These images come by way of Brandon Flores, a longtime listener of Perfect Organism Podcast, and a brilliant artist in his own right. Brandon made this diorama for Alien Day 2021.
"The Last Company Man" by Tim Lawson
Artwork by Mathieu FreakSfx Roszak
Jodi, Jodi...
Thomas sat up in bed.
“What is it?” Jodi rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What the hell are those things?” Jodi turned to look at the other ten dreamers in the bunker. Their faces covered by hand shaped nightmares, tails wrapped around their necks.
“Oh my god,” Jodi stood to run, realised she couldn’t move. Then stuttered “how.”
Thomas, guessing: ”Maybe they came through the air intake, somehow got around the filters. I don’t know but we have to get out of here. Do you remember the code?”
“333426” Jodi quoted. “Let’s go.” Thomas grabbed his younger sister’s hand and punched in the code.
“Quickly Thomas,” Jodi noticed some of the hands were starting to move then fall off. They were about to leave the bunker they’d called home for over a year. “What about the radiation?”
“We’ll take our chances.”
Thomas heard the internal locks click open; he pushed and rancid air rushed in. “Gotta go.”
As they began up the ladder to the outer hatch they heard murmuring from below. Thomas unlocked the lid and lifted it. More acrid air assaulted the senses. Explosions, laser fire, what the hell? There was more life outside than they had expected.
“Wait Jodi.” Thomas observed two warring groups. One humanoid, the other humanoid in stature but the head, that elongated head. “Go, go, go,” Thomas took Jodi’s hand as they ran though the ash laden atmosphere.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” One of the soldiers barked at them. “Get to the back, now.”
As they ran though the attacking platoon they could hear the soldiers shouting words like “gun,” “knife,” and “bomb.” The kids had no time to wonder what was happening here in a world that should be silent. Just ahead of them stood one of the strange creatures. They stopped in their tracks.
One of the soldiers cried “move,” then “gun.” He shot and the thing was torn in half, blood sizzling on the ground.
Jodi looked up at Thomas and said, “this one’s got two heads.” Thomas took Jodi up in his arms and sprinted.
“Bomb,” then an explosion, and they were flying though the air. Then they were falling.“
Jodi I’m...” Thomas lost consciousness.
They woke from the black to find themselves some kind of medlab. A man injecting Jodi. Thomas reached out to stop him.
“That’s my sister you’re putting a hole in.”
“It’s alright, you’re safe here, you fell into the silo. My name is Dissik. What happened?”
“We were in a bunker and...” Thomas cut himself off. ”What did you inject us with?” Thomas sat up to look the older man in the eye.
“It’s my own blend of nanotech. You should lie down, let them take effect.”
Thomas took Dissik’s advice. Strange, he could feel them mending him, nerves reconnecting, bones knitting.
“These are state of the art. You should be up and about in no time.”
“Jodi, where are we?”
“Good question,” Dissik cut in. “It’s an old missile silo. I thought it would be a good place to hide from the creatures above.”
Jodi sat up, ”What are those things?”
“A parasite. They attach to the face, impregnate, then a while later a xenomorph breaks through the chest and grows, quickly.” Dissik turned to Thomas, ”have you seen something like this?”
Thomas raised a hand to his face. “Yeah, the bunker was full of them.”
Dissik’s face went white. ”You have to leave now.”
“Nice hospitality—” Thomas clutched at his chest and grunted. Soon Jodi did the same. They fell back down and started convulsing. Dissik backed up against the nearest wall. Simultaneously their chests exploded and two small creatures sprang out then disappeared into the closest vent.
As Dissik peeled himself from the wall he could see the gaping wounds in Thomas and Jodi’s chests being healed over by the nanos. Would they survive this? He didn’t know. They should be dead.
Just as he had that thought, Jodi started to twitch. Then Thomas. My god they were alive and he was going to need them.
“Thomas, Jodi can you hear me?”
Jodi opened her eyes, “What just happened to us?”
Thomas broke in. “l think i know. We’ve got two of those creatures on our hands, haven’t we Dissik?”
“You’re right, Thomas, and I’m going to need your assistance. Come to the silo with me.”
Thomas and Jodi rose gingerly but amazingly felt fine.
“Ok Dissik. While we walk, it’s question time” said the naturally inquisitive Thomas. “You seem to know a lot about those things. How did they get here?”
“Alright, you deserve some answers. I was on a research ship. A Weyland-Yutani-funded expedition searching for a species of xenomorph which the human race had come across several times before. Things hadn’t gone well for them, but this time we were prepared. The Soteria, the ship I was on, was well equipped. It had a half mile-long stasis containment field that was able to hold even the toughest of silicon-based life forms.
We knew where to find the samples, it was just a matter gathering the eggs to study. That’s when I invented the nanos that just saved your life. The adaptability in their DNA allows the mind to command the formation, the shapes. Step through this door and I’ll show you.”
They walked into the empty silo.
“Now Thomas, I want you to raise your right arm, point it straight up. Now say gun.”
Thomas looked strangely at Dissik but would indulge him.
“Gun.” Thomas looked at his arm in amazement. It began to change into a spinning 3D metal jigsaw puzzle. Then formed a gun. A laser canon.
“Say gun again.”
Thomas obliged and his arm shot in to the sky. “Unbelievable, what powers it?”
Dissik, happy to answer: “Every one of the nanobots is a dark matter reactor. You’re going to last a long time. Say knife.”
Thomas said knife and one appeared. “What else can i do?”
“There are two more commands you can give them, but don’t repeat after me. There’s bomb and merge. Bomb, for obvious reasons, is only for extreme circumstances, when there’s no way out. Merge is for melding with another person who also has nanos. This will make you bigger.”
Thomas said knife and his hand returned to normal. “Well I’ve got to give it to you Dissik, you’re the definition of ‘mad scientist.’ So what happened, how did you and those things end up back on earth?”
Dissik remembered, ”We were in stasis on our way back when this insane war happened. When we got back the Soteria had no guidance satellites to navigate us in. We crashed and the stasis field lost power. Most of the crew were infected. In the end, I was the only survivor. I was able to find a working transport and salvaged as much tech and nano formula as I could carry. I found this place. There were soldiers in here dying of radiation poisoning, l helped them. Some other people must have found the Soteria and the eggs.”
Processing this, Thomas realized, “The soldiers up top are the people you helped. It seems you’ve started a whole new insane war. We better find those aliens now Dissik, before things get any messier.
Corridor after corridor held no discovery. Thomas decided to continue questioning Dissik. After all, Dissik had given them the ultimate advantage. Thomas had no fear. “I’m going to ask the obvious question. Why haven’t you shot yourself with the nanos? You could have taken care of these two on your own.”
Dissik spun around thinking he heard something behind them. Maybe nothing. “You have to have some sort of injury or illness for them to connect. They will eject themselves and go looking for a person or animal in need. Once they’ve connected they will stay with you. Don’t worry though: I keep a syringe on me at all times.”
Jodi, hanging back, heard a clawing sound. “Shh, I think there’s something behind us.”
One crawling along the ceiling, the other crouching.
“Our babies, Jodi.” Thomas said. As they met nose to nose: “Jodi, we are not us anymore. Let’s become something new.”
They turned to their respective offspring. They said “merge,” and the jigsaw puzzle was complete.
The pair turned towards a petrified Dissik. Behind the black dome of the aliens’ heads he could see the faces of Jodi and Thomas. The flood gates that kept the insanity out broke open in Dissik’s mind.
He screamed and screamed.
"They Mostly Come at Night" by Derek T. Hawke
"There are no such thing as monsters." That's what my mommy used to say. She would tuck me into bed, make sure that my favorite doll, Casey was in my arms and tell me, "There is nothing to be scared of; there are no monsters, no real monsters."
She would whisper these words to me mostly at night because that's when the monsters liked to come out. At night when the walls would vibrate from machinery humming in the service tunnels and sub-basements below. I needed to hear those words when the wind would scream and howl from the unstable air currents and unpredictable weather patterns that came with an atmosphere being changed by a terraforming station. The turbines from dozens of filtration exchange towers ensured the sky was never still as it took in the cold, alien environment and infused hot oxygen-nitrogen gasses into the air. Just like the song my daddy would sing with me, "Bad air goes in, good air comes out."
I would need reminding one more time when the giant atmospheric processing station brought the rain by releasing electrical discharges into the clouds. That was when the monsters scared me the most. The lightning and thunder were the sound they made when they tried to get inside. The wind was the monster's voice, and the rain was its nails, clicking and tapping at the windows of my living quarters. My mommy would come and make it all better and say, "There are no such thing as monsters."
Monsters killed my mommy and daddy.
They were real. Monsters were real, and they were here. The grownups promised they would keep us safe. They told us everything would be all right, and help was on its way. They lied. Our little settlement was so far away; it would take up to two weeks for the nearest outpost to reach us. The monsters were smart and patient. When there was only a few of them, they quietly picked off the families living in the habitat modules on the outskirts of the colony. The ones whose disappearance wouldn't be noticed right away. As their numbers increased, the monsters began to hunt in packs. It wasn't long before there was enough of them and they didn't need to hide anymore. The monsters were coming. They were coming for each and every last one of us.
The central air processing station was just outside the colony's perimeter. It was the primary terraforming control center for the other automated terraforming substations spread across the small planet's surface. The majority of the grown-ups spent most of their waking hours here, including my mommy. They were all doing their part to make this tiny world breathable. "Building Better Worlds," like all the signs and videos say.
The monsters crashed through the ceiling and tore through the floor grating; catching everyone by surprise. Only a week ago, there was one hundred and fifty-eight of us. After the attack on the processing station, we had lost eighty-four people. Those of us left, gathered together for safety. We had to move quickly. We knew what the monsters did to you if they took you. We knew that for every one of us taken, their numbers would grow. We knew we didn't have much time.
The monsters grew so fast. We learned that from my daddy. He was the first. They thought I couldn't hear. They thought I wouldn't know. But I saw it all. My daddy was kept in the infirmary, and I would visit him often without him knowing. Hidden within the ventilation shaft, I would see him in the morning and whisper a "goodnight" before going to bed. He was just talking to the doctor when he cried out in pain, and they rushed him out of the room.
The grownups may have ruled the corridors and hallways, but the kids owned the vents and shafts. That was our playground! That was where we would play games like Monster Maze, and I was the best! The other kids were jealous because I could fit into places the others couldn't. They couldn't memorize the turns and corners like me. I could go anywhere in the complex and never be seen, not once. So finding my way to where they took my daddy was a breeze. I didn't need to remember which shaft to take through the winding and turning tunnels—the screams echoed loud and clear.
I followed the sounds to the grilled screen that would allow me to peer into the medical compartment. I made myself look, but in the end, I closed my eyes to the horror. The screams hurt my ears. He was in so much pain. I covered my mouth to hold in a scream when a deep snap of bone startled everyone in the room. My daddy fell quiet and still. Suddenly, I could hear his body thrash and convulse violently, and the medical personnel began yelling in confusion and fear. They tried to hold him down, but the convulsions were too strong. People gasped and screamed at the sound of a loud crunch and snaps followed by what sounded like a bucket of water spilling to the ground and spraying the walls. My daddy's screams were no more than wet gurgles by now and then I heard it. A loud and piercing screech came from something in the room, something that was angry, evil, and alien. It hissed loudly and scurried violently in the opposite direction, knocking over tools and equipment as it made its escape.
The last of us gathered in the safest place left, the Primary Operations Center. My daddy once told me it was the very first building in the colony. The original settlers had lived in here back when they couldn't breathe the air and the Operations Center's thick walls, and many pressurized doors protected them from the freezing temperatures and poisonous atmosphere.
The adults put the kids in the center of the complex on the top level. They said the Medical section was the safest place for us. We listened as the grown-ups did everything possible to block off entryways, weld shut each blast door and close off every service tunnel. All-access points were barricaded, and all the main entry gates were sealed shut. When all was said and done, there was nothing left to do but wait in the silence and fear the approach of nighttime, because everyone knows that the monsters mostly come at night, mostly.
The planetoid rotates once every fifty-seven hours; that makes for a very long night. Here, when the darkness falls, it feels like it will never end. The monsters didn't come the first night or the second night, but they were there. Their large bodies pressed and slid against the outer bulkheads. Powerful talons scraped against steel and drooling jaws extended and clenched. A piercing shriek would call out and echo in the distance now and then. The monster's cries would startle us, causing screams of fright and tears from most of the children.
We continued to wait.
It started on the third day with a metallic "thunk," "thunk," "thunk," from the North Gate. It echoed throughout the corridors. Anything not bolted down rattled and shook. I could see relief wash over some of the adult's faces. The waiting was finally over. The beating at the massive door, three levels down, grew louder in intensity. The children were gathered together and hurriedly rushed into medical isolation bays only used for storage. I didn't like this room. Even though it housed many rows of containers and equipment and good places to hide, there was no vents or shaft in here; there was no way to escape.
We watched from the monitoring station that had been set up within the medical bay. The adults began readying themselves. Most had small handguns and charges used for geological excavation. There were even a few crude flame throwers. The strikes to the massive door became relentless.
The pounding grew louder from massive blows now coming from the West Gate.
The monsters were slamming into the steel door so hard and so fast, I could swear I felt the floor vibrate. They screamed with such anger from behind the barriers that blocked their way.
The sounds of pounds and bangs became deafening. Claws and talons were now beating at the East Gate.
The echoes of metal being hit with massive, inhuman force now came at us from all directions when impacts fell against the main, South Gate.
The bending and tearing of metal were heard throughout the complex and shrieks of victory roared out from alien lungs. We watched the blurry, dark shapes fill the monitor screens. Screams and hisses echoed from the lower levels as they tore down every barrier or obstacle. They filled the hallways, scurrying on the ceiling, walls, and floor. They were coming for us.
The monsters fell on the people defending our last and only defense like a wall of black water. The grown-ups opened fire, tossed their explosives and sprayed fire from flamethrowers. Smoke filled the room making it hard to see. Powerful arms shot out from the ceiling, and long fingers grabbed at anyone within their reach. The monsters poured into the cramped space, slamming into the people. Screams of terror and breaking of bone came over the speakers. Images of blood and flesh filled our eyes from the small video monitors. Despite the wounds and injuries inflicted on them, it was painfully obvious that none of the adults had been killed. Every last one of them was alive when they were dragged away screaming into the darkness.
It was over quickly. Soon, every last grown-up in Operations was gone. Dangling legs lifted into the air vents disappeared. The monsters gathered around those who struggled or were capable of fending them off. They were cornered and maimed by teeth and claws. Hands or feet were torn and severed from their body. Obviously, it was easier to manage and carry off their prey if it was crippled. Screams for help and pleas for death slowly faded into the distance.
The remaining grown-ups sealed the hatchway to the main access door for our section and stood between us and the approaching nightmares. They peeled away the hatch as if it was tin foil, and they were at the viewports and observation windows that lined the medical bay, hitting and scratching at the dura-glass. They shattered it in no time and began swarming into the medical bay. Gunshots rung loud and screams from adults and children came from all directions. Monsters were leaping through the air, pouncing on any victims within their sight. They crawled on the walls and ceiling, plucking running children off their feet by their hair or even by their entire head from large, six-fingered claws.
I cowered under an overturned medical bed when I locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been more than seven. His arms were locked in a death grip around a support beam. Two monsters pounced on him and began pulling and jerking him violently. Amazingly, he maintained his grip around the metal beam and would not let go. I screamed in horror when they broke his arms and pried him off of that beam. His face had no expression or emotion. His limp arms trailed loosely behind him when they carried him away. He never broke his stare on me. He did not scream—not once.
A woman flew across the room, smashing into a large fume hood to the right and rear of the large room. Her broken body lay over the destroyed workstation. The impact had toppled over the instrument and dislodged its upper panel, revealing a narrow ventilation duct within the wall. In a flash, I remembered the school day-trip last month to see the scientists. It was the same type of instrument. The one used for dangerous chemicals. It was a dura-glass enclosure with two access openings for the hands. They would stick their hands through the openings attached to thick gloves and pour their chemicals from the inside without breathing the fumes. The scientist said the fumes were then removed from the complex by the exhaust fans.
I got to my feet and dove for the tiny opening. Three monsters, hunched on all fours, charged from the destroyed viewport. I entered the duct only to discover it immediately went from ground level to a vent that went straight up the wall. I pressed my body as far as I could to avoid the claws that were reaching in for me. It pushed itself relentlessly into the small opening, wedging itself further into the duct. The slick coat of slime glistened on the claws that were inching closer. The tips of its nails were nicking my clothes. I could feel the pull of the fabric grow firmer each time before the threads would break.
I had one chance; I stood and placed one hand on each side of the vent, hopped off the ground and pressed my feet against the walls to hold me up. I shimmied up the shaft bit by bit. Carefully, but as quick as I could manage, I had made it more than halfway up the duct's distance when the scraping and beating of claws filled my ears from below. When I lifted myself into the junction, I twisted myself into the opening and briefly my eyes fell on the monster beneath me.
I had never seen one this close. Its arm was extended and wedged under its massive body. The elongated head was cocked at an abnormal angle to face me. Transparent lips were quivering and curled over long and shiny fangs. Thick, clear drool poured out of its open mouth. It didn't even struggle anymore; it just looked at me. It had no eyes, but it still looked at me. A low and deep hiss began to build from within its chest until it was a piercing shriek! It was speaking to me. It... it was trying to tell me something. It was screaming how much it hated me. I turned from the shrieks of rage and quickly made my way into the ventilation system. It wasn't long before I knew exactly where I was. I disappeared into the network of ducts, shafts, and pipes—the maze I knew so well.
I have been all by myself for two weeks now. This tiny sub-compartment cradled in an entanglement of pipe and support strut beams of the environmental control system has become my home. The ventilation fan spins above me; the monsters keep their distance from its blades. The metal beams and large pipes keep me far out of the reach of any monster's claws. I only leave my haven to scavenge for food. I avoid the main conduits in the ventilation system and stick to the smaller secondary shafts where the monster cannot fit.
The monsters rule the corridors and hallways, but I own the vents and shafts. That is my playground! That was where I used to play games like Monster Maze, and I was the best! The monsters are angry because I can fit into places they can't. I have every turn and corner memorized. I can go anywhere in this complex and never be seen; not once.
The monsters can't see me.
Monsters.
My mommy used to tell me there were no monsters, no real monsters; but there are.
"Feline" by Derek T. Hawke
Part One
The cat slowly settled on the deck floor in the brightly lit room. Stretching his long body, he let out a giant yawn. Like his human companions, he was groggy and felt slightly sick from the remnants of the chemicals lingering in his system. Reviving from cryo-sleep was an unpleasant thing, and it always put him in a standoffish mood. One of the humans shuffled by and without considering the consequences, in spite of his temper, attempted to give him an affectionate scratch behind the ears. Had the show of fondness come from anyone else other than the female he had grown attached to, they would have earned themselves a nasty scratch soon not to be forgotten. Tired of socializing and eager to be rid of the lingering effect of the "long sleep," he stood with his tail held high and exited the large cryo-vault that housed the flower-shaped hypersleep modules.
Over the following day, he re-familiarized himself with the three levels of the large vessel that had been his home for most of his life. Like the human's that occupied the ship, he too had responsibilities and duties, and like his counterparts, he took his business very seriously. For there were other places besides the vessel's bridge and engineering level that needed tending, places too small for a man to fit. The narrow and dark shafts and ducts underneath and between the decks were under his charge. They were his to patrol, and his to guard.
To the outside eye, it may seem rather odd and out of place to allow a cat to roam free on a star freighter. One may question the logic of such a practice or attribute it to one of those peculiar habits space truckers are known for. Maybe it was simply a means to distract the lonely and homesick crew and keep their spirits high during long hauls. No, the ship's mascot served a particular purpose and was assigned to this ship, just like every other freighter, cargo ship, or transport in active duty with flight plans requiring cryostasis for its crew. In fact, in recent years, ICC regulations now mandated that every commissioned star freighter, Class C through Class M, were required to be equipped with a ship’s mascot, Gen. 3A to t Gen. 4. Now, one may wonder how such a strange directive came to be. It was actually quite simple and not so far-fetched as one may think.
Part Two
In this modern age, humanity's demand for resources had quickly exceeded what our little world could render. The realization that the Earth was not an endless source of fuel came frightfully sudden upon humanity. There was no other option than to look to the stars and dreamed of the vast riches that must be out there. With some ingenuity and lots of money, we slowly and aggressively pushed our reach further out into the unexplored frontiers of space. However, this charge into the unknown wasn't led by the governments of the world. It was the powerful and wealthy, global corporations that conquered the vastness of space.
Soon, our small Solar system was ours to plunder, but to our dismay, we learned that it was meager and less than adequate. Humanity's aspirations shifted its attention even further out into the void. Our system may have been lacking, but there were others nearby rich in minerals and ores. Sprinkled across the universe, brave new worlds, planets, and asteroids ripe for commercialization would be found. Waiting in solitary orbits were isolated and untouched planetoids and moons overflowing with infinite possibilities for interstellar commerce. In preparation for our eventual arrival, probes and eventually automated compact mining units were sent ahead of us by decades to survey the remote systems and establish rudimentary outposts. In the meantime, we developed new technology, constructed shipyards and humanity began to learn how to travel among the stars.
In the beginning, the large corporations faced many obstacles in establishing this new frontier. The advancement of new technologies was vital to creating a profitable and lucrative business model. This included breakthroughs in propulsion, life support systems, energy consumption, inertial and gravitational controls and so on and so on. Most importantly, the vessels needed the capability to travel immense distances in short periods while transporting and refining tons of cargo. All of these challenges were confronted and overcome. Man's reach slowly extended out further and further. Humanity celebrated their well-deserved accomplishments and continued to push forward, unaware of the unseen stowaways that flourished in secret alongside their larger companions.
In under twenty-seven years, the Thedus-Antartica shipping lane had been established along the Outer Rim of the Core Systems. The resource-rich system was located fifty-nine light-years away in the Epsilon Reticuli System. Although the sophisticated sub-light engines significantly lessened the flight times, reaching mining and docking stations still required significant time by human standards. Supercomputers equipped with Multi-Utility-Task-Hyper-Recursive processors made high-speed navigation possible where pinpoint accuracy and split-second course corrections could mean the difference between life and death. The ever-watchful computer monitored its hull and meticulously cared for her crew like an overly protective mother. In fact, she was so efficient that during this stage of the journey, the crew was more of an interference than a benefit to her. Little was left for her crew to do or pass the time.
Then there were the extreme g-forces from accelerating to such speeds to consider. The massive weight from a velocity just below the speed of light was intense and capable of crushing a human body instantly. The corporate number-crunchers frowned at the costs of retrofitting the hulls of each ship with thick and expensive shielding and installing powerful inertial dampeners within its decks.
Research in Hyper Sleep yielded the answer to this dilemma. It soon became standard practice for the crew to enter hibernation capsules that induced a state of suspended animation as a means of enduring the long hauls. Only the section that housed the small hibernation vault required the inertial shielding to shelter the crew from the severe G-forces. The vessel would power down. The halls and corridors darkened, and equipment and systems came to a stop. The air thinned, and the ship was alone and unwatched. That was when they came out, free and unhindered to claim their lands— the vermin.
Alongside the spread of humanity into the stars, came their filth, waste, and garbage. The pests and vermin who thrived in these conditions of squalor found their promised land within the tugboats, mining facilities, outposts, docking stations, relay communication hubs, and military deployment command centers.
Infestations were not an uncommon sight for commercial tug ships in those days. Regulations were lax and rarely enforced. Surprisingly, the design engineers were baffled these small creatures could even survive the extreme forces encountered from a ship's sub-light acceleration and decelerations. They should have been crushed and smothered against the bulkheads. They were not.
Even though life support was powered down, the complete evacuation of the environment in such large vessels was not possible and not to mention, not economical. Still, the thin air should have hindered the little beast's activities. It did not. Space travel seemed to have an odd effect on the animals. They flourished. Not only did they prosper, but they adapted rather well to the harsh conditions of interstellar flight. They developed powerful circulatory and pulmonary systems. The little beastie's muscle mass increased, and bones became as durable and flexible as the most advanced polymer.
Initially, little was done if a ship reported a vermin infestation on its decks. Again, the company executives frowned at any expenditure that eroded their profit margin; such as the full extermination and continuous pest control expenses of their fleet and facilities. It was rare to see an approved requisition for an extermination request, and the filthy stowaways eventually became just an unfortunate reality of life in space. Before the Shotwell disaster, bribes and payoffs were more than adequate for the regulatory agencies to turn a blind eye to the problem.
The USCSS Shotwell exploded just outside the Beta-Prime Reticuli System in 2117 A.D. The detonation of the ship's main reactor destroyed both cargo and crew. Analysis of the recovered flight recorder from the wreckage indicated critical failures of many of the ship's primary and secondary systems, including the reactor's cooling system controls.
With the investigation concluded and the outcome buried deep within the high-security vaults and mainframes, business went on as normal. Things changed in 2119 when the buried failure analysis was leaked to the public by an innovative and skilled hacking organization. The public was outraged to learn the destruction of the USCSS Shotwell was the result of severe internal damage to several of its primary system's conduit housings that held the complex and fragile circuitry wiring. People were horrified and enraged to learn the sensitive network of vital wires and modules that ran within the walls and decks shared space with massive populations of rodents and pests.
Again, the company executives frowned at the costs of the elaborate deterrent systems needed for each of its vessels. An adequate pest control system was expensive and intricate. It needed its own dedicated AI to be effective; the days of simple mouse traps and poisons were a thing of the past. It required sophisticated, motion detection sensors, pinpoint accurate laser targeting, and networked drones capable of complex maneuvering and tracking abilities.
Dr. Souveir was a man known for keeping an ear on everything. In the midst of having his well-funded research project shut done for lack of practical application, these events were seen as a rare opportunity. Within days, he stood before CEOs and board of directors to propose the F.E.L.I.N.E. program.
The project found its origins from other highly guarded initiatives, never publically disclosed. However, it was not uncommon in those days for corporations to engage in underground biogenetics using unethical bioengineering practices. As long as the potential for profit could be argued, ethical and moral research practices did not restrain the scope of research and development. As for the F.E.L.I.N.E. program, it was hinted at possible military involvement, but eventually, the project was put on hold in the early stages of embryonic testing.
Dr. Souveir proposed to the board of directors a plan to introduce one of his specimens into the ship's corridors, a genetically modified member of the Felis catus Felis species. Relying heavily on the boasts of his inexpensive manufacturing process of high-quality designer animals, he mesmerized the chairmen like the car salesmen of old. He sold them with claims of a product adapted to space travel, engineered with enhanced intelligence, and endowed with superior sensory capability, and increased stamina. It was the perfect solution. Everything the environmental pest control systems had to offer was contained within these small creatures for a fraction of the cost.
The F.E.L.I.N.E. program launched with immense success. The feline product was given full access to the ship during all standard operating periods such as departures, inter-flight active duty, docking approaches, and any other times that crew revival was required. A single feline was capable of keeping an entire ship clear of vermin. If any rodent dared to step foot on the decks of a ship patrolled by a product of the F.E.L.I.N.E. program, it would be dealt with swiftly and efficiently. It wasn't long before every ship was assigned its own F.EL.I.N.E. to serve as mascot and custodian to its long and dark corridors.
Part Three
The ship rested on the surface of the small and barren planetoid. For the past fourteen hours, its hull was battered by massive gusts of wind carrying debris from a hostile and cold atmosphere. Within its pressurized walls, the cat sat on a cushion in one of the several lounging cubicles in the galley. He was mindful of every nook and corner of the mess hall. He was nervous about all the recent activity. The humans were on edge too. He could tell. The rough landing on the planetoid's surface shook and rocked the ship and ended with explosions, smoke, and alarms. He had had enough of this disruption to his routine. He retreated to module twelve on C-level to try to take a nap in his secret, safe spot.
He sensed it even before he had completely awoken from his slumber. It confused him at first. Something had entered his territory. He felt it with his finely tuned senses. The sensation seared his nerves. It tingled with a strange vibration; so unfamiliar to him, so alien; yet he knew it was dangerous and an enemy.
It was absent of scent, and its presence flickered in and out of awareness; still, it aggravated his senses so persistently. He rose slowly. His ears flattened, and he dashed into one of the ship's networks of service shafts installed just for him. These passageways allowed him to gain access to anywhere he needed to go to perform his duties.
He poked his head out into the staging area of the main airlock. A commotion had caught his attention. He felt the irregular presence even more intensely here but could not see anything. The source of this intruder continued to evade him, in spite of its proximity. He watched as the hatch to the inner airlock slid open and the humans rushed in to help one of their companions. He seemed to be injured. The cat's focus studied each person in the airlock passageway. Something was wrong with one of them, but he saw nothing that would trigger his senses so harshly. He hunted and searched with the skill second to none. There was no doubt; something was on the ship (his ship). Something was hiding from him; something very good at hiding.
Suddenly, it was gone; it snapped into nothingness as if it were never there. It was as if the intruder needed time to adapt to its new environment and adjust its ability to cloak itself. The cat had missed his opportunity. The presence had disappeared, leaving the cat confused and uncertain.
The next day, the cat continued his constant prowling of the ship's decks. Exiting an upper-level observation station he froze when the presence once again erupted into his awareness. In the distance, he could hear the panicked cries from the others, intermixed with a scream of agony. He sprinted towards the sounds at full speed. It was time to deal with this mysterious intruder.
He flew past his crewmates, barely taking notice of the stunned looks of horror each one had plastered on their bloodied faces. The galley was coated in a thick layer of blood and viscera. It had sprayed out in all directions from the body sprawled out across the table. Squirts of bloodshot up into the air from torn arteries and blood vessel from the massive hole in the man's chest. His body and face were still contorted in agony from the last moments of his life. The cat followed the large pools of blood and entrails the creature had dragged out of the body when it made its quick exit. He followed the gory trail to an opening of a small service shaft. The cat paused. Adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream. Every nerve in his sleek and slender body was on fire, and he entered the dark shaft.
The hunt had begun.
Part Four
Three levels down, the cat slowly entered the partially opened hatch. The "C" Level equipment maintenance area contained rows of old and battered equipment stacked on partially assembled machinery. Dripping water from the coolant system fell from above and echoed over the deep, rhythmic hum of the massive engine drive. The cat walked under the erratic "cling, cling" of chains slightly swaying from the upper level. So many sounds called out, but the silence underneath overwhelmed them all.
The cat took in the environment and was aware of the tiniest of sounds. As a skilled hunter, he could feel and see everything all around, for it vibrated the air like an insect struggling in a spider web. The reverberations caused ripples of color to form waves that expanded out creating shapes and scents and sounds. They were vibrant colors that the man never knew existed and would never be able to see. To the cat, it was a familiar sight and gave him vast amounts of information about his surroundings.
The cat walked behind the rows of shadowed equipment, following the sound, looking for its source. His whiskers were long and rigid; capable of detecting micro-changes in air density from the minutest of movements.
The maintenance compartment ended at a short service tunnel connected to a massive room that housed one of the ship's retracted landing gears. The condensation from the engine's heat fell like a light rain. Large, dirty and oily gears and servos lined the chamber walls with a myriad of thick and ribbed cables interwoven throughout the machinery. The landing gear stood tall in the center of the room, cradled by filthy jointed arms of several undercarriage support struts. In the corner annex, movement from an unusual shape caught the cat’s keen eyes. Coiled in a ball, it sat within a groove of the lower portion of the landing gear.
The cat froze and flattened himself to the ground. His piercing yellow eyes, studied the beast from bottom to top, looking for any weakness or advantage.
The creature was thin but long like a cobra. Its skin was still moist and glistened from coats off congealed blood from its former host. It had no legs, and it had no eyes, but two small arms with hands of needle-like fingers were at its side. Its long, slender body appeared soft, but it was lined with bulges and striations, revealing it was simply one long and powerful muscle from the tip of tail to the fang of mouth.
Instinct had always been the cat's ally. It provided him with instruction on how to hunt and fight. It told him what to fear and when to attack. For the first time, it was silent, and the cat was afraid. However, the fear lasted only moments, for it is nearly impossible to scare a true feline into inaction. It was his business in life to watch over his territory without consideration to the manner of the trespasser or how alien the creature.
He knew what needed to be done. He knew where he must strike. His jump and his bite must be perfect. It was its back he must break. But he must be careful. He could smell poison in its veins of such toxic and noxious concentrations he feared even a single drop would mean his death. His bite must be powerful and precise, but not directed and the delicate flesh under its jaw. No, his strike must land on the back of its head where the skull meets its backbone.
The monster was still and coiled in a corner over a container of old and dirty tools and equipment. Its abdomen was heaving deeply until it regurgitated a straw-colored, viscous mucus over the objects. The thick, sap-like fluid slowly ran down the surface of the objects and onto the floor. Wispy streams of smoke begun to rise from the glistening coat of slime that covered the metal and plastic objects. Gradually, the objects began to melt away and collapse as the atomic bonds of the material shattered and separated.
The snake-like creature lowered its head into the smoking pit and began to ingest dark sludge. The time to attack was at hand! This was the moment to strike! Every muscle in the feline's body tensed. Muscle fibers pulled and contracted, building up as much energy as possible. He pushed off the ground, releasing an explosion of speed. The cat hurled his body through the air and launched himself towards the unsuspecting beast. The whole of his attention, the entirety of his being focused on one spot; on one target—the base of the creature's skull.
The cat bit down hard on the leathery skin and kicked hard with his hind legs against its lower back. The loud, satisfying snaps of vertebrae separating and shattering should have rung out. It did not. The creature gave a high pitched scream of pain as it rolled and thrashed violently to the side, taking the cat with it. As the two tumbled and crashed into equipment, its slender body wrapped itself around the cat's body and squeezed.
The loud snapping of the cat's ribs and femurs from the constricting of the creature’s thick body should have rung out. It too did not. Although the creature was incredibly strong with the ability to shatter a human’s sternum, it had not realized the power of the cat’s blow. It had not been in vain and had inflicted injury on the beast. Hindered, the creature's ability to constrict itself was significantly lessened. It hissed as it used what strength it could muster to the squeeze the reaming air out of the cat's lungs.
The cat’s chest burned from lack of oxygen. With his mouth still firmly clamped onto the beast’s hide, he couldn’t even let out a growl of frustration. The two adversaries were at a stalemate. It was only a matter of whose will was stronger and whose necessity was greater: the cat's need for breath or the creature's desire to overcome its injury and kill. Misfortune had entered the game, and its gaze fell upon the cat, for when a slight burn began to emerge in the cat's mouth, he had no other choice but to relent and release his bite from the creatures hide. If he had not, he would get a mouthful of its toxic and acidic blood from the wound.
The cat continued to kick with all his might, each landing hard against the creature's injured spine, but each blow became weaker. With the last of his strength, he kicked off the floor giving him the leverage to twist his center of gravity and reposition himself as they crashed into shelving and containers. Under the rain of tools and spare parts, the cat now had his full body weight pressed down on the abdomen and head of the long creature still wrapped around his torso. The cat pushed down hard, violently expelling the air out the beast. It tried to scream but found it could not. Its struggles became more pronounced; it did not like this change in superiority. To the cat’s surprise, the creature released its grip and quickly uncoiled its body. Instantly, it disengaged from the cat's torso and zipped into a cluttered panel littered with wires and conduits. It scurried up the wall and emerged overhead on top of a support strut. It perched high above, looking down on the grated floor. It glanced longingly at its slurry crater of the melted material then glared back at his foe. Before disappearing into the dark shaft above, it gave a long and furious shriek of hate and anger towards the cat.
Part Five
The cat looked up into the air duct shafts within the steel framework where the corpulent tail had disappeared. He stood and fixated on the dark openings with perfect stillness, a trait not obtained from the modifications or tinkering of a lab. This was the work of millions of years of evolution and natural selection.
It was still up there. Although he could not understand the concepts or ponder over this strange creature's biology; the cat knew it was rapidly changing. It was growing. Even now, its presence was quickly fading from the cat's awareness. His senses were designed to hunt and track prey, and it was becoming something that nature dictated was no longer prey to him. However, the cat was wise enough to understand the change in perspective did not go both ways. It would most definitely hunt him down and kill him if it so desired.
The cat also was aware that something else had changed; his gaze broke from the upper levels and now peered at the slurry mess of metallic sludge left behind. The expelled enzymes from within the creature had run its course, no longer smoking or sizzling. The little beast had been feeding. It only had the opportunity for maybe one or two mouthfuls before its feeding was interrupted.
It was growing now. Soon, when it emerges from its metamorphosis in its adult form, some will be stunned by its greatness. It might be admired for its purity and structural perfection, matched only by its hostility. Others might hold admiration for its unclouded conscience and envy its nature. A nature devoid of remorse or delusions of morality. And some may even go so far as to say without a doubt, it was the "perfect organism". They would be wrong. It will not be "perfect". Yes, it will be powerful, but only a mere shadow of what it was meant to be.
In considering this beast, one must look at the "nature" of Nature herself. She is precise, elegant, and full of ingenuity. She has endless variety at her disposal. She is also mad, malicious, and insane with tendencies to inflict unimaginable pain and suffering upon those who are unable to adapt to her ever-changing moods. She is capable of extreme and pointless acts of violence, and destruction upon her creations. All must love her, respect her, and fear her. Now, if such an entity did exist in some tangible persona and it poured all its rage and insanity into one organism, it might have looked something like this creature. Nevertheless, in all its potential for perfection and greatness, one requirement hand not been satisfied. It must feed before its final metamorphosis into adulthood.
It had failed. The window of opportunity to consume the available nutrients from its surroundings was narrow and could not be missed. It had been given the enzymes capable of breaking down any type of metallurgic matter at the atomic level into nutrient-dense molecules. This would fuel its rapid growth and provide nourishment during this critical time of development. Unable to do this, the creature would enter the metamorphosis in a nutrient-deficient state, severely impairing its development and growth.
Instead of a body that could move in complete silence with stealth and grace, it would now be slow and awkward in shape and form. A black, armored exoskeleton of razors, harder than the steel of the ship's bulkhead would be soft and easily bruised with a sickly green hue. The strong and rigid tail, capped with a bladed tip would not whip or snap or stab at its victims. It would drag uselessly and limply from behind, absent of almost all dexterity. Gone would be the primal rage that defined its species. Absent of its bloodlust and frenzy induced fury, it would take a more reserved approach, hiding within the darkness and moving silently in the shadows. It would be patient, using stealth to pick off its prey one at a time.
As the last of his perceptions of the alien creature flickered out of existence, the cat turned and carried his battered body out the dark chamber. He looked up into the ventilation system one final time before exiting. He knew it was growing up. He also knew it would be a fraction of what it could have been. However, there was no doubt, it was still a very powerful and savage beast.
Exhausted, the cat found a quiet and isolated compartment to rest and recuperate. Beginning to relax, the cat began to clean his orange and yellow coat. He pondered the day's events and accepted the battle had not been won, but neither had it been lost. Maybe, just maybe; through his efforts, the humans on board would now stand a chance at survival. Maybe the balance had been tipped just enough in their favor for some of them to survive the approaching nightmare about to descend upon them.
He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Sadness lightly settled upon him just before sleep took him away. He knew this creature that had trespassed on his ship brought destruction with it, and this place had very little time left. This giant collection of metal and circuitry and plastic would soon be no more. It had been his home for most of his life, and he had defended it and kept it safe and free from all invaders during that time. When sleep eventually did arrive, regret did not occupy his thoughts. It was pride. He relived his epic battle in his mind and knew without a doubt he had fought with tooth and nail and with speed and bounce. He had faced a creature, honed and fine-tuned by nature to be the perfect killing machine and still, he came away from the battle with both his head and tail held high. Today, he met his purpose in life and honored his mandate that while paw walked upon steel, never would a transgressor go unchallenged within the corridors of his ship.
The cat slept and began to dream.
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Jaime sits down with Perfect Organism team member Conar Murdoch to discuss his original fan fiction work, Aliens: Home. As with most of our Fandom Spotlight interviews, Jaime and Conar dive into those first memories of the Alien series, the prequels, and the road ahead. Conar reads a selection from his work. It’s gripping stuff. Keep on the lookout for the next Proximity entry as it will be based around one of Conar’s stories.
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Perfect Organism Podcast host Jaime sits down with artist and creator Michael Scudieri to discuss his original comic, Ash: A Fan Fiction. Michael discusses the genesis for his project, his earliest memories of the Alien series, and more. We hope you enjoy.