Marc Cerasini - AVP - Alien vs. Predator

“What is it?”

But she was already up and out the door. Sebastian rose and followed, Thomas on his heels. Miller swallowed the last bit of his filet, washed it down with Chateau Lafite ’77, and hurried to catch up to them.

Lex led the others through a thick waterproof bulkhead, then onto the deck. A stab of icy wind cut through them, stealing their warmth. But any discomfort was forgotten when they saw the spectacle in the firmament.

“My God!” Thomas exclaimed.

The entire night had become a waterfall of shimmering radiance. Vertical ribbons of light snaked across the southern sky, a colored profusion of visual chaos. Successive bands of brighter colors flamed while darker patches pulsated rhythmically. The vast curtain of reds, greens and blues seemed to move as though ruffled by an interstellar wind.

Lex threw her arms wide, as if embracing the panorama. “It’s an X-class flare accompanied by a halo coronal mass ejection. Otherwise known as aurora australis… the southern lights.”

Sebastian was transfixed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.”

Miller adjusted his glasses, then pulled the digital camera out of his jacket pocket.

“It’s in the upper atmosphere,” he explained. “Streams of protons and electrons from the sun are being deflected by the earth’s magnetic field, causing a solar radiation storm.”

“Whatever…. It’s beautiful,” Sebastian replied, “even the way you describe it, Doctor.”

“Thanks,” Miller replied. Then he snapped a picture. “And I agree.”

Lex leaned on the rail and gazed up at the sky. “Shackleton called Antarctica the ‘last great journey left to man.’ It’s the one place left in the world that no one owns, that’s completely free…” Then she grinned. “Me? I’m kind of partial to the penguins.”

“I wish you’d reconsider coming with us,” said Miller.

Lex looked at him and smiled. But she shook her head.

“Not for me. Obviously,” said Miller. “But I think a lot of the other guys really need you.” He poked her arm. “C’mon, don’t make me pull out pictures of my kids again.”

“Your kids aren’t that cute.”

Sebastian chimed in. “What if we got pictures of other people’s kids? Would that do it?”

Lex looked at them both. “Want my advice? Stay on the boat.”

It was Sebastian who bristled. “We’re not staying on the boat.”

“Guys, the first rule of this job is to not take people to places they’re not ready to go.”

“Listen,” Sebastian replied. “I was on the next plane to Mexico. My team’s waiting. But if Weyland’s even half right, this find could change history.”

“Weyland is more concerned with making another billion than with anything else,” Lex replied. “Including your safety.”

Sebastian stepped up to her. “Let me ask you something. You’re here. You know this place. Do we stand a better chance of surviving with you than with the number two choice?”

Lex did not reply, but her face gave the answer away.

“Because if we do and you don’t go with us, and something goes wrong, are you going to be able to live with that?”

Lex opened her mouth to reply, but no answer came. Suddenly a tall, blond woman strode onto the deck.

“Ms. Woods? Your helicopter is refueled and ready. They’re waiting for you.”

Just beyond the reach of the moon’s gravitational pull, an enormous vessel dropped out of hyper-space. Gracefully following the curvature of the moon, the craft passed across the sun, casting an ominous shadow along the lunar surface.

Nearly a kilometer in length, the ship’s sleek, organic form more resembled an oceangoing manta ray or predatory bird than an interstellar vessel. As the craft plunged silently through the void, the warp engines disengaged and a thin stream of charged ions began to spew from the engine nacelles, propelling the ship on the final leg of its journey to the cloud-wreathed, blue-green orb still over 238,000 miles away.

Inside the ship, energy and life-support systems self-activated. Mazelike corridors and domed chambers were flooded with the hot, muggy, oxygen-rich atmosphere of the tropics. One by one, decks were illuminated by a green reptilian glow. The architecture was primitive, and many sections of the craft could pass for the interior of a samurai warlord’s fortress or the grim torture chamber of a medieval castle.

In the half-light, shadows danced along walls etched with sharp-edged hieroglyphics. High, vaulted ceilings resembled those in a Gothic cathedral, but here they gleamed with the blood-red hue of the abattoir.

Other sections of the ship were more organic in appearance. The armory mimicked the fleshy interior of some vast monster’s belly. Curved terra-cotta rib bones festooned the space. Between those faux-ribs, the walls were frescoed with pictographs and were hung with an array of fierce, techno-medieval weaponry: spears with retractable shafts; curved blades carved from yellow bone and bundled together like the fasces of ancient Rome; double-bladed ceremonial knives with serrated edges and ornate handles; metal clubs studded with raked white teeth; hubcap-sized shuriken edged with needle-thin blades; sharp-finned throwing darts larger than rail spikes.

The bloodstained trophies of previous hunts were also mounted in this bleak chamber—skulls of varying shapes and sizes, some broken, with empty sockets and jaws lined with fangs. A panoply of weapons, ranging from a quartz-tipped spear to a meson-interrupting particle beam weapon powerful enough to cut a mountain in half, hung in stasis behind a translucent metal bulkhead.

Beyond the armory, deep within the heart of this otherworldly ship, a computer screen brightened to reveal a thermal image of the Piper Maru floating on the vast expanse of ocean. Foreign cryptographs scrolled across the screen as the spaceship’s cybernetic brain calculated the distance between the icebreaker and the array of interconnected squares on Antarctica.

Process complete, the computer sent out an alarm—a sibilant hiss audible throughout the alien vessel. Around that central monitor, lights flickered to reveal a circular chamber heavy with moisture. A deep pool of dark liquid dominated the floor. A white mist curled over the ooze. Surrounding the pool like petals on a flower, massive shapes drifted inside of five translucent cryostasic cylinders.

Suddenly the cryo-tanks burst, spilling their contents into the central pool. The liquid roiled as colossal shapes began to stir in the muck. Broad, mottled faces surfaced in the rippling fluid, their features a nightmare amalgamation of insect, shellfish and reptile. Sentience burned behind eyes that seemed strangely human—intelligent eyes that focused on the image of the Piper Maru still flickering on the monitor. Around the mouth of each creature, fingerlike mandibles flexed.

The sky was a canvas of lead, a low full moon occasionally visible through breaks in the clouds. After the unsettled weather of the past few hours, the sea was now surprisingly calm, its smooth surface broken only by chunks of ice, many the size of an SUV. This moment would seem almost temperate for the Antarctic Circle if a frigid wind weren’t cutting across the steel deck, sending icy claws into the men huddled there. Despite their layers of wool, flannel, cotton and the Polartec coveralls that supposedly protected them from the elements, a few shivered.

Sebastian De Rosa and Thomas came onto the deck to find themselves among the busy workers. Avoiding stares from the roughnecks, who were hauling tracked vehicles out of the hold with a crane and lining them up on deck, Sebastian drifted over to the scientists and mercenaries gathered near the rail. Although he wore so many layers of clothing that he felt like a walking teddy bear, he was shivering and sporting a thin layer of frost on his chin by the time he reached Miller’s side.