Fic: Under Water, No One Can Hear You Scream 3/5 Due South/Aliens
Title: Under Water, No One Can Hear You Scream!
By: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Alien or Due South.
Summary: Ray witnessed the destruction of the Nostromo, yet no one believes him. With the help of Fraser, his former lover, he finds proof that he was telling the truth. Proof that they take to Chicago. However, before any reunions can be planned, all hell breaks loose, and conspiracy members start playing point the finger.
Warnings: Violence, Alien hosting, language, character death, and Het.
Category: Slash.
Words: 51,000
Rated: Adult
Time line: Takes place five years after COTW. Canada's recent gay marriage laws are considered as a full legal marriage and all that it entails in this story.
Author's Note: Do not read this if you hated the movies Alien and Aliens. Part 9 Vader was seduced by the power of the Force.
Two hours later.
The sun had risen over the Consulate by the time Ray arrived. His stroll had been advantageous for he had been able to see the reactions of people. After all, it was not everyday that a police station house was destroyed.
Ray smirked. Destroyed was a gross understatement of the level of damage. His last few moments in the basement were long enough that he could personally see the attachment of bombs to each corpse. The building had long been wired for detonation, a back up plan for a quick exit or for these very circumstances, to fake his death.
He knew there would be a months long examination of people involved. They would conclude that it was an act of vengeance by the local Mafia. A possible turf war would then ensue. Crime would be monitored by national guard until a new station could be built. Basically, it was just another operation baring the standard M.O. of the Organization.
That is if his bombs had done their job correctly. If not... he would find out soon enough.
Walking the street down the front of the Consulate, Ray surveyed the area. Across the street in an obvious van were agents, feds. A woman walking her dog talking on a cell phone down the block on the corner, possible fed. Elderly couple feeding birds on roof top caticorner of the consulate, Organization, probably snipers. Children running down the street, civilians, probably paid to keep a watch out for strangers as their game orbited the consulate.
Keeping his head low and coat closed to hide the weapons, Ray continued his casual stroll down the side walk. He made sure the woman with the cell phone had her back to him. Looking in another direction, he purposely collided with her, planting a tape of plastic under her coat collar. "Oh, excuse me, sorry."
"It's fine." She sighed in irritation as he dodged her dog then walked on. Making a mental note of him, she filed it away for later, then went back to talking into her cell.
Ray's lips twitched as he continued on around the corner, parallel to the Consulate. With a quick look around his surroundings, he ducked down the back ally. His steps brought him up to the brick wall bordering the Consulate's rear. At the wall, he surveyed the building and yard. Ren's window was closed and curtain's drawn. All the windows were done the same way.
He climbed up on top of the wall, pulling the detonator out of his vest. "Smile for the birdy." Then he pressed the button.
A smaller explosion this time, emanating from the front of the Consulate. There came a secondary explosion. Ray cocked his head, listening to the screams of the people. Sniffing the air, he smelled burnt oil and gasoline. "The Van. Guess she was a checkin in." He grinned. "Or out."
Twitching his head, he shrugged his jacket closer. Show time. He jumped down and rushed across the yard, fast as his feet would move. It was a short distance. Moments later he was at the side of the building.
Ren's office wasn't lit up which meant he wasn't inside yet. Ray looked around the yard then pulled out a knife from his vest. He eased it under the sill then pushed up. The window came up jerkily sticking on the sides.
Looking around the office, Ray made out the furniture in the usual places. There was nothing out of place, not even the broken lamp that had more dings in the cast iron base than smooth area. Staring at the newest series of dings, Ray sighed in relief. Ren had been here this morning, there were the equivalent amount for days he had been gone up to this morning. His husband only damaged the thing when he was worried about him. Needless to say, the lamp was on its last legs.
Climbing in the window, he was grabbed from behind. Before he could bring his knife to stab the person, a hand clamped over his mouth with a cloth. He shook against the chemical laden rag, trying no to breathe, but his own body failed him in the end. Panting, he fought in the man's arms. The resulting adrenalin rush did nothing to stem the tide of the drug in his system.
Bonelessly, he sagged in the large arms. Ray dropped the knife against his will. He wanted to fight them, wanted to kill them all, they were stopping him from getting to Ren. It wasn't enough.
From a distance, he heard the door open to let several people in uniforms in. Only their chests down were visible in his current position, but Ray would recognize them anywhere. He also recognized the voice that accompanied a particular pair.
"...the blast area is now secure, all possible witnesses detained for questioning.... Sweet holy mother of god!" The shiniest pair of black boots came forwards toward him. "Is it really him?"
"I would assume so. Why would he be breaking into the Consulate?"
Constable Ericson. God how he hated the bitch! Ray thought she was lucky her chemical had disabled him, 'oh the things I will do to you when that is no longer a problem'.
"I would think that his first move would be to get out of Chicago, after all, he is a dead man."
"You will remain silent until spoken to, Constable." A size thirteen and a half pair of red boots came into view.
The arms holding Ray seemed to sag a little. "Yes, sir."
"Remember that." The boots turned a little to face the black boots. "It is indeed him." Stepping towards him, the boots stopped a foot away. "Did you have any doubts?"
"I was informed he was resilient, but to survive that... It is just a fuckin miracle he is alive."
"Please try to watch your language in the queen's Consulate, Lieutenant Gorman." A large warm hand came under Ray's chin to hold up his face. Ren smiled at him. "I had no doubt you would be here, Ray." Ren looked at the constable holding him up. "You will see that he is comfortable in the greeting room. Constable Reddenbaugh, aid Constable Ericson. When she has secured Ray's comfort, see that she takes up position at guard."
"Yes, sir."
Ren nodded then turned back to Ray smiling. "Welcome home, Ray. You will be happy to know that our papers have been finalized, you are now officially a Canadian National." Standing at attention, Turnbull turned on heel, slipped a little on the carpet but continued on affected out of the room.
Lieutenant Gorman's face broke out into silent laughter until a passing Constable kicked him in the shin, on accident. Ray watched the boots of a dozen Mounties file out of the room followed by him and Constable Ericson. On the way past the black boots of Gorman's men, Ray noticed they shifted uncomfortably.
So, the Organization and the Canadians were working together on this one. Of course he was pissed at himself for not thinking of this, and the fact that Mounties were basically Chameleons when it suited their purposes. Such as laying in wait for a potential prisoner braking in. How stupid was that?
Oh well, he could forgive himself the last. He had not been thinking straight since... ever. Ray managed a small smile. Had to find the humor in a bad situation, might save your life or make the enemy careless in anger. It might have been useful, had he been able to move beyond the most basic of motor functions.
Ericson came into view as he was plopped down in a large conference room chair. It was wooden and uncomfortable. The way they were securing his hands and feet, he could guess pretty accurately what this one was for. He tried to fight her, but came out drool.
"How much of that shit did you give him, Constable?" Gorman's angry voice rang out in the room carrying neither authority or threat. Walking into Ray's view, the balding man narrowed his eyes in what was vaguely a toughened expression. "We need him awake and alive!"
"He fought me. Breathing deeply combined with his increased heart beat made him absorb far more then intended."
"Bull shit. Had you restrained him properly, a sniff would be all that was needed. It isn't that primitive chloroform shit you wanted to use."
Ray couldn't fault the man on that one. He knew what they were using on him, the effects should not have been this severe. It was a tranquilizing agent, something used to slow down but not completely immobilize. The bitch had done it to him on purpose. 'Oh, you are definitely dead'! He did his best to send a death glare her way. Probably ended up giving her a glazed look instead.
"It should have been long enough." She reached snapped her fingers in front of his face. "What is your name?"
"Ray." Shit! There was also another handy side effect, zero control over the what you say.
"Good. Just a few more questions to test answers and then we can begin." She looked at someone over his shoulder. Awaiting a response that came, she proceeded. "What is my name?"
"Dead Bitch."
"Ray," came a stern reply from Ren.
"Constable Dead Bitch."
At Ericson's disgruntled look, a couple choked laughs echoed in the room. "His response is not completely accurate, his emotions allow him to subvert answers."
"I do not think so. Ray is merely stating what he believes is to be true. If we wanted the plain facts, more specific questioning is required. Continue, Constable." Lt. Gorman's disembodied voice filled his ears.
Internally, Ray was getting more pissed by the second. At this rate, they would all die. Ren would suffer slowly, but he too must go.
"As you wish, Lieutenant." Her voice inflected disrespect completely. "What is your complete current designation as an Organization Operative?"
"Captain Stanley Raymond Turnbull, First Class Intel Officer. Operative Contact Name, Detective Kowalski."
Ericson looked up over his shoulder again. Waiting, she glanced around.
"That is correct. He is ready."
Constable Ericson swiveled his chair to face a long conference table. Her hands rested on his shoulders, nails gripping into his shoulders like talons.
Seated at the table in seven chairs were Ren, Lieutenant Gorman, two emotionless Mounties he didn't recognize, two Organization women dressed like Gorman, and a man in solid black leather from neck down. His red hair and hawk like features struck reorganization in Ray's mind. He couldn't place the face, but he knew the man.
"Greetings, Ray. I will not go into introductions as I know you hate drawn out interrogations. I am deeply sorry, but this is necessary. We need complete cooperation. Ordinarily I would not sit in on a meeting like this, but Corporal Fraser has mysteriously disappeared." Ren went silent as one of the Mounties raised a hand from her lap.
She faced Ray. "Do you happen to know where Corporal Fraser is?"
"No."
"Thank you, Detective Turnbull. Lieutenant Gorman, if you will, please?" Her hand went back to her lap, seemingly having never moved.
Nodding to her, Gorman sat forward to lean on his arms over the table. "Ray, do you know what caused the destruction of the Commercial cargo and recovery vessel, Nostromo?"
"Yes."
They waited. Ray blinked.
Looking around uncomfortable, Gorman adjust his sitting. "Please continue."
"Yes, I know."
He sighed. "What destroyed the Nostromo?"
Reveling in the small revenge at the tedious questioning, Ray's lips twitched. "The Nostromo was destroyed when her engines over heated."
"That isn't sufficient to destro..."
"Her cargo of illegal arms were caught in the blast. The ensuing eruption completely obligated the Nostromo."
Confused looks and glances were shared among the table.
Ren cleared his throat. "Do you mean obliterated, Ray?"
"Yeah."
Never breaking his gaze from Ray's expressive eyes, Ren nodded. "The drug is losing its effect. You must speed up your questions."
"Uh.... Okay." Clearing his throat, Gorman sat back. "Ray, what was the complete cargo of the Nostromo?"
"Fifteen tomahawk cruise missiles. Electromagnetic pulse generator. Assorted rounds of machine gun bullets. Two hundred P90s. Giamble detonator, special Organization class designed for 'Spring Cleaning'. One biologic hazard marked Quarantined, unknown contents. Mushroom clips for various machine guns. Twin barrel anti-aircraft guns, WWII Canadian model and make..."
"Whoa! Hold on, an unknown biological hazard? What the hell?" Gorman looked at the red haired man. "Chemical weapons?"
"Detective, where did you come across the knowledge of the ship's entire cargo?" The second Mountie asked, his eye brow raised under his Stetson.
"I debriefed Ripley on the voyage back, Organization standard procedure." He blinked at him. The Canadian seemed troubled. "Why?"
"Impressive." All motion in the room stopped. Soon all eyes were on the red haired man. "Your tolerance is remarkable."
"Thanks."
"If I promise not to have them redose you, will you answer the questions truthfully and to the best of your knowledge?"
"If I can."
"That is not good enough."
"Yes."
"Proceed, Lieutenant."
"Yeh... Yes, sir!" Gorman saluted then looked back to Ray. "What was in the biologic container that Operative Ripley had in her possession at the time of the rescue?"
"Unknown Biological Hazard One, Bob." Ray couldn't help himself, Gorman had never been the most intelligent or reliable officer. Glaring at the shocked officer, he wanted to jump from the chair and beat the man. However, his only working muscles all seemed to be centered in his head and neck. "Ripley obtained the smallest sample container and placed it in the life boat earlier on the day we were supposed to meet. The ship's engine was over loading, she didn't even have time to lower the boat, just unhook the moorings and pray it was strong enough to survive the blast. Which evidently it was."
The female Mountie tilted her head slightly. "Our Constables reported that Ms. Delmanico was frantic and quite insistent that you must die. She believed that when you crushed the container, this entity had followed you over the side and inhabited your body. Could you please inform us of what happened when you fell over the side?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Yes, Gorman, I don't know. Had the Mounties been half assed observant, they would have noticed that I was knocked out before I went under." Ray growled in rage at the Lieutenant.
"I am sorry, Detective Turnbull. That is information lacking on our side. They seemed to have been preoccupied with the creature when you went over the side. We will amend our records." She nodded towards someone behind Ray. "Now, will you please tell us about what you do remember after the afore mentioned events?"
"Yeah, sure." Ray rubbed at his stomach unconsciously as it growled. "If you promise to get me somethin to eat. I haven't had anything since before the Tsian docked yesterday morning."
"It will be arranged." The male Mountie nodded in another direction behind Ray.
"Fine." To the surprise of the others, he sat forward and leaned on the table before they even blinked. Looking between them, he made note of their appearances. "I awoke in the water, my head and back aching from the fall. From previous experience, I allowed my body to float up by letting it go limp. Luckily the current hadn't dragged me but to the other side of the boat and I just reached up to let myself in. After that I am sure you know what happened."
"Yes, Ms. Delmanico's assassination attempt and subsequent unconsciousness. Thank you, Detective Turnbull. If there is anything else, we will be in contact. Constable Turnbull will lead you back to his office and where your breakfast is waiting." As the last word left her mouth, Ray was up and at the door.
"Remarkable. A complete recovery in minutes."
"Yes, quite."
"Inspector?" His pale blue eyes glanced over the woman in question. "You do not seem surprised."
"He is married to a Royal Canadian Mountie, Mr. Bishop."
Ray froze. Slowly, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Prime Sept Bishop?"
"Yes."
"Sir," Ray acknowledged with a salute before he turned for the door and walked out. He ignored the men and women out side the door, both Mountie and Operative alike. They were meaningless in the face of what he had just learned.
Ren caught up with him at the end of the hall, guiding him by the arm towards the Mountie's office. When they reached it, Ren pushed Ray against the door. Leaning in close, he brushed his lips against the shorter man's ear, followed by his cheek, and nose before pulling back. Staring Ray directly in the eyes, he ran his hands down the blond's body, undoing buttons and straps along the way. His nimble fingers stroked flesh as it became visible through the falling weapons and clothes.
Soon Ray was standing in only the black leotard with Ren groping him in painful swipes. He shivered at the warm breath blowing over his exposed chest, becoming aroused at the anger behind each exhalation. Soon the scalding touch settled on either side of his hips, lifting him up to straddle the Mountie. Ray wrapped his legs around Ren, locking his ankles behind him.
He let his head fall back against the door, closing his eyes to revel in the scent of and heat of the man holding him. Ray was very aware of the growing erection against his ass. Ren's smell changed to include arousal mixed in the anger. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Mountie gave into the need to mark what was his.
Lifting his head to better expose his neck, Ray smiled. The next moment the warm breath was against his skin followed by teeth nipping at skin. Ray hissed when Ren's sharp teeth nicked him, drawing blood. Ren laved at the wound before sucking hard enough to make it larger. Bringing his arms up under Ren's, Ray gripped the man trying to pull him away, but he only bit him again.
Ray stopped struggling, just held on as Ren nipped him over and over in different spots. It was both painful and exhilarating at the same time. The passion side of the meaning wasn't lost on him, but what mattered to him was this said Ren still wanted him. He hadn't fucked up their marriage beyond repair. "Ren."
A growl and a hard nip was his only response.
"Yours."
"Mine!" Ren released Ray's neck and brought their faces together again. Looking his Ray in the eyes, Ren repeated it softly this time. "Mine."
"Yours." Nodding, Ray laid his head down on Ren's shoulder. He wasn't surprised when he felt himself sag as they left the door. Ren walked them both over to the desk to lay down over it. Ray let go when he felt Ren's weight settle between his legs and over his body. He ground his groin against Ren in time to Ren's own motions. So lost in his lust filled mind, he didn't hear the door open.
"Detective, your meal, sir."
Ren didn't stop his motions as he glared up at the Operative with the tray. "He thanks you, you may go." With a growl, he went back to Ray's neck.
They both clearly heard the door slam, but neither cared enough to stop. That is until Ray's stomach growled again. Ren pulled up and growled back. Ray couldn't laugh, he wouldn't. Much.
Ren got off him with a huff. Walking over to the tray sitting on the floor, he picked it up and walked back to Ray. "Time for you to eat."
"Food?"
Ren pulled Ray off the desk one handed and pushed him towards the desk chair. "I have told you it is not nice to tease, Ray."
"Ah."
"Indeed." He set the tray in front of the blonde with a flourish, grabbed a small hard boiled egg for himself, and sat in down in the chair across from Ray. "Eat it all, you will need your strength."
Ray grinned. ____________________________________________________
____________________________________________________ Part 10 For one brief moment I was.
Two Hours Later.
Ray gasped for breath as he fell back on to the desk, Ren laid out over his chest panting. He pushed at the larger man, but only succeeding in making himself even more weary. "That is..." a deep breath, "is not what I thought," another breath, "you meant!"
"It was my intention at the time."
"But, I thought..."
"I am well aware of what you thought. I did not feel the need to correct you as I was still angry with you." Gingerly running a hand down Ray's side, Ren smiled. His actions were really what Ray had needed. That is until Ray had jumped on him and pulled them down backwards on the desk. "Ray, I do not understand why you are adamantly against calisthenics."
"It is the principal of the matter, Ren. Why do exercises when we can get an even greater work out and twice the fun having sex?"
"Really, Ray!"
"I know, watch my language."
"That is not what I meant!" Ren slid off of Ray and turned away.
"Ren?" When a stiff back was all he got, he put a hand on his husband's shoulder. "What did you mean?"
"I am surprised from the way you complain about exercising that you can even stand to have sex with me." Cool crisp tone, Ray knew he had stepped in it again.
"It was just an expression, Ren. Sex with you is greater than great, it's greatness personified."
"I see, if you will excuse me, Ray, I believe you will need some rest. You may use the shower, I will be taking the one in the queen's room." Back ramrod straight, Ren turned and marched from the office, slamming the door behind him.
"God damn it!" Huffing, Ray sat up on the desk. Since when was Ren so damned sensitive? "Since forever, Turnbull! He has always been quick to jump to conclusions, we know this." He glanced about the office for something to wear. His gaze landed on the closet and a smile developed.
The shower was quick and scorching. Or at least the water should have been hot. It fogged the door over yet it barely felt warm to Ray. The sooner it was over, the better as far as he was concerned. Once out he shook dry and walked over to the closet. From inside he grabbed a pair of boxers and a plain white T-shirt. After putting them on, he pulled on a pair of woolen socks.
Under clothes complete, he put on the smaller uniform hanging in the closet. He expertly adjusted the Sam Brown with a devious smile. Ren and he had spent many hours perfecting his skills of using the belt. Last piece he dawned with a sigh.
When the door opened, Ray stood at attention facing the new comer. Ren's gasp was all the reaction he had hoped for. "Ray?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Ray." This time his voice was a deep pur. "Prepare yourself for inspection."
"Yes, sir!" Ray bent over.
Ren walked slowly towards Ray. "Your uniform appears to be in proper alignment." Upon reaching Ray's side, he ran a hand down the man's back. "Form is good, healthy physic." Stopping between his legs, Ren's hand grabbed Ray hard. "Nice packaging, regulation boxers, cotton white."
Grunting, Ray forced himself to remain still. "Does everything meet your approval, sir?"
"Yes," he squeezed, "very much so."
"Constable, is there any reason why you are sexually harassing a fellow Mountie?" Ray shot up glaring at the snide tone.
"Get out, you bitch!" Reaching for his gun, Ray growled when all he met was air. "You are dead just as soon as I find my weapon!"
"There is no need, Constable." Ren stepped forward, grabbed Ericson by the Sam Brown, and threw her from the room. Slamming the door, he turned the dead bolt, and made an about face towards Ray. "Now where were we?"
"Inspections, sir."
Before Ren could move back to Ray's side, a knock came from the door. "Go away," the both called.
"I am afraid we can't do that, Detective. Something has come up that will need your cooperation."
"Go away, Gorman!" Ray growled as he walked over to Ren.
"This is of the utmost importance, Mr. Turnbull. You know we would not ask other wise."
"Very well, Inspector Gatson. Ray and I shall be with you in a moment." He called out as he pulled Ray into his arms, angling his head to kiss Ray on the lips.
"Thank you, Constable." The male inspector's voice faded as foot steps lead away from the door. "Come along, Mr. Gorman, they have said they will be there."
Ray grabbed the dented lamp off the desk and chucked it at the door. He enjoyed the squeak from Gorman as it struck the door. At the reproving look from his husband, Ray only smirked. Quickly, he pulled Ren in for another kiss before stepping back to compose himself. "Ready, lover boy?"
"Really, Ray."
"Just be glad I didn't call you sweet heart."
"I would call you love."
He glared at Ren. "You start to sing and I'll ask for a divorce after I am through kickin you in the head."
"I had no intention of singing, Ray." Adjusting his uniform, he reached for the door. Pulling it open, he started humming under his breath.
"Ren!"
Ignoring the threat while he walked seemed like the best option. Nothing angered his Ray more. An angry Ray was a passionate Ray. And a passionate Ray was a night's worth of fun. Usually ending with several visible love bites and an extra hitch in his step. Usually.
A quick glance over his shoulder let Ren know Ray was following along slightly fuming. Tonight would be a passionate night. Closing his eyes, he fought against the sexual charged shudder. Now was not the time to get caught up in amorous concepts.
They continued on down the hall in the direction of the most voices. At the end four more Constables joined them in a room filled with Mounties and Operatives. Most were at attention while some stood in wonder, glancing about the banquet hall.
Ray's vision lasered in on the center of the confusion. Two constables stood on either side of a chair hosting a blonde with short hair. Half her face was covered in healing burns that started below her ear and down into her flowing robe. He assumed it was necessary because of more burns, else she looked as if her chosen attire would be more militaristic.
Their eyes met over the den of men and women in uniform. Her's widened while his narrowed in thought. Ray felt he should recognize her.
In the time he searched his memory for a name, the room had gone quiet. Ray glanced about the Mounties, all standing at attention, and decided to follow suit.
A moment afterwards, the two Inspectors walked in with a third close behind. They walked in step, shoulder to shoulder. She glanced about then focused on the woman. He stood at parade rest.
"Why have you brought me here? What do you want? I didn't do anything wrong."
"You have information we desire. We wish to ask you a few questions. Yes, you have broken both national and international laws. However, if you cooperate with us, we will over look that matter as it is of no concern to us." She stalked around the blonde. "If you refuse, then I am sure certain members of both the Canadian and United States governments would like to know you are still very much alive."
"Trust us, Ms. Lambert, your cooperation is in the best interest of all involved." The third Inspector stood next to the female Inspector. He smiled genially towards Lambert.
"How do I know you won't turn me in? You're the fucking Mounties for Christ's sake."
"Very true, Ms. Lambert. You will just have to trust that we are honest in our intentions. I will not lie to you." His smile never faltered.
Inspector Gatson watched all this with a blank look on his sharply defined features. "Constables Turnbull, will you join us, please?"
Ray glanced to Ren. Ren nodded. Both went forward through the assembled group. As Ray walked by, a few of the Operatives gasped. One even started to say something but a hand on his shoulder by one of the Mounties stopped him.
Their steps brought them to either side of the Inspector. He raised hand to gesture at Lambert. "Can you please identify this woman?"
Ray nodded once. "Mary Lambert, ship's crane operator and cargo inspector."
"Thank you, Constable." He waved a hand to motion Ray backwards. Both Ray and Ren took one step back. "Now, we have positively verified your identity, we may begin." Folding his arms behind his back, he cocked his head to the left. "As part of your job, it would be for you to know what was in the hold of the ship, would it not?"
"Yes."
"Was there anything unusual in the final cargo the Nostromo was hauling, Ms. Lambert?"
Looking the Inspector in the eyes, she stuck her chin out in defiance. "You already know that there was."
"Yes, but we need for you to confirm its existence for us." He started to walk around her, never pausing even to allow the other inspectors time to clear from his path. "What was on the boat, Ms. Lambert?" His voice carried throughout the room in a low purr.
She tried to follow his movements with her eyes, then with her head as he circled round her. When she could no longer follow him and sit comfortably, she stared straight forward. Suddenly, she jumped with a shout as his face appeared next to hers.
"Please answer the question."
Operatives shifted in their seats. Uncomfortable with the unmoving Mounties, they tried to adjust. A few even attempted to emulate them. To no avail.
Lambert glanced from person to person, trying to appeal to their faces. When she saw no reaction, she lowered her head. "It was an unknown shipping box that contained a biohazard level five. Something not even the CDC would allow shipped."
"Where did it come from?"
"I don't know. We were merely rerouted to a small point of island marked only on special survey maps. Reference points on the maps which were dated from an expedition in eighteen thirty-six. This island has no known name other than LB four-two-six. You won't find it on any official charts."
Gatson smiled. "No, I would suspect not. Please, go on."
"The island was a regular drop for moonshine smugglers during the prohibition. Used so much that they built a boat dock complete with house. It was there we were told to find the cargo. Our middle man was a recent addition to the crew by the name of Ash. His contacts checked out else we would have slit his throat and tossed him over board for being a possible spy."
At the mention of the last, she suddenly let out a sob bringing her hands to her face. "Oh god, how could we have been so stupid?"
"What is that?"
Jerking her head up at the voice, Lambert stared wide eyed at the Inspector. "It was Ash all along. Everything that happened, it was his fault. The cargo, the parasite, the crew dying, it was all his fault!"
"What do you mean, the crew dying? There was..." Gorman, moving from his position by the door way where they Inspectors had entered from, was silenced by Bishop's hand on his shoulder.
All eyes were on the duo. Bishop tightened his grip on the Lieutenant with a tight smile. "Please start from the beginning, Ms. Lambert. How did this Mr. Ash come to be on board the Nostromo?"
Her eyes hardened when she looked at Bishop. "You already know, it was your intervention that by passed all our safe guards against spies and placed that monster on our crew."
More shocked sounds from the Operatives.
Bishop nodded sagely. "As I thought. However, you are mistaken, Ms. Lambert. I was not the one behind this, it was in fact a counter part. A duplicate of sorts."
"Why would you have a duplicate?"
Ray glared at Gorman. "Security reasons, Lieutenant. There are a dozen duplicates of each Sept. Standard knowledge for anyone who has passed Operative status." Realizing he had spoken aloud, Ray lowered his head towards the Inspector. "Sorry, sir."
"Make sure it does not happen again, Constable." Gatson sent him a withering glance. "He did raise a good point, though not the one he intended."
"Yes, sir." Ray gritted his teeth, but nodded at the Inspector.
"Why would a duplicate interfere with this investigation, Mr. Bishop?" All three Inspectors focused their attention on the Prime Sept.
"What is this, an interrogation?"
"Yes, Lieutenant, it is. A Tribunal in fact. We are here to investigate the actions of our officers and the cover up of a possible weapons smuggling ring." Talking as she went, the female inspector moved towards Gorman. "It is the way of the RCMP. And the Organization if our sources are correct."
"They are." Bishop nodded. "An entire division has gone rogue and it is believed they are under the command of my duplicate. They do not know they are going against Sept law as I have not been in contact with them since the betrayal for security reasons."
"How many men, sir?" The second male Inspector spoke in hushed tone.
"It is hard to say. They took a great deal many casualties since my last command. All together, before the actions of Mr. Burke, the first Division had seven hundred men and women. With a ninety percent combat Operative status, it was the main tactical Division." Bishop stared down at his hands. "We lost close to thirty percent before the leak was contained and Operatives secured."
"So we could be looking at close to five hundred people here."
"No," Bishop shook his head. His eyebrows raised in anger. "The first division will never completely devote their resources to anything unless the entire Sept approves."
"Then give us a rough estimate of how many men and women we might be dealing with, now." She narrowed her eyes, all formality lost in the face of her anger.
"I can't do that."
"Very well. Then you are no longer of any use to us." She turned on her heel, intent on walking away. Before she take one step, she had three guns in her face.
"If you would be so kind as to wait until I finish." Bishop moved forwards from the door way, hands at his side. "I can't do that, but Lieutenant Gorman might. He was one a few managerial Operatives remaining at his post despite my duplicate's orders."
"Then do so, immediately!" Gatson's voice struck them like a club, dispelling the tension immediately.
"Uh, sir?" He waited for a nod from Bishop before continuing. "There were sixteen of us. Each of us maintained a certain number of teams. My group remained at their posts through out the entire betrayal and resulting deaths."
"That's cause they weren't in any danger, fuck head!"
"Constable!" Gatson stepped closer to Ray, nearly growling his next words. "Do not make me remind you of the price of insubordination. Your presence in this city is only provisionally. We agreed to keep your posting when you joined as an incentive to remain subordinate. However if you can not, there is other placing where your unique skills would be appreciated."
"You betrayed us, your cover, to these freaks?" Gorman's complexion was dangerously white as he tried not to hyperventilate.
Bishop silenced him with a cutting motion. "His loyalty is not in question, Lieutenant. His status as a field Operative was upgraded to intelligence by me personally. Whatever his means or how he sought to gather knowledge was not a concern."
Nodding towards Bishop, Gorman tried to gather his thoughts. A task which was growing ever more difficult with each revelation. "Right, sir. Where was I? Oh, there are sixteen Managerials. Ten of us followed Prime Sept Bishop's... I mean the duplicate's orders and moved their teams from deep cover to rogue status. These teams were the least populated as they had taken the brunt of the attacks. They are also the only teams from Division One based in the United States."
A throat cleared from across the room, the third Inspector glared at Gorman when he had his attention.
"Uh... We are looking at approximately one hundred people after last night's raid by the FBI. I double checked the numbers, they are accurate."
"My god, no wonder he wanted it!"
All attention was focused once more on Lambert.
Gatson gave her a cursory once over then blinked. "Perhaps it would be best if you started from the beginning. Start with this Mr. Ash and his addition to the crew."
"Mr. Van Leuwen wanted our services. Captain Dallas knew him, that is all he would say. Ash was the representative of Van Leuwen on our voyage. The addition of a man to the crew was standard for such an operation, just to oversee the pick up and delivery of the cargo. We had done this a hundred times. There was nothing to indicate this voyage would be any different." Pausing, she focused on her hands. She placed one on the side of her face to trace the scar patterns. "We didn't know it would go this badly."
Her breathing hitched a moment before she carried on. "We were given a series of maps, all copies of an older one. Dallas told us to burn them after we retrieved the cargo. I wasn't involved with the retrieval, my place was on the crane to bring it on board. But once we got it in the hold, I went down to inspect. My job was to be carried out once an hour for twelve hours every day."
"I would like to cut in, if I may." Bishop cleared his throat as the Inspector nodded. "What exactly did your job entail you to do during this inspection?"
Lambert's head shot up, eyes wide at his question. "The usual. Check the cargo for damage, make sure the moorings were secure, and make sure it was all still there. We were a salvage team, some things might pose too much temptation for certain members of the crew." Her words caused tears to well up in her eyes. "Our normal route usually takes us on a three week voyage of Lake Michigan before we return to port. Having to make deliveries on a pretty regular basis made sure we stuck to that schedule.
"Brett was the maintenance, anything needed fixing, he was your guy. He was also terminally curious. Parker was the one who usually kept him out of trouble. He did everything on the ship that wasn't assigned to anyone else. Usually he was found in the engine room with Brett trying out another way to get the damn thing working better. A side effect of being smugglers was the necessity of a fast, reliable engine.
"Kane was our resident solicitor and debunker, anything suspicious he usually uncovered. I can't recount the times he saved us from those damn drug traffickers. Even we refused to haul it after we lost two crewmen early on because of them. Ripley was one of their replacements. She started out as a security officer, but proved to be an even bigger jack of all trades than Parker. Dallas' appointing of her to second in command and dock manager was approved by all of us. That rounds out the crew aside from Ash." She growled the name.
"It was the first day of the second week out that we reached the island and picked up the cargo. Amazing the dock held up under the loaders it was so old, but the fork lifts had the pallets out and ready for me. Ripley and Kane inspected the cargo. They fought with Dallas, but in the end they had to let it be brought on board. I didn't understand why until I saw the biohazard symbol on the shipping crates as I lowered the damn thing in the hold."
Silenced reigned in the room while Lambert stared off into space. Several operatives shifted in the uncomfortable atmosphere. They were starting to move when Inspector Gatson reached out. His fingers ghosted across Lambert's chin in order to get her attention. "Please continue."
She looked about to object before she nodded once. "As I stated, it was my job to check the cargo for twelve hours. I had already been on shift five when we loaded it on board. Most of it was part of a standard arms shipment. The only thing I had never seen before was the biohazard containment pod, I later learned what it was called.
"My first check of the damned thing was met with noises. It sounded like someone was banging on a fish tank from the inside. At first I couldn't think what in hell would be in there. Then I remembered my training, I was a scientist's assistant when I first started working the lake. She had used glass sample containers. Sometimes the specimens weren't quite dead when they were stuck in the jars. That was the sound I heard, only a hell of a lot louder than lake Trout. If I'd known then, I would have detonated a grenade in the damn thing and have done with it.
"I reported my findings to Dallas and he told Ash. By my next check an hour later the containers were silent. Damn it! Why didn't I listen to my gut feeling?" She slammed a fist into the arm of the chair. "Kane had the noon to midnight shift, and I didn't see him before we switched places. My nerves were shot and I wanted something to drink. I suppose that is the only thing that saved me."
Her body shook a little before she raised a hand to wipe at her eyes. "I went below deck to the crew cabins and got my private stash. The shit in the galley was barely good enough for removing paint. Ripley wanted Dallas to higher a cook, but he refused, said we would all have to take a pay cut which ended the discussion for a while." Laughing a little, she shook her head.
Gatson tilted his head a little before he motioned for her to go on.
"I, um, got drunk rather quickly. I don't partake very often, but when I do, I am usually trying to get hammered. That day was no exception. There was just something about that biohazard label that really upset me. I worked with Susan for three years. We only used that when there was a deadly communicable disease being carried by the animal. Anything inside the containers was considered one hundred percent lethal, and was being shipped only because it had to be disposed of in a specific way or it would risk contamination of others.
"We had a Sea Lion on a Japanese owned freighter traveling the lakes that came in from the coast. They had captured it because they were curious of the meat. What they hadn't considered is to why it was so easy to capture. The damn thing had a form of Ebola. I don't know how the creature got it but the whole crew was dead by the time our team arrived to destroy all evidence. We transported the bodies in an airless steel box marked level five biohazard and napalmed the freighter before scudding her. The whole thing was covered up as another mystery of the lakes. The owners were only too happy to collect the insurance money and have done.
"I only tell you this because it is necessary for you to understand why I reacted the way I did. I am not a coward, but there are some things you just don't fuck with!" She swallowed. Her breathing had become ragged during her speaking. "I don't know what happened after that until Ripley came to get me. Something had happened in the hold." Lambert searched through her shirt checking each pocket. "Anybody gotta cigarette? I need something to smoke, just to calm my nerves."
Gatson shook his head. "I am sorry, but there is no smoking in Canada."
"What the fuck? Of course there is...."
"He means the Consulate," Ren supplied.
"Fine! That's just great. How about bubble gum? Something to chew? Anything before I start biting my own hand off." She glanced about the room. There was nothing forth coming. "Fuck it, figure out the rest on your own."
"Need I remind you, Ms. Lambert, you already agreed to tell us."
"Yeah, well so what. I gotta have something to sooth my nerves. That damn thing was kinda hard to take. And if you want anymore information outta me, you had best get me something now!" Pulling a nail to her mouth, she started chewing at the nub. "Now, damn it!"
"Please refrain from directing profanity at..."
"Fuck you!" She started to stand up, but Ray was suddenly there offering her a cigarette. "Thank god for small favors." After inhaling to help light it, she sat back with a deep sigh. Her attention soon riveted back to Ray as she looked up. She pulled the cigarette away after another drag. "Do I know you?"
"Constable Renfield!" Gatson's voice sliced out like a whip.
"Sorry, sir, she needed it. Ripley was very explicit in her information." Ray held up an ash tray pulled from a table. Looking down, he offered it to Lambert only to stop at her expression. "What?"
"Sonofabitch!" Lambert glared daggers at him and Gatson. "You son of a bitch! You and Ripley were involved all along! I remember now, you used to hang around the docks. Ripley said you were just a good fuck, nothing unusual in her line of work." Snorting, she turned in her seat to glare at the other two inspectors. "So how long were the RCMP involved in this?"
"I assure you, Ms. Lambert, it was only recently this came to our attention." The female Inspector stepped closer. "It became our concern when Constables Renfield informed our counterpart here in Chicago of the smuggling ring ten weeks ago."
"That's a lie! Ripley has been fuckin that Mountie for the past five years!"
"No, it is not." Bishop came closer, he ignored Lambert's gasp. "He has been working for my counter part. The death of your crew was scheduled for two weeks from now, if events had not conspired against us. You really should have been more discriminating in your choice of clients. However, fortune seems to have smiled on you this once."
Lambert finished her cigarette and waved away the offer of a second. "I see." She sent another glare to Ray before sitting up straight in her chair. "When Ripley came to get me, I had already slept off most of the alcohol. She said there was something on Kane, it had come from the crate. As we made our way to the medbay, she told me how they had heard his screams and found him passed out on the floor. Ash had been the first one there and already had him out of the hold by the time she arrived. The fucker probably put the damn thing on him."
"Put what exactly?"
"That's the question isn't it." Lambert grabbed the cigarettes from Ray and lit one up. "This thing was about three and a half feet long from fingertip to tail. Looked like Skate with fingers instead of manta wings. Twelve digits spread around two thirds of an ovid body with a prehensile tail at the rear. Stronger than a grown man, it had wrapped itself around his head and neck like a gas mask and scarf. There was a proboscis extended from the main part of body that went down his throat into his esophagus." At their looks, she added, "we had an X-ray machine on board for scanning cargo."
"What else can you tell us about this creature?" Bishop's face revealed dread from his contorted features.
"Not much." She took a long drag from the cigarette. "It wasn't from Earth."
"Now that is speculation."
"It was silicone based. Nothing from Earth would be. I have a fucking degree in microbiology, I know about this, you shit!" She tossed the butt of the cigarette at Gorman in anger. "This thing has concentrated acid for blood that ate through three levels of tempered steel before it stopped. The stuff became inert after it had fulfilled its purpose and died. It was only the egg carrier, this thing laid a fucking egg in Kane's stomach then fell off dead! Doing all this, the creature had a life cycle of less than twenty hours once attached."
She took another cigarette, holding it, this time unlit. "We turned back for home port when the damned thing attacked Kane. ETA of two days. We radioed Coast Guard that we would be turning around, breaking course because we sprang a leak and headed home for repairs. After assuring them we were fine, Ash got a hold of his handler, some bitch named mother. I over heard the last bit. She fucking told him our lives were expendable, just get the creatures and Kane back to them A.S.A.P. He had a whole fucking transport full of them.
"Twelve hours from port, the damn thing exploded from Kane's chest. He had been awake after the creature had left him to die. Just sitting there joking with us over a meal and it fucking exploded from his chest. There was so much blood all over everything." Lighting up, she took three long drags with shaking hands before continuing. "It jumped from his body and ran out of the galley, tail swishing like a friendly dog. Only this wasn't a dog I had ever seen. I can't describe it accurately except this way. Like a giant dinosaur shaped insect with a bony tail made up of links of vertebrate.
"We burned Kane's body in the incinerator. I wanted Ash dead, his cargo to go the way of Kane. Dallas wouldn't let us. Should have just knocked him out. Sonofabitch! God damn it! That thing grew, in two hours it went from two feet to over seven feet tall. Tall, skinny, black, and pure predator. Its head was shaped like one of them dinosaurs that have a pipe sounding voice. It didn't sound like no pipe, it screeched, god it screeched.
"Brett was the first to see it. He went hunting for the damned thing, fucking curious bastard! It got him, but not before he reported what he found in the engine room. There was a nest, this thing was secreting a mucus that ate at the walls and formed a hive. It didn't take him, just killed him where he stood, ate his heart out." Shaking her head, Lambert smiled maliciously at nothing. "No, it was smarter than that. Made a nest in the one place we couldn't touch it."
She laughed, short and scratchy. "The next to go was the captain. He was fighting the damn thing with a home made blow torch, which had less than no effect on it. They fought, it bled on him and then ripped his arms off. Don't need arms if all you are going to do is play egg host." She finished the cigarette and started another quickly. "The damage from the fight short circuited the main power relay in the Captain's Office and killed the engines.
"I saw it all, of course I was chained to the radiator in his office because I had attempted to kill Ash." Another bark of laughter. "Because I was locked away the creature didn't find any need to attack me and left me all alone to watch. Ripley found me trying to dislocate my thumb to get away. She uncuffed me and we confronted Ash. He tried to sneer at us, but Ripley knocked it from his face. She has a mean right hook." With a grudging nod towards Ray, she sighed.
"He wouldn't tell us his mission but it didn't matter. Parker called us before she could start torturing his ass. The hold had been broken open, acid dissolving the hatch prevented it from closing. Ash's pet had gotten in and taken the jars from the biohazard pod. You should have seen the look on his face as she kicked his ass down those stairs into the hold. We sealed off the lower decks while Parker rerouted power to the main bridge through navigation.
"Ripley came up with a plan. We would get the engines started again, bring us closer to land, set the engines to over load and then escape in a dingy. It would have worked, if the alien didn't have time to grow a new buddy from Dallas. The time between the engines going off line and when we got them back was close to forty hours. I didn't realize it at the time. We had also drifted off course.
"Ripley got a hold of the Constable here on the satellite phone, and told him where to meet her. Of course the damn thing was destroyed before she could tell him her plan. The monsters chose that time to interrupt. Parker pulled a hand gun and shot the phone as he tried to kill them. Fucking idiot." Her tone went from angered to tired. "While Ripley and Parker fought them, I went to the Captain's office and locked the door so I could call for help. Dallas had an old ham radio in there as a monument to past glory from his days before the Nostromo. It didn't work, I think the office was lined with too much metal.
"After a few minutes, all got quiet. I waited in the office not daring to try to escape. Several hours later the creatures returned. I counted four different screeches that time. Apparently they communicated about as well as we do." Lambert smiled as tears started to fall. "There was no clock in the room, so I couldn't tell how long we had been moving. The engine died after a few hours, they are programmed to if no one is attending them to input a certain code.
"All this time, I had been trying desperately to get a hold of someone. I don't know when it happened, but the creatures finally left me alone. Taking my chances, I escaped from the Captain's office and barricaded myself on the bridge. They tried to get in, but the bulk head held. I turned the engines on, locked the crank shafts in stationary, and emptied the coolant tanks. Feeling it was finally over, I threw open the bulk head. They were gone. I raced through the ship to the life boats and got away before one saw me. It was too late for them. The motor on the boat assured I was far away from the Nostromo before she blew. Two days later the Mounties picked me up and here I am." Finishing, she put the last cigarette out in the tray and sat back.
"Just a few more questions, Ms. Lambert." Inspector Gatson stood in front of her. "How long do you estimate it was before the initial attack of Mr. Kane and the destruction of the Nostromo?"
"Four days."
"Very good. Now do you think it is possible for a fellow member of your crew, one you did not personally see die, to have survived?"
"No." Lambert shook her head. "Those things would not tolerate any threat."
"And what would you say if I told you one did survive?"
"I would tell you that there was a containment breech. That most likely that they are now dead and you have one possibly more Alien running loose out there somewhere."
The three inspectors looked at each other in question. Gatson nodded at them. "How long do you think the creature would remain dormant before it absolutely must hatch?"
"That is hard to say. I don't have much knowledge, but they don't seem to have the ability once laid in the host, to pick and choose their gestation time. The creature could have chosen not to leave Kane if so, we had not threatened it once. If it had any control over gestation, the creature would have waited until it felt safe before hatching. Much less would it have created more of its own kind if they were simply going to die out before reproducing. No, I think they knew there was a limited supply and were preparing to leave. What better way to prepare for invasion then having as many as you can create?"
"So you believe they knew there were more hosts on this world?"
"I think it is more of a biological imperative. There had to be mother to all those egg layers. I think they are only smart enough to secure a suitable habitat and prepare a way for a matriarch. The more of them before her gestation, the safer the world is for her birth. You see, once the process starts, it can not end unless you kill all those already active before the queen comes into play. Quite simply put, if she comes, and is anything like an insect queen, she will be able to create thousands more."
She leaned forward in the chair, making sure Gatson held her attention. "If someone did survive the ship aside from myself, then your queen is already here. She may be advanced enough to hold off on her maturation until safe, or she might have a longer gestation cycle because she is so advanced. Either way, you are fucked."
The inspectors shared another look. Gatson nodded at the other two. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Lambert. I would suggest that you leave town immediately."
"You are not renigging on our deal!"
"No, but as you said, we may be fucked."
Her eyes widened as she stood on shaky legs. "Someone did survive, didn't they. Who?"
"That is not of your concern..."
"God damn it, now is not the time to get coy on me! I gave you critical knowledge on these fuckers, now you owe me more than just a thank you!"
Inspector Gatson gestured from Ren and Ray towards Lambert. "Please escort her out of Canada then return. We have situation that will require both of you."
Both men nodded then moved forward to her side. Ray pointed towards the door way he and Ren had entered. "This way, Lambert."
"It was Ripley. You went out there and got her, didn't you?" Her mouth set in a grim line as her face hardened. "She was infected, you moron!"
"We don't know that."
"There were five canisters! Brett was killed by the creature before he could be used as a host. There were four of those god damned things on the ship and Ripley was hosting the fifth." Lambert started to scream as Ray dragged her forward with Ren's help. "You damned us all! You son of a bitch! You killed the Human race!"
At the door way, Ray grabbed her face in a vice grip. "I did not! The fifth creature did not infect Ripley! She had it in a container on the dingy we found her in. It was still alive, which means its bundle of joy was still inside. I cracked the glass by accident and it got away. At no time was the creature able to attach itself to her."
At that, Lambert sagged in their arms, the fight gone from her. Panting heavily, she started to cry. "It's over. Oh god, it's over."
Ray looked at Ren over Lambert's head. He tried to convey his wishes, smiling when Ren nodded. Instead of heading towards the exit, they walked to Ren's office. Inside, they placed Lambert on a cot behind a curtained off corner. Quietly, he walked into the bathroom with Ren on his heels.
Once inside, he turned and faced his tall husband. For a moment they only stared at each other. Taking the time to really look at one another for the first time in weeks. Ray was the first to move, wrapping Ren in his arms. When Ren's arms came about him, Ray let himself lean into the embrace. "I love you."
"And I you, my Ray." Holding on tight, Ren kissed Ray on the forehead. "Though perhaps it might be easier if we were not in uniform."
"Yeah, desecrating the uniform, big no no."
"Very much so, Ray." Their thoughts were interrupted when a knock resounded on the bathroom door. "Yes?"
"You must hurry, Constable. Something has happened."
"What is it now?" Ray grumbled.
"I am sorry to interrupt, Constables, but I am afraid that situation the Inspectors feared has come to be."
Ray let go of Ren and grabbed the door, throwing it open quickly. "How many and where?"
"Five so far, in your former district, Constable." The woman saluted Ren and turned on heel. "Begging your pardon, gentlemen, but your presence has been demanded by the Tribunal and Mr. Bishop."
Ray growled as she walked away. "When this is over we are transferring to a very isolated posting. Somewhere that if anyone bothers us, we have plenty of places to hide the body."
"Ray!"
"Bite me, Ren."
"Perhaps later, we are needed in the conference room now." Ren gently pushed Ray forward, guiding him by the arms towards the door.