Acid and Steel (Riddick / Alien Resurrection)

Note on this chapter:

I am mentioning a 'latex-tantal-composition' in this chapter.

Which, of course, is total nonsense. Tantal is an extremely acid resistant metal; latex is, well... rubber. No way those two substances could ever be combined without having the latex melt away. But just for fictional purposes I'm herewith assuming that those two substances could be combined to an extremely acid-resistant, durable and flexible material.

I came up with this idea while looking at the scientist's gloves that are used during Ripley's surgery in the movie:

http://www.naergilien.info/NFM/RipleySurgery.jpg

(the "metallic" looking things in the upper right corner are fingers in gloves).

What the hell could Ripley and Riddick need a 'latex-tantal-composition' for, you ask? Well, what the hell would this story need an A++ rating for if they wouldn't need something like that? Snickers....

I'm also giving some insight on Ripley's thoughts in this chapter. Hope you'll like them.



Ellen Ripley had a mission: Finding out as much about herself as possible within the shortest time required. And time was really an issue. She had started to feel strange in the last days, if the sleeping intervals indicated something like 'days', or nights, rather.

Somehow she remembered that days were something else, indicated by something else (a bright close star in the blue of the sky on a warm day, the feet buried in bright warm stuff - s-s-sand? - seagulls in the sky crying and a child - her child? - running around on the beach); but by now she had found out that her memories were something that couldn't necessarily be trusted; somehow didn't seem real. As if remembering something she hadn't experienced, but rather watched.

She had woken up early; way too early; even for her, it seemed early.

Not that she ever needed much sleep (as far as she could think, which somehow didn't seem long enough compared to the memories she had), but lately she had been woken up by (sounds?) - she had no idea what it was that made her wake up early; but she knew that whatever it was, it only seemed to affect her, not anyone else.

Not even him.

He, that was the one they had put into her cell one day; the one who had introduced himself as 'Riddick' when she (wasn't grown up yet) hadn't found her memories in a way that she had remembered how to speak.

The one who had called for help when (they cut her open and took it from her!) she had felt so bad that day, had felt like dying, had (remembered to being ripped open from the inside) needed his help so badly.

The one and only time in her life (this life, so far) when she had needed help, and he had been there. Which, of course, had been a good thing; otherwise she wouldn't be alive now (to continue living that unnatural life the scientists had given to her).

There were moments when Ellen Ripley was close to thinking that she was about to go nuts. At times, it was as if there were three instead of just one being inside of her.

Not just herself (the unnatural form), not just the other one - the one with the memories (the weak one), but also something else; something she was terrified as well as almost insanely proud of (the beast within, the one struggling to break free).

And all those three beings seemed to live inside of her.

The one with the memories, that was one she could handle. Though, of course, the thoughts that occasionally came from that being were disturbing. Weak. Chiding. The moral aspect inside of her.

The other one - the thing that didn't seem to communicate with words but rather with instincts - was something to be proud of (scared of). It enabled her to hear things others couldn't hear; smell things others couldn't smell, and sometimes, it seemed, she saw things others couldn't see.

Like with Riddick. The night before the one with the memories had the strange idea to walk over to him (demanded closeness, weakness); and she had given in to that idea. Touched him.

The moment she had done that, the senses of the other one had instantly known that he was scared of her.

And then he had scared her and the one with the memories by indicating, again, that she was far from being human; that there were things about her she didn't know - and the beast within her had howled with laughter when it had smelled and seen his fear.

Ripley asked herself what would have happened if she hadn't instantly pulled back and had concentrated on looking at the floor grid for hours. She had been so close to let the one with the instincts take over; to allow that weird, mad and strong side of hers to take control at that moment.

Of course the other two - herself and the one with the memories - had instantly known what would have happened (not that she had that spiked tail, but he would have been shred apart), and the last thing she needed now was being dumped as the 'meat byproduct' she was, as one of the scientists had once called her.

Last night she had remembered some things. The one with the memories had remembered. Had remembered a strange looking alien, black and silver (the queen inside her), had remembered what it could do; had remembered having one inside her. That was a memory she shared with the one with the memories; and she had concluded what it had been that had been cut out of her.

It scared her to no end and yet it made her proud and strong.

Confusing.

The first thing she wanted to do now was to ask those scientists some questions; some Riddick had suggested to ask and some she came up with by herself. She knew that she would have to hold back the growing aggression of the one with the instincts or she'd kill all of them; but other than that, when behaving nicely (to be proud of), she had no doubts that she would get the answers she wanted.

When Ripley got up from the floor and walked over to Riddick, he was still sound asleep. For a moment she thought about touching him again, but that thought was gone as quick as it had come.

And then she was out of her cell, one of the guards had opened it as soon as she had been awake and was waiting for her.

Ellen Ripley was sure that Riddick woke up the moment he had heard the door; she could feel it the moment the shackles, which she always had to wear when walking to the scientists, closed around her wrists.

Something to be proud of, that ability to feel someone else waking up, she thought; those damned scientists always tell me how proud they are of me; but they have no idea how proud I am of myself. Or 'ourselves', rather, the one with the memories reminded her.

-----------------------------

She was gone; gone for several hours, maybe even half the day; Riddick noticed. The fact that he hadn't even heard her getting up or going to the door - or whatever she had done in between - made him a little nervous. The only thing he had actually noticed was the door opening - which woke him up - and then he could see her for a brief moment outside before the door closed again.

Strange.

Riddick spent the time without her working out a bit. He didn't need the machines in the mess hall for that; life in prison had taught him how to keep his strength without that. And her being absent for such a long time was something new for a change. Also the fact that he wasn't let out, wasn't let in the mess hall.

At first he had almost suspected that Ripley had said or done something extremely stupid; something that would let the people who ran this institution think he had advised her to ask some questions.

Which he actually did, but nevertheless.

Groaning he was not so much looking forward to certain rewards being revoked.

Breakfast and lunch came, Ripley didn't. But the rations were full, again with real fruits as dessert.

No, the rewards hadn't been revoked, he noticed with satisfaction. Ripley had kept her mouth shut, or had used in a way that wouldn't give away that he had been the initiator of certain questions.

If she had dared to ask them at all, that was. Somehow he still doubted that a retarded clone - no, make that just clone, Richard, he chided himself, because retarded is the last thing she is - could have the guts to ask things that might endanger her own life. Then again, just a retarded clone would ask such questions...

Sometimes, he concluded, he didn't know what to think of her; and took another bite of his lunch. But damn, it was about time that she returned. She never stayed away that long.

Riddick just hoped that they hadn't cut her open again or something like that.

Eventually she came back.

Of course, she always came back; but Riddick found himself breathing out at her sight this time. Not that there was anything unusual about her; she looked just like always; and he took a short moment to analyze why he had breathed out. There was just one conclusion to be drawn - he was happy to see her again.

She stood by the door for a moment, stared at him. Something about her posture seemed wrong, but he couldn't put a finger on what it was. Nothing threatening, though; just something wrong. For a moment he felt a sting in his heart - had they hurt her again? - Damn, Richard, you're growing fucking weak, just another prisoner, why worry? - but when she sat down in the middle of the cell, as she so often did, he felt himself breathing out again. Nothing wrong with her. Good.

She stared at him, tapped the ground before her. An invitation, he thought; took the apple he was currently chewing with him and sat with her. From her eyes he could tell that she wanted to talk. Much.

"So, Ripley. Got some information, I guess?" He grinned.

The moment he had spoken he finally saw what had been wrong about her. Her left hand was held at a strange angle, and a split second later he knew why when she pulled an iron fork out of her sleeve.

She looked at him, then at the fork. It was pointy, could be used as a weapon; his slam-sharpened mind quickly concluded. For a moment she lifted her index finger to her lips; then the hand that had been lifted to her mouth - the fork still held by it - rushed down.

If he hadn't seen right away that the angle in which the hand came down wasn't aimed at him he'd have kicked her away; but to his utter amazement, the blow she was just about to strike was aimed at herself.

The pointy tips of the fork went right into her other hand that was held out palm upwards.

Riddick had to blink several times to see and understand the things he saw.

First, Ripley had a fork rammed into the palm of her hand.

Second, no blood was coming from the wound.

Third, the place where the fork was stuck was smoking.

He gulped any stupid comment about ramming forks into one's own hand that had been on his tongue down and looked at her face which showed no sign of pain. Instead, in reply, she nodded towards her hand and pulled the fork back out.

The tips of the fork were etched as if they had been in contact with some very strong acid; they were still smoking. The wound in her palm, however, was already closing.

"Fuck." Riddick coughed. For the first time in a long time - in fact, as long as he could remember - he was at a loss for words.

"That's what I am, Riddick." Ripley said quietly. "I'm an experiment that went just a little wrong."

"You know," Riddick replied when he felt that he had enough air to do so, "if we two weren't...," he had to think for a moment until he found the right words, "on some sort of friendly grounds, I'd be scared of you now."

"You already are scared, I can smell it, Riddick. But no, it ain't me you have to worry about." Ripley replied in a tone as casually as if she had just told him what they would have for dinner.

"If it ain't you, what else?" Riddick wondered.

"The experiment that went wrong was just concerning me, Riddick; by mixing some of the DNA of what I was... pregnant with with mine, which resulted in this, among other things."

She touched the palm of her hand; the wound where the points of the fork had pierced the flesh was already almost gone.

"The part of the experiment that was supposed to go right actually did go right; the baby they took from me; the one whose DNA makes me what I am. It's... an alien, Riddick. An alien so powerful that you can't even begin to grasp how powerful and clever. And... it's a Queen. She'll breed. Riddick...."

He could tell from her voice and face that she was close to tears.

"....you'll all die when that happens. It's not a question of 'if', it's just the question of 'when'."

Riddick had to swallow that; had to digest what Ripley had said for a moment. He didn't doubt her words for a moment; but something in the way she had said it seemed to be strange. Then, finally, after a long minute of thinking, he knew what it was.

"Ripley." He said softly. "You said that we are all going to die, and you're excluding yourself by saying that. Why is that so?"

"Because neither the queen nor the hive would ever hurt me, of course." She said matter-of-factly. "They can smell that I'm one of them."

Riddick had been close to death more than once; either by killing or by almost being killed himself. Death was nothing he was scared of, though he usually considered staying alive as an interesting task. It wasn't that he desperately needed to stay alive - what the fuck was his life worth anyway? - it was just that if he could avoid death, he'd be all for it.

"Okay, so I gather there is no way out for me either?" He whispered.

"Unless you smell like me, I don't think so. And there would be only one way to make you smell like me, and you know it. Not that I would be against it, but you are so scared of that possibility, I'm afraid." Ripley replied; again matter-of-factly, again without the slightest hint of emotion in her voice.

Riddick took a deep breath. Damn, he wasn't even sure that he was just thinking about this...

"Say, Ripley....," he started, "when they cut you open, I assume they wore some kind of gloves?"

"Sure they did, why?" Ripley asked slowly, obviously having a similar idea.

At that moment, Riddick decided that he started to like her; not just for the hidden offer, but also for her intelligence which made her have that similar idea.

Which, in Riddick's case, was the closest to a compliment a lifeform could ever get.

"Uhm - any chance you'll go back to the scientists today? Or anyone else in the lab? Because if you do, you could ask them for something...."

-----------------------------

The two scientists at the monitors held their breaths.

"See," the first said, "now we're getting somewhere."

"It's a pity somehow, though." The second said. "It would have been interesting to have her breed, too, just to see the outcome..."

"Well, we can still collect the trash afterwards and see what Number seven can do with it, right? If she's good for nothing else but lying around, then she'll perhaps be good for this..."

"Uhm, I don't know if this is such a brilliant idea. Her DNA went completely wrong. Okay, perhaps it's worth a try. But right now, we have a different task at hand, right?"

"Right." The first said. "Give me Riddick's medical sheet, I need to know the exact size to be able to make him something that fits with the latex-tantal-composition...."

What they hadn't taken into consideration was the fact that they could mostly just see what the two were doing, holding their hands and such; and that very last request of Riddick, because otherwise their two prisoners - or the combined experiment, as they liked to call them - were talking very quiet, out of hearing range of the microphones.


This was how the comments about the smell had escaped them; though it has to be doubted that they would have taken it seriously - just as they hadn't taken Ripley's comment this afternoon seriously that they would all be killed.