Swallower of Anger

My partner seemed to remember his manners because he introduced us to the lab tech.

"Sorry, we got distracted by those things. I'm Devon Hart and this is my partner Nichole Shain. We're here to see the sights," he said, offering to shake hands.

"Oh, yes. I'm Doctor Miranda Shepherd, but most call me Mindy. I've been studying the xenomorphs for years, so please feel free to ask me anything," she responded, shaking Devon's hand.

I nodded in greeting and said, "What do you think is making them restless?"

"They probably want to expand the nest since we've been offering them more hosts," Mindy said wistfully.

She really rubbed me the wrong way, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why. The reverence she held for those abominations and her dreamy expression just didn't vibe well.

Mindy continued. "They stopped reproducing weeks ago and have been eating the possible hosts we bring in. We stopped because it was a waste and they already get fed regularly."

"What, you use like cows or something for hosts? Goats?" Devon asked.

"No," Mindy said. "Death row inmates."

I couldn't withhold my outrage. "You're using HUMANS? Who signed off on that?"

"Well, we were using livestock, but we lost all but one from the original capture, so we needed more xenomorphs that were created using human hosts. Death row inmates made the most sense." Mindy shrugged.

"That's cruel and unusual punishment!" I insisted. "Don't they have families? People who want to watch the execution for . . . closure?"

"Yeah, that seems . . . extreme," Devon added.

Mindy seemed taken aback, like she hadn't expected to be given the third degree when she walked into work. For a second, she even seemed confused by our dissent.

It took a moment for her to gather his thoughts, and then she said, "Well, I suppose . . . We do take volunteers, but mostly we're signed off for anyone who wants to be cremated. The family or witnesses watch a fake execution where the inmate is put under anesthesia so it looks like they died, then they're brought here."

"Still, that's really uncomfortable," Devon insisted.

"And such an awful way to die! Are you really content letting them suffer like that? At least lethal injection isn't torture," I pointed out.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," Mindy assured us. "They're given heavy sedatives and sleep through the whole thing. It's all in the name of science, and they're at their best when they use humans as hosts! Our genetics mesh so well with theirs."

"What does that mean?" Devon asked.

I felt like I was forgetting something, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Oh, they really are fascinating creatures! Just look." Mindy scurried to her computer and tapped furiously on her keyboard. "I'll put it on one of the screens."

When Devon and I turned around, one of the live feeds had switched over to an x-ray photo of a chestburster nestled in someone's chest cavity, curled up in a tight ball.

My chest ached with sympathy pains.

"You see here, you can see where the nymph has attached to the lungs and heart," Mindy said, coming over to point at the screens. "These little veins feed off the host and nourish it while also performing a sort of genetic patch job."

"Genetic patch job?" Devon, repeated.

Mindy nodded. She was way too enthusiastic about all of this for my liking, but Devon was eating it up like a curious child.

"During gestation, it's not only feeding off the host but is transferring DNA to its own, incomplete genetic make-up. That's why the drones in there look different from the warriors," said Mindy as she returned to her computer.

In place of the x-ray came photos of different xenomorphs. "See these? They were born through goats instead of humans, and these were the ones born from inmates."

The goat drones were smaller, grayer with blunted feet and nimble, quadruped stances. Meanwhile, the warriors were taller, stood erect, and had clawed hands and feet.

My gaze shifted from the screen to another where a drone was rubbing its face against the camera's glass shield. I wrinkled my nose and stopped staring.

"Do all the xenos from animal hosts become drones? Are humans the only proper hosts for warriors?" I asked.

"No." Mindy shook her head and smiled at the glass enclosure. "The queen here was actually born from a cow."

All the color drained from my face and I remembered that which I had forgotten—the queen. If they had hosts, they had eggs, and if they had eggs, then . . .

"You . . . you have a queen?" I said in shock.

Mindy's face lit up and she said, "Of course we do, silly! Would you like to see her? Oh, she's magnificent!"

"No, I—"

"Ohh, sure!"

I shot Devon a sour look but he wasn't paying me any attention.

"Very good! We'll see if I can wake her up. She always responds so well to my voice," Mindy said with glee as she moved to a different console.

The more I spoke to this woman the more I hated her. How could she feel anything but disgust toward these awful things? Was I really so bias or was everyone else fucking idiots?

Devon, I could forgive. He was curious about everything and didn't know how awful these things were. With Mindy working so close to them, she should have hated them just as much as me.

Right?

Mindy pushed a button over by the window and spoke into the speaker. "Melvin, be a dear and patch me into the cage. I want to speak to Momma."

"'Momma'?" I repeated incredulously.

"That's what we call her," Mindy giggled.

My skin crawled.

One of the lab techs below looked up and gave a salute. He worked at his computer for a moment and then made a motion with his hand to tell Mindy everything was ready to go.

Grinning wide, Mindy spoke into the microphone. "Momma? Wake up, Momma. We have visitors!"

Something stirred inside. I stepped back to watch the monitors with Devon. A piercing sound reverberated through the entire observation room, echoing from within the chamber itself. The xenomorphs obscuring the cameras scattered and then a massive shape shuffled into view.

Her head took up the entire screen and you still couldn't see the whole thing.

Mindy returned to her computer and pulled some more pictures on one of the TVs, this time of the queen. Some were blurry snapshots from inside the enclosure, others were of her laid out and sedated for some sort of procedure.

The whole lab was about two floors below us, maybe as large as a stadium. The queen would have been able to look us in the eyes without having to stretch.

"My god . . . she's huge! Nichole—did you—are you fucking serious?" He stared at me in shock, whistling low in awe.

"I had some help with mine, and she wasn't nearly this big . . . ," I muttered, pale-faced and suddenly uncertain.

It had taken three of us to kill the fist queen, and that was when she was tired. We'd still almost died. This one . . . this was one was huge. Older. Stronger. I would have no choice but to burn her to death in that tank.

"Still," he muttered, shaking his head.

"How did you get a queen?" I demanded. "All you had were drones and warriors and dead bodies. Where did that thing come from?"

Mindy huffed. "Momma came from one of the first we were able to breed. Her host was a cow. The one drone infected a cow and three goats, the other infected two goats. Regular members of the hive have a limited amount of fetuses to ensure the continuing of the species in case of a queen's death."

The pieces were all coming together. The Echo had been carrying a chestburster when it infiltrated the ship, passed it on, that became a queen and the whole thing had kicked off.

They were the definition of "invasive species".

"How many are in there right now?" Devon asked.

"Momma, four warriors, and a dozen drones. That's on top of the three and a half dozen eggs we have locked up."

"How do you get the eggs from them?" I asked Mindy.

She indicated to a computer down in the laboratory. "We can put them to sleep using a very heavy sedative. They're carbon-based thanks to the genetic patch job they use during gestation, so our tranquilizers do work at high dosages."

It was Devon's turn to ask a question. "And how did Momma go from cow to queen?"

"Oh, she was born as a warrior originally, along with two others from the goats. Of course, she came from a much larger mammal, so she had a distinct advantage. After all the new xenomorphs matured, they started fighting," she explained, still facing the enclosure.

"The drones didn't do any fighting, but the warriors were vicious. The two older, human-born drones died, and the last was mortally wounded. Momma was victorious and earned some sort of right," Mindy continued. She put her hand against the glass. "Weeks later, she metamorphosed into what you see now."

I crossed my arms over my chest and shuddered. Momma was still shuffling around, trying to figure out who had been speaking to her. Did she really understand that someone had been calling her, or had she just reacted to the sound?

Mindy was still talking. "Her genetic makeup completely altered to what we assume is a pure specimen. There's no trace of cow DNA left in her at all. We can't take blood samples, but we can take skin scrapings."

One of the drones had moved underneath a camera and stood up to its full height rather than climbing up the wall. Its oblong head swung left and right, then settled straight ahead.

Even without eyes, and despite the fact I was staring at it through a television screen, I felt like it was looking right at me. I held its not-gaze without blinking.

"So, you started using human trials how long after that?" Devon asked.

"About seven months. Only four hosts, though. After that, they stopped taking them and just killed. They must feel like they don't have adequate space," Mindy replied with a sigh. "I can't wait until we can get them a bigger enclosure . . . maybe something outdoors."

I didn't look away from the drone, and after a moment or two it backed down and scurried out of range.

"So, what are you going to do? How much do you possibly have left to learn from them?" I asked. "Eventually you'll learn everything and destroy them, right?"

Mindy gave me a sharp look. "What? No! We won't destroy them. In fact, we already have plans to move them somewhere. A third party company is paying us to move them to San Francisco. Oh, it'll be wonderful!"

"What?" The word was a whisper on my lips.

"It's so very exciting. I'm not sure what this company wants, but they've promised to transfer me with them, and they said there will be enough space to let them breed as much as they want . . ."

Devon sat at the edge of the table. "What company is paying for that?"

Though she had to think about it for a moment, Mindy eventually said, "I believe it's Weyland, the tech company. They've been funding a lot of our research while they build their facility."

"What? How do they even know about the aliens?" I demanded.

"They fund a lot of our research in exchange for technology from our otherworldly visitors. To give them that competitive edge," Mindy responded.

I leaned back, unsatisfied, then turned on my heel and marched out of the room. My pulse thudded in my skull and footsteps chased after me. I ignored them and shoved through the observation deck's door.

"Hey wait!" Devon called after me.

Despite my better judgment, I stopped and turned toward him. "What?"

"You feeling okay?"

"Yes."

He stared at me in disbelief and I sighed.

"I just think this is shitty and trying to move them is too risky. Out on the road, anything could go wrong. Especially with that queen in there," I said.

His eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder. "You think she'd cause problems?"

"I know she would. The one I helped kill was younger, smaller, and we still barely made it out of that fight alive. I don't know how smart they are, but I'm willing to bet they're smarter than we think," I said.

"That still doesn't explain why you left in a huff like that.

"I couldn't take Mindy anymore. There's something wrong with that woman," I huffed, calling the elevator. "They way she talked about them, almost like she admired them . . ."

Devon nodded and said, "Yeah it was kind of weird. The science types tend to be like that, though. If they weren't interested, they wouldn't do it, yeah?"

"I guess."

We climbed into the waiting elevator and, Devon said, "I'm sure they'll make sure nothing goes wrong. I mean, they've gotta know how bad these things are and what would happen if they got loose. An alien infestation is the last thing anyone wants."

"You better hope they know what they're doing," I sighed.

The elevator shook to a stop and we stepped out onto the main floor and headed back toward our desks. "Why'd you want to work for the agency if you hate these aliens so much, anyway?"

"Well . . ." I tried to think of a good answer and settled on, "I just hate those particular aliens. I don't think all aliens are so bad. Besides, I didn't know what else I was going to do with my life knowing what I know."

Devon gave a sage nod and failed to stifle a smile. "Ah, you want to learn about your mystery alien, the one that helped you survive that first hive. You know they're trying to track them down and capture one, right? How do you feel about that?"

We sat down and I fired up my laptop It had lasted me all through college and was still going strong. "I know. I would have tried to get on that task force, but they'd already chosen everyone before I'd been hired."

"Ah yeah, they assemble the avengers pretty early, don't they?" Devon remarked. "I think they actually deployed a couple of months ago, already. I'm not sure where. Europe, I think. Maybe Russia?"

"Those are two different places." I looked up from my game of Solitaire long enough to give him a withering look.

"Well, I don't know." He waved a pen in my direction. "I'm not a part of their exclusive club so I'm not exactly privy to their news. All I know is they said something about mysterious deaths."

"Yeah, I remember hearing about. I wonder how it's going for them," I said, distracted.

There was a possibility that another predator was out there somewhere, killing. Though I couldn't condone the senseless murder of fellow humans, I also didn't want them to get a hold of one the predators.

I wouldn't even wish that on Brutus, knowing what waited for one. Experiments, interrogation, biopsies . . . it sounded awful.

"You gonna apply for a position in ten years when it happens again?" he asked, filtering through his paperwork.

"I don't know," I said. It wasn't likely that I'd still be on Earth, let alone with the FBI.

"Well here's to hoping." He lifted an imaginary glass in a mock toast.

I rolled my eyes at him.

Conversation dwindled and I rotated in my chair, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Now I had an idea of what I was dealing with, and how to destroy the xenomorphs. I wasn't worried about the consequences of destroying them, as I'd likely just call Wolf afterward and hope he picked me up.

My issue was finding an opportunity when the least amount of people would be in the lab. Would I need to create a distraction? Draw them out and then flash the lab? Maybe I would just have to wing it and hope for the best.

Was I going to have to sacrifice some people to get what I wanted?

Could I live with myself if I did that?

They were innocent and unsuspecting. Not only would that be cold-blooded murder of the highest order, but I doubted Wolf would approve, either.

If he knew there was a hive down here, though, maybe he would.

Sometimes I wondered if I should have just taken his offer when he'd presented it. Would it have been easier to go with him if I hadn't thought about it too much? It was too late to go back now, though. Almost eight years too late.

But I couldn't help but wonder if I still wanted to go.

Now I'd had time to think about it. Now I'd had even more time to second guess and overthink. Did I want to go? Was I better here?

/Just a little longer/, I would often tell myself. /You'll think of something./

If I didn't . . . well, I could just live out my life like a human. When I thought about it, I realized I didn't have such a bad life. Most of the time I was behind a desk, filling out paperwork and waiting for a case to pop up. I had a decent one-bedroom apartment and made enough money to live comfortably and pay my bills.

I had fast food, an annoying but otherwise pleasant partner. No friends, though. I'd estranged myself from my family . . . I could fix that, though. Start making friends and call my family more often . . .

The snapping of fingers pulled me from my thoughts and I whirled around, eyes wide as I sucked in a sharp breath.

Devon let out a surprised "Woah!" and chuckled at me, his hands raised slightly in a defensive posture.

I scoffed and readjusted my shirt. "You know not to pull shit like that."

"Sorry!" His hands were still up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I've been trying to talk to you for like 90 seconds, though."

Lowering my hackles, I let out a breath. "Alright, sorry, what?"

He sat back down, his eyebrows raised. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink later or something, after work. Richard and Lucas invited me earlier."

It wasn't the first time he'd given me an invitation like that. It probably wouldn't be the last. I rubbed my forehead and stared at my keyboard, idly tapping the start key over and over while I searched for an excuse on why I couldn't go.

"I don't know. I'm probably going to hit the gym after work and I need to do some grocery shopping before I starve to death," I said at last.

Lame as far as excuses go.

Devon smirked. "You outta sandwich meat or something?"

"Ha ha," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "No, I'm out of literally everything. I'll take a rain check though, so maybe next time."

His face fell and he swiveled in his chair. "Whatever you say. You can just tell me you don't want to spend time with anyone from the office outside of work hours, you know. No one will take offense. Plenty of people don't mix work with pleasure."

"It's not that," I insisted. "I really do just need to go grocery shopping."

"Whatever you say." He grabbed his paperwork and aligned the sheets. "Just let me know if you change your mind."

I nodded, trying not to look him in the face, and tapped my pen against the top of my computer. "Sure. You'll be the first to know."

That was the only thing missing. Social life. With the promise of an alien waiting for my call, to take me away on a space adventure, I had isolated myself.

The office was not unlike high school. If I wanted, I could slide in with some of the groups that formed and make friends. I'd forbidden myself from something as simple as making friends, though. After all, if I had no one I cared about on Earth, it would be easy to leave.

So then why?

Why was I suddenly filled with all this indecision? Go—don't go. Kill the xenomorphs—it'd be too hard to find a way to do that . . .

My fists clenched and unclenched. This had all seemed so simple before I'd started coming with a serious plan. I was days away from executing the one thing I'd been working for the better part of my life, and here I was . . . hesitant and unsure. Nervous, afraid.

I was standing at the precipice, another huge decision that would affect the rest of my life for better or for worse.

But I wanted to see Wolf again. That much I was absolutely certain about.