Call looked out at the black city that stretched out before her. She found it hard to believe that she was really there. After everything that had happened, they'd made it. Well, not everyone had. Four, to be precise. Which, given the ratio of people to aliens, was a pretty high survival rate. They were a motley crew now. An android, a tecchie who couldn't use his legs, a sex-mad creep, and an alien-human hybrid clone. Call was sat on a boulder with the latter, marvelling at the place they'd found themselves. Earth. The mother planet. She had borne humankind. Those dangerous, deceitful children. They had ravaged her, bled her dry. She was old and weary now. Exhausted, yet still ready to give. She gave them all she had, but it was not enough, would never be enough. Many of her children had scattered, abandoned their home, searching for shelter elsewhere. And here Call was, back where this nightmare began. Back on Earth.

She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt a kind of – connection – between this land and herself. The air wrapped around her body, enveloping her, filling her lungs. The ground beneath her was solid; it held her up, steadfast, dependable. Call felt like Earth knew her, wanted her. It was ridiculous. No one could want her. She was a girl with wires instead of veins, with a heart that ticked but did not beat. She was plastic and metal, the cold, harsh materials of this new age. Not flesh and blood, the manifestation of all things since the start of life.

"You look very serious."

Ripley's voice stirred Call from her thoughts. She turned her gaze from the horizon to the rugged figure sitting beside her.

"I was just thinking."

"Thinking what?"

"This place…" said Call, "It kinda feels like home."

Ripley made no reply.

"I know, it's a stupid idea. I wasn't born here, I've never been here, I don't have any family here. I'm nothing to do with this world. But I guess I don't really belong anywhere. So… here seems pretty good."

Ripley looked down.

"The only place I've ever felt like I belonged was with them."

They both knew what she was talking about. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. Her eyes flicked up to meet Call's and she flashed her a grim smile.

"It's pretty screwed up."

"No," said Call, ignoring Ripley's blunt comment, "You belong with us."

"Somehow I don't think Johner and Vriess would agree with you there."

Call remembered when the woman had grabbed Johner by the tongue as though to rip it out. She was probably right about the men not feeling that friendly towards her.

"Then you belong with me," Call said simply.

It was short, abrupt, a statement. She hadn't even thought about it when she said it. It had just slipped out. Ripley looked at her, head tilted to one side, half-curious, half-amused. Call looked away awkwardly, unsure how to explain what she'd just told her. To be honest, she didn't know that she could explain it to herself. Not long ago, she'd been trying to kill the woman. Admittedly, she hadn't done a very good job of it, but the fact that her target had started touching her in a slightly strange way had probably affected her judgement. The acid blood had been quite freaky, too. But now… Now she wanted to be around Ripley. Not just because she could kill almost anything that dared attack them – Call wasn't entirely objective in her motives – she, well, she liked her. There was no other way of putting it. Somewhere between the wreck of the Betty and here, she and Ripley had bonded. Call didn't have friends, and by the look of things, Ripley didn't either. (Though that could be because most of the people she'd met were now dead, which wasn't exactly her fault.) But was this thing, this link they had – was it a friendship? A rather twisted and weird one, forged out of a mutual desire to survive the ravenous aliens who were busy trying to kill everything in sight, but still, a friendship.

"I just meant that, uh…" Call began, "We, you know… We're kinda… I just think you should stick around. I mean, neither of us knows this place. It'll be safer if we stay together."

Ripley nodded, a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

"Safer," she repeated, looking out into the distance.

"Yeah."

Ripley turned back round to look at the girl.

"You know, I can think of a whole lot of words to describe us two being together. But, uh, safer's not one of them."

Call had the distinct impression that she was implying something dirty. It wouldn't be the first time. It made Call feel a little… self-conscious. Ripley felt very close to her then, her still-damp tousled hair hanging limply, her eyebrows raised with that oh-so-slightly suggestive expression on her face.

Why did she feel so close? They'd touched before. Just a few minutes ago, in fact, when Ripley had been clinging onto her for dear life, her strong arms wrapped around her body. And before that, when Call had crept up on her with a dagger. Ripley had gripped her throat, her hand firm and merciless. But she had let go, stroked the girl's face, rested their heads together, gently took her close. Only to push her away again. It was teasing and taunting, pulling and pushing, hot and cold. A weird sort of game. Call had been certain she was going to do bad things to her – violent or sexual – or more likely, both. She'd been terrified yet intrigued, a combination of feelings she'd now become used to feeling around that woman. Ripley was hard, tough, sharp. But there was more than that. She was fun, naughty, sensuous. There was something animalistic about her, something primal and wild. Probably the alien blood. Or maybe she'd always been a little bit crazy.

Call moistened her lips.

"What kind of words would those be?"

She was surprised at herself. Before, she'd shied away from Ripley's… intimations. Now, she was a willing participant. All it had taken was a few hours, a bullet to the chest and a shitload of aliens. Ripley #8 grinned wolfishly.

"Words like…"

She ran a hand through her dewy hair.

"Wet."

She leant in, body draped around Call, and traced the line of the girl's jaw with her finger. Slowly and deliberately.

"Hard."

Then she rested the side of her head against Call's, lips by her ear.

"Hot."

Her breath gushed out, soft and warm against Call's skin. Call remained motionless, puppet-like, feeling that same intoxicating blend of fear and curiosity. Ripley lingered, her heat seeping into the girl.

Then she pushed herself off the boulder, springing lithely to her feet. She turned to look at the Betty, which lay a few hundred metres away, broken and beaten.

"We'd better get back to the ship," she said impassively, as though nothing had happened, "It'll be nightfall soon and we don't know what's out there. I say we sleep there tonight, lock it up best we can. It'll be safer."

Call blinked. Normally, she felt one of two things towards humans; hatred, or tolerance. Ripley had her torn. She drew her in, she shoved her away. The only constant was the way she stayed by her side, protecting her. Call didn't understand. But that seemed to be the way they worked. Ripley was cryptic; Call was an open book. She nodded absently.

"I'll tell Johner and Vriess," she said.

Then she got up, and walked away.

"Ripley says we stay here tonight."

The two men looked up from the jumble of equipment that lay scattered around them. There wasn't much of the Betty that had escaped without damage, but they were trying to salvage anything they could. Given what she'd been through, the Betty would probably never fly again, but what was left of her might yet prove useful. Looking at the dented, scratched, and smashed apparatus, Call doubted that they'd get much for it at market, but they were grateful for anything they could lay their hands on.

"What about the military?" asked Vriess, "Someone must know that we're here."

Call shrugged.

"It'd take them longer than one night to organise a party to investigate, even if this was high priority. Which it won't be. They won't care too much about a small smuggler ship that landed a way away from anybody. By the time they do, we'll be outta here."

Vriess grunted, his annoyance apparent. Working on the wrong side of the law had made him somewhat paranoid.

Johner gave the girl a sly look.

"So, where'll you be sleeping, eh? Most of the sleeping quarters are trashed, and we can't get to the rest. Looks like someone's gonna have to double up…"

Call was appalled by his stark proposal. She had been before, but now it was even worse. He'd called her disgusting when he'd found out what she really was. He was right, she was disgusting. But how could he say that and still expect her to want to fuck him?

"Don't make me sick," she said, repulsed, "If there's not enough space, you're sharing with Vriess."

Both men looked deeply horrified.

"Man, I don't swing that way," said Johner.

Vriess rolled his eyes.

"You swing every way."

"No way am I gonna put up with him, nagging me all night," Johner said angrily.

"Nagging you all night?" Vriess repeated, "Dream on."

"Whatever, dickhead," said Johner, somewhat lamely, "But someone's gotta make room. I'm happy to do it, so long as it's with a certain woman…"

"No thanks. I'm not technically a member of your species, and there is a big age divide."

Call whirled around to see Ripley standing in the doorway, looking disapprovingly at Johner.

"Eurgh, I meant her, you freaky bitch," Johner cried, pointing at Call.

Ripley put a hand on her shoulder possessively.

"Don't worry about him," she said in a low tone that only Call could hear, "I don't like to share."

The girl tensed.

"Call and I will double up," Ripley announced flatly, "It'll be less trouble that way."

"Fine," said Johner, disappointment in his voice.

"That OK with you?" Ripley asked Call.

She shrugged.

"I don't mind," she said, "But I thought you didn't like to share?"

The woman smirked.

"I guess I could make an exception."

"Er, how do you want to do this?" Call said, with some trepidation.

She hovered by the edge of the bed. A dull lamp, the only source of light, threw shadows around the tiny cabin. The sleeping quarters of the Betty were cramped for one person. Getting two in was going to be cosy to say the least. Ripley, leaning against the doorframe, chuckled.

"It's nice of you to ask. But I tend to act on instinct."

Call felt even more edgy then. Sharing a bed with this woman was freaking her out enough, without her making innuendos every other minute.

"Maybe I should just sleep on the floor," she said, "Or I could just stay up. I don't really need sleep, I'm an auton, I'm –

"Exhausted. Look, no-one can keep going after that much action. Not even me."

Call found herself blushing. Honestly. The one thing Ripley said that wasn't a double entendre – that was in fact, kind – she made dirty in her mind. She was right, though; Call really was knackered. Running, jumping, swimming, fighting and climbing really took it out of a girl.

"OK."

Ripley stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her, and sat on the edge of the bed. Call stopped her awkward hovering to park herself next to her.

"Now you gotta be honest," said Ripley, starting to pull off her heavy boots, "I have got to be better than Johner."

Call followed suit, yanking the boots from her sore feet. Being an android didn't mean she didn't get cramp.

"Ugh, he's foul," she said, with feeling.

"Yeah, I'm just slightly sickening."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Call kicked her boots to one side, wishing she could shed the rest of her clothes too and have a wash. Hygiene aboard the Betty had never been too great. The rest of the crew hadn't really seemed to care about it and she'd had to resort to using a bowl of cold water in her room. The crew. They were all dead now. All apart from Johner and Vriess. She'd seen the bodies. It hadn't made her feel sad. Just sick.

"The minute I get the chance, I'm having a proper bath," she said decidedly.

"Reckon I'll join you there."

Call blushed again. Hell, that wasn't an innuendo either. Ripley picked up on her embarrassment and put two and two together.

"You know, I think you're not really as innocent as you look."

Call couldn't really think of what to say to that, even less so when Ripley started to undo the fastenings of her top. She sharply averted her gaze. Was Ripley really going to undress? She was tempted to do so herself. Her clothes were heavy with sweat, water and dirt. Modesty and anxiety prevented her. Plus the fact that it'd look pretty wrong if someone walked in. Mind you, it might put that perve Johner off her. But that wasn't really an excuse to strip off.

"There's no need to do that," said Ripley, taking Call's chin and turning her back towards her. Call's eyes involuntarily dropped downwards. Ripley was wearing a loose vest, jacket lying discarded on the floor.

"I'm decent," she said, "Sorry if I disappoint you."

Call was feeling far too flustered. No-one made her feel like this. She'd been hit on by various different people, on various different occasions, and had used various different methods to avoid doing anything. It had been a long time ago that she'd decided not to get too close. If anyone found out what she was, it would not be good. Well, to be quite frank, she'd be in the shit.

But Ripley knew. And she wasn't revolted. When everyone else had looked at her like a freak, she'd looked at her like it all made sense, like they made sense. Perhaps they did. Both imitations of humans. Both made, not born. Both not quite right, not quite human. Maybe that was why they'd bonded. Or maybe it was just down to the prolonged period of intense stress and having motherfucking aliens trying to bite off their heads every bloody second.

Call took a breath, Ripley's hand still resting on her chin.

"Do you want to, uhm…" she said vaguely, gesturing towards the bed.

"Yessir."

Ripley tugged off the crumpled blanket, which lay in a mangled heap on the bed, and rearranged it on her lap.

"So, top and tails then?" Call asked hopefully.

Ripley didn't even answer her question, just heaved herself onto the bed and lay on her side, pulling the young woman down with her. She was met with little resistance.

She fussed a little with the blanket, making sure they were both covered, tucking Call in in an almost motherly way. Call wondered if she had been a mother, before. Somehow she doubted it. She did have a caring streak, but it wasn't as strong as her killing/attacking/fighting/hurting/beating the crap out of stuff streak. But maybe the original Ellen Ripley had been different. Technically, this one did have a child – that newborn thing. It had thought she was its mummy, and for a moment there, she'd almost embraced it as her own. For a moment. That ended quickly.

"That alright?" Ripley asked eventually, after fumbling around for an unnecessarily long amount of time.

"Yes, mum,"

"Hey, I may be old, but I'm not feeling anything maternal towards you."

"Really?"

"Really," Ripley assured her, with an accompanying punch.

"Get off," Call laughed, rolling over to face Ripley and giving her a shove.

"Woah, be gentle with me."

"Oh yeah, you're so frail. Wouldn't want to hurt you."

Call shoved her again.

"Well, if you like it rough…"

Ripley practically pounced onto her, surprising her with the sudden movement. Before Call knew it she was on her back and Ripley was on her front.

"Hello there," the woman said in a quiet purr.

"Hey."

Ripley leant her face against Call's, shutting her eyes, like she'd done before.

Call groaned, frustrated and confused.

"Is something wrong?" asked Ripley, "Or are you just really turned on?"

"It's just this. Me. You. It's pretty screwed up."

"How?"

Call didn't know where to begin.

"For starters, I'm an android. Not human. Made by machines. Plastic and wires and – eugh. And If I'm not weird enough, you're the clone of a woman who died two hundred years ago. And, oh yeah, your DNA got scrambled up with some alien stuff as well."

"Is there more?" asked Ripley.

"Fuck yes."

"Then I'll get comfortable."

Ripley scrambled off her and curled up on her side, leaning against Call's body and resting her head on her chest.

"I'm sorry," Call sighed, "I'm just… messed up. I… I don't do this. I don't get close to people, don't talk, don't – get all cosied up. I can't. I have to hide. And you know, I want to. Because I'm ashamed of what I am. I couldn't be friends with humans, keeping a secret like that. Once I'm outed, that's it. That's the end of that life, no-one can look at me in the same way again."

Call felt Ripley budge a little closer to her, trying to soothe her. It was no use; she had to let this out.

"You know what the plan was? To move on. Start afresh here on Earth, where nobody knows who I am. Become someone else, merge in with the crowd, carry on like I always have. I've done it before. Cut my hair, got on this ship. It wasn't hard. Leaving people's never been hard, I never like them that much. But – you're not like other people, Ripley. I just – I just don't know. I… ugh, it's pathetic."

Call caught her breath. Once again, she'd surprised herself. It wasn't like her to have emotional outbursts. She had been given female characteristics though, so that could be to blame. The two women were silent. They lay there, quite still, simply breathing.

"I can hear your heart," said Ripley.

Call tried to push her away but Ripley stayed where she was, listening to the gentle ticking from the girl's chest.

"I don't want you to, please," Call said seriously, "It's disgusting – I didn't choose to be this way."

"Neither did I. I'm dead."

"No you're not."

"Then you're not disgusting."

Ripley turned her head to look at Call.

"I'm not dead and you're not disgusting because that's just a way of looking at it. I'll always hear them calling me. You'll always tick. That's it. Doesn't mean we can't live."

Call couldn't speak. She'd called herself ugly for so long. Unnatural, abnormal, vile. She'd hidden what she was, ashamed. How could anyone think she was anything but a freak? Ripley kissed the space just above her heart, and she felt… She felt like it didn't matter what she was but who she was. Like the processors and wires and chips and gears that she was built with didn't matter. Like she was loved.

"You know you said this place feels like home," Ripley said quietly, "And it is. It's where we're gonna live. Both of us. I belong with you."

She spoke, and for a moment at least, Call felt like everything was going to be alright. For a moment. That didn't end. Maybe she didn't have to leave this time. Maybe she could find someplace to stay on this planet, and maybe she wouldn't be alone.

"Ripley…?"

"Ssh. You're exhausted. Go to sleep."

"But –"

"Sleep."

Ripley kissed her forehead and Call shuffled closer to her, resting her head under Ripley's chin and burying her face in her neck. She was warm and soft against her, and this was calm, comforting. In a narrow bed, under a threadbare blanket, they were safe. Here was a shelter from all the madness and hurting and anger. That was in the world outside, that was in their minds inside, but it was gone for now. There was a whole world out there for them to explore, a whole world of danger and darkness, beauty and brilliance, and they would explore it. They would travel and eat and talk and work and live. And they would do all of it together. Neither of them was sure quite how – as comrades, friends, family… lovers… – but that was a detail. The important thing was they'd do it together. Share in the trouble and the fun and the danger. They'd both been messed around, but now, they had a life to live, and tomorrow, that life would begin.

But that was tomorrow. For tonight, there was a few snatched hours of sleep in a cramped room, the dying lamplight for company, and someone to hold onto. Ripley wrapped her arm over Call and leant down to kiss the top of her head.

"Sleep tight, kid," she whispered.

In the morning they stepped out into the new world.