LV-426 Report Read online

  LV-426 REPORT

  Phetoria Leslieverse

  LV-426 REPORT

  Copyright © 2019 by Phetoria Leslieverse.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition: Month 2019

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  CONTENTS

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Queen for a Day

  Identity Crisis

  Margin of Error

  Downsizing

  Thinking Outside the Box

  A Change of Fortune

  Flight Plan

  A long time ago in a galaxy not quite far enough away...

  The Devil in the Details

  Epilogue: Proviso

  Preface

  There should be a dictionary that defines insanity as the distance between the stars. It is a distance we believe ourselves to have overcome through one of the most extreme applications of medical technology. But I’ve come to question that conclusion. I’ve found it disconcerting enough to board a jet aircraft and find myself only a couple of hours later in a place that was over a thousand kilometers from my departure point. But to simply go to sleep and awaken in orbit around another world is absolutely surreal. I am convinced that it is not something to which anybody can truly become accustomed, no matter what assurances science extends. But to suddenly find myself here, circling the very cradle of catastrophe, passes far beyond the realm of drug-induced dreams and decidedly enters the nadir of nightmares.

  This is where my great-grandmother’s death really started. You could argue that she lived for more than half a century after initially escaping this place, but I’d insist it actually took over half a century for it to finally kill her. She just didn’t know it. I didn’t expect such an appalling opportunity to arise within my lifetime. I guess she must have passed along her proclivity for misplaced optimism. I admittedly owe my choice of career specialization to my ancestry, having lost someone to something so altogether alien and hoping to one day perhaps prevent some further misfortune. I was however thinking strictly in terms of microbiology. I honestly never thought I’d be called upon to dance with this specific devil. I not only question the wisdom of returning here, but even the sanity of such a decision.

  In our quest to understand the alien, is it possible that we’re actually becoming alien ourselves? Having basically abandoned our original biosphere, can we be so certain that our development as a species is not compromised? Can we really trust our assumptions when fashioned in the unfamiliar reaches of space? How can we quantify our convictions when almost all forms of measurement are based on planetary dimensions, yet we now seem to consider ourselves cosmic?

  I have spent a couple of decades examining extraterrestrial organisms. But the most extreme form of exobiology may actually be represented by encapsulated human beings in hypersleep, enforcing an entirely unnatural state of unconsciousness and enduring the delusion-drenched dreams which it inexplicably entails. The process artificially lengthens our lives, sometimes very substantially, and it certainly conserves our supplies. But does it preserve our souls?

  Chapter One

  Emilio Esperanza, the Director of the Bio-Weapons Division for the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, turned from the elongated viewing portal and faced the room of assembled scientists. A wide range of scarcely suppressed emotions greeted his gaze. Some were openly anxious to hear what he would say, having waited many years for the opportunity that now suddenly, and somewhat surprisingly, had presented itself. Some had just been brought aboard and had no foreknowledge of the industry in which the others considered themselves as already engaged. Emilio patiently waited until everybody was seated.

  “In case this courtesy has yet to be extended,” he genially began, “let me be the first to welcome you to the Centaur.”

  He noticed a slight movement to his right. Even though she was painfully well aware of her location in terms of stellar cartography, Eleanor Ripley winced as she realized that the ship within which they were assembled was named after something only half human. Although he was quite acquainted with her ancestry, Emilio was not certain why she had reacted in such a way. He knew Ellen Ripley, Eleanor’s great-grandmother, had become the sole survivor of the Nostromo. He also knew that, because of being in hypersleep for decades, Ellen had outlived her only child, a daughter. The daughter died without having ever married. But contrary to what was reported to Ellen Ripley, her daughter had a child that had been conceived in vitro. That child had also been a girl. Because of spending so much of her young adulthood in hypersleep, the unavoidable result of an occupation that required extensive space travel, her daughter, Eleanor, was still in the prime of her life. It was a wicked twist of fate that had restored her last name.

  Perhaps because her travels didn’t allow for much intimacy, Eleanor’s mother made a terrible mistake in the matter of marriage. Eleanor’s father was a deceitful criminal. He was eventually caught, convicted, and then executed for acts of space piracy. Eleanor’s mother retook her maiden name. To protect Eleanor from possibly being associated with her father’s infamy, she successfully petitioned the courts to allow the change of her last name as well. Emilio knew this assignment would probably be difficult for Eleanor. It was her own fault however that she was the most qualified consultant in the company.

  “We are now in orbit around LV-426, a planetoid that is itself in orbit around Livinum, a gas giant in the Zeta 2 Reticuli system. About a hundred and fifty years ago, one of our commercial towing vehicles, the Nostromo, set down here after detecting a transmission that indicated a possibly intelligent origin. Homing in on its beacon, they found a derelict spaceship – altogether alien. The freighter’s captain and two other members of the crew entered the derelict. They had accomplished only the briefest reconnaissance of the ship when an alien organism attached itself to one of their team. They immediately evacuated back to their craft. Because the alien organism was somehow able to block their medical scanners, they didn’t initially realize that the comatose crewman was actually being used as a host. The creature, which finally tore its way out of his chest, succeeded in killing all but one member of the crew. That flight officer set the ship for self-destruct and escaped in a shuttle,” Emilio recounted as emotionlessly as he could.

  Someone coughed. He could not be certain whether it was from anxiety at the sheer terror of his story, or if it represented impatience because so many of those aboard were already aware of the planetoid’s history.

  He continued, “Back then, Zeta 2 Reticuli was still beyond the outer rim of occupied space. Over time, as programmed, the shuttle’s CPU automatically began shutting down non-essential systems, so it could continue to support its only occupant in hypersleep. It thereby escaped the attention of anybody’s scanners until it was finally chanced upon by a deep space salvage team on the other side of the core systems. During the more than half-century that had elapsed, a terraforming colony, Hadley’s Hope, was established on LV-426. In fact, it had been there for something like twenty years by the time the shuttle was recovered.”

  “Were they warned?” Eleanor interrupted as Emilio paused for breath.

  “We must take into consideration that the sole survivor told the examining panel an unacceptable story about an alien creature that gestated inside a livin
g human host and had concentrated acid for blood,” Emilio carefully countered, reassured by the effect this explanation had on most of the recipients. “Please remember that at that time there had already been a colony on LV-426 for a couple of decades. Initially, though unfortunately, the report was not taken seriously.”

  “But were the colonists ever warned?” Eleanor asked again, enunciating each word.

  “A transmission was sent,” Emilio shrewdly replied, trying to be evasive concerning the specifics. When he saw that Eleanor was obviously not going to be satisfied with his answer, he continued, “Its exact nature has never been determined, though it obviously didn’t go through the proper channels. While it’s possible that it didn’t really constitute a warning, let us not be too quick to judge the people of the past. One thing that probably has not changed in over a century, and might never, is the fact that terraformers tend to be roughnecks, opportunistic in the extreme. The most stringent possible warning would probably not have kept them from trying to find something of value on that derelict ship.”

  “Point taken,” Eleanor answered, suggesting submission.

  “When contact with Hadley’s Hope was suddenly lost, the survivor of the Nostromo was contracted as a consultant, and a military ship was sent to determine the disposition of the colony on LV-426,” Emilio continued. “We actually have their consultant’s account that was dictated to help them prepare for what they might face. Unfortunately, it was not enough. Only one colonist was actually rescued, a child at that, and she did not even live long enough to make it back to Earth. Whether the result of a firefight that erupted inside it, or due to their original drop-ship crashing into it, the atmosphere processing plant was damaged and its core eventually went supercritical. Only three persons and one Artificial ultimately escaped before it blew up. Their ship, the Sulaco, later crashed on Fiorina 161 and even the consultant finally died. She had however transmitted the entire account of what transpired on LV-426 before leaving orbit. Since that transmission was sent directly to the military, this planetoid has been under their jurisdiction ever since – up until now.”

  Knowing this was going to surprise most of the scientists in the room, Emilio paused and allowed them their startled response before continuing, “Fallout from the destruction of the atmosphere processor left the better part of this planetoid radioactive for almost a century. We tried to get the military to let us send in a survey team of Artificials. But even Artificials have rights, and they would’ve been so contaminated that they would’ve been unable to have any interactions with anyone or anything else for decades. While it’s true there are suits that would’ve protected human explorers, they’re so bulky that movement in them is nearly impossible. Certainly, they would’ve complicated the reconnaissance of anything as constrictive as a spaceship. So, we’ve waited.”

  “And now?” asked Eleanor, speaking for the group.

  “The news I have for you is a bit of a mixed bag,” Emilio admitted. “This isn’t the first time a thermonuclear explosion has happened on a habitable world, as I am sure you all know. The military now has the technology for speeding up the reclamation process, but it involves evacuating most of the contamination into outer space. Essentially, everything that our atmosphere processor achieved has basically been undone. Since you will need spacesuits anyway, to protect you from the residual radiation, this may not be so serious a concern. The derelict now exists in several segments, courtesy of the shockwave from the annihilation of the atmosphere processor. Military probes have certified the absence of any cellular activity whatsoever in the alien remains, all of which are in various stages of decomposition. We may still be able to learn much from their structure, and of course we will attempt to understand their genetics, but the real prize is the ship itself.”

  When several of the scientists aimed questioning expressions in his direction, Emilio explained, “The things we really hoped to learn from the alien organisms require them to be alive. The infected member of the Nostromo described a layer of seemingly luminous mist that covered the eggs and reacted when broken. And the perfect predator that later leaped out of his chest apparently was able to project an electromagnetic image of itself that fooled a scanner and kept its intended prey from understanding where it really was. I can only assume that this layer of reactive mist was still functioning when the colonists came aboard. Since the power source for the beacon, which the Nostromo had followed, had apparently been exhausted by that time, it is almost unthinkable that something still had enough organic energy to generate such a field. The ship could’ve easily been there for hundreds, or even thousands, of years. What we’re really hoping to understand is the technology of the craft itself. Its propulsion system in particular could be many light years ahead of ours. Excuse the pun.”

  “As much as I don’t want to question such an obviously unprecedented opportunity,” Eleanor carefully began, “it seems to me that many of the people in this room are quite surprised by how suddenly this situation has developed. We didn’t know that the military was so close to giving us the go-ahead?”

  “Understandably, there are others who are interested in what can be learned here,” Emilio easily answered, visibly undisturbed by her question. “But the Colonial Marines understand just how invested we are here. We’ve been fiscally taken to the cleaners by this planetoid. The release date we were initially given, along with everyone else, is still decades away. They’ve undoubtedly known for years that they were ahead of schedule. But they waited until they were ready to release it; and then, they told us first. Consider how many military contracts we have. They know on which side their bread is buttered.”

  “I see,” Eleanor softly responded, while wondering just how much butter had actually been spread in order to edge out the competition. But then, she added, “Fiscally taken to the cleaners?”

  “The Nostromo was an M-class star freighter worth forty-two million adjusted dollars, minus payload of course. The atmosphere processor was actually even more expensive than that,” Emilio explained. And then, noticing the wary way she was regarding him, he quickly added, “And of course that’s not even mentioning the crew of the Nostromo, the colonists or the soldiers and the incalculable loss of life.”

  Seated immediately across from Eleanor, Colin Endicott, Departmental Head of the Space Engineering Section, suggested, “The power requirements of that ship’s systems may very well be exotic in the extreme. We might have to extract entire control consoles and set them up in a laboratory situation where we can determine those requirements.”

  “That’s why we’re on the Centaur,” Emilio proudly replied. “This is nearly our newest ship and it has extremely spacious bays that should easily accommodate the enterprise.”

  Taking advantage of the lapse in Emilio’s presentation, Eleanor asked, “Do we enjoy access to the scans made by the military probes?”

  “Yes, but we’ve rather moved beyond that now. What we really need now is a direct examination,” answered Emilio, seeming somewhat confused by the question. “The main thing they give us is the certainty of our safety.”

  “As the leading exobiologist onboard, I need to agree with their findings. It’s a simple matter of empirical science,” Eleanor softly explained, correctly predicting the approval of every other researcher in the room. “I’d really appreciate the opportunity to inspect those scans before anybody gets deployed on that planetoid.”

  “Do you have a cause to question the accuracy of their assessment,” Emilio asked, demonstrating the intuition that had facilitated his rise through the ranks of the company.

  “Perhaps,” Eleanor reluctantly admitted. “There’s one aspect about this site that has always caused me concern. Since I never expected anybody to gain access to it in my lifetime, I had planned to simply file my recommendation to the company with regards to it when I retired.”

  Emilio actually took the time to seat himself in the chair at the head of the long table before receptively saying, “Talk t
o me.”

  “Kane, the crewmember from the Nostromo who was first infected, described seeing thousands of eggs in the belly of that ship. As you mentioned, he and his shipmates had accomplished only the briefest possible reconnaissance before his infection. During that, they had already found the fossilized remains of one member of the derelict’s crew, and it had obviously served as host to the thing that killed it – although at the time this wasn’t understood. It was the Colonial Marines from the Sulaco who discovered that these eggs are all laid by an Alien Queen,” she patiently explained. And then, meeting his gaze with surprising steel, she insistently said, “We need to account for the following possibilities.”

  “Go ahead,” he agreed.

  “Possibility one: the fossilized crewmember they found was the ship’s only occupant and we are able to at least identify the remains of the Alien Queen that gestated inside it and then laid all those eggs. Possibility two: we find other infected crewmembers but are able to account for each of the alien organisms that erupted from them. Possibility three: we find a discrepancy in either of those numbers,” she summarized.

  “What would that mean?” Emilio asked with barely suppressed excitement.

  “That we need to determine if there’re natural caves anywhere on LV-426 and, if so, whether they’re deep enough to have possibly protected anything from a thermonuclear shockwave and its residual radiation,” Eleanor evenly answered. “I’m afraid it’s possible that the infestation was never actually restricted to the ship.”

  “Whoa,” Colin involuntarily uttered. “You think there might really be something alive down there, even after a holocaust and an ensuing century.”

  “We just need to make certain that there isn’t,” Eleanor defensively answered. “Had it not been for that shock wave, the eggs on that derelict might even be viable. The Alien Queen may have laid them and then crawled off to die. Such behavior is not unknown in the animal kingdom. But these things are exotic in the extreme. It is just as possible that, after filling the belly of a ship that might have initially been full of foodstuffs, she went out looking for another lair. And if there was a second Alien Queen; that guarantees at least the probability of an additional brood.”