11 Years later
Laura Mattley climbs from the cab of her Hunter Green F-250 and slams the door. Gathering up her unruly black hair into a loose bun, Laura surveys the sprawling property around her. Laura’s jaw tightens and she exhales loudly. The name on the archway over the immaculate electrified fence should be Woods. Not Mattley. Not this person she has been forced to become.
As part of her vow of silence, Weyland Industries had given her a new name, and a new identity. Complete with a nice, cushy allowance. Not bad, for the sole survivor of an expedition where the head of the company's body was never recovered. Too bad, she lacks the enthusiasm to enjoy any of it.
It has been over a decade since she has thought of herself as Alexa Woods. In all of that time, the shame has borne down on her like a ton of bricks. As far as Weyland Industries—and the world—is concerned, the entire Antarctica expedition team is dead. By erasing her identity, Weyland has also stolen her father’s legacy--and everything she and her father had stood for. She should not have let them. She should have fought to reveal the truth. But at what cost? In the end, she had simply wanted to forget.
Shaking her head, Laura—formerly Alexa Woods—strolls across her property, headed for the main house. Nathan Bush, her year-round groundskeeper, is away visiting his mother. Going to be a boring day in the neighborhood.
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Two hours later
Stepping underneath the warm spray from the shower, Lex/Laura pulls the glass door shut. She massages her scalp, lathering up the shampoo in her hair. Silent tears run down Lex’s cheeks as faces from the past make their appearance in the back of her mind. Three faces refuse to budge—their images unwavering. Daddy…Sebastian…The alien visitor. The alien who’d saved her life on the frozen continent. It has been some time since she has thought of him. If you count three weeks as a long time? But over the last few days, her mind has been inundated with dreams and visions of their time in the pyramid. And the moment of his violent death.
Lex draws her left hand down her damp cheek. The scar from the black alien’s acidic blood is no longer dark and angry. It has faded somewhat. Just enough to be concealed by a healthy application of makeup. The doctor’s at W-I had suggested getting the mark surgically removed or tattooed over. Lex/Laura had opted to keep it—against their advice. As a reminder.
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Later that evening
Lex crosses to the bedroom window and stares out at the moon. From her place at the window, Lex observes that the circular orb is completely full—and huge. What had Sebastian called it? ‘The Hunter’s Moon?’
She allows herself to smile and hugs her midsection. Cinching her robe tighter, she climbs back into bed—pulling the covers up to her chin.
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The Next Day
Lex throws down the sturdy trowel in her hand and glances across the wide area which constitutes her cabbage patch. The fruits and vegetables, she manages to grow, aren't as much a hit with the Farmer's Market crowd as they used to be. With the yearly stipend from Weyland Industries, Lex's work with the land is fairly unnecessary. However, it helps to ease her worried mind. Her other acquired habits help to do the rest.
Removing her gardening gloves, Lex flexes the fingers of both hands. While her hands may sting, and are covered in callouses, the sensation is welcoming. It makes her feel alive. How did the saying go? “Pain is only weakness leaving the body?”
“Pain!” Lex murmurs to herself.
A memory floats to the front of her mind and Lex struggles to hold back tears. Sebastian, his head blown apart by a bullet which she fired. But not before that vile worm had almost torn loose from his chest—the sound of breaking bone filling that dank cavern and her ears.
And then, there had been Weyland—weak and vulnerable. Fighting futilely with the only thing he’d had. And Max. Poor arrogant Max. If only he had not insisted they take those damn weapons.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Lex draws in a sharp breath and climbs to her feet. She reaches down to grab her holster, complete with pistol, and gloves. Movement to her left draws Lex’s attention and she whirls in that direction. A greyish-blue light, resembling sparks, flares a few feet in front of her. A sense of déjà vu seizes Lex and she takes a step back. She has seen such a thing before. Many years ago, at the edge of a collapsed ice shelf. Standing alone before the massive yautja mothership. One of them.
As the tall figure materializes before her, Lex’s mouth falls open in surprise. It cannot be.
“Wait! No. It can’t be. But how? You’re alive?” Lex stammers.
Absently taking a step forward, Lex stops her approach when common sense rushes in. The creature, which should be dead, stares at her with amber eyes. He studies her from head to toe, his eyes not quite disapproving—but suspicious.
“I am not who you believe me to be,” the creature states in a guttural voice. “I am Scorvo. The yautja you knew was my cha’l brother, Scar. My f’tyhu…My twin—in ooman speak.”
“Oh!” Lex sighs, partially from relief and partially in disbelief. “Well. Okay. So, why are you here? If you’re under the impression that I know something? You’re wrong. Besides your brother’s brave attempts to save my life…He never told me anything. There wasn’t time. We were too busy trying to escape with our hides. That damn queen was just too big and too fast. He died valiantly. It was your head alien who gave me that nifty stick. The one meant for your brother. Which I still have, by the way. The guys at W-I didn’t know what to make of it. I told them it was something we found in the whaling station. I said it was used for harpooning large fish or whales. If that’s what you want? You can have it back.”
Scorvo takes a step closer to Lex. A scent like sea air washes over the former guide and she inhales it in. Scar had smelled the same way. She is surprised when the hunter gently takes her by the elbow, his eyes studying her face.
“It is my brother’s decision to save you…That I wish to discuss,” Scorvo says in his deep rolling voice. “I wish to know how you came to meet. The hunt viewers have told me their version. I wish to know yours. I must know what happened inside the chuf’trhat—the pyramid.”
As gently as she can, so as not to offend the enormous hunter, Lex removes her elbow from his grasp. She keeps her brown eyes fixed on his face.
“Look. That was a lifetime ago,” Lex replies. “A lifetime and many dead friends ago. After I was debriefed, the company had me sign an airtight NDA and gave me a whole new life. I’ve been doing everything I can to forget the old one. I’m tired of seeing faces floating in my dreams at night—including your brother’s. I just want to forget. Please. Leave me alone. There’s nothing more I can tell you!”
Lex turns to leave. However, Scorvo’s hand shoots forward and grips her elbow a second time. This time, he squeezes tightly, keeping Lex from striding away. She turns back to face the now angry warrior, anger flaring in her own heart.
“What do you think you are doing? Let go of me!”
Scorvo does not release Lex’s arm. However, he does loosen his grip. He stares down into her fierce face with a cruel smirk. He uses his right hand to touch the fading scar on Lex’s cheek. The scar made by a keinde amedha’s acidic blood. Put there by his brother’s hand.
Lex does not pull away. A tiny sliver of regret takes hold of her senses. Makeup. Why hadn’t she applied the damn makeup? Well, because it made no sense to do so—working in the garden. Regrets aside, Lex watches Scorvo with suspicious eyes.
“I can see why my brother might try to save you,” Scorvo says. “He was always so curious about oomans. Especially ooman females. Studying diagrams long after the lessons were over. I warned him that you oomans would be the death of him. He only laughed. He is no longer laughing.”
Alex shifts uncomfortably in Scorvo’s grasp. Realizing he is still holding her, Scorvo reluctantly releases Lex’s elbow. She drops her arm by her side and continues to observe the bulky warrior. He looks every bit like the yautja who rescued her in the pyramid, the one who had marked her face. Scar? What an appropriate name.
Scorvo glances around before stepping even closer. His round amber eyes stare at Lex as if attempting to bore a hole through her deeper than the one the expedition team found in Antarctica. However, the intensity of his stare is not intimidating. In fact, Lex is unable to pin down exactly what is behind the large hunter’s measured gaze. Either way, it makes her uneasy.
“Perhaps…We should continue talking inside,” the warrior says cryptically, his voice dropping two octaves.
“Oh…No. Hell, no,” Lex exclaims. “You are not coming in my house. I’ve already told you…I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s over and done with for me. I’m heartbroken that Scar is dead. But that was over a decade ago. I’ve moved on. I had to. So…Goodbye. I have somewhere I have to be later. I don’t have time for this. Bye.”
Bravely turning her back on Scorvo, Lex prepares to leave. Scorvo lets out a soft chuckle and takes another calculated step toward Lex. The sound of the hunter’s laugh causes Lex to pause her departure.
“You are referring to the place where you sing and play the stringed instrument? I am aware that you go to this place. I had simply hoped that we might speak before that time.”
Lex whirls to face Scorvo. She places a hand on her hip and peers at him with narrowed eyes.
“So…What? You’ve been stalking me? Is that it?” Lex queries, anger straining her voice.
“I did not need to stalk you. You are not a prey animal,” Scorvo responds casually. “I simply wondered where it is that you go at night. So I followed you.”
An alien smile alters Scorvo’s mouth, and he also narrows his eyes.
“I have heard many sing and pull the strings of instruments. But none as well as you do.”
Lex shoots Scorvo a sarcastic grin and rolls her eyes skyward. Such a charmer. She sweeps a hand in the direction of the main house.
“Okay. But you’re not staying long. Like I said, I have an engagement later. I’ll answer your questions as best I can. And then…You’re gone. Got it?”
“Yes,” Scorvo says.
With a frustrated sigh, Lex makes her way toward the main house—the towering Scorvo in tow.