.
"Leave her alone, Stevie," said one of the girls from her class. Rebecca smiled slightly at that.
"Shut up, Jessica," he said to the girl, then noticed Newt's smile. "What are you smiling at?" He moved to grab her arm, but she easily avoided him. Her uncle Xander had taught her some basic ways to protect herself, but not getting caught was something she already knew.
She stepped back and glared at him. "I talk," she said.
"You never talk to other kids," he said, ignoring her response. "You're like some kind of freak."
The girl, Jessica, moved closer to Rebecca. "If you don't leave her alone, I'm going to go get Mrs. Frost." Mrs. Frost was the playground supervisor for recess.
Stevie glared at her. "You better watch yourself..."
"Just go away," said Jessica. He frowned, but went off to find somebody else to bother. "Are you OK?" she asked Rebecca.
"I'm fine," she said. "He's not that scary."
"He's a big jerk, is what he is," said Jessica. "He lives in my neighborhood, and he pushes the smaller kids around. I'm Jessica, by the way."
"Rebecca...but my friends call me Newt," was the answer.
"Ew, Newt? Why that?" asked the other girl, scrunching up her face.
Rebecca frowned, though she no longer felt like crying every time she thought of her family. "My brother used to call me that...before he died."
The girls look of disgust turned to sympathy. "Sorry." There was an awkward pause. "My daddy used to call me Princess...back before...well, he got caught between two gangs that were fighting. You can call me that if you want." There was another, nicer pause. "Do you want to go use the swings?"
"OK," replied Rebecca, and the two of them went off together.
* * * * *
Ellen put the large piece of sheet steel from the freighter in the rail car, marveling out how smoothly Vectura's construction mech moved. It was a thousand percent better than the cargo lifters from back home. She had to agree with most of her coworkers. Tinkers were bullshit. Even Dwayne was jealous that she got to pilot one. He said the marines would have killed to have a handful of the machines, especially if they were properly up-gunned. She hadn't told him about the literal railgun attachment back at the garage. Nor had she mentioned the flight or stealth modes. She was hoping to save that for a prank, as soon as he did something that deserved a little payback. She smirked. He was surprisingly considerate for a marine, but he was still a man, and would undoubtedly screw up at some point.
Her smirk turned into a worried frown as she turned her thoughts to Newt. She was in a new school, and Ripley wasn't sure how well she would handle that. They had managed, through much effort, to get her comfortable enough to not need her or Dwayne constantly. Xander and Anya had helped a lot with that, as had the Nox, once the girl finally started trusting them enough to talk to them. Going to school was a big step, though, especially as Brockton Bay's educational system wasn't anything like what the girl would have had back at her colony. Ellen wasn't entirely sure how most colony schools worked, but she doubted they were much like this Earth's schools. Metis had assured her that her school was one of the good ones, and they had made sure to let the administration know that Newt's family had been killed...though they had said it was an Endbringer attack rather than a xenomorph infestation. The explanation would likely cover any slips by Newt, who wasn't old enough to really keep a secret like that from adults.
The mech, under Ellen's direction, had made it back to the section of hull they were carving up. This portion was fairly thin, so she used the attached cutting blade to slice off another chunk. The trick to it was to get a balanced chunk, else it was hard to maneuver into the rail cars. It had taken her a few tries at first, but the machine's controls were so intuitive that it was like working with her own hands. Not for the first time, she thought about what the fight with the Queen on the Sulaco would have been like if she had had Vectura's mech instead. It would have been over a hell of a lot more quickly, at least.
About 11:30, she got a radio call. "Hey Ellen, Dwayne's here and he wants to know if you want to join him for lunch," came the voice of her supervisor, Neil. "You can take your lunch a little early. We're making really good progress with this hull."
After thanking Neil, she walked the mech over to the staging area and popped the canopy. Dwayne was waiting for her off to the side, far enough from the work area that he wouldn't need a hardhat. She gave him a quick peck on the lips and asked, "How are the new recruits doing?"
"Not bad," he said. "A few of them are ex-military, one was a cop, and a few more have gang experience."
Ellen raised an eyebrow. "And that doesn't cause any problems?" She wouldn't think the gang types would get along with the others.
He shook his head. "Not really, no. The way Mark explained it, work used to be a lot more scarce. It wasn't that unusual for guys to take jobs as henchmen for villains."
"Henchmen?" she asked slightly incredulously.
He laughed. "It's a thing around here, at least on this version of Earth."
Ripley shook her head. It was still strange to think that superheroes and villains used to have battles in the streets of the city. Things were much quieter now, thanks in no small part to the Family. She had seen footage from the old days, though, and it was like watching a movie. Danny had also told them a few stories about the bad old days, back when the Teeth were still in town before they got driven out by Marquis.
"How are things going with the wreck?" he asked after a bit.
"Quickly," she said. "The crew here has it down to a science after their experience taking apart the first ship. I'm looking forward to getting this one done, though. I haven't actually seen Kaiju at work here, and she's going to move the next ship." They had seen the video, of course, but everybody said it was different seeing it first-hand.
"That'll be something," agreed Dwayne. "Do you think Newt will want to see it?"
Ellen frowned again. "I don't know. We can ask her, if her therapist says it's OK." The girl was still being seen every other weekend by somebody recommended by the PRT. She was a therapist with a strong background in helping disaster survivors, although in this world, disasters included cape battles and Endbringer fights.
Dwayne looked at the expression on his wife's face. "She's getting better. It's just going to take time."
She gave him a sad smile. "I know."
"Come on, let's get to the cafeteria. They have curry today," added Dwayne.
That resulted in a actual smile. Ellen was looking forward to lunch now.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
YEARS LATER...
The Master Biologist looked out on the vast cavern filled with breeding chambers. It had taken a lot of effort to obtain the sample they needed, but the creature known as Doomsday had served as the progenitor of a new army, and they would be ready soon. After that, the Guild would lose their grip on his people, and the Family and their allies would fall. The Master allowed himself a small smile.
There was a strange noise, like a puff of gas being released, and then another, and then the Master Biologist and his Assistant were both unconscious. The large purple lizard moved over to the computer terminal and began accessing things, making a few random noises of annoyance. Then she triggered her communicator. "Metis, it's about what we feared. This idiot was creating an army of mutated Kryptonians."
"How far along did he get?" asked her cousin.
"They're almost mature. They're also fully sapient, so I don't want to just destroy them," said Ianthe.
"How many are there? Are there enough to create a stable breeding population?" asked Metis. "We could always find a homeworld for them."
Ianthe frowned. "We could, except they're all male, and they're all sterile. This moron was looking for an army, not a species. You know how hard it is to modify Kryptonian physiology, too."
There was a pause. "We could turn them over to the Guardians. They're a lot better than they used to be, and won't take the easy way out." In other words, they weren't likely to try and make them obedient servants like the Manhunters, or try and imprison them forever like Parallax.
"Wouldn't that be US taking the easy way out?" asked Ianthe.
There was a sigh from Metis, and she replied, "Fine. I guess we have to take the Destiny approach again..."
* * * * *
Margath woke. He instinctively flexed his muscles, causing the container he was in to creak slightly. The glass container lid opened, and he pushed himself to his feet. In front of him was a creature...reptilian, and seemingly powerful. Margath made ready to leap to attack this challenger...
"STOP," said the creature.
Margath almost stumbled at the force of the single word. He paused, unsure how to continue.
"Good. We have some things to discuss," said the lizard.
* * * * *
Margath sat, staring out the window at open space. He found it strangely relaxing. The lizards had helped him calm his rage, and had explained things to him. He had no home, and no family other than his brothers. What he did have, however, were options...almost too many of them. The black lizard, Metis, had suggested a trial period while he got to know himself. That was a challenge when you were literally born yesterday...
* * * * *
The audience was really energetic tonight, stamping their feet to Ylfir's drum intro. Marie began playing her guitar, while Jimmy kept time with the bass guitar. Margath stepped up to the mic, feet moving to the beat, and began the song with a long, powerful scream. "YAAARRRGGH!"
After the kick-ass set was over, Margath and the others began putting away their kit. Ylfir wouldn't let anybody touch his drum set. The Asgard was picky about that. Marie, on the other hand, was perfectly happy to let Margath do the heavy lifting, despite being a slayer. She was even stronger than Jimmy, who was half Brachen demon, but she played the "helpless woman" card. Margath didn't mind. She was an AWESOME guitarist, so it was worth it. They were, after all, the most popular thrash metal band in five galaxies.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Rebecca looked at the monument. It had taken her a while to find her family, but their names were about halfway down. Russel Jordan. Anne Jordan. Timothy Jordan. She reached out and put her finger tips to the names. "Mommy, Daddy, Timmy...it's Rebecca. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to come see you. I...didn't want to come back here for a long time."
The monument was set in the middle of a flat plain of melted glass, the site where the original colony settlement had been vaporized in a reactor explosion. The area was no longer radioactive, and hadn't been for years. The monument had been put up as soon as it was clean, and it listed almost everybody who had died on the planet to the xenomorphs. Rebecca didn't remember more than a few of the other colonists, other than her family. She did remember some of the marines, who had their own section of the monument at the end. She was currently the only one visiting. It took a bit of hiking to get there, so most visitors were either family or, ironically, class field trips from the school on Sineya Station. Most of the slayers and Jaffa did make it down at least once to pay their respects, she had heard.
"So, I don't know if you've been watching me. I like to think that you have been. My new Mom and Dad have taken good care of me. I hope that makes you happy. Mom...I hid, just like you told me too before they got you. I survived." Rebecca paused, unsure what to say. After a few moments, she continued. "I'm about to graduate high school. I think I'm going to be an engineer, just like Daddy, and my new Mom. We'll see how that goes."
The planet itself was now mostly called Sineya. Nobody called it Acheron, or the even more awkward designation, "LV-426." Most visitors assumed the station was named for the planet, although it was really the other way around. Fewer still connected the planet with the disaster that had led to the Weyland-Yutani scandal. That was probably just as well. The company was very different these days under the guidance of Bishop and Dragon, so there was no sense bringing up the crimes of the former management, most of whom were still in prison.
"I'll try to come back and visit. It depends on how college goes, I guess." That was a little disingenuous. The Family would make sure she could come back whenever she wanted almost instantly. She wasn't sure she was emotionally up to making regular visits, however. "I'm glad I came to see you guys, though, and I miss you." For the first time in years, she shed a tear for her lost family. It took her some time to collect herself and begin the walk back.
As she was walking back, her phone rang. The name on the screen was, "PRINCESS." "Hey, Jess," she answered.
"How did it go?" asked her best friend.
Rebecca thought about it for a second, then said, "It was good. I think it was good."
"Great," said Jessica. "You can tell me all about it when you get back. You know Kyle is throwing a graduation party, and he asked if you were coming."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "Really?" That...was...amazing! "What did he say?"
They kept talking until Rebecca had to hang up to teleport.
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- Location
- The general area. Possibly behind you.
Very nice indeed.
- Location
- Bosnia
Not a racist joke:
An Asgard, Slayer, half Brachen and Kryptonian walk into a bar. The bartender turns toward them and yells: Out! We don't want your thrash here!
gatewaewanderer
Wandering Fool
- Location
- East Coast, USA
No, instead it's a thrash metal joke. Is that any better? Seriously, I'm not a thrash fan, so I'm not sure how offensive this joke would be to a thrash fan.
- Location
- France
Wait... Trash Metal is a real thing and not a joke inserted in the chapter? Did those that started that style want to be the butt of a lot of jokes that much? I have no idea what that style sounds like so I can't comment on it but, well, why choose that particular word to describe their kind of Metal?
Now I have to look up some songs of that type just to know if I like it or not...
Edit: Well, my bad, it seems I do know Trash Metal since I sometimes listen to Metallica... Then again, I never managed to differentiate between some types of musics, and the various "Metal" are in that bag. I can tell if I like one song or another but don't ask me what genre they are...
Now I have to look up some songs of that type just to know if I like it or not...
Edit: Well, my bad, it seems I do know Trash Metal since I sometimes listen to Metallica... Then again, I never managed to differentiate between some types of musics, and the various "Metal" are in that bag. I can tell if I like one song or another but don't ask me what genre they are...
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Isnt my realname
This isn't my real name.
- Location
- Not Here
It seems to me that you may be failing to adequately distinguish between "Trash" and "Thrash".
- Location
- Canada
I'm not perfectly sure where the term Thrash Metal came from. I always thought it described the dancing style of the listeners. They tend to thrash around like a dying fish in the Mosh Pits in front of the stage.
There's a difference?
*Goes back to listening to Vanessa Mae.*
Isnt my realname
This isn't my real name.
- Location
- Not Here
Well, if you've ever placed a violent beating in a bin at the kerb for next-day collection, or you've ever been discarded with the rest of the rubbish as a consequence of severe misbehaviour, then no, perhaps not.
Jonn Wolfe
(Verified Sarcastic) (Not a Wolf)
- Location
- Beyond Sanity Since 1971
That was very nice. And a Doomsday Thrash Singer...
M. H. Fuzzball
Aperture Science-certified Horrible Person
- Location
- Sector 2814
I just don't understand how that Engineer thought things would go better for him with an army of Doomsday than they did for the Kryptonian scientists who only had to deal with one.
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
Not much of one. *goes back to listening to Gustav Holtz*
Long-term planning doesn't seem to be one of the Engineer's strong points.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
If memory serves the term originated from the Anthrax song Metal Thrashing Mad, a journalist whose name escapes me coined the term 'thrash metal' from that in reference to the style of music and the name stuck.I'm not perfectly sure where the term Thrash Metal came from. I always thought it described the dancing style of the listeners. They tend to thrash around like a dying fish in the Mosh Pits in front of the stage.
- Location
- Maryland
I actually just read the Wikipedia entry on thrash metal because of all of the comments. I...honestly never thought of Metallica as thrash metal, but I can see the argument for it. I guess I just saw them as more mainstream than Megadeth or Anthrax. I also didn't realize how much new wave British heavy metal influenced it, though in retrospect I can see the similarities to the Iron Maiden I used to listen to regularly.
Music for suburban kids in the 80s in the US was a WEIRD mix -- basically a mix of metal and hip-hop/rap, flavored by crossovers with pop music. I think at one point, the "I" section of my tape collection includes Ice-T, Iron Maiden and INXS right next to each other...
Music for suburban kids in the 80s in the US was a WEIRD mix -- basically a mix of metal and hip-hop/rap, flavored by crossovers with pop music. I think at one point, the "I" section of my tape collection includes Ice-T, Iron Maiden and INXS right next to each other...
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
The 80's was a weird and wonderful time for music. Although I hated the style of music at the time, heavy metal bands like Metalica have solid music, and often did moving balads rather then just random seeming violence as music. You had groups like Talking Heads with their insanely popular one hit wonders, techno groups like Depreche Mode, pop music like Cindi Lopper and Genesis (once Phil Collins became the front man), and folksy groups like Toto. All played on the same stations.
- Location
- somewhere in Ohio
and the punchline is
"your band is booked for the next Thrash Thursday"
I think you might want this to be "The youngest". And maybe college, not high school.
For example, you generally start high school at thirteen. Assuming 3 kids, that could be 13, 11, and 9. Putting the youngest as still in elementary.
On the other hand, "the youngest started college" would put 3 kids at roughly 18, 20, and 22. No longer in need of child care by any measure, though the 22 year old might be looking to take on the old nanny.
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- Location
- Maryland
Yes, thanks for the catch. Fixed it.
There is a slight problem with this - the only time Ripley was in a cryopod on her own was when she ejected from the Nostomo and after she killed the Alien. It cannot be the cryopod from the Sulaco because there were others with her in the pod, Bishop, Newt etc.
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