Another Kind: A Predator/Mimic Fanfiction Crossover Novel

Chapter Forty-Six: Matriarch



Somewhere in the Human Sphere

Brigadier General Rodrigo is seated on the loveseat in his quarters. His solid form is pressed against the cushions of the sofa, hardened eyes staring up at the ceiling. Visions of mutated insects and military violence crowd the aging general's brain, bringing him to the brink of something akin to arousal. In truth, he is already there. Simply glancing at photos from the original centuries-old Judas files had been enough to do that.

Rodrigo bolts upright when his tablet computer chirps loudly. Reaching out a muscular arm, and grabbing the device from the nearby tabletop, he performs the verification exercises necessary to give him access to the awaiting live message. It is from his contact at Weyland Industries: General Erik Weyland.

Opening the chat, Rodrigo puts on his most formal expression. Inside, his stomach is doing butterflies.

"Yes, Sir!" Rodrigo barks.

"Cut the crap, Ilyian. It's just the two of us. Although, I do appreciate the sentiment."

"Old habits," Rodrigo says with a smile.

"Mhmmm," Weyland responds with a chuckle of his own. "Anyway. I've got some not so great news, old buddy! Seems someone leaked Dayshadow's--and essentially--our plans to the press. It's not just our rumors anymore. Not only do they know about the Judas...They have a list of names and operatives. The boys at the top think we should lay low for a bit...Let things calm down. Once the press cycle renews...And the human feces which is the Earth First activists go the freak away...We can go back to business as usual. The company story is that the doctor went rogue. That she disobeyed orders. They're looking to fry her and that McAvoy fella. The search for the California has been called off. We don't want to appear too desperate to get her back."

Rodrigo presses a clenched fist against his knee in suppressed anger.

"Are you freaking kidding me? They're just going to leave a possible weapon of war floating in space?"

"Oh. We'll get our ship, Ilyian. Eventually. Weyland has eyes, ears, and hands everywhere. Give it time. We just have to wait. Let the smoke clear. Let someone else find the California. Buy it or steal it. That is the Weyland way."

General Rodrigo is unable to suppress a loud laugh.

"That it is, buddy!"

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The California

Main Lab

The double doors to the lab bulge inward. After several loud impacts, an enormous Judas female lurches into the room. A vile imitation of a yautja's face covers the queen's buggy visage. The two halves split to reveal the true horror underneath. Two protruding eyes scope out the lab with fury and violence.

The queen finally spies the five warriors and shakes her head. Her golden rimmed crest catches the light of the UV lamps and she screeches with agitation. However, the bright-hot lights are not enough to deter the murderous matriarch from her goal. She rushes towards the tiny beings annihilating her offspring—her loyal servants—her children.

N-Vorl and P’taal aim their respective rifles at the charging Judas queen and fire. She emits a loud screech as both of her front forelegs are shot out from underneath her. She decides to change tactics, flapping her wings and preparing to fly at the offending warriors.

By that time, P’taal’s shoulder cannon has come to bear. The weapon fires and one of the Judas queen’s wings is shot off—pieces of it fluttering down like thin strips of brown paper.

The queen crashes to the floor, her insectile mandibles opening and shutting, as she nearly tumbles end over end. P’taal finishes the job with a rifle shot to her thorax, and a shoulder cannon blast to her enlarged head. The queen’s armored head explodes like a ripe watermelon, spewing brackish liquid and fragments of golden crest.

They don’t have very much time to celebrate, as nearly two dozen Judases surge through the lab’s main entrance. Some of the disgusting insects clamber over their dying Queen Mother. Others are more respectful of their matriarch and race around her large body. The queen’s placement, just in front of the doorway, slows the flow of Judases into the lab.

N-Vorl, Glotis, and P’taal form a line; firing indiscriminately at anything they can see or detect. Most rifle and cannon blasts find their targets. Judases screech, and every once in a while a camouflaged insect nearly makes it to the trio. There is always a weapon ready to take the encroaching beasts down.

The battle rages for nearly twenty minutes. Smoke fills the gigantic room from the constant barrage of rifle and plasma fire. Dr. Boyd is surprised that the California’s fire suppression system has not yet been activated. Possibly a glitch caused by the passing geostorm, or the ship conserving power. No time to worry about that now.

The stream of Judases entering the lab, from almost every angle and direction, becomes a slow trickle. It is a relief when the last of the Judases—from the current hive—attempts to scramble away. And is shot by N-Vorl’s red-hot shoulder cannon.

Teresa releases a deep breath and glances around. Joy floods her heart at the sight of every single yautja standing proud and tall. They have won a great victory. But now, they will have to move quickly. Other hives will surely be on their way. The noise and conflagration will have attracted their attention.

“We need to move,” Teresa says. She grabs an ammo clip which has fallen to the floor and removes her nearly spent clip. No time to change clips when you’re in the heat of battle. Better to do it now. As an afterthought, she shoves the nearly spent clip into a pocket of her shoulder harness. You never know.

P’taal, N-Vorl, and Glotis each grab an explosive device from the table. The warriors take turns placing the devices in small packs strapped to one another’s backs. Once they are finished, Glotis spares a moment to reach down and wrench her combistick from the mangled bodies of the two impaled Judases. Teresa finishes reloading her rifles and adjusts their weight on her shoulders.

Stepping around the dead Judases littering the lab, the five warriors make their way down the science corridor, heading for the nearest lift. Teresa relays the next stage of their plan, in a quiet voice, as they walk at a fast pace.

-

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Judas juveniles scramble frantically down a darkened corridor. They are obviously in panic mode. A loud screech reverberates through the chamber. The juveniles, which are already skittish beyond compare, grow even more agitated. They scurry hurriedly over pipes, walls, the ceiling, and the floor.

A large Judas queen lurches into view. She cares not for who—or what—she steps upon. One juvenile is pierced through its carapace by the queen’s enormous armored foreleg. She tosses the youngster aside in frustration. She has only one goal. To stop her enemies.

-

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“There. The lift is there,” Teresa says.

Excitement creeps into her voice and she begins to entertain the idea that they may survive this ordeal after all. Teresa picks up her pace a little more and moves toward the lift. She plugs her tablet into the keypad on the lift’s door and punches in a sequence. The lift’s doors open and a male computerized voice utters a message.

“Manual Override Accepted. Please enter your intended destination,” the male voice says.

Teresa hurriedly types a command and the computer chimes in again.

“Transport to Deck C via Lift Number Five will take thirteen minutes and nine seconds. There is a faster route via Lift Number Three. Would you prefer this route? If so, please exit the lift and—,”

Teresa cuts off the irritating computer voice with another command input through her tablet computer.

“Get in the lift,” Teresa says. “Hurry…Please.”

It is a tight squeeze with four large yautja and a human, in a lift made for at most eight normal-sized humans. Teresa is the last to climb aboard the lift. She unplugs her tablet from the lift’s keypad and allows the doors to shut. She is unable to turn in the tight space, and so she speaks over one shoulder.

“Hold on tight!” she says with a tiny smile. “These lifts go up and down…And from left to right. We’re going to be doing a lot of bobbing and weaving to get to the habitat wing. Hope none of you get carsick!”

With that, Teresa plugs in to the control pad inside the lift. The lift lurches into motion, sliding swiftly to the left on its track. A moment later, the lift drops rapidly, before jumping onto another track and going left again.


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