Old Acquaintance

It wasn't aliens waiting for us in that cockpit.

Crimson coated the walls and control panel in thick spatters, dark and shimmering under the glare of our flashlights. The pilots sat in their seats, slumped forward and unmoving.

Their faces had been mauled beyond recognition, their chests cleaved and rent into gorey ribbons. The very seats upon which they sat were shredded and full of holes, their fabric hanging by threads.

Devon gagged and ducked out, his arm obscuring his face as if that was going to block out the acrid, coppery stench of stale death. I heard him mutter "What the fuck!" under his breath.

I remained standing in the doorway, frozen and nauseated, my own sleeve drawn over my nose and mouth.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen blood, and it wouldn't be the last time, but it hadn't been anything like this. Never so angry. I hadn't known the xenomorphs to maul people like this.

When a chestburster breaks out, that was plenty gruesome, but the scene before me, that was something else entirely.

It was rage. It was vengeance.

To think that those beasts were capable of such deliberate wrath was beyond me. It wasn't like they didn't have a reason to be furious and full of hate, I just hadn't thought them smart enough or developed enough to express it.

From outside the cockpit, Devon asked,"Was there anyone else on this flight?"

"I can only imagine there had to be guards or something," I murmured.

"So where are they?"

All I could do was shake my head.

Devon, his hands on his hips, beckoned me to leave the pilot area. "I didn't see any bodies, not even any xenos. Just that one limb. Maybe a crushed corpse under the unit."

"We'll have to look harder," I sighed.

After a bit of rummaging in the dark, Devon scoffed and said, "That's it, my allergies are gonna murder me before any alien does."

"Allergies?" I said incredulously.

"I'm gonna find a door or something to open and get some fresh air," he said, ignoring me. Or maybe he didn't hear me.

I motioned in the direction of the hole. "Just go out the way we came in."

"I'm not crawling through that thing again," he harrumphed.

Groaning, I rolled my eyes and picked my way back through the fallen crates and over melted holes in the hull until Devon and I made our way to the back where the loading ramp was.

All we had to do was find a way to open it.

Without really thinking, I attempted to kick open the cargo hatch—bad idea. The pain had me on the ground, holding my leg to my chest and teeth gnashing.

Devon had had all of two seconds to babble a protest, and he was at my side in an instant, helping me back up to my feet.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Devon asked.

"I thought it would open easy like the cockpit door did," I whined.

"My god, Nichole, you know better than that."

"Oh shut up!"

He made a patronizing clucking sound and left me there to nurse my wounded ego, walking toward the door. Using his flashlight, he examined the wall around it and the hinges.

I couldn't see what he was doing, but there was a whole lot of banging before the door finally started to open manually with Devon pulling on a chain.

"See? Easy peasy. There was a latch. There's probably a control switch somewhere, but there's no chance it has any power right now," he said.

Silently, I mocked him while his back was turned.

Once the ramp was all the way down, he rejoined me. "You need any help limping out of here, gimpy?"

"I have everything under control," I hissed through clenched teeth, hobbling to the large bay door so I could exit.

Devon marched along behind me, shaking his head the entire time. "Still don't know what would have possessed you to kick it down. This thing is huge . . . it would never have worked even if you didn't have a bum leg."

Heat burned my neck and cheeks and I was thankful for the dark. "Just drop it you piece of shit."

"Woah, no need for such hostility," he chuckled, walking past me and around the plane. Glowering, I followed him, still rubbing my leg and trying to walk straight.

We found a place where I could sit and he took a few deep breaths of mountain air, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Didn't realize you had allergies," I mentioned.

He shrugged. "Doesn't come up often. I'm good about taking some antihistamines but I didn't expect to have a flair up in the winter like this."

Upon closer inspection, he was a but red-faced and was sniffling.

"Well, we'll let it air out a bit, let the dust settle, and get back to it," I said, grateful for a break. My leg could use it.

Thanks to the myriad of surgeries I'd undergone, my knee was at 90% functionality and the other leg was pretty much like it always had been. However, I still had to watch myself or else my knee would get bad.

Kicking that door certainly hadn't helped.

"Alright, want to have a look around for any of the other bodies?" Devon asked after a while.

"I suppose we should. Then we'll have to call Hassan and update him," I said, standing up and brushing dirt off the seat of my pants.

Devon showed me his phone. "I've been texting him. Or trying to . . . signal is intermittent at best."

"Yeah, it's going to be like that out here."

He wasn't bothered. "They'll go through eventually, when the signal comes back."

Back to business, I looked around and pointed in a direction. "You go that way and I'll go this way."

"What happened to sticking together?" he teased.

"We'll cover more ground, but stay within earshot. Shout something every five minutes or I'll come hunt you down," I said, meeting his eyes with a serious expression.

"Sure, sure, alright let's do this."

The two of us headed in opposite directions around the crash site. I checked the ground, the tree tops, anywhere a body might have been flung during the crash.

Since it was just the two of us, I was confident we would have already been swarmed with drones if they were nearby. They'd been transporting a good dozen or so, outnumbering us by quite a bit.

But that also meant they could have infiltrated Gunnison.

Every five minutes, Devon would shout: "Something!" into the night, letting me know he was still around.

My response was always, "You're an idiot!"

It was our thing.

Eventually, he called out a different phrase: "I got some blood here!

I followed the sound of his voice and waving of his light until we were together again. He punted it out to me, but I could clearly see it from quite a few feet away.

Though its glow had dulled with time, it stood out like a sore thumb—fluorescent green blood.

Jailbreak.

My hair stood on end and without a word, I frantically searched the entire area, looking for more of the blood until I spotted it on a bush—a pinprick beacon against the black-green of the forest.

"What's it look like? Walked out or dragged out? This is your predator, yeah?" Devon asked, following along with me.

I nodded. "This is his blood, yeah. I'm not sure, though . . ."

Spinning around slowly, I tried to get a feel for what might have happened. The depression in the ground, any breakage of the foliage . . . I wasn't a good enough tracker to piece the clues together.

"Might have been thrown, might have walked . . . I can't tell, but I don't think he was dragged," I said at last.

"What was the name you gave him again? Jailbait?" Devon wondered.

"JailBREAK," I corrected, exasperated.

"Right, right. Okay, let's figure out which way he went."

I tried to get a mental picture of the scene. "We came from in front of the crash and saw no signs, so we should go this way."

Devon agreed and we were off, following the trail of debris and destruction wrought when the plane made landfall.

More and more green droplets of blood showed up as we traveled. Despite the feeling of jelly in my legs and dull throb from when I'd kicked the door, I convinced myself to move faster.

This was nothing compared to what Jailbreak had to go through.

"Where are you? Give me something, anything," I muttered to myself, sweeping my light frenetically across the ground and up in the trees.

"You say something?" Devon asked, distracted by his own search.

I shook my head.

Several feet to my left, I spotted the spatter of vivid green across a tree trunk. I stumbled over a rock in my haste to move toward it, but kept my footing and steeled myself against the pain.

"Hey, careful," Devon admonished. I ignored him.

Wading through the bushes, I came close to the tree when I kicked something solid yet soft.

I stopped short. My breath hitched. There was a body at my feet, but if I ignored it, pretended it wasn't there, then maybe . . . maybe . . .

"What's—oh. Ah, fuck . . ."

Devon approached and took my hand. "Here, c'mere," he said, trying to gently tug me away.

However, I was rooted to the spot. I didn't have to look see what it was; it was at the edges of my vision. The concentration of blood, the familiar contour of muscles drawn over a chiseled torso . . .

"Nichole, it's not your fault," Devon insisted.

Jailbreak was facedown in the foliage, partially covered by leafy branches that had fallen in the crash. Vivid green blood had pooled underneath him.

I freed myself from Devon's grasp and kneeled at the predator's side, trying to roll him over onto his back. Devon joined me and together we flipped the body over.

A bloodied hole gaped up at me from Jailbreak's chest, his splintered rib cage jagged with protruding bone.

"Ah, fuck," Devon said again.

His mask was gone, his mandibles spread and mouth open. A permanent roar of pain and rage. Captured by humans, strapped down and stripped of his gear and dignity.

Humiliated, abandoned by his peers and left on a planet in the hands of the enemy. His only hope had been a single, hapless human girl.

All of it ended in a death devoid of any honor.

And I'd been helpless to do anything about it.

There was no way he had stood any chance. The xenos would have shaken the sedative faster, regained their strength quicker. The crew would have taken his mask, replaced it with a hospital-grade plastic respirator by then.

The drones that survived the crash would have freed any facehuggers aboard. I didn't know how many they'd taken or how many survived the crash, but they were definitely out there.

Inside my chest, my heart constricted and I clutched the front of my jacket, teeth grinding—it was all I could do to keep from screaming in anger.

I took an unsteady step back and Devon supported me.

"Hey, it's alright," he said, holding me by the shoulders with my back to him.

"It's not," I croaked. "I should have done something."

"You did everything you could."

Shaking my head, I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. What could I say? That I should have stormed the place as a one-woman army to free him?

Devon was right. I'd done what I could, but the odds had been stacked against me from the start.

I felt an overwhelming sadness, though, knowing how awful Jailbreak's last moments were. That I hadn't been able to stop it, that I was so powerless.

My partner turned me around to look at him and gave me a gentle shake. "Hey, we gotta focus or else—"

Whatever he was gonna say was cut when he was suddenly heaved off the ground by an invisible force. We were wrenched apart and I stumbled on my ass while Devon was tossed aside like a ragdoll.

"Devon!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet.

Like a ghost, the immutable shape of another predator materialized, marching toward my partner. My heart skipped a beat and I stared, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.

My flashlight had been dropped during our forced separation, it's light angled just barely enough in the right direction to illuminate the looming warrior and my partner, now reaching for his sidearm.

That green, scaled skin . . . the squared shoulders and tumbling tresses . . . the way he walked . . . and that threatening snarl that made me shiver . . .

I came to my senses as Devon was hauled up by the throat, his toes barely scraping the ground as he kicked his legs. Nothing he did would going to do any good to free himself.

"Stop! Stop it!" I yelled, throwing myself between the two, one hand on the predator's chest and the other keeping those wrist blades at bay.

"Put him down," I demanded, glaring up at that impassive, familiar, scowling mask. "Put him down right NOW!"

Devon clawed at the fingers around his neck, his mouth gaping as he desperately tried to pull air into his lungs.

That intimidating gaze was shifted to me, but he didn't drop my partner.

"Wolf!" I screeched. "Put him DOWN! He's with me."

The two of us stared at each other while Devon slowly choked. Just as I was about to start beating in his chest, Wolf gave in and let Devon crash to the ground.

As he dropped to the ground, I crouched by his side and comforted him the best I could. He wheezed and choked, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

"It's alright . . . you okay?" I asked, rubbing his back.

He nodded and I sighed with relief.

Satisfied that Devon wasn't going to keel over, I stood to face Wolf. I made sure to keep between him and Devon while my partner recovered.

A pang of disappointment went through me: I felt like our reunion had been stolen.

No, not stolen. Postponed.

"You really came," I said quietly.

He was just as I remembered him.

Darkness obscured his intimidating form as he stood, oozing confidence, scant feet away from me. His squared shoulders, the way he held his weight and the small movements he made . . .

I felt at ease, safe in his presence. Though I was a bit worried that Devon was in danger, I still knew everything was right now that Wolf was there.

He inclined his head, but he was keeping a watchful on Devon, who was still bent over behind me, trying to make himself seem non-threatening.

Then, he reached out and shook my shoulder. It was rattling, but I stood on my tiptoes to do the same thing in return. It brought a smile to my face, finding it difficult not to give him a hug.

I wasn't really sure how he'd take that.

I wasn't sure how DEVON would take it.

Wolf made a gesture at Devon and I remembered my manners. Leaning down, I helped my partner to his feet and checked to make sure he was okay, which he seemed to be.

A little shaken, but in one piece.

"Devon, this is Wolf," I said, my voice still somewhat shaky from adrenaline. "Wolf, this is Devon. My partner."

Wolf, though no longer hostile, suddenly started fronting with his shoulders squared and chest puffed out. Devon didn't move, either, but looked and felt ready for action.

I looked between the two, crushed by the tension, but I did my best to ignore the animosity sparking in the air.

Both I trusted with my life, but I wasn't sure I could trust their lives to one another. I had to, though.

Devon would likely know that he couldn't take Wolf, and I had to believe that Wolf wouldn't do anything to upset me. Hopefully.

"So he's the one who was on that ship with you," Devon said after a moment.

"Yes. The one who gave me the mark on my wrist."

It took a moment for him to digest that, his eyes never leaving Wolf for a moment. At last, he asked, "How did he know to be here?"

With a grimace, I said, "I . . . called him, I guess."

Devon finally tore his eyes off Wolf to round on me. "You did what now?"

"Wolf gave me a device that would call him if I needed him to come," I told him. "It's, uh, it's complicated."

"And you kept such a thing all these years?" he marveled, somehow sounding hurt.

His stung expression took me by surprise and I opened my mouth to say something but could think of nothing. What did he have to feel betrayed about?

I shook my head and found my voice. "I mean, yeah. I thought I . . . that maybe . . ."

/That I might let him take me away,/ I silently finished.

Sighing, I looked away. "Like I said, it's complicated."

I couldn't tell him. I was afraid he might cause a scene, might try to stop me. Afraid that if he did, he would succeed.

He could never know. Not until it was too late. I'd made up my mind and Devon would only ruin it.

By the look on his face, he might have already figured it out.

Wolf growled impatiently, cutting off whatever Devon was going to say. I motioned for Devon to stay put and pulled Wolf aside. A small thrill went through me when I took his arm.

"I'm so glad you came . . . I'll explain everything in just a moment, okay?" I said softly, glad he didn't chase me away.

Unconvinced, he growled and pointed at Devon.

"We work together. He's been my partner for a while now and is a good friend, too . . . Please, can you try to get along with him?"

Wolf grunted and said, in careful English, "No."