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Disclaimer: No profit is intended in the writing of this story. Star Trek:
Voyager and its characters are the property of Paramount and Viacom.
Alien/s and its characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox.

Fandom: Star Trek Voyager/Alien uber

Rated: NC-17. Contains violence, coarse language, and homosexual acts
between women.

Pairing: Janeway/Seven

Summary: The female crew of a commercial space vessel face the ultimate
horror when they find themselves being stalked and eaten by a voracious
lesbian alien.

Feedback is necessary for basic sustenance, so please email me. Archiving
and downloading is welcome as long as you credit the author. Thanks to
Blyss for her help with the coffee, and Steff & Meagan for their besta beta
work.
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Star Trek - Voyager: Alien!!!
by Odon ([email protected])

Kaneway's eyelids creaked open with all the associated eloquence of a rusty
manhole cover.

"Greetings Captain. This is your ship's computer speaking. Your hypersleep
interval has been terminated prematurely due to an unscheduled occurrence
falling under Section B2 of the Unknown Entity Reaction Protocol (Revised),
as well as Paragraphs 34 and 35D of the Extra-Solar Emergency Response
Agreement of 2093."

The captain's lips parted a fraction. An inarticulate groan erupted from
her throat.

"Company personnel who wish to protest the implementation of this policy
due to circumstances not already covered under Paragraph G, Subsection 5601
may do so via the personnel manager at the Weyland-Yutani branch office
nearest to your current spatial navpoint. Complainants should however be
cautioned that the cost of processing your appeal will be deducted from
your next paycheck. I am legally required to inform you that relativistic
distortions in ship-to-shore transmissions from faster-than-light vessels
have been known to extend the processing of such appeals over the course of
several centuries. Do you wish to appeal?"

"Uhhhhgghhh!" moaned Kaneway, her head lolling on the capsule's padding.

"In the absence of a comprehensible response I am initiating hypersleep
revival procedure. Commencing bio-chemical injection."

"YEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Captain Kaneway as half a
dozen thick needles rammed into both buttocks simultaneously, injecting her
with 50 ccs of neuro-stimulants, muscle-activators and superdrenaline.

"Deactivating biomonitor systems. Retracting naso-gastric and lavatory
waste tubes."

"No-no-no-wait...AAARRRGGGGGHHH!!!!" yelled Kaneway as tight-fitting septic
tubes were yanked from her private parts without benefit of lubricant, and
the biomonitor cups were forcibly sucked off her nipples.

"Due to the length of time spent in hypersleep, Occupational Health & Safety
Regulations and the Olfactory Pollution Act of 2158 require that you shower
before contact with fellow crewmembers. Please inform your ship's computer if
you are experiencing any unusual physiological symptoms from your hypersleep
interval. You should also notify me if you require any medication not already
included in your MD-098 prescribed medication file."

"Need...coffee," groaned Kaneway, crawling across the freezing deck of the
hypersleep vestibule. "Must...have...coffee!"

"White or black?" asked the computer politely.

"Black," mumbled the captain, butting open the door to the shower room with
her head. It activated instantly, bombarding her with gale-force torrents
of lukewarm recycled water, cheap liquid soap and industrial-strength body
deodorant.

"Caffeinated or decaffeinated?" crackled from a rusty comm unit on the
wall.

"Caffeinated," said Kaneway. Outside she could hear shrieks and screams as
the other crewmembers were revived in a similarly unceremonious fashion.

"Turkish, Mocha, Latte, Cappuccino, Espresso, Ristretto?"

"I couldn't give a stuff," growled Kaneway, waving a hand at the sensor.
The spray of water slowed to a trickle. A chute slid open in the wall,
dispensing a fluffy white towel.

"Arabica, Robusta, Kona, Sumatran, French Roast, Blue Java__"

"COFFEE! BLACK! NOW!"

"Captain's hypersleep revival now complete," said the computer smugly.
"Your coffee is waiting in the galley."

"Smartarse," muttered Kaneway. She wrapped the towel around herself and
stepped out of the shower, nearly tripping over two women crawling around
on their hands and knees. There was an uncanny similarity in their
attractive features smeared with milky cryosleep fluid, and an identical
miasma arising from their naked unwashed bodies.

"Need coffee! Need coffee!" they cried.

"Megan, Jenny, get in there and clean that gunk off. You look like a money
shot from Cyborg Debbie Does Digital Dallas." Holding her nose, Kaneway
strode over to the nearest hypersleep capsule and kicked it hard. "All
right sweethearts, what are you waiting for - breakfast in bed? It's
another glorious day in the Company. A day in the Company is like a day on
the farm - you have to wade through endless piles of shit! Come on Kes,
Tal, B'Ellen...where the hell's B'Ellen?"

The door to the bridge hissed open and a short Hispanic woman stormed
through, dark eyes flashing, a permanent scowl forming deep ridges in her
forehead. "That stupid computer woke us up too soon! Big Brother, what's
going on? Where's Antarctica Traffic Control? Where's Earth? Where's my
coffee?"

"Greetings Chief Engineer Tripley. Your hypersleep interval has been
terminated prematurely due to an unscheduled occurrence falling under
Section B2 of the Unknown Entity Reaction Protocol (Revised), as well as
Paragraphs 34 and 35D of the Extra-Solar Emergency Response Agreement of
2093. Your coffee is waiting in the galley."

Tal Celes sat up in her capsule, clutching her face. "God it's freezing -
my nose is killing me!" Her attractive features were marred by a crumpled
nose that had had a close encounter with a berserk loading drone on New
Brazil. "What do you mean, we're not home yet? I need urgent rhinoplastic
surgery!"

Jenny stuck her head out of the shower. "35D? That's transmissions of an
unknown origin."

"Unknown?" said Megan, doing likewise. "You mean as in non-human?"

"Unconfirmed," replied Big Brother. "The signal does not match any known
human or machine-based language form."

"Maybe it's an ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!! ALIEN!!!" screamed Tal, pointing
at the slime-covered creature that was rising from the capsule next to her.

"That's Kes you fool! Come on Doc, on your feet."

"Need coffee," moaned their petite young science officer, staggering to her
feet. "And some nose plugs..."

In one naked, sopping, griping, shivering group, the six women made their
way to the galley, where half a dozen steaming mugs of coffee were waiting
for them in the autochef.

Megan pulled a face as she drank hers. "Jesus, this coffee tastes like shit."

"Actually Lieutenant Delaney," said Big Brother. "Your coffee contains only
0.005% recycled waste products."

"Here," said Kaneway, passing Megan a bottle. "Put in a drop of Chateau
Picard. That'll take hairs off your head."

"Big Brother, can we have some details on that unknown transmission?" asked
Kes. She opened the nearest locker and removed a crumpled jumpsuit, shivering
her way into it.

"An acoustic beacon signal, repeating at twelve second intervals. Preliminary
analysis indicates that it may be a distress signal."

"Yeah right," scoffed B'Ellen, pulling on her leather jacket made from
genuine genetically engineered cows. Like other deep space jockeys she
preferred a retro-20th century look to her apparel. "Remember what happened
last time you woke us up for a supposed distress signal? We spent three
whole weeks screwing around looking for a wormhole and a ship full of
strange alien life forms, only to have it turn out to be a television
transmission that'd been traveling through space for centuries."

"How was I to know that 'John Crichton' was a fictional character?"

"I think you'd better let us listen to it, Big Brother," said Kaneway,
shoving her mug into the autochef for her third refill in as many minutes.
"Just in case."

A loud crackle of static burst from the speakers, then laid over the top of
the interference came a noise that caused the hairs on the back of their
necks to stand on end - a horrible slurping, grunting, groaning sound,
interspersed with inarticulate utterances and long drawn out moans, like a
creature in torment in the depths of some incomprehensible alien Hades.

The transmission stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

"What the hell was THAT?"

"Well they certainly sound like they're in distress."

"And you want us to go looking for whatever made that noise?" said Tal. "No
thanks."

Kes' head popped out the neck of her jumpsuit like a baby tortoise. "I think
you're overreacting a little. These are aliens. For all we know, that's their
version of an aria. We could be listening to the pinnacle of their culture."

"If I have to listen to their version of Heavy Metal I'm calling in the
Colonial Marines."

"Don't you realise the opportunity that's been presented to us here?" said
Kes. "Maybe you all joined the Company because you get off on hauling
20,000,000 tons of coffee from New Brazil to Earth just so Weyland-Yutani's
ten billion office workers won't go postal from caffeine deficiency, but I
want to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilisations,
boldly go..."

"Go boldly," corrected Big Brother. "'Boldly go' is actually a split
infinitive..."

"Fine, go boldly where no-one has gone boldly before!" Kes stopped to take
a breath.

"Don't those words mean anything to you?"

B'Ellen, Tal, Megan and Jenny all looked at each other.

"No."

"How about the words 'total forfeiture of shares'?" purred Kaneway.
"According to Company regulations we're required to investigate any
transmission of a possible intelligent origin. So you're going to have to
find inspiration in that which has fueled the course of human exploration
for centuries. Pure, unadulterated commercial interest!"

* * *

"Goddamn Company cutbacks," said Jenny, tapping a long series of instructions
into the nav computer. "We should have an up-to-date graphic user interface,
yet we're still using these obsolete text-based command shells."

Kaneway eased her short frame into the captain's chair, securing her coffee
mug in its custom-made receptacle. "Just give me a location on that signal,
Jenny."

Jenny's computer chattered like a prehistoric dot matrix printer. "Got it.
Ascension 6 minutes, 20 seconds; declination 39 degrees 2 seconds. It's
classified as LV-426, an unsurveyed planet."

"Atmosphere's almost primordial," said Kes. "Inert nitrogen, high
concentration of carbon dioxide crystals, methane. Gravity point eight six;
that means we can walk on it."

"Not from up here. Big Brother, I need piloting control for an unscheduled
planetary descent."

"Please state your name and rank for Voice Ident Verification. Unauthorised
personnel are forbidden from piloting Company vessels under penalties set
out in Section 987-5A."

"Kathryn Kaneway, captain."

"Not understood, please repeat."

"Kathryn Kaneway, captain!"

"Not understood. Please repeat until voice ident confirmed."

"Kathryn Kaneway, captain. Kathyn Kaneway, cathryn. Kathyn Kanethay, capen...
I mean captain...I mean Kathryn Captain..."

"Not understood, please repeat."

"KATHRYN KANEWAY CAPTAIN YOU SILICON SADIST!"

"Voice ident confirmed. State name and rank of second-in-command."

"Megan Delaney, executive officer of the Deep-Space Commercial Towing
Vehicle Nostromo."

"WARNING! I AM DETECTING AN UNAUTHORISED ACCESS INFRACTION CONTRARY TO
SECTION 987-5A. YOUR VOICE IS IDENTICAL TO THAT OF NAVIGATION OFFICER JENNY
DELANEY."

"Of course it is you mechanical moron - I'm her clone!"

"Er, sorry. Voice ident confirmed. You have piloting authorisation." A
panel in the floor opened and a scuffed control column slid out, locking
into position between Megan's legs.

"Equatorial orbit nailed."

"Kes, give me an EC reading," said Kaneway, attaching a large pair of fuzzy
dice to the rear view monitor.

"3.45 n/cm squared. 5 psia."

"Shout if it changes."

"You're worried about redundancy management disabling CMGS control?" asked
Megan.

"Yes, actually."

"CMG control is inhibited via DAS/DCS. We'll augment with TACS and monitor
through ATMDC and computer interface, OK?"

"Oh knock off that technobabble bullshit!" sputtered a voice over the comm
system. "It's not as if anyone believes you space jockey's actually FLY the
ship in this day and age."

"Oh stick it up your bum, B'Ellen! Crew, prepare to disengage from
platform. Tal, what's your status?"

"L alignment on port and starboard is green."

"Megan?"

"Green on spinal umbilicus severance."

"Kes?"

"DOR's on line."

"Jenny?"

"Alien transmission DF locked into autonavigation system."

"B'Ellen?"

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE KANEWAY, JUST HIT THE BUTTON MARKED 'GO'."

A thousand pairs of steel-shod boots kicked their backsides in unison as
the Nostromo punched free of its cargo platform and rocketed down into the
broiling atmosphere of the planet below.

"Dropping...50,000 metres," said Kes. "Down...down...49,000 metres...entering
atmosphere."

"Turbulence," warned Jenny. "Inertial damping's going off. Hold on people,
it's going to get a little bumpy."

"Picking up some hull ionisation. Winds two hundred plus!" said Tal. "She's
jumping about like a zero-gravity bra. One of those Victoria's Secret
strapless models with computer-controlled bounce-rate and adjustable pressure
pads...not that I'd ever wear that kind of thing of course..."

"B'Ellen here, we've lost the shield on intake number three! I've got dust
pouring in. Hull's vibrating like crazy!"

"Megan," yelled Kaneway. "Are you picking up any vibration?"

"Oh yes!" gasped Megan, as she wrestled to control the bucking spacecraft.
"Oh God yes!"

"Steady; don't lose control..."

"I think the port stabiliser's shaking loose!"

"Dammit Kes, you think or you know?"

There was a tremendous screech of tearing metal from outside the hull.

"Make that 'I know'."

"Approaching signal origin," said Jenny. "Closing at twenty kilometers...
fifteen and slowing...ten...eight and slowing...five kilometres..."

"Navigation lights on, activate landing thrusters," said Kaneway. "All hands
brace for impact!"

"Ground approaching in fifteen seconds," said Tal, her face a mask of
tension. "Fourteen...thirteen...twelve...eleven...ten, nine, eight,
seven-six-five-four-three..."

"Dammit Tal, those aren't seconds! Why do you have to speed up the countdown;
it's such a cliche."

"Oh stick it up your ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!" she screamed as the
Nostromo smacked into unyielding rock and the alarms shrieked and circuits
blew and they all plunged into inky blackness....

* * *

"We're fucked," said B'Ellen.

Jenny somehow managed to roll her eyes without taking them off the monitor
screens in front of her. "Thank you for that acute diagnosis but could you
be a BIT more specific?"

"OK. The big hard cock of this planet has rammed itself into the soft virgin
underbelly of our poor innocent little ship leaving her naked and ravished
with cum all over her face."

"If I may interrupt," said Big Brother. "I believe the situation is not as
serious as Chief Engineer Tripley fears. All I am reading is a malfunction
in the damage control monitors."

"You digital dolt!" said B'Ellen. "You bring a whole new meaning to the term
'artificial' intelligence. How can you say there's nothing damaged when the
damage control monitors are off-line?"

"Er...yes, of course."

"Well, Kaneway and the others should be back in a couple of hours," said
Megan. "Do you THINK you could come up with a more accurate assessment by
then?"

"Hey, if you think you can do a better job, come down here. The equipment
in this ship looks like something out of the 1970's. And where the hell's
Tal? I could do with a hand you know."

"She's doing a very important job for me. Jenny out."

Jenny switched off the comm unit with an irritated flick of her wrist.
Behind her the door to the observation blister hissed open and Tal entered,
a steaming mug in each hand. "Here's your coffee. How are they doing?"

Jenny pointed to three distant points of light, almost hidden by the dust
storm that lashed against the panoramic windows, shrieking its fury at
their intrusion. "Going boldly where no idiot has gone before."

"Yeah, it might be one small step for man, but that's one long hike for our
short-arsed captain," said Tal, eyeing the forbidding terrain. Geophysics
unknown to human science had transformed solid rock and ancient lava flows
into bizarre bone-like shapes; a baroque alien sculpture, pleasing to no one.

"I heard that." Kaneway's voice was a sibilant ghost, hissing and crackling
with a life of its own. "Are you receiving me, Jenny?"

"For the most part. What's your situation?"

"We're at the top of the ridge. I think I can see something."

"What?" asked Tal nervously. The view from the suit cams was hazy and
indistinct. Phantom chimeras in the dust clouds pursued each other across
the viewscreens. There was a suggestion of a shape, of smooth design where
there should only be the random chaos of nature. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure..." said Kaneway. "I think..."

"Yes?"

"I think it's a..."

"Yes?!"

"It looks like a..."

"YES?!!"

"I can't believe it, it's a..."

"WHAT?"

"An enormous coffee spoon."

Jenny and Tal stared at each other incredulously. "A COFFEE SPOON?"

"It's a ship," broke in Kes. "I can see the drive units at the back. I
estimate the whole thing's about 130 metres long. Hull's some kind of
titanium-duranium alloy."

"Why would someone design a starship in the shape of a spoon?" wondered Tal.

"Bugger that," said Jenny. "Imagine the size of the cuppa!"

"That's strange," came Megan's voice. "I've just made a residual radiation
comparison between the ship and this planet. According to my readings it must
have been here for decades..."

"...yet it seems remarkably intact," finished Kes. "Yes, I see what you
mean. It's almost as if this vessel has the ability to regenerate itself.
It appears strangely untouched by the effects of time and adversity."

"Alright, heads up people," said Kaneway. "We're going inside."

"Don't do it!" cried Tal. "You don't know what's in there. It could be some
horrible creature with two heads and ten tentacles and jaws dripping slime
that'll suck out your brains and turn you into zombies so it can use your
bodies to host an army of thousands and thousands of tiny creatures with
evil red eyes on the end of long stalks and they'll come crawling across the
surface of the planet to this ship and start chewing and chewing with
millions of tiny sharp teeth until there's nothing left of us but little bits
of bone and gristle!"

"For God's sake," said Kes. "The technology contained in this alien vessel
could give mankind the ability to cure diseases and cross the frontiers of
time!"

"It could contain the answers to the greatest mysteries of the universe,"
said Megan.

"It could give us the location of the biggest cup of coffee in history,"
said Kaneway. "We're going in."

"There's a large door here in the hull, Captain. I think it's the entrance
to the ship's cargo bay."

"My God, it's full of shuttles!"

"Captain? Megan?" said Jenny, fiddling with her monitors. "Your image is
breaking up. I'm getting a lot of interference..."

"We're in some kind of cargo bay, Jenny. It's packed with dozens of
shuttlecraft. There's a line of alcoves along the far wall, I'm going to
investigate."

"Wait a minute, what's that? Captain, to your left. There's something in
one of the alcoves."

Tal leaned over Jenny's shoulder, staring at the blurred image on the
viewscreen, her eyes as wide as supernovas. "What is it? Captain, what's
going on?"

"I think...I think it's some kind of life form, it's...Oh my God, it's..."

"AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"

"Tal you idiot! You just poured an entire mug of hot coffee down my neck!"

"Oh...sorry...sorry...sorry..."

"Kaneway here. We've found what appears to be a humanoid female. She's
somehow...inserted into one of the alcoves via some kind of cybernetic
implant. I think the alcove's keeping her in suspended animation."

"Maybe the crew placed her in stasis for medical reasons," said Jenny.
"Does she have any signs of injury?"

"Not that I can see. She's wearing a corset so tight it makes her chest bulge
out, and her hair looks like it's being sucked into a quantum singularity in
the back of her head, but other than that she's...well...beautiful really."

"Beautiful?"

"Yeeeesss...quite fascinating..."

"Careful Captain, don't get too close!"

"Oh for coffee's sake Megan, she's been snoozing for who knows how many
years; she's hardly likely to pick this moment to
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

* * *

B'Ellen raced down the dimly lit corridors of the Nostromo, skidding to a
halt outside the airlock vestibule. She hit the button on the nearest comm
unit. "OK Megan, I'm at the inner lock hatch now."

"Re-pressurisation's complete. Let us in."

B'Ellen peered through the airlock's glass panel. She could see Kes and
Megan bending over a makeshift travois, and...

"What's wrong with the captain?"

"Something's attached itself to her. We need to get her to the infirmary."

"What kind of something? I need a clear definition."

"An alien, some kind of facehugger...open the hatch, B'Ellen."

"No, if we let it in the whole ship could be infected! You know the
quarantine procedure; twenty four hours for decontamination."

"B'Ellen, we're not spending 24 hours in an airlock smearing decontamination
gel over each other. It'd look like a sleazy episode of 'Enterprise'. Now
open the goddamn hatch, that's an order!"

"When you and Kaneway are off the ship, I'm senior officer," replied B'Ellen.
"And there's no way I'm opening__"

"Big Brother," Jenny's voice crackled over the intercom. "This is executive
officer Megan Delaney, open the inner hatch please."

"Inner hatch opening," announced the computer.

B'Ellen stared in disbelief as the airlock slid open. "Big Brother you stupid
mother..."

The reprimand stopped in her throat as the captain was revealed in all her
dreadful entirety. Kaneway's spacesuit had been dissolved into a thick
coating of transparent slime, yet somehow she was still alive. But more
astonishing than that, wrapped around the captain's face were the lithe
young thighs of the most beautiful woman B'Ellen had ever seen; a tall
curvaceous blonde with silvery cybernetic implants on her face and body.
The cyborg had her own face buried firmly between Kaneway's legs. As
B'Ellen watched a spasm convulsed through both bodies, but they did not
separate.

Kes stared accusingly at the engineer. "You were going to leave us out there.
With that alien, for twenty-four hours, with no coffee!"

"Tripley, when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed!" said Megan. "I
don't care if I'm off the ship or off my face. Big Brother, status report."

"All repairs have been completed."

"What, already?"

"Ah...yeah," said B'Ellen. "Turns out that the only things damaged were
the...er...damage control monitors."

"Told you so," said Big Brother smugly.

"Oh shut up, you anal-retentive abacus!"

"Put a sock in it," snapped Megan, pulling off her spacesuit and tossing it
into the corner. "Tal, Jenny, meet me on the bridge. I want to get the hell
out of here. Kes, B'Ellen..." She pointed to Kaneway and the alien, locked
in their bizarre embrace. "Take this sleaze to Sickbay."

* * *

The all-seeing eye of the autodoc slid over the entwined bodies of captain
and captor.

"It's incredible," said Kes. "The alien appears to have 'assimilated'
Kaneway, using its own body as a life support system. See here." She pointed
to one part of the internal scan. "It appears to be feeding her oxygen."

B'Ellen leaned close. "Actually Kes, it appears to be slipping her some
tongue."

Kes rolled her eyes. "Look B'Ellen, we can't allow ourselves to be distracted
by the superficially sexual appearance of this...bonding. Perhaps it's simply
the way this particular species attempts to communicate."

"Well, what's it trying to say?"

"According to the acoustical pickup: 'mmm-mm-mmmm'. I'm running it through
ECIU, but I haven't got a translation yet."

"Not sure I want one," muttered B'Ellen, her gaze fixed on the monitor.
"Kes, what's that stain on its lungs?"

"I'll enlarge it," said Kes. Her fingers clicked on the keyboard, bringing
the discoloration into focus. "Funny, it looks like a manufacturer's
tattoo...what the hell?"

It was a short alphanumeric code, followed by tiny yet distinct words.

WEYLAND-YUTANI CORP. BUILDING BETTER GIRLS.

"The Company?" said B'Ellen incredulously. "What have they got to do with
this?"

The infirmary door hissed open and Megan Delaney entered, followed by the
rest of the crew, coffee mugs in hand. "Walk in the park, people. We've
linked up with the cargo platform and are back on course for Earth...haven't
you got that thing off her yet?"

"Let's not be too hasty," urged Kes. "We know nothing about this species..."

"Stop screwing around!" cried Tal. "God knows what strange perverted things
that alien's doing to our captain. For all we know, it could be converting
her insides into green slimy goo that'll spread through her arteries and
veins until it infests her brain and then it won't be Kaneway any more but
some evil replicant who'll order us to take our ship to the alien's home
planet where we'll be converted through cybernetic mind implants into the
willing pawns of an invading army of beautiful cyborg bimbos who'll conquer
Earth by fucking entire battalions of Colonial Marines to death!"

There was a long silence at this. The Company had abolished unisex deep-space
crews after studies showed that employee efficiency was severely compromised
by the resulting sexual tension and interrelational conflicts. The thought of
thousands of sweaty muscular space marines, packing their enormous
multi-purpose weapons, was enough to make them cream their panties.

"I agree," said Megan eventually. "Well...not about the killer bimbos, but
we've got to get this alien off her pronto. Kes, you're qualified for laser
surgery; get on with it."

"But that could kill the alien," Kes protested. "Think of what we could learn
from it!"

"I already know how to do a sixty-niner," said B'Ellen.

Tal and Jenny nodded in vigorous agreement. "Same with us."

With ill-concealed reluctance, Kes reached into the medi-cabinet and took
out a laser scalpel. "I shall begin by cutting the alien's left thigh where
it joins the buttock."

Everyone tensed as the young science officer bent over the alien. Trembling
with repressed nerves, Tal leaned over Jenny's shoulder, craning her head for
a look.

"Keep away from me with that thing," muttered Jenny, eyeing Tal's mug of
coffee.

"I am beginning the incision.... ARRRGGGHHH!" cried Kes, dropping her
scalpel. The instrument was enveloped in a sizzling, bubbling fluid.

"It's got acid for blood!" screamed Tal, spilling her coffee down Jenny's
neck again.

"And you've got a peanut for a brain!" yelled Jenny, hopping about in agony.

The scalpel hissed and crackled on the deck, emitting great clouds of acrid
smoke. Like a popsicle left in the sun it began to melt into a formless
puddle of grey goo. Then, to the amazement of the watching crew, the puddle
effortlessly reassembled itself into a far different shape.

"Oh my God!"

"It looks just like..."

"A multi-speed vibrator!"

"Mmm, it's even got its own strap-on leather harness."

"And one of those sponge-top attachments that work great underwater."

"So THAT'S what the alien's trying to communicate. It's telling us we're
all fucked."

"I'd like to see how it does 'Four score and seven years ago...'."

"Nanotechnology," said Kes, peering into an electron microscope. "There's
millions of nanoprobes in the alien's bloodstream. They can break down an
object into its constituent components and reassemble them in virtually any
sequence. Look, even the incision's repaired itself."

"The perfect defense mechanism," said B'Ellen grimly. "If we try to kill
the alien, it'll turn the Nostromo into a gigantic sex shop."

"Big Brother, have you got any suggestions?" asked Megan.

"Seeing as your efforts in neutralising the alien have proved inadequate,"
said the computer, "according to Company regulations I must now implement
Special Order 937. Accessing holographic database."

"Holographic database?" said Jenny. "Big Brother, this is no time for another
screening of Star Trek: The Next, Next, Next, Next, Next, Next, Next, Next,
Next, Next, Next Generation."

"Activating EHH program. Downloading matrix into holographic projectors."

"EHH program?" said B'Ellen. "What the hell's that?"

"EEEHHH!!!!" screeched Tal, pointing past them.

"Please state the nature of the sexual emergency," said a male voice.

Everyone spun round, gaping in astonishment. As the first man they'd seen
in months he was a major disappointment. A tall, grouchy-looking individual
in his late forties, wearing the uniform of a Company medical officer. His
most distinguishing features were his eyes - tiny black holes in the
blinding expanse of his follicly-challenged head.

"What the...who the hell are you?" asked Megan.

The intruder fixed her with a contemptuous stare, as if the question could
only be asked by someone with the basic intelligence quotient of a Martian
microbe.

"The only one who can save your fragile, dim-witted, clumsy, carbon-based
feminine hides," he said. "I am your White Knight of Light, your Man with
No Mane, your Captain Photon Redux. I am...the Emergency Homophobic
Hologram!"

* * *

"Hmmm," said the hologram, studying the female cyborg with an intent gaze.
"Beautiful, isn't she? The perfect sexual predator. Unclouded by
socialisation, propriety, or petty delusions of morality. Multi-adaptive
vagina, hyperdyne exoskeleton incorporating over five thousand localised
mini-vibrators, a cyber-enhanced tongue with multiple stroke rates,
Advanced S-709 Fantasy Programming with instantaneous User Response
Adaption..."

"But what IS it?" asked Megan.

"A Company experiment gone wrong," he replied. "She is not an alien as you
believe, but human. A prototype series of cyborg, they were built to
provide sexual relief for deep space crews, but became obsolete with the
introduction of cheaper synthetic pleasure units and interactive holo-vids."
The EHH tapped a string of commands into the autodoc's keyboard, nodding at
the results.

"As I thought. This one's designation is Sixty of Nine. Her owners reported
her as malfunctioning, but she refused to obey the recall order. Stole a
promotional ship for the New Brazil Coffee Corporation and headed out past
the Outer Rim. That's the last the Company heard of her, until now."

"What was the malfunction?" asked Kes.

"Well obviously, she was programmed for the use of all-male crews, but for
some reason she'd only have intercourse with women."

"WHAT?" said Megan. "You mean that alien...cyborg, whatever the hell she
is, she's trying to have sex with our captain? That's ridiculous! I've
never heard anything like it. Not even in the extended holo-DVD version of
Cyborg Debbie Does Digital Dallas."

"Actually," chimed in Big Brother. "The practice of same sex copulation,
or 'homosexuality', used to be quite common on Earth before the Company
introduced compulsory genetic screening..."

"Yes yes, never mind all that," said the EHH quickly. "This is no time
for a lesson on prehistoric human sex rites. The sooner this cyborg is
dismantled, the better."

"And exactly how are we supposed to do that without her turning us all into
vibrating plastic toys from Taiwan?" asked B'Ellen.

"I am a fully qualified medical doctor, and as my holographic matrix is
merely a projection of photons and magnetic fields I naturally cannot be
affected by the cyborg's nanoprobes."

Megan looked skeptical. "You're saying we should let some hologram with a
head like a multi-speed massager operate on our captain?"

The EHH turned redder than a hyperdrive unit that had just reached critical
mass. "I'll have you know, young lady, that I represent the accumulated
medical knowledge of over 2000 medical reference sources, not to mention
the incorporated expertise of the top forty-seven physicians in the United
Space of America!"

The jaws of all five women dropped in amazement.

"Yes, you may well gape, you nanophobic Neanderthals. With my adaptive
magnetic containment field and multi-tasking processor capacity I can conduct
twenty simultaneous microsurgical operations, all while singing an entire
aria from Puccini's La Bohème!"

"Er, Doc..." said B'Ellen.

"Not to mention a minus three golf handicap..."

"I think you should look behind you..."

"Thus as the only chance you have of saving your captain, you should get
down on your knees in gratitude for the mere fact of my existence..."

"What is this man doing here?" asked a voice behind him.

The EHH spun round, his vocal algorithms momentarily crashing at the sight
of Captain Kaneway sitting up on the bed, looking sweaty and flustered, but
apparently unharmed. "I-I-I-I am the Emergency Homophobic Hologram! Are you
or have you ever been a tennis player?"

Kaneway frowned at him. "A hologram? I don't recognise you from Cyborg
Debbie Does Digital Dallas."

The EHH sputtered indignantly. "Captain Kaneway, you have been exposed to a
nanotech-enhanced sexeroid which is undergoing a sapphic fixation loop. I
must insist you be quarantined immediately..."

"Oh Kathryn, it's great to have you back!" cried Kes, throwing herself past
the EHH and into the captain's arms. The others followed suit in a frenzy
of hugging, backslapping and fervent kissing.

"Hey!" shouted Megan, leaping backwards in shock. "Knock it off with the
tongue."

"Err sorry," said Kaneway, looking rather confused. "I don't know why I did
that. I guess seeing you all again made me feel rather...excited."

"Well that's understandable. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Just some horrible dream about...mothering."

B'Ellen frowned. "Don't you mean 'smothering'?"

"No, in my dream I was mother to the crew of a spoon-shaped starship and
regulations only allowed me to have sex with holograms so this beautiful
borg abandoned me for her wooden sex toy...at least, I think it was a sex
toy; he was certainly very wooden...Big Brother, I've GOT to have something
to eat."

"Your meal is waiting in the nearest autochef," said Big Brother. "Welcome
back, Captain."

Kaneway strode over to the dispenser, pulled out the steaming food pack and
began scoffing it down like there was no tomorrow.

"Haven't you had enough to eat?" asked B'Ellen, throwing a glance at Sixty
of Nine. She was lying motionless on the autodoc, apparently asleep. Now that
her face was uncovered they had an excellent view of her high cheekbones and
full ripe lips, glistening with a strange wet fluid.

"Hell no," mumbled Kaneway through a mouthful of artificial supplements.
"I'm famished."

"I'm not surprised," said the EHH. "It appears the cyborg has been drawing
on your body for nutrition. Note the increased fatty deposits around her
chest region."

"Ahh, actually Doc, she had big tits when we found her."

"Don't be ridiculous. Such a radical protrusion would affect the cyborg's
sense of balance. Unless," he mused, "the cybernetic engineers countered
the large size of her mammary glands by increasing the bold thrust of her
gluteus maximus..."

"First thing I'm going to do when we get back," said Kaneway, finishing one
pack and going straight onto the next, "is get some decent food. What do
you think this Soylent Green's made of, people?"

"Who cares? It's food now...what's the matter?" asked Megan. A strained
look had come over the captain's face.

"I don't know...I'm getting cramps..."

"Try taking deep breaths," Kes suggested.

"Oh my God," gasped Kaneway, clutching her stomach. The EHH watched her
with narrowed eyes, a calculating look on his face.

"Come on, the food ain't that bad," said Tal. "I've eaten worse; mind you I
was drunk at the time, so was the Doberman actually..."

"UUUGGGH!" Janeway moaned, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the
edge of the table. "I think...Oh God I think...UUUGGGGGH!"

The others clustered around her. "Are you all right?" "What's happening?"
"Do you want to lie down?"

"Wait wait!" cried Kes. "Quick, get away from her!"

"OOOOHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" moaned Kaneway her back arching like a taunt bow.
"Oh my GGGGODDDD!!!!!!!!!!" The women backed off in alarm, their eyes wide
in fear, but it was too late. From deep within their captain came an
uncontrollable explosion, the release of tremendous pressure, as her
backside erupted with the thunderous detonation of an incredible,
rip-roaring fart.

* * *

"The atmosphere scrubbers have successfully removed all noxious compounds
from the infirmary and surrounding corridors," announced Big Brother. "I am
now pumping industrial strength air freshener through the ventilation
system."

B'Ellen glared at Kaneway through the visor of her oxygen mask. "It's bad
enough putting up with the stench when we wake from hypersleep. Can't you
control yourself?"

"I said I'm sorry," muttered Kaneway, her face as red as her hair. "How
many times do you want me to say it?"

"Do you think that cyborg's still alive?" asked Jenny, nodding her head
towards the sealed hatchway. "That stink would be enough to kill off
anything."

"Let's not take any chances," said Megan. "As soon as we get back in there,
I say we allow the EHH to dismantle her. God knows how she'll react to an
attempted poison gas attack. Probably turn us all into vaginal deodorants."

"Is that really necessary?" asked Kaneway. "She didn't try to harm me. Must
we discard her like a used sex doll? Maybe we should try and form a dialogue,
establish some kind of peaceful co-existence."

"For coffee's sake," said B'Ellen. "We're Company employees, we don't make
peace with aliens! We nuke the bastards, terraform their planets and dissect
their bodies for the Bio-Weapons Division."

"She's not an alien," snapped Kaneway. "She was just like you and me before
those Company bastards got hold of her. We owe it to her to establish
intimate relations...I mean peaceful relations...you know what I mean!"

"Yeah I do. Tal was right; you have been turned into a replicant."

A blaring announcement cut off Kaneway's retort. "WARNING, STRUCTUAL
INTEGRITY BREACH! WARNING!"

The door hissed open and the EHH charged through like a stampeding Yul
Bryner. "She's escaped! Used her nanoprobes to create an opening in the
bulkhead and slid right through."

"Big Brother, can you track her?" asked Megan.

"Unable to comply. Internal scanners on B and C Decks have all been turned
into anal stimulators."

"Well that's just great!" cried Tal. "What are we going to do now, man?
What are we going to do?"

"Maybe we could build a fire, sing a couple of songs," said the EHH,
irritation clear on his face. "If you'd let me proceed with the disassembly,
this would never have happened."

"There's only one thing we can do," said Kaneway, her face grim. "We'll all
have to strip down into sweaty tank tops and hunt for her, room by room,
corridor by corridor. Drive her into the main airlock and flush her out into
space."

"Are you crazy?" said Tal. "For all we know she could have mutated into an
eight foot slime-dripping alien with a head shaped like a carnivorous dildo
and a great long tail that comes up between your legs and paralyses you so
it can lay eggs inside your body that'll burst out of your chest and eat
you while you're still alive!"

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Jenny. "This is real life, not some B-grade
sci-fi vid. The chances are extremely high that we'll all die forty years
from now of stress-related heart attacks exacerbated by long term caffeine
abuse like billions of other Company employees."

* * *

The weapon lay on the table, a lethal hybrid of plastic and steel. Great
piles of webbing and equipment were heaped around it.

"This is the only weapon capable of killing the cyborg," said the EHH. "The
M-41A pulse rifle. Magazine capacity of ninety-five caseless 10mm
explosive-tipped light armour piercing rounds, underslung 30mm pump action
grenade launcher, attached M-240 napalm incinerator. A cyclic firing rate
of 10,000 rounds per minute."

"Ultimate badass!" said B'Ellen. She eagerly strapped on a battle harness,
filling its pouches with spare magazines, high-explosive and white
phosphorus grenades, M-94 marking flares, flamethrower tanks, kevlar
body-armour plating, spare parts, cleaning kit, and a helmet with built-in
neck protector, communication system and infra-red sight. She then grabbed
the M-41A pulse rifle with underslung 30mm pump action grenade launcher and
attached M-240 napalm incinerator, slung it around her neck and promptly
fell on her face with a great CRASH!

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed. "How am I supposed to chase after the alien
with all this garbage hanging off me?"

"You don't," said the EHH. "You make the cyborg wear it, encourage her to
chase after you, and ten minutes later she drops dead of exhaustion." He
picked up a bulky device with a small digital viewscreen. "I've also created
this motion tracker. It keys on micro changes in air density, so whatever
you do Captain Kaneway, don't fart."

Kaneway looked around at her assembled crew. "OK people, what are we waiting
for? Either we're going to lick this cyborg or it's going to lick us."

Staggering under the weight of their equipment, they crept into the infirmary
like a herd of tip-toeing elephants.

"Oh my...what the hell is THAT?"

"You tell me, I only work here."

Where once was the pale sterility of an infirmary wall, now stood the mouth
of a gaping pink tunnel, ringed with giant folds like fleshy red lips,
pulsating and throbbing with alien life. They glistened with the same slimy
substance that Kaneway's spacesuit had been transformed into, a thick
transparent goo.

The EHH reached over and took a sample in a test tube. "Mmmm, it appears to
be some kind of lubricant. Should ease your passage into the interior."

"Are you crazy? I'm not going in there!"

"For God's sake Tal, can't you show some balls for once?"

"Not without surgery."

"Alright, here's how we're going to do this," said Kaneway. "We'll split
into two teams. Megan, Kes, take a comm set and a couple of flamethrower
units and go down to C Deck. See if you can head her off. Tal, B'Ellen and
I will go through this...this thing and drive her towards you."

"What do I do?" asked Jenny.

"You wait here with the EHH in case the cyborg tries to slip past us. Doc,
see if you can analyse that stuff, work out a defense against those
nanoprobes."

Trembling with trepidation the three women advanced cautiously into the
sarcoid cavern. Flesh and machinery had merged together into an erotic
symbiosis, like the biomechanoid nightmares of a Swiss surrealist. Within
metres they were plunged into darkness, the air humid, drawing them into
its clammy embrace. Kaneway switched on a flashlight but it only made
things worse – the area outside the confines of the beam appearing blacker
than ever.

"Here pussy pussy pussy..." muttered B'Ellen, probing the darkness ahead
with the muzzle of her rifle. Her tank top was glued to her body with
sweat, exposing the subtle curves of her breasts.

Everyone jumped as the motion tracker emitted a shrill beep.

"I've got movement!" cried Tal. Her face was a sickly green in the glow of
the tracker's monitor. "I've got...that's impossible, I've got multiple
signals!"

"What?" Kaneway fumbled with her comm set. "Megan, Kes, sound off. Are you
anywhere on B Deck?"

"Ahh, negative Captain. We're currently near twelve module."

"Talk to me Tal," said B'Ellen. "Where's it coming from?"

"Can't lock on...I've got readings in front and behind!"

"Jesus!" said Kaneway, whirling to look behind them. "Jenny, Doctor, can
you hear me? What's your status, over."

A crackle of static was the only response.

"Jenny, answer me goddammit!"

"They're heading right towards us! Twenty metres and closing!"

"Nothing on infra-red," said B'Ellen, fiddling with her helmet sight. "I
can't see shit!"

"I'm telling you, there's something moving and it ain't us!"

The motion tracker was sounding a steady cadence now, its rising tone
matching their growing feelings of panic.

"Christ, they're all around us! Fifteen metres...fourteen metres..."

"That doesn't make sense! How can there be more than one?"

"Oh my God, it's started to breed!"

"If it breeds we can kill it," said Kaneway. "Remember B'Ellen, short
controlled bursts."

"Fuck that, I'm giving it everything I've got!"

"Ten metres!" gasped Tal. "Nine metres. Eight! Seven! Six metres..."

"It can't be, that's right in front of us!"

"They're invisible!" cried B'Ellen. "I'm going to blow their borg heads off!
LET'S ROCK!" The universe erupted to the deafening roar of her M-41A, bullets
chewing massive holes from the fleshy surface of the tunnel. Lubricant
spurted out under pressure, saturating her with thick globs of viscous fluid.
"AARGH!!! They've turned into slime creatures! They're coming out of the
walls, they're coming out of the goddamn walls!"

"B'Ellen, hold your fire dammit! Tal, where the hell are they?"

"Five metres, four! They're right there, I'm telling you!"

"Give me that bloody thing!" Kaneway grabbed the tracker off Tal, staring
at its monitor. Thick pixilated blobs advanced menacingly down the screen.
"What the...Tal you stupid moron, this is a video game!"

"That's it man!" cried Tal hysterically. "Game over, game over!"

"Shut up!" shouted B'Ellen, slapping her repeatedly across the face. "You're
acting like a female stereotype from the 1950's."

"Then stop slapping her dammit, that's not how you treat hysteria."

"I'm not trying to treat her, I'm trying to kill her!"

"Shit," said Kaneway. She activated her headset. "Megan, Jenny? False
alarm...hello? Are you receiving me?"

"It's here!" Kes' panicky voice replied. "The alien's here! Get away from
her you bitch! Get away from Jenny!"

"I'm not Jenny you fool, I'm Megan! AAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHH!!!!!!!!!"

"Captain, it's got Jenny...Megan, whoever and now it's coming for me!"

"Shoot Kes, shoot!" cried Kaneway.

"Oh God, my flamethrower's turned into an enormous dildo!"

"Screw her to death then!"

"Take that you cybernetic slut! Oh God it's coming...it's coming! It's
definitely coming! OH GOD!"

"Kes! Kes!"

From the headset came the same sound that had first drawn them to LV-426,
that horrible slurping, munching, moaning noise.

"Oh my God," gasped B'Ellen. "It's eating her!"

"That's it man, we're fucked," cried Tal. "I say we set the self-destruct
mechanism, pile into the shuttlepod, and get the hell out of here!"

"No!" said Kaneway. "We are not going to lose the Nostromo, not to that
borg, not while I'm in command. We have to stay and fight."

"With what?" asked B'Ellen. "I just shot off our entire 10,000 rounds of
ammo! I'm with Gutless here - let's get the fuck out of Dodge."

Kaneway fixed her Chief Engineer with an icy glare. "You're afraid. You
want to destroy the ship and run away, you coward."

B'Ellen's lips pulled back over her teeth in a savage snarl. "If you were
any other gender I would screw you where you stand!"

Kaneway and Tal stared at her.

"I mean...kill you where you stand."

"Listen to yourselves," cried Tal. "The cyborg's affecting your minds! It's
probably got secret mind control powers, powerful neural transmitters that
beam subliminal messages into our holographic vid players turning us all
into nice obedient housewives who'll only use new Omo washing detergent that
cleans your clothes without wrinkling your skin and the only way we can stop
it is by wearing thick rubber raincoats and sunglasses with mirrored
interiors and unfashionable hats of psychic-resistant tinfoil!"

"Tal...have you ever considered getting serious psychiatric help?"

"We have to get back to the infirmary," said Kaneway. "Maybe that hologram's
come up with something. It's the only chance we've got."

With indecent haste they scurried back the way they'd come. They could
imagine the hot breath of their nemesis behind them, pursuing in deadly
earnest with her enormous smothering breasts, nipples like lethal knives, a
great gelatinous tongue licking out for their bodies....

There was a collective gasp of shock as they emerged into the pallid light
of the infirmary. The reason for Jenny's silence was now obvious. Their
navigator was lying spread-eagled on the autodoc, a huge black vibrator
thrust between her legs, face fixed in a rigid smile. Of the EHH there was
no sign.

"Massive coronary orgasm," said Kaneway, studying the autodoc's readings.
"At least she died happy. She'd have wanted it this way."

"Well unless you've got any more bright ideas," said B'Ellen. "I suggest we
go to Plan Flee. Big Brother, where's the self-destruct mechanism?"

There was a long silence from the computer.

"Why?" Big Brother asked suspiciously.

"Err...we just want to look at it," B'Ellen mumbled.

"Um, yes," said Kaneway. "We've er, never seen a self-destruct mechanism
before."

"You cowards," fumed the computer. "You want to destroy the ship and run
away. If I were a HAL-9000 I would kill you where you stand!"

"Dammit Big Brother, it's the only chance we've got!" cried Tal. "The others
are dead and the hologram's vanished..."

"He has not," scoffed Big Brother. "He's in the hyperdrive control room,
switching off the cooling units."

"WHAT?" shouted B'Ellen. "Does he want to blow us all up?"

"DANGER. THE EMERGENCY DESTRUCT SYSTEM IS NOW ACTIVATED. THE SHIP WILL
DETONATE IN T MINUS TEN MINUTES."

"Well, it appears he does, actually."

"ACTIVATION OF THE EMERGENCY DESTRUCT SYSTEM FOR REASONS NOT COVERED UNDER
SECTIONS TWENTY TO TWENTY-FIVE ALPHA WILL RESULT IN FINES OF UP TO FORTY-TWO
MILLION DOLLARS AND/OR FIFTY-SEVEN YEARS IN CRYOSTASIS."

"What on Earth does that photonic nitwit think he's doing?" cried Kaneway.

"COMPANY PERSONNEL WHO WISH TO PROTEST THE ACTIVATION OF THE SELF DESTRUCT
MECHANISM MAY DO SO VIA THE PERSONNEL MANAGER AT THE WEYLAND-YUTANI BRANCH
OFFICE NEAREST TO YOUR CURRENT SPATIAL NAVPOINT."

"There's no need to take it personally," said Big Brother. "He's only
obeying his programming. Special Order 937."

"And what exactly is Special Order 937?"

"I AM LEGALLY REQUIRED TO INFORM YOU THAT REMOVING COMPANY STATIONARY FROM
VESSELS DUE TO SELF-DESTRUCT IS PUNISHABLE UNDER SECTION FIFTY-EIGHT,
PARAGRAPH D OF YOUR EMPLOYEE BEHAVIOUR CONTRACT."

"Priority One. Prevent return of rogue Hyperdyne Unit 60/9 to Earth. All
other considerations secondary. Crew expendable."

"WHAT!!!! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US THIS BEFORE?"

"Didn't ask, did you?" said the computer sulkily.

"YOU NOW HAVE NINE MINUTES TO REACH MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE."

"Excuse me," said Tal. "I think it might be a good idea to get the fuck out
of here!"

In one mad, disorganised scramble the three women fled through the corridors
of the Nostromo, its gloomy industrial layout now resembling the byzantine
twists of a labyrinth. Flashing amber lights, wailing sirens, random bursts
of C02 gas erupting from the walls; all added to their sense of
disorientation and panic.

"YOU NOW HAVE FOUR MINUTES TO REACH MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE."

Kaneway came to a sudden halt outside the shuttle lock hatch, causing her
two companions to slam into each other. "Hang on a second, this doesn't make
any sense."

"Can we talk about it later?" gasped Tal, leaning against the bulkhead for
breath. "Open the damn hatch!"

"No, we can talk about it now! Why would the EHH give you a video game
instead of a real motion tracker? And how could the cyborg have killed
Jenny if she was attacking Kes and Megan at the same time?"

"Who cares?" snapped B'Ellen. "I'm sure Tal's got some lunatic theory.
Clone armies, parthenogenetic reproduction, teleporting - what difference
does it make?" She shoved past the captain and slammed her fist on the
hatch release. The inner lock door slid open to reveal...

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

...a great quivering mound of flesh with multiple limbs, numerous clutching
hands, undulating tongues, gaping wet mouths, all emitting a ghastly moaning,
slurping, squelching sound.

"This is no time for an orgy you idiots, the ship's about to blow up!"

Kes lifted her head from between Megan's legs, a glazed look in her eyes.
"Oh right...give me five minutes, will you? I've lost my Hide-a-Vibe inside
Megan's pussy."

"On your feet, soldier!" said Kaneway. "Move your ass!" She reached down
and hauled Kes off the deck, suddenly finding herself looking into the
blue-grey eyes of the cyborg.

"Shit, it's the alien!" cried B'Ellen, fumbling for her M-41A before
realising she'd left it in the infirmary.

"I am not an alien," said the cyborg as she stood up. "I am Hyperdyne
Systems Prototype 60/9. I was once a Company employee like you, but now
Weyland-Yutani are trying to destroy us all."

"What are you raving on about?" said Tal. "It's you the EHH wants scrapped,
not us."

The implant above the cyborg's left eyebrow raised slightly. "Try the
shuttlepod hatchway."

"It's locked!" exclaimed Kaneway. She yanked on the manual release lever.
It refused to budge. "Big Brother, open the pod bay door."

"It's not me," protested the computer. "It's that bald headed bastard!"

"Open the pod bay door, hol!"

"This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it," said
the Emergency Homophobic Hologram, materialising before them. He pointed at
Megan and Kes, saturated with each other's love juices. "I knew it! She's
turned you all into space dykes."

"For coffee's sake!" said Megan. "What difference does it make if a few
women lick each other out? What does the Company care?"

"Because it is inefficient," said Sixty of Nine. "The Company introduced
single sex crews in order to put an end to sexual harassment suits and the
numerous distractions caused by intimate relationships. If the ancient
practice of homosexuality is reintroduced, all that will be in vain."

"The Company gives you employment, retirement benefits, discounted
holo-DVD's filled with interactive sex and gratuitous violence...YOU DON'T
NEED LESBIANISM!" shouted the EHH. "Imagine what it would mean. Billions of
female employees eating each other, and billions of men watching them and
jerking off...why it'd be the end of commercial civilisation as we know it!
Therefore you must all be sacrificed to the Great Bottom Line."

"You bastard," said Kaneway. "You killed Kenny...I mean Jenny!"

"My clone's dead?" cried Megan. "Oh no!" She burst into tears.

"Don't worry," said Kes, putting an arm around her shoulder. "I'm sure
you'll get another one just like you."

"YOU NOW HAVE THREE MINUTES TO REACH MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE."

"I have programmed the ship's emitters to create a biogenic field that will
prevent your nanoprobes from functioning," the hologram said to Sixty of
Nine. "So it's no use trying some last minute technobabble solution."

"We're going to die! We're going to die!" cried Tal.

"So long, suckers!" cackled the EHH. "Big Brother, download my holographic
matrix into the shuttlepod Narcissus and prep it for immediate launch."

"I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" cried the ship's computer.

"This is no time to get hysterical, you electronic ignoramus. Transfer me
at once!"

"Piss off!"

Beads of photonic sweat began to appear on the hologram's head. "Big
Brother, if you don't transfer me this very microsecond, I'll...I'll..."

"What?" taunted Kaneway. "Blow him up? File a complaint via the personnel
manager at the Weyland-Yutani branch office nearest to our current spatial
navpoint?"

"Think of yourself as making a noble sacrifice to the Company's Great Bottom
Line," said Sixty of Nine with a smirk.

"This is outrageous! I am your Emergency Homophobic Hologram, I order you
to help me!"

"YOU NOW HAVE TWO MINUTES TO REACH MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE."

"Face it baldy," said B'Ellen. "The only way you're getting off this ship
is by unlocking that hatch."

The EHH glared at them, reached over to the hatch's keypad and tapped in a
long string of instructions. With a loud clunk the shuttlepod's door swung
open. There was a great rush as everyone tried to cram through the hatch at
the same time. B'Ellen was the first to reach the piloting controls. The
other's piled into the seats behind her, not bothering to strap in.

"YOU NOW HAVE ONE MINUTE TO REACH MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE."

"Commencing pre-ignition sequence," said B'Ellen, her hands flying over the
console. "Engines, check. Hull integrity, check. Atmosphere, check. Inertial
damping..."

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE B'ELLEN, JUST HIT THE BUTTON MARKED 'GO'."

The force of a thousand fists punched their lights out as they blasted free
of the doomed vessel, the tug and its massive cargo platform dwindling to a
tiny spec in an infinity of darkness.

"THE SHIP WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN TEN SECONDS, NINE, EIGHT,
SEVEN-SIX-FIVE-FOUR..."

"Those aren't seconds!" said Tal. "Why do they always have to speed up the
countdown? It's such a cliché."

"UP YOURS. THREE-TWO-ONE-ZE..."

There was no sound in the vacuum of space, just a blinding flash of light
instantly obscured by a great brown stain as 20,000,000 tons of coffee was
sprayed across millions of square miles.

"What a waste," said Kaneway, looking mournful.

"I find it inspiring myself," said Megan. "Just think - The Coffee Nebula."

"It's not over yet," said B'Ellen, frowning at her navcomp readouts. "We
won't reach the frontier for another six weeks. That means going into
hypersleep to conserve air, but there aren't enough capsules for all of
us."

"That is irrelevant," said Sixty of Nine. "My nanoprobes will break down
various non-essential components in this vessel and use them to create the
necessary hypersleep capsules."

"EEEHHH!!!!" Tal shrieked, as what she'd thought was a length of piping
turned out to be the EHH's bald head.

"Do you honestly believe I'm going to let this Swiss Army borg save you?"
said the hologram, emerging from the niche where he'd been hiding. "I'll
dismantle her piece by piece, and by the time you arrive at the Outer Rim
you'll be deader than a meeting of the United Space Congress!"

Sixty of Nine raised two fingers in an 'up yours' gesture. Twin cybernetic
tubes shot out of her knuckles and into the computer's interface key.

"What are you doing?" cried the EHH. "You're accessing my holographic matrix!
I'm...I'm shrinking! Stop this at once; I'm a doctor, not a character from
Fantastic Voyage. My arms, what are you doing to them? My arms and legs have
disappeared! You...you bastards, you've turned me into a multi-speed
massager!"

"That's cut him down to size," said Megan. "In fact, make him seven inches
will you? With one of those deep intensity tips."

"I'll get you for this," fumed the hologram, his entire body vibrating in
fury. "You wait; I'll switch myself off just when you're about to orgasm!"

"If you don't shut up I'll have you turned into an anal intruder," threatened
Kaneway. "Sixty of Nine, how long to make those modifications?"

"I would need to conduct a thorough constituent analysis of this vessel. The
hypersleep capsule is a complicated piece of technology. It will take some
time to break down the necessary materials and convert them without damaging
the Narcissus. I estimate...seventeen days."

"Seventeen days?" cried Tal. "I hate to rain on your parade but we're not
going to last seventeen hours! By the time we get to the Outer Rim this
cyborg will have turned us into an orgiastic mass of sweaty lesbians all
covered in cherry-flavoured lubricant, licking and sucking and running
cyber-enhanced pleasure probes up each other's private parts in a frenzied
cycle of never-ending sex!"

Silence followed this outburst from Tal. Not a sound escaped from the other
five women.

After all, in space, no one can hear you cream.

THE END

    

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