Chapter 4: Proof of Concept

The dropship plummeted through the canopy of dark clouds, starting to shed velocity as it neared the colony, its missile pods unfolding like the wings of a bird. As it began to hover over the landing pad, skids dropped from beneath its belly, the squealing of its engines overpowering even the rumbling thunder. It bounced on its gear as it set down on the pad, the floodlights mounted beneath the cockpit bathing the surrounding area with pale, blue light.

It had taken a month, but Jones had finally managed to hail someone. It seemed that Wey-Yu still had some ships snooping around the area to make sure nobody stumbled upon their little science experiment. The dropship was probably Marine surplus, its usual markings replaced with the unmistakable yellow of the corporate logo.

A landing ramp began to descend from under the bulky craft, several flashlight beams piercing the darkness as they swept across the nearby crates and prefabs. There were three men wearing private security gear, and they were armed with some pretty hefty pulse rifles, keeping them shouldered as they made their way out onto the pad. Jones wasn’t a fool – he knew that they weren’t here to extract him. They were here to tie up loose ends. He was very familiar with the comms frequencies they used after recovering some helmets from the bodies, and he was already tapped in.

“Where the hell is this guy?” one of them asked. “Didn’t he say he’d meet us here?”

“You think the xenomorphs got him?” another suggested.

“I already told you, Santiago, there ain’t no fuckin’ bugs left on this rock. They’re either long dead or in hibernation. The scans showed two heat signatures in the colony, that’s the egghead and his cat, accordin’ to him.”

“A fucking cat survived this long?” another of them asked skeptically.

“Too small for the bugs to bother with, maybe?” his counterpart added with a shrug.

“I’m pickin’ up two signatures on the scanner,” the first man continued as he waved a thermal device in Jones’ direction. “They’re in the control tower – that must be our mark.”

“What do we do about the cat?”

“Oh, like headquarters wants us to keep the cat from spillin’ company secrets,” the first soldier said, giving the other man a shove. “Just call the guy and have him get down here. I ain’t climbin’ all those steps just to put a round in the back of his skull.”

“Corporate said they wanted it done proper. No evidence.”

“Have him dig his own hole, then. I ain’t doin’ it.”

One of the men lifted a hand to his helmet, changing frequencies, his voice crackling through a speaker in the control tower’s console. Jones waited for a moment, then picked up a receiver.

“Yo, Doctor Jones. How you doing? Your evac is here – first-class ticket to somewhere better than this shithole. You reading me?”

“I’m so relieved to see you,” Jones replied, doing his best to sound sincere. “I’ve been stranded here for so long. I can’t tell you how good it feels to speak to another person after all this time.”

“Don’t you worry, Doc. We’ll take real good care of you. Hope your bags are packed because we don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. Why don’t you come down and meet us on the pad?”

“I’ll be right there,” Jones replied, replacing the receiver.

“You think he bought it?” one of the men asked over their private channel.

“What choice does he have? You think he’s gonna wait around for the next ship to drift by?”

Jones turned to Twelve, who was perched on a storage crate nearby, crouched there like a gargoyle as her long tail trailed down onto the floor. He reached out and stroked her head, the chimera nuzzling his hand affectionately. During their time together, their bond had only grown stronger, and he’d been able to continue the little experiment that he had started so many years prior.