Shattered Dreams

This story takes place after the second movie, Aliens. And for the record, I objected strongly to the premise of the third movie; Ripley was too smart to not to take precautions. Morpheus is the Roman god of dreams. I know the category is Erotic Horror, but there's no sex herein, just a short and simple tale. Enjoy!

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The nightmares never seemed to stop. If anything, the events on LV426 had been worse than her fight aboard the star freighter. Standing in the bridge of the colonial marine transport, Ripley shuddered, the reality of the past few days sinking in.

The constant tension in her life worried her lean, and the trauma of her recent past never seemed to be further away than an eye-blink or a dream. With the ferocity and the unforgiving nature of her encounters with the aliens, Ripley could easily have hardened her outlook, and allowed herself to become bitter and harsh and unforgiving. She sighed, deliberately and slowly.

But then Rebecca Jordan had come into her life, cast away from her parents by their deaths, and thrust suddenly into Ripley's care. Then Ripley smiled to herself. She promised herself that she would ask Newt how she had acquired such a nickname. The girl had had enough trauma for several lifetimes and her's was only beginning. The blessings and adaptability of childhood had thus far served her well, but as Newt grew up, Ripley knew she'd have to help the child deal with the realizations that would come with adulthood.

Newt.

Ripley had come very close to being that hard-edged and tough woman, totally armored and safe from the world. But Newt had saved her. Just as she had gone into the void to rescue the child--no, her child now, she thought--Newt had given Ripley an emotional bond to fill the void of loneliness. Ripley's own daughter had grown up long ago. While Riply had slept and drifted in the stark reaches of space for fifty-seven years, Eileen had severed the bonds and simply moved on without her. And as Eileen had grown up without a mother, Ripley had lost a daughter to the cruelty of time and cryo-sleep. What could you say to a daughter who was physically thirty years older than you were? The awkward silences had spoken loudly enough to Ripley. And so Ripley clung to Newt protectively, as much for herself as for that little girl, as one dying of starvation would cling to a newly discovered cache of food. As Ripley eagerly filled Newt's needs, Ripley felt some measure of wholeness again, and thereby felt strong enough to handle the nightmarish burdens that haunted her sleep.

Adjusting her chair, Ripley punched in the last navigational codes to the computer. After putting Newt and Hicks into the cryo-sleep pods and seeing to the android Bishop, she had made a last, final round of the ship, checking over every nook and cranny carefully for the return voyage. She wanted nothing to interfere with their timely return home.

Ripley rose and left the bridge, moving down the corridor, back towards the cryo-sleep chamber. The ship was spartan, but what did you expect from Colonial Marines? And her own ship, the Nostromo, had been a freighter -- not exactly luxury in space.

Moving into the elevator, the pulse rifle slid down her shoulder. Ripley automatically readjusted it, mulling over her recent fight within the loading dock. The alien had clung to the outside of the attack shuttle, all the way to synchronous orbit! That was troubling. Did it mean these aliens could actually survive in the hard vacuum of space? After entering the ship, the creature had attacked Bishop, piercing him through and separating his lower trunk from his body. Then it had knocked her aside and vengefully chased after Newt. Ripley had destroyed the alien's egg chamber. She had not doubted the alien's cunning nature, but revenge bespoke real intelligence. It would bear remembering.

The new Bishop, too, had proved to be reliable after all. Even legless, with his synthetic chemicals oozing out onto the loading dock, Bishop had still had the sense of mind to save Newt from being sucked out the open hatch, desperately holding the child with one hand, and anchoring them both with the other. Hell, her own survival had been a close call! Even at the last, the alien had grabbed Ripley's boot, trying hard to return to the ship, or at least take Ripley along into the void of space. Yes, this android had been much better than the last.

Walking down the corridor to the cryo-sleep chamber, Ripley listened to the dull, hollow sound of her own footsteps. After putting Newt and the others to sleep, Ripley had made three complete ship-wide searches while fully armed. Now, after having checked the ship's stations a fourth time, she was ready to put herself into cryo-sleep. Some might think her paranoid, but these aliens were extremely resilient and incredibly dangerous. Seven months was a long time to stand vigil alone. Besides, she had rigged some motion sensors to monitor the cryo-sleep chamber as well as in the surrounding corridors, and tied them into the onboard computer. Any non-human form moving within the sensor grid would cause the cryo-sleep chamber doors to seal and revive her immediately.

Ripley smiled grimly. If an alien happened to remain on board, she would be ready. The pulse rifle, half a dozen clips of those ten-millimeter explosive-tipped caseless, a box of grenades, and fuel packs for the flame thrower would stand vigil, right beside her cryo-sleep pod.

As she entered the cryo-sleep chamber, Ripley glanced around, checking the sleeping forms of Hicks, Newt, and Bishop. Next, she carefully checked the sensor read-outs for the pods, and then the movement sensor data as well.

Everything read as expected. Good!

Ripley went to the locker she'd selected, stepped out of her coveralls and hung them up.

Returning to her cryo-pod, she carefully set the pulse rifle down before climbing onto the couch, attaching the electrode life-monitors to her chest and forehead. Once done, Ripley sighed—as much from exhaustion as from relief that they four had made it. Out of thirty-two marines, Hicks was the sole survivor of his unit.

Ripley knew that their very survival would cause ripples among the known worlds. Mankind was used to being the top hunter, the master manipulator of environments and animal life. As a species, human beings were not used to being actively hunted as a source of food and as hosts for alien larva—there were no myths to help deal with the terror of being hunted as if humans were a lesser life form. Society would have to become aware that other, arguably more adaptive beings competed for dominance with humans.

It was fortunate that Zeta Reticuli was so barren. An entire planet filled with those monsters did not bear thinking of. They would destroy any ecosystem they invaded. No myths yet, but for now, perhaps, the myths of war would suffice. Then Ripley muttered a prayer that the Company would give up its mad dreams of taking these foul creatures alive, and thereby risk infecting a world! Over her dead body, she resolved. She just hoped she would get the message out in case the Company tried to squash the evidence of the catastrophe.

Ripley lay down. The lid of the pod closed and sealed, filling the air with the colorless gases that aided the cryo-temperatures to work so effectively. Unconsciousness welled up from the depths, Morpheus riding the waves as her thoughts slipped into the dark.

* * * * *

Beep. Beep.

Ripley opened her eyes, exhausted. Jonesy the cat slept soundly, his little orange striped body making a warm spot against the small of her back. As she moved, Jonesy raised his head, blinked, and then meowed sleepily.

Beep. Beep.

Ripley rose slowly, grabbing her robe as she moved towards the front door. She didn't know anyone socially. Who could it be?

Beep. Beep.

"Who is it?"

"Let me in, Ripley. It's Burke, and I have a very important person with me here."

Ripley slowly opened the door in shock, memories flooding back.

Burke was dead.

He died on LV426. He had tried to kill them all, had planned to use them all as hosts for the alien parasites. Burke had died in the Command module.

"Hello, Ripley. This is Lieutenant Gorman of the Colonial Marines."

"Miss Ripley." Gorman was as young and cock-sure as she remembered him.

Burke continued. "It seems that there has been no communication with the colony on LV426 for several months now, and the Marines are going in to find out why. We'd like you to go along with them, sort of as a technical advisor. What do you say?"

Ripley walked them into the living room, then proceeded to get some coffee. "My answer is still no," she heard herself say. A small part of her screamed, this can't be happening!

"Ah, Ripley, I don't know. These Colonial Marines are some pretty tough hombres." Burke grinned, trying to be persuasive. He sat down, making himself at home.

"Miss Ripley, the Colonial Marines are experienced professionals. We are well-trained and are well-equipped to handle any situation that may arise. We would like you come along, to give us any advice that you can." Gorman stood polite and distant, the good soldier trying to placate the mad pilot that for some reason the Company wanted them to have along.

Ripley had seen all this before. He had no idea what lie in wait on that distant world!

"I said no!" The scream inside became louder. It can't have been a dream! "You have my report. You don't need me and you don't believe me. Why should I go? I don't need that terror again. I've had more than enough, thank you!"

"Are you sure you won't reconsider? Did you know that I can get you re-certified as a Flight Officer? And I can guarantee that the Company will pick up your contract?"

"But only if I go, right?" Ripley heard a roaring in her ears.

"That's right." Burke looked so earnest and helpful. She wanted to kill him for the duplicitous bastard he was. Or would be.

"Please, Miss Ripley," Gorman urged. "We could use your help."

"Come on, Ripley, think it over." Burke pulled out his card.

Ripley knew it would have his phone number on it, even before he said so. Ripley shook her head.

"All right," Burke said. "But if you change your mind, give me a call, all right?" Burke got up and made ready to leave.

Gorman, taking his cue, set the unfinished cup down upon a table and replaced his cap. "We really could use you."

"I said, no. Good bye." Only a dream? The roaring in her ears continued grew louder.

"Good bye, Miss Ripley." Gorman was the first to exit.

Burke turned around at the door, making a last pitch. "Remember what I said, Ripley. If you change your mind in the next few days, give me a call."

Ripley only nodded, numbness washing over her. She closed the door, locking it.

Where was Newt? Where was her little girl? Had it been a dream? A look into the future? Or had she passed the precipice of insanity? Ripley shuddered as she stumbled back into her bedroom.

The only way to know for sure, her mind screamed, would be for her to go with them, to LV426, and walk into the darkness, literally into the very maw of the beast itself to see what lay therein. The images in her mind could be truths. Or simply ephemeral phantoms, lies told by her mind to deal with the loss of her Nostromo crewmates.

If there was a chance that little girl was there, there was no choice at all.

She lay down on the bed, curling into herself, drawing Jonesy into her arms. Already images were fading, yet the fear percolated. They'd never believe her. If she tried to tell them, they'd call her mad and lock her up, feed her drugs, and everyone would die, overrun by those monsters.

Jonesy purred. To Ripley, the purring was like the sound of many hearts beating, or the match of her own terrorized heart. And then she began to shake.

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