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The deck bucked like a bronco, throwing Rigel into the ground. It didn't throw him back and forth though; the impact was one single solid kick. Bang! And Rigel was sprawled over the deck.

It didn't make too much sense. They were out in space. There was nothing out there! Just space. A frightening void of nothing. It wasn't like you could hit a deer.

“Lethal one-one, this is Sparrowhawk-Actual. Report status, over," came a cool female voice in his ear.

Rigel lifted his head as he answered. “Well I'm on the ground hoping to God that wasn't a navy torpedo that just hit the ship I happen to be on."

“Sorry, Lethal one-one. Navy got its knickers in a twist. Brace yourself for one more splash in five seconds." Control's voice was altogether too calm and the operator on the receiving end of the navy's torpedoes suspected she had to be a synthetic for that.

Major Jak Rigel picked himself up, dragged his pulse rifle with him and braced himself against a bulkhead before the next impact. It came exactly as control predicted. Another, single solid kick that threw the deck upward and sent vibrations through every nut, bolt and support beam on the starship.

Rigel was ready though and kept his footing. When the vibrations stopped he broke off and moved through the corridor, pinging control on the comms again.

“What the heck are you kids doing out there? The objective is find the bad guys, kill the bad guys." Raising his pulse rifle he swept a branching corridor. Stepping swiftly through the junction he dipped the barrel quickly to turn forward again, then followed his sights onward. “That's not going to work so well the other way around."

“Navy jumped the gun, Lethal. We got them to back off for now, but you need to resolve the situation on board ASAP. Intel to follow as it becomes available."

Rigel pulled a face and flapped his lips in mock imitation of control's voice. It was easy for her to tell him what to do, she wasn't on a flying coffin inhabited by insurrectionists being shot at by navy torpedoes.

The major felt under-dressed for the occasion. Had he known the navy would be shooting him in the back the operator would have brought his bulky-ass EVA suit from the USS Sparrowhawk. But no. That thing stood useless in his locker a few miles away across the void of space.

Major Rigel was dressed for what should have been a simple high speed op. He'd intended to come, see and destroy with impunity. After all it was him versus some raggedy insurrectionists. He didn't need much more than some dark camo fatigues, body armour, his helmet and a few thousand rounds of ammo for his pulse rifle.

Wearing pants for this kind of op was considered overkill.

Sweeping as he moved, Rigel sliced the pie through another junction. The hallways were built with civilian aesthetics in mind. As such they weren't as claustrophobic as they were on military vessels where every square inch of space was precious. Here they were high and wide, making Rigel feel exposed in the waste of space.

The wall panels were finished with a glossy white sheen and the overhead lights were harsh enough to cut out all the shadows.

Reaching the end of the corridor where the pressure door hung open, Rigel crouched behind a support beam and eyed the atrium ahead. It was a large, cavernous space, and while not as big as the storage and hangar bays on the USS Sparrowhawk, it was still an enormous waste of space. At least on the Sparrowhawk those hangars served a purpose, packed with hardware and drop ships. Here, the atrium was just a big ol' eye-pleaser.

There were benches and planters breaking up the main floor in which synthetic plants stood. Above was a balcony circling the upper tier that looked down over a massive scale model of the ship he was currently aboard, it's christened name the Exodus laser-etched into a decorative plate underneath. As if the passengers of the cruise liner would need to know what the outside of the ship looked like… or what the name was. They'd bought the tickets, hadn't they? Wasn't 'Exodus' printed on the ticket to make sure they didn't get on the wrong space ship!?

Rigel calmed himself down and purged the thoughts. He was mentally bitching about nothing when he had more pressing matters to deal with. Fifteen more pressing matters to be exact, and each of them was armed with a high powered assault rifle.

The Exodus hadn't even made her maiden voyage yet when insurrectionists boarded, booted off the skeleton crew and took the ship for themselves. They weren't interested in hostages or setting off a bomb to make a statement. They were interested in space superiority. An interstellar capable space ship was gold in this day-and-age. It was independence from corporations and government. With a space ship the insurrectionists would be able to move operatives and equipment between colonies, often unchecked and unhindered so long as they played it smart.

The government wasn't about to let these insurrectionists keep this ship, so the mission was three fold. Get Major Rigel and his partner, Lethal one-one and Lethal two-one respectively, on board the Exodus. Infiltrate and secure the atrium, then take the executive elevator up to the bridge. Secure the bridge.

Nobody cared about who these insurrectionists were and what they were really up to in the long run. The military decided they were sick of random bombings and hostage executions, so they were out to make their own statement. It went along the lines of; mess with us, you fucking die.

And fucking die was what these meatheads in the atrium were about to do. They weren't professional soldiers. They were militants, thugs with big guns and no formal training. Their dispersion was erratic at best and their weapons handling skills were hilariously clownish. They had no body armour or other armaments other than their assault rifles and knives. A few had chest rigs to hold their equipment in reach, but the simple fabric rigs would offer no protection.

Normally the government would deploy the marines to deal with this sort of riff-raff, but Rigel needed small-fry like this for practice. More specifically, he needed this for practice with his partner. She was still a little antsy, so this sort of stuff was perfect. They'd work their way up to bigger, better things eventually. But for now, they kept it simple.

Like Rigel had said before; find the bad guys, kill the bad guys. The atrium was a free fire zone. No structural weaknesses, no civvies or hostages in the mix and no HVTs that needed bagging. It was perfect.

“Lethal one-one, I have control," Rigel verified, earning green lights across his HUD. All mission locks and ROEs went from red and amber to green, then slid off to the side of his peripheral vision. If control changed the mission parameters mid-mission he'd know it. “Breaching in three."

Knowing his partner was hiding in the shadows somewhere, watching for his signal intently, Rigel reached up and bopped a fist on his helmet three times. On the third strike it was time to go.

Rigel pushed off and dove headlong into the room, following the barrel of his pulse rifle. He had the holo-sights canted in view of his good eye as he feathered the trigger, letting off short controlled bursts.

The ammo counter dropped five rounds each time an insurrectionist dropped, and with the operator running and gunning with speed and accuracy, five insurrectionists had dropped to the deck before the others turned to realise what was happening.

The major dropped to his knees and slid into cover behind a pillar when return fire stitched the ground at his heels. Sparks danced across the space as their projectiles filled the air.

The insurrectionists lost another shooter as he crossed open ground into Rigel's sights, a sustained burst cutting him in half. Return fire pushed him back though.

Rigel and the hostiles played a game of tag like that around the pillar. He would pop out, let off a few shots, then retreat into cover before the OPFOR innies did the same. Rounds blistered and skimmed the pillar and after repeating the cycle three times Rigel realised he was only venting frustration and pissing ammo.

“Lethal one-one; sitrep."

“I'm resolving the situation!" he shouted frustratedly over the wail of his pulse rifle. “Radio silence! Out!"

Distracted by the radio chatter, Rigel lowered his gun and stepped around the pillar to try and get a new angle on the bad guys. The metalwork was blistered by projectiles as fire from the atrium's upper level joined in. Back behind hard cover the operator double checked his sides to make sure he wasn't being circled on a flank.

As he did he realised there was an insurrectionist to his left, barely twenty metres away with his rifle raised. He had the major dead to rights, and even as Rigel was reacting to the threat he knew he was going to be too slow. There were about to be holes in his body.

Only instead of firing outright, the insurrectionist screamed and jerked. The barrel of his rifle went skyward and he sprayed his own people with an errant burst of fire. The reason for the sudden turn was revealed by an explosion of blood as a black – though now smeared red – blade bust from the man's chest. The suddenly revealed weapon curled upward, hooked around the man's neck and tugged him backwards into the shadows.

His screams were muffled by the wet sounds of tearing flesh, and finally he was silenced to a pained gurgle. There was something in the atrium other than Rigel and the insurrectionists.

One insurrectionist Rigel was still dancing with turned to see the gout of blood in the shadows and twisted his rifle to engage. Putting cover between him and the operator, the innie shone his gun light into the darkness, illuminating the living shadow that lurked there.

It was seven feet of lean, slender muscle encased within a smooth, glistening shell of ebony exoskeletal armour. Bipedal in form, it had a feminine figure to it with wide hips tapering into a thin waist and then widening out into a gently curved bust. Even the arms and legs had sleek female curves to them, the kind might found on a model in such fields.

The head was probably the least human about the creature. Elongated to the back, the head was sleek and featureless, forming a domed eye-less face that housed a large mouth full of predatory teeth.

Everything about the eldritch creature screamed death. The long teeth. The killing claws on each hand and even the chitinous whiplash tail that ended in a serrated blade at the tip. Bladed nubs rand down the spinal column and rib-like protective ridges covered the torso.

It was flawless, machine like in appearance and its methodical movements. A living nightmare that glode across the atrium in just a few steps and cleanly pounced on the insurrectionist firing point blank into its body. The bullets sparked and flattened against the natural armour and the man went down screaming. The tail that had been dragging limply over the ground in its wake snaked up and jabbed forward like a scorpion's chosen implement of death.

Only instead of simply stinging, the xenomorph tail stabbed. And it didn't stop until the insurrectionist's warm innards slickened the atrium floor.

Standing to its full height, the xenomorph turned, now within arm's reach of where Rigel was taking cover. It spotted him, despite the lack of eyes and seemed to be gazing right at him, staring into his soul. He even made out his reflection in the sheen of its featureless face.

Its lips peeled into a predatory smile, like it always did moments before striking at prey…

“Princess!" Rigel suddenly snapped, pointing up to the walkways above where insurrectionists were still firing on them. “Focus! High ground!"

Remembering herself, the xenomorph turned and did as she was told by her handler. With lethal beauty and grace she lunged forward, step-jumping off one of the planters and latching on to the gantry guard railing above.

Rigel's partner, Lethal two-one, better known as 'Princess,' vaulted over the railing and landed low on all fours before scooting among the innies above. She was a blur of motion as she dodged between their bursts of fire, her tail whipping from side to side to decimate the armed men. And those that were too far away but turned to engage this terrifying new hostile in their midst fell under bursts of Rigel's pulse rifle.

It all ended as suddenly as it had started. With Princess in the middle of the fray instead of striking from the shadows the fight was over faster than a knife-fight in a phone-booth. But the end result was far more visceral. The insurrectionists Rigel had bodied lay with gaping, smouldering holes sizzling in their bodies.

The insurrectionists Princess had torn into had been turned into street-pizza.

Waving an all clear, Rigel moved towards the executive elevator that led to the bridge on the port wall of the atrium. Princess, recognising the gesture vaulted to the lower deck with the grace of an athlete. Or perhaps it was a pole-dancer? She had a fluid, almost erotic way of moving, which was strange for a death oriented organism.

Crawling on all fours she would keep her chest low to the deck, but her hips and shapely rear tipped high as if enticing a mate to mount her. Her tail would even lift up high, though Rigel always suspected that made it easier to lash out with the appendage.

When walking on two feet she swayed her hips, tail swishing from side to side as it dragged over the floor behind her. The motions seemed to be second nature, and never once did she lose the fluid grace. She always swished into a movement or snaked into a direction. There was never a jittery jerk or sudden halt. Everything she did seemed efficient and thought through, whether she was killing or just crossing the atrium to meet up with her handler.

Quickly dropping down onto all fours, her long sleek legs folded under her and she sat elegantly on one hip, waiting expectantly for something. Rigel knew exactly what she needed.

Reaching out he touched her domed face with a steady hand. Many would hesitate to even reach towards a deadly creature such as this, but Rigel's confidence didn't wane. The palm of his glove stroked her sleek shell, and Princess moved in a little closer, affectionately rubbing her face along his hip.

Long ago when they were still getting acquainted a xenomorph show of affection like that involved teeth. The very hip she coddled against had the scars to prove it. It had taken a little bit of weaning, but Princess eventually got the memo that biting her handler was bad.

Rigel also appreciated her quick learning.

Ordering Princess to stay, Rigel stepped onto the elevator and keyed the console. Unfortunately, he was going to have to do this next part alone. The final objective was to secure the bridge, but also capture the insurrectionist leader for interrogation. He couldn't well do that if Princess tagged along and butchered everything with a pulse that wasn't Rigel.

Bad news came in the form of an executive lockout. The insurrectionists on the bridge were smart enough to block all conventional routes of access to the bridge. That complicated things a little.

On the one hand he couldn't let Princess get close to the HVT in case she slaughtered the target like all the other insurrectionists. But on the other hand Rigel needed her help to get to the bridge, and possibly to breach and disable aggressors.

In the end, like many previous idiots in history had thought before him, Rigel figured; what the hell? Let's give it a go!

“Alley-oop," Rigel said, pointing at the ceiling.

She understood in an instant and leapt up. Her claws made short work of the emergency access panel and Princess mantled into the elevator shaft below. When she was ready she lowered her tail down through the hole, waited for Rigel to grab on and then hoisted the human onto the elevator roof beside her.

Princess then set her claws into the smooth side of the elevator shaft and started climbing. Like before he latched on to her tail like it was an ascension rope and Princess lifted him all the way to the top of the shaft with her.

Waiting for them at the top were two methods of access. One set of steel double doors that would have opened had the elevator moved up, and above it a ventilation grate linking with the bridge's vent system.

Helping Rigel up, Princess let him stand on a ledge beside the doors before clambering between them and lifting her tail. The bladed tip forced into the seam and jimmied from side to side to open a gap Princess could then get her claws into. the subtle, sleek musculature in her arms flexed and with a groan of the metal locks fighting her, the xenomorph pried the doors open and rolled them aside.

Almost in the same instance as she swung to one side for cover, gunfire seethed the air and rounds blistered the opposite side of the elevator shaft. Tracers sliced through the newly opened doorway as an insurrectionist with a machine gun opened up from inside the bridge. In seconds their way onto the command centre was filled with a hail of deadly projectiles.

They were not getting in without a lethal case of lead-poisoning.

“Princess!" Rigel called over the gunfire and pointed to the vent above the doors. “Hide!"

She clambered up, tore off the ventilation cover and slithered inside like she was built to slide around in those narrow passageways. As her long tail followed her in, Rigel shimmied along the ledge closer to the doorway. Any second now that fucker would run dry and Rigel would breach.

The fire didn't break. When the machine gunner ran dry the assault rifles took over. And when they ran dry the machine gunner was up and suppressing again. Rounds kept cycling out, keeping Rigel pinned, and it was only a matter of time before they worked up the courage to press forward and ventilate the major while he was helpless.

Rigel wasn't desperate yet though. He had one other option.

Hanging his rifle in its sling, Rigel balanced for a second so he wouldn't go plummeting back down the shaft and then pulled a flashbang from his gear. It was as simple as pulling the pin and tossing the device on the bridge. Over the racket of gunfire he heard the 9-banger bounce before unleashing a series of blinding flashes and ferocious ear-popping cracks.

The insurrectionists shouted and screamed, but the shooting didn't pause as they kept blindly firing. It was time for plan-B.

“Princess! Breach!"

There was a crash of a metal ventilation grate shattering, followed by screams and tearing of flesh. At the same time Rigel swung through the opening and shouldered the butt of his pulse rifle.

By the time he was in though it was all over.

Bodies lay in bloody, shredded tatters across the deck. The bridge wasn't a large space, but the first few hell-shocked steps Rigel took felt like miles. Every surface was painted red. Lights glowed through the viscera laying strewn across some of the control panels. One of the insurrectionists lay splayed across a databank, his waist ending in a bloody knot. The rest of him was indiscernible from the rest of the mess laying on the deck.

All that in the five seconds it took Rigel to follow Princess in. A good field test of her abilities the pencil-pushers would agree.

The truth of the matter was that not every mission needed a high body count. Sometimes the ferrets had to slip into the hole to find the rats and extract them. Live bodies provided more answers than dead ones. As such, Rigel needed the insurrectionist leader alive. But now he feared that aspect of the mission would be a failure. At least until he spotted Princess.

The insurrectionist leader, as he appeared in his mug-shots, lay sprawled over the captain's console, pinned under Princess' weight. She was leaned heavily over him, one claw wrapped around his neck and the other redirecting his pistol to his side. The man's eyes were wide with terror, fixed on the alien beast towering over him. Princess had peeled back her lips, hissing as she drooled and bared her terrifying fangs in what Rigel often called 'the grin.'

It was the deadliest smile in the 'verse.

The insurrectionist tried to direct the barrel of his pistol at Princess, but she squeezed, pricking the sharp tips of her claws through his sleeve leaving spots of blood on his fatigues. He cried out, urging Rigel forward before the xenomorph did anything drastic.

“Princess, off!" Rigel ordered, lowering his rifle and gesturing with his off-hand.

Princess tipped her head as if she heard him but made no indication that she was going to move.

“Princess! Off!"

As he was yelling, jerking hand gestures at the xenomorph, the insurrectionist let out another scream. Rigel darted forward to peel the xeno off him if he needed to, but stopped when the pistol went off.

The console to Rigel's left exploded into a shower of sparks and he lost his footing, falling to one knee. Princess hissed venomously at the insurrectionist and Rigel knew exactly what was coming next.

“No!" Rigel yelled, throwing his rifle into its sling and scrambling forward to stop her… it was too late.

Princess' jaws opened and her deadly tongue lashed out. A second set of teeth on the end of her thick tongue smashed into the leader's face, carving through flesh and bone with barely any effort at all, ventilating the skull with a sickening crack and splash of blood that painted Princess' face.

Major Rigel stood frozen as the now dead insurrectionist leader fell to the ground and Princess turned. As if nothing bad had happened the crimson splattered xenomorph gave a little chirp and doubled over onto all fours, sitting submissively before the human and waiting for further orders.

Rigel had none to give as he stood stunned. So close to mission success. If Princess had only waited. If she hadn't killed that man this mission would have been a perfect success, even in an area he knew she would fail at.

“Sparrowhawk-Actual. Bridge is secure, but… but the HVT is down. I repeat; high value target is KIA."

Control's calm façade broke, but in her defence the surprised and irritated tone was entirely justified. “Sparrowhawk-Actual copies all. What the hell happened?"

“Are you seriously debriefing me before I have the chance to extract?"

Control paused, then seemed to agree. “Proceed to extraction, Lethal one-one. We'll greenlight the navy to move in when Lethal two-one is secure."

Rigel wasn't looking forward to the grilling he was going to get over this. Command wanted that insurrectionist leader alive and Princess had just fucked it up…

No, that was wrong. Princess hadn't done anything wrong.

It wasn't her fault. He should not have ordered her into a room with the HVT. Rigel should have been on top of the situation. He should have handled it better. After all, Princess was just an animal. She was like a smart-gun. Point and shoot; that was all he could expect from her. How was she supposed to recognise one bad guy from another?

That was Rigel's job.

With a sigh he reached out and touched her head. She reacted to his touch, pushing into him and huddling closer like a cat looking for a cuddle, but Rigel pulled back. Princess gave a disappointed hiss, but didn't press the issue.

“Good girl, Princess," Rigel said before pointing at the elevator shaft. “C'mon. Let's go home."

~~~~

~~~~

Standing at parade rest with his beret folded and tucked under the rank-tab on his shoulder, Rigel tried to make as little sound as possible. But in the deathly silence of the conference room his breathing sounded like machine gun fire.

He hated this. It was probably the only part of the experimental Xeno Programme he hated. “In the interest of full accountability," they had said when justifying these extensive, face-to-face debriefs after each field test. All the operators in the programme had to go through it. But Rigel was pretty sure he was the one who hated it the most.

Not that it was a competition.

Lining the table running perpendicular to where he was facing were several military big-wigs. Colonels, generals and admirals from various military branches putting aside differences to oversee the progress of their latest science project. In the long run the army, navy – including the marines – and the air-force intended to adopt a version of the Xeno Programme. They had been using military working dogs for centuries to sniff out bombs and tackle bad guys. Hyper-lethal xenomorphs would be an upgrade to the MWDs.

Of course the Weyland-Yutani corporation had an infamous reputation when trying to breed and control xenomorphs, so it went without saying that they were not the corporation behind this project. Instead, the government turned to Weyland-Yutani's direct competitor, the Traxus Corporation.

Sliding aside one of the Traxus Corp folders containing Rigel's debrief and mission notes, an army colonel – the very one who had recommended Rigel's participation in the programme – looked up to meet the major's eyes.

“In your own words, major, please explain what happened on the bridge," the woman asked clearly.

Rigel hesitated and the officer noticed, adding, “Relax, major. I'm not berating your performance. Mission parameters did say we wanted the insurrectionist leader alive, however glitches in experimental programmes like these are common. I just want to get your opinion on what went wrong."

The marine corps general beside her scoffed, whispering “Glitches," incredulously under his breath.

Swallowing, Rigel found his voice. “Ma'am, with respect, the scientists who study xeno behaviour day in and day out would be better suited to report on what went wrong."

“Of course. They'll give us an answer about the wild nature of the xenomorphs, or perhaps instinct and desire to please. They'll show charts and breeding tables, chemical makeups of the brain. But none of them will be able to tell me, first hand, from the field, what happened."

Rigel blinked.

“What does your gut say, major?" she clarified.

“Like I reported in my debrief package, the bridge was packed with hostiles. My xeno partner dropped in when I ordered and assessed the situation. She felt the situation was hostile and acted accordingly. By the time I was on the bridge all threats were removed bar the insurrectionist leader." Rigel paused to think. “The leader was still holding his sidearm as she had him pinned. It must have taken me a few seconds to move up, seconds in which she hadn't yet killed him."

“So why'd it gut him in the end?" the marine corps general demanded. Rigel held in a wince as the general referred to Princess as an 'it,' like she was simple military hardware.

“My gut tells me she thought the leader posed a threat to me as I got closer and she executed him for my own protection. In retrospect, I think I should have ordered her to disarm him before approaching."

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty," the general said with a dark chuckle. “You claiming responsibility for this cock-up, son?"

“I…" Rigel gritted is jaw to think again. Had he missed anything else? Was he being thorough enough? Was he even remembering the scenario correctly? Had that leader been holding his sidearm at all? Would Princess have reacted any differently otherwise? “I don't know, sir. I guess I am."

The army colonel gave her marine corps colleague a sideways glance. “Glitches, general. Glitches. These things do happen. That's why we have trails like these before we put the project in the lime-light."

“I'm seeing your point, I'm just not liking it. The Xeno Programme is getting expensive. I'm hoping to have glitches ironed out as soon as possible."

“I'll work it out, sir," Rigel interjected as politely as he could. “I'm going to book additional simulator hours to get this straightened out, sir."

The general was stone faced, but he nodded. “Glad to hear it, son. Anything else to add?" he turned his head to the other officers from the air-force and navy respectively, but they shook their heads. “Very good. Briefing closed. Mission marked as success considering the big picture. I'll be looking forward to your training reports, Major Rigel. Dismissed."

Rigel remained rooted to the spot as the officers gathered their papers and filed out of the room. Soon it was just the major and the army colonel. She skirted around the conference table and smiled as she approached offering a hand.

Colonel Caprice Dexter had been the one to bring Rigel aboard this programme. He'd worked with military working dogs all his military career. Working with animals that could sniff you out and maul you was his speciality. It was why the woman brought him in.

Rigel quickly shook her hand and stood at ease.

“It's good to see you again, Jak," Colonel Dexter said. “I'm sorry I had to be formal back there."

“It's fine, ma'am. I'd be formal sitting next to General Krozier too."

She chuckled, then led him to the door. “Don't mind the general. This programme is going to change the face of counter-insurrection warfare; a type of warfare the marines deal with the most. It's only natural that glitches like these make him frustrated… that and he also had to cross eighty-eight time-zones to get here."

They shared a small laugh as they left the briefing room. Out in the waiting room was just a desk clerk typing up reports, and through the window behind her they were treated to a few of the sprawling space station.

Europa Station was adorned with logos and markings for the company that paid for and built it, Traxus Corp. It was a military grade science station, built exclusively for the Xeno Programme. As such every area was compartmentalised, including the maintenance ducts and service corridors. Traxus had spared no expense to ensure containment was flawless. Any escaping test subjects would be quickly detected, isolated and either gassed into submission, or burned out immediately.

They had terabytes of data on xenomorph tactics and behaviour, thanks to a long history of fuck-ups by Weyland-Yutani. So with a little bit of common sense and learning from past mistakes, Traxus Corp had ensured that Europa Station remained incident free since it's construction and activation.

“Beautiful isn't it?" Dexter commented as the solar panels glistened under an alien sun.

Rigel wasn't so sure. “It's a giant chunk of space-debris."

“Not the station, Jak. I'm talking about what it represents," Dexter said. “Change. Evolution. We've been stagnant as a species for so long. But now we're asserting ourselves on an alien species… we're improving ourselves."

“Sounds like slavery hidden under layers of self-indulgent BS."

Dexter laughed. “I always appreciated your honesty, Jak. It's why I brought you on. I need an honest pair of eyes and ears inside the programme. As always, anything bothers you, don't hesitate to let me know."

The major nodded firmly. “You got it, ma'am."

She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, lingered her fingers on his arm for a moment, then took her leave. He watched her go, then looked back over Europa Station. Directly across from where he stood was the kennel hab where at any one time up to fifty xenomorphs were being held for study and training. Next to it was the breeding centre. Rigel had no idea what went on in there, but the less he knew about how alien babies were made, the better.

Finally, next to that was the barracks, where operators like the major made their home. After everything today, that would be Rigel's next and final stop for the day.

~~~~

~~~~

She was hissing and spitting like a viper when he came across the cage. The entire dolly upon which the steel box stood shook from side to side with enough violence that a pair of handlers had to struggle to hold it down. one of the handlers was holding a cattle prod, although it wasn't powered up or pointed in Princess' direction.

Princess had been caged the moment they were pulled off the Exodus and had been in the box all the way back to Europa Station. Now she was on her way back to the kennels when Rigel bumped into the handlers transporting her.

“Whoa, Princess. Calm down. Chill out!" Rigel rushed over and knelt beside the cage, holding up his hand to touch the side.

She wasn't covered in blood and other viscera anymore. Moisture still dappled Princess' sleek exo-skeleton where she had been unlovingly hosed down on the transport home. But on the whole she was clean and undamaged. Frankly she had very little justification for her freak-out session just now.

But the moment Rigel put his hand on the side of the cage and she sensed his presence, the xenomorph calmed right down. It was like a switch was thrown. One minute she was screaming and thrashing madly. The next she was purring like a kitten, pressing the domed front of her head against the cage as if feeling the warmth of Rigel's hand through the titanium mesh.

As she calmed the handlers transporting her un-tensed.

“This close, sir," one of the men said, putting his thumb and forefinger close together, but not quite touching. “I came this close to hitting her with a jolt. I'd have hated doing that. Princess is always well behaved."

“Yeah, she's just hopped up on adrenaline." Princess stirred as Rigel removed his hand and straightened up, but realising he wasn't leaving she remained calm. “She'll sleep in my quarters tonight. That'll calm her right down."

“Figured you'd say that so I brought the required documentation." The same handler – the nametape on his uniform read 'Smith' – pulled a wad of documents out of his gear pockets and flattened them over the top of Princess' cage. “I wish I was like you, major. I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink with an uncaged xeno in the room. Hell, I get nervous even when they're in the cage."

“Oh, it's never a problem with Princess. You're just a big ol' cuddly killing machine, aren't you, sweet thing?"

Smith stared at the special forces operator baby-talking to a complex alien organism of pure death. “Alright. So, I'm not going to be able to unsee that… ever."

“I think it's rather sweet," a new but very familiar voice said.

Rigel recognised the mild accent and husky tone of Doctor Sabina Hye immediately. Looking up, she was as easy to spot by looking as she was by listening.

The woman was slightly shorter than Rigel, dressed in a white lab coat and short grey skirt. Her stockings were black as her pumps, the hold-ups visible around her mid-thighs. Her nails were painted black and she had red lipstick on to highlight her full lips.

She looked like she belonged in an orient fashion magazine rather than a biochemistry lab.

“Doctor Hye," Rigel greeted with a curt nod.

“Hello Jak," the doctor responded with a little more seduction edging her voice.

No sooner had she greeted him, she stepped between him and Princess' cage and made a point of bending over to go face to face with the xenomorph. The way she kept her legs straight as she bent over pulled the back of her skirt and lab coat taught around her tight ass; promising all those allowed to grab with tantalising firmness that could have cold blooded professionals breaking down into a horned-up drooling stupor.

It took every ounce of willpower for Rigel to keep his gaze cocked at Princess.

His xenomorph buddy in crime in the meantime hissed at the woman and pounced the adimantium mesh of her cage. Doctor Hye didn't flinch though, merely smiling into Princess' deathly grin.

“I read the post-mission report. You're so protective of Major Rigel. Such a good girl, Princess, bringing this hunky soldier back to me in one piece. You've certainly earned some treats." She made some kissy faces at the xenomorph, drawing more angry hisses from the creature.

“Fact she don't like you much doesn't bother you, does it doc?" Rigel commented.

Straightening up, the doctor shot Rigel a look reserved for porn actresses over her shoulder. “Not with Princess anyway. I know exactly why she's pissy."

“Do tell." Rigel kept his composure about him and folded his arms across his chest.

“She sees mostly through scent. We're clouds of pheromones as far as she can detect. And she's seeing a cloud of female pheromones closing in on the scent of her male. I'm surprised she hasn't ripped the cage open and disembowelled me yet."

Rigel cocked an eyebrow. “Her male? Princess doesn't think of me like that."

That made Hye laugh. “Of course she does. She's a hyper-lethal animal. She's thinking; I have to eat. I have to hunt. I have to…" The woman bit her lip and paused, slanted eyes smouldering at him. “She's a dominant female, Jak. I can relate to exactly what she's thinking around you."

With practiced feminine charm she smiled up at the operator, then swished past him with a subtle sway of her hips. Both Rigel and the handlers at Princess' cage watched her turn the corner before all three men shook off their lusty daze at the same time. Sabina Hye was a nerd, but she was an attractive woman first. Worst part was that she knew it, and she relished in pressing the buttons of all male staff on station. She was a sexual harassment case…

Full stop. Not waiting to happen. She just was one.

Finishing the forms for handing Princess off to his care, Rigel supervised the handlers docking the cage with the low door connecting to his quarters and saw them off. He personally opened the 'cat-flap' and stepped through the double doors leading into his room. The double doors were like an airlock to prevent any specimens staying with a handler from accidentally escaping. Few operators even utilised the double door system because they didn't let their xenomorphs anywhere near their quarters.

Rigel was one of the very few exceptions, mainly because Princess was a special kind of xenomorph. She had imprinted on him very well and picked up on her training extremely quickly.

The room was a simple affair. A wardrobe with a gun safe that was not going to be used – Rigel was no idiot. Tonight he was going to forego a shower and a change. While Princess was in the room he stayed strapped. Those were the regulations, not just of the station but of common sense.

The bed dominated the room, a simple double officer's bunk affair with a metal frame and tightly tucked starchy military sheets. The bedside cabinet was topped by a light and a good book, with a door beside the wall vox leading into the bathroom. There was no need for much more. All meals were taken in the mess hall and the lounge offered all other entertainment requirements of commissioned and non-com military personnel on station. They even had a Starblaster! pinball machine down there.

Princess was in the room waiting for him already. And as usual she had made a b-line for his bed. Jumping on the mattress, she clawed at the sheets like a cat getting comfortable.

Jumping about the battlefield slashing up insurrectionists and getting covered in gore or being locked in a cage did not do Princess' physique any justice. She was like Doctor Hye in a way, long slender limbs and a light, sleek and sexy build. But with the addition of a vicious tail, killing claws and daggers teeth, she truly was a terrifyingly beautiful sight to behold.

Finding a comfortable position, Princess flopped down like she was enticing a mate to join her. She had one slender leg curled under herself, the other outstretched over the side of the bed. Her arms were arranged similarly. She had one folded over her bust and the other one outstretched over the opposite edge. Her head was rested on one side and her eye-less gaze was fixed on Rigel with bird-of-prey-like attentiveness.

The common mistake most of the personnel at the Europa blacksite made was to consider xenomorphs like Princess akin to dogs, or cats. And while in a strange way the movement and general posture of Princess and her kin was similar, there was actually more to it than that.

She was more like a whale, or a dolphin. She was self-aware. Looking in a mirror she wouldn't think she was looking at another adolescent xenomorph queen. She would immediately realise she was looking at herself.

She was looking at Princess.

She even knew her own name. She had to know when Master was calling, after all. Princess had met other xenomorphs at the blacksite, in the play rooms and the kennels, but they weren't like her. They had numbers, not names. They didn't identify themselves either. In fact, they hardly communicated.

Princess was special, though she wasn't sure yet how aside from the fact Master said so.

Rigel in the meantime held up his arms to his sides, watching as the xenomorph captured his bed.

“Oh, c'mon! Princess, that's not your bed." He pointed at the large resin basket padded with cushions at the foot of his bed. “Down. Get down."

His voice was commanding. He was clearly giving her an order. But…

Princess lifted her head and stared with an oblivious grin. Master sighed explosively then left her to it, and the xenomorph settled her head down in the blankets again. When they were out playing Princess wouldn't dare or dream of disobeying Master. The games they played outside were fun, but they were also dangerous. She didn't like to see Master get hurt, and she knew he didn't like to see her get hurt. So obeying him was very important.

But this room was home. Here they were safe. And to tease Master a little Princess dared get just a little bold.

She lifted her head lazily, cooed, then laid back down again.

Rubbing his face, Rigel sighed and gave in like a tired first time parent giving in to the wants of a crying baby. After all, this wasn't the first time she'd commandeered the foot of his bed for the night. So the operator let it slide, rolling calmly into the bed and laying back. One hand was draped over his stomach, hovering near the gat strapped to his thigh. The other was tucked under his head as he gazed at the ceiling.

The soft hisses of Princess snoozing lulled him into a daze. His mind wandered to the training scenarios he would set up in the morning for them to burn through.

And as he was thinking, Princess suddenly did something she'd never done before. Princess got in Rigel's face.

It started with a soft shift in her weight. Rigel felt it in the mattress. A light bounce. Then by the time he'd lifted his head to look she was on him. At first she was on all fours at his feet, stooped low and sidling up along his body like a seductive lover. Then as Rigel fumbled to sit up she pounced, shooting forward.

The xenomorph flexed like a provocative gymnast, catching Rigel by the throat with one hand, then kept his legs pinned under her shin, all the while balancing on her tail and her other leg.

Rigel struggled all he could, but Princess was rated to tear through metal bulkheads. One false move she might even break him in half – entirely by accident. His first thought was to tell her off and figure out why she was acting up.

Then he realised why she was being different hardly mattered since either way he was going to be dead if he didn't act. Rigel's training overtook his affection for his alien partner and survival instinct kicked in. You could love your dog all you wanted, but if it went feral and tried to kill you; all bets being off was a guarantee.

Rigel's pistol came out of the holster with a rasp of metal on plastic and he directed the muzzle at Princess' face. He knew better than a bundle of raggedy insurrectionists that the carapace covering the xenomorph's body was as tough as body armour. But the mouth area was particularly vulnerable. That's what he was aiming for. To put her down as quickly as he could manage with as few rounds as possible.

But Princess knew her handler as well as he knew her anatomy. The moment his gun came up her mouth was open and that deadly toothed tongue lashed out.

The quad of hinged teeth caught the midsection of the pistol and crushed it like the thing was made of tinfoil. Rigel was pulling the trigger, but already the firing mechanism was turned to mush. The chamber and the round seated in it were pulverised and the slide was warped entirely out of shape.

With a flick of her head, Princess tore the useless weapon from Rigel's hands and tossed it across the room. His hands immediately transferred to the slender digits around his throat, trying to pry them off. Her iron grip was unbreakable though. She could well snap his neck if she wanted to.

Little did Rigel know at the time, Princess had no interest in a corpse. She needed him alive. Breathing. Warm.

The thermal radiation radiated from his warm-blooded body. Princess' shielded exterior bathed in the radiance bleeding off him. In her 'eyes' it was like he was a glowing blob of light, ablaze and flickering.

Princess peeled her lips back, revealing a deathly smile. She was drooling with anticipation for what she was about to do, unleashing a jittery little hiss that the unpractised ear might mistake as a sound of nervousness. Rigel knew damn well she was ready to gut him.

Though he'd been wrong before.

Keeping him pinned at arm's length, the taller xenomorph turned her attention to his pants. In moments her claws had shredded through the webbed belt. One curled nail worked through the string holding the button in place, popping it off entirely before she delicately worked the zipper all the way down. One final flex of her talons shredded open the front of his shorts like a medic cleaving away clothing to get at a gunshot wound.

With the same enthusiasm, Princess leaned down and let out a hot, humid breath that bathed Rigel's now exposed crotch in heat.

Rigel kicked wide eyed and struggled. Anything would do – just kill him, he wouldn't care. Just anything but castrating him to death!

As with thinking Princess was going to gut him, Rigel was wrong about Princess readying to mutilate him.

Unbeknownst to Master and the bitch who studied her in the kennels, Princess had been going through changes. Small and subtle at first, she barely even noticed them herself. Then they became apparent. A draw… no, a desire to be near heat at first. Then the heat within her. A soft burning, then a desire to be filled somehow.

Her body underwent changes too. She started noticing parts about herself, and even the other xenomorph drones she shared the kennels with, that she had never noticed before. The other xenos could smell something on her and became particularly interested in her hindquarters, the region under the base of her tail.

She'd kicked them all off as she began drooling from a place between her legs. A place she'd never drooled from before. The place her body ached… burned to be filled.

A place that burned to be filled by the only one worthy. Her Master.

Princess' drool splattered in Rigel's crotch as she peeled her lips back and hinged her jaw. She was careful, ensuring her teeth were out of the way as she extended her tongue. Rigel stiffened with fear, but this was not a typical skull-caving strike she had practiced plenty of times before.

The second set of jaws opened up, revealing her tongue's gullet. With a simple motion she scooped up the head of Rigel's penis and held him in a pseudo-erect fashion. As she did, trickles of her drool worked their way down the shaft and pooled in his crotch.

With the heat and the gentlest of wet contact on his private parts, the major couldn't help himself. He stood to attention with a full erection faster and harder than a thousand-dollar prostitute could get him. Something in her breath was like an aphrodisiac, expanding him to a hardness that was almost frustrated painful. But the pain of it vanished with a single slick motion as the gullet of Princess' tongue slid down over his cock like a hot, wet glove.

Rigel threw his head back into his pillow and arched his back as Princess swallowed him right down to the base and squeezed. He clenched his jaw, trying desperately not to climax right there and then. Though not because of any morbid desire to stretch out this sudden bout of pleasure. Any second now he expected the pleasure to be replaced by searing pain. But instead the pleasure only intensified as Princess 'licked' him all the way up until just his head was engulfed by her inner jaws, then sucked him all the in to the base again.

As she was doing this, the stunned man under her control watched Princess' free hand move down the gentle curvature of her body. The pointed claws raked over where the nipples on her bumped chest would be had she been human, then elegantly traced down her belly like a stripper's alluring caress. Finally, she found her inner thigh and began to trace her fingertips on a small mound between her legs.

There was a sound of wet flesh parting as the mound divided into a pair of vertically parted lips, swollen and dripping with arousal. Small waterfalls of her clear lubricant ran along her sleek woman-like inner thigh, forming a wet patch on the bedsheets.

Abandoning the bladed fingertip, she gently began hot-dogging her dripping vagina with the underside of her smooth finger. As she was rubbing slickly up and down her hips would buck and twitch, her body obviously enjoying the contact.

Rigel had already pooled a thousand questions only a xenobiologist like Sabina Hye could answer. What was causing this behaviour in Princess? How did a creature that produced asexually through eggs like the xenomorph possess a human reproductive system? How did the usually hard carapace on Princess' body suddenly mutate and go soft?

Then he felt the wet tunnel of her inner jaws tighten and the pink mist of pleasure and lust closed in around him again. His mind wandered from his questions to aspects more physical and he suddenly couldn't help thinking of Dr Hye's tight little Asian body riding up and down his shaft. He could imagine her manicured nails digging into his chest as she rode neatly up and down with professional rhythm; those full red lips parted for a moan; her narrowed eyes peering at him feverishly over the top of her glasses…

There was a wet plop as she removed her tongue from his cock. Rigel became suddenly aware of his quarters' cool temperature as glistening moisture slathered his length. Done with her starter and hissing excitedly, Princess moved into position for the main event.

One knee sinking into the mattress, she slung her other leg over his waist and straddled him. The tip of his cock rubbed on the sleek flesh on her elegantly curved tear, sinking slightly into the wonderfully soft valley between those perfect cheeks.

Squeezing her thighs together to keep him in place, Princess' rear lifted a little and she reached down to grip the glorious length of throbbing meat. It was the final piece of the puzzle surrounding the adolescent queen's mysterious changes. The centre of all her desires. She needed it inside her immediately.

Princes had not gotten her mission conclusion cuddle earlier. But by God she was going to get a very special cuddle now.

Holding Rigel's length firmly in place, she gently sat back, the head gently spearing open her supple black lips. She was sopping wet inside and out, and her soft, tight innards parted to allow him access. In one, deft move, his cock disappeared into Princess' wet, hot glove – he was hilted deep inside her, the entrance to her alien womb squeezing his glans.

Once more Rigel was clenching. Only this time it was with a morbid desire to make the pleasure last as long as possible. Especially as she started moving.

She rocked her hips back and forth as she rode up and down. At first it was a less than fluid motion. But as practice made perfect, soon Princess was gyrating her lower body all around every time she moved down, impaling herself entirely on his erection with each drop.

The sensation was amazing and Rigel suddenly became horrifically aware that his hips were automatically rising up to meet her downward motions with a small thrust. His whole body was trembling, dappled with sweat and working on a primal autopilot. It didn't care where this pleasure was coming from, it simply demanded more.

And pleased her Master was moving to meet her motions, Princess was happy to oblige. She found her stride. Her rhythm increased. The burning heat inside her spread and built, tingling from the tips of her fingers right down to her toes. Seconds turned to minutes. The slaps of her flesh wrapping around his grew wetter. Sloppier. Time blurred. It felt like hours were passing—

Princess suddenly stopped, her hips crashing down on Rigel's in one final thrust. His behind was lifted up off the mattress slightly to meet her final thrust, driving as deeply as he could. The xenomorph had her head thrown back, mouth agape and tongue flicking at the air. Her claws dug into Rigel's skin, drawing little pinpricks of blood. Her toes curled. Her pussy clenched.

Her tail twitched uncontrollably, a twitch that started in the tip, worked its way down to her ass then overtook her hips. Convulsing as she orgasmed, the intense jolts of pleasure clouded Princess' senses. She was entirely unaware of her surroundings, just of the heat slotted deep inside her most intimate parts.

She came in one steaming torrent, screeching with ecstasy as she did. And the tight, wet heat was too much for Rigel to bear any longer. He stiffened and spent deep inside her; thick ropes of cum that had fermented in his balls for several long months of abstinence shooting into Princess' depths until her insides were filled to the brim.

Finally, as the murk of pleasure cleared, Princess came down from her high and felt Master slowly settle back down to the bed. She remained propped slightly on her knees and shuddered as his cum drenched cock slid from her, leaving her snatch slightly agape and letting some glutinous white trails drip from her lips. Sitting on his waist again she took his softening shaft into the lovely valley her bum made and gently massaged him with a slow grinding motion of her hips. Rigel shuddered with sensitivity as he panted for breath.

What happened now that he had cum harder than he had ever done with a human woman? Would she just curl up in her resin basket again and sleep it off like nothing happened? Was she going to kill him? Eat him?

Rigel cast another look at the wall vox, still out of reach. But when she moved in for the kill he might have a few seconds to call for help.

Unfortunately, whatever post-coital activity she had planned was going to wait. Instead of shifting her pinning weight from him, Princess reached back and with reserved touch wrapped her long fingers around his flaccid length. Slickened by a mixture of their fluids she worked the soft hand up and down, slowly working aroused life into him again.

Rigel shuddered, realising that everything so far had only been a warmup for Princess. Her devious grin and drooling nethers told him she wasn't done yet… not by a long shot.

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