Disclaimer: The author does not own Aliens.

Heart of the Hive

By

CelfwrDderwydd

Chapter One

The pub was alive with the sounds of conversation and the smells of pipe smoke and cooking food. The lighting was not dim, but not bright. The atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant as people ordered food or drinks from the Bar-Master.

Some people played games of cards at their tables, others talked amiably over drinks of stout or porter while they waited for their food to arrive. The fare was simple, but tasty and nourishing; Fish & Chips, corn, beans, chowders, soups and stews of many types and a wide selection of fine, locally brewed drinks that would put to shame any of the more expensive, pretentious off-world swill.

Some people sat at the round tables out in the middle of the pub, while others sat at the cozy tables huddled against the walls or in the corners. The light from the braziers set into the round tables added to the warm ambiance, blue-mauve-amber flames flickered and flared up as people roasted fish and other foods right at their tables. Sizzling scents wafted about, making bellies growl and mouths water in anticipation.

At one table in the far corner, with their back to the door, one of the patrons was finishing their meal. The person's long, jet-black hair swirled to the side as they looked up. Two gentle, almond-shaped amber eyes slid over to the bar, where the Bar-Master was serving a fresh mug of stout to a male customer. The woman tucked a lock of unruly, wavy black hair behind her ear as she watched the Bar-Master go about his bar, serving food and drinks with decades of practiced ease.

The Bar-Master, Barnabas, was a tall gentleman, with slicked-back dark brown hair and a high Widow's Peak. He wore the usual white shirt, black vest and pants worn by most Bar-Masters, but his appearance was very dapper and distinguished. His violet eyes looked at her and the side of his mouth slightly twitched upwards in a very subtle, lopsided smile, one so subtle, only a local like Sam would recognize it.

With a gentle nod to Barnabas, Sam downed the rest of her porter with a satisfied sigh. The light of the pub cast a gentle glow that almost seemed to make Sam's mocha skin shimmer in the soft light. She sighed softly as her mind mulled over thoughts of schedules and destinations, cargo and manifests until she shook her head. She could think of that later.

Tonight, she was going to relax.

Sam heard someone guffaw and looked up as several fishermen laughed as they told stories over a game of cards and some foamy pints of ale. She couldn't help smiling herself. The pub was a small, out-of-the-way place that only locals knew how to find. Sam knew it was a true haven for locals like herself and others. Locals protected their own. A Sanctuary with food, drink, camaraderie and weapons if necessary.

The sound of the door opening and the roar of waves and the sounds of fierce winds made people look up at the new arrivals. Sam turned in place and watched as the three men took off their coats and hung them up by the door. It was obvious they were Off-Worlders.

They all were dressed in black. They wore sleeveless black shirts and black pants and boots. All of this contrasted with their relatively pale complexions. What made Sam nervous, though, was their hair, or lack thereof. All of them had short, thin palest peach-fuzz which looked like it had just started growing after being shaved off for many years.

Sam watched and tensed as they swaggered into the pub. Her eyes slid to Barnabas and she saw the knob of his cane sticking up over the edge of the bar. Sam drew in a breath. It was serious if Barnabas had brought up his cane. Sam, and all the rest of the regulars knew that thirty-six inches of razor-sharp steel hid within his cane.

"-reed-ee?" Sam heard part of the conversation of the new arrivals. Her head snapped around and she looked as they were talking with some of the people there. The fishermen shrugged and went back to their game, ignoring the unwelcome outsiders as they walked around. Sam felt a cold pit in her stomach. She looked up as they walked around, asking at tables.

She looked at a man with white hair in a gray jumpsuit, Jacob. He locked eyes with her and subtly touched his belt buckle. Sam looked at the strangers and looked at their belts. At first, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. As they came closer, however, she saw a hint of white contrasting with the black of their clothing. When Sam saw what the white was, she felt her blood run cold.

The white was a button on their pants, under their belt buckles. In the middle of the white button, was a black Swastika.

"Nazis!" she mentally yelled. Sam tried not to panic as her eyes darted around. She saw Jacob eye the door, then her. She looked over and saw Devon, a local mechanic, thumbing the snap off of his pistol holster at his side. She looked over to Barnabas, whose eyes didn't leave the Nazis for even an instant.

Sam tried not to look nervous as she reached under the table and a whir was heard as her mechanical wheelchair pulled back and she turned and headed for the door. The Nazis looked up at her, a look of disgust and disdain crossing their features when they saw her dark skin. Devon rising from his seat brought their attention back as the tall, muscular mechanic walked toward them.

Sam was about to grab her jacket , when she recoiled, almost grabbing one of the dripping-wet coats of the Nazis. She shivered when she saw the black leather trench coats. Sam swallowed when she saw the two lightning bolts that formed the dreaded "SS" on the collars of the coats. Sam grabbed her green jacket and threw the door open and sped out into the growing storm. Her mind raced as she hurried towards the docks.

" 'reed-ee'? They must've said "MacReady". They're looking for Mac! I have to tell him!" she thought as she raced through the ever-increasing rain. While Sam knew it was very dangerous to say the least to go out on the ocean in this kind of weather, her desire to warn Mac outweighed her sense of danger. As she neared the docks, she couldn't help a slight smirk as she thought on all her friend had done to gum up the Fifth Reich's plans. "MacReady-ten, Nazis-zero." she thought with wry humor.

By the time she got to the docks, the waves were crashing on the docks and many of the people had left. The skies were dark and so were the seas. She hurried up the gangplank onto her boat, The Bogart. The ship wasn't a big or fancy one, a sixty-foot wheel-boat. Typical of tugs and small shipping boats. Sam was almost breathless as she raced into the cabin and picked up the radio and turned it on.

She adjusted the dials as the radio hissed with static. She watched as the readout flickered and changed. She frowned as she saw how bad the storm was interfering. The ship rocked as the waves crashed and the wind howled. She hoped and prayed as she adjusted the settings of her radio.

She knew there were more than three Nazis around. There was just no way there could only be three. The Nazis always hunted in groups. Rather like jackals. A million thoughts ran through her head as she brought up the mic.

"Bogart to Vortex, Bogart to Vortex, come in Vortex . . ." she panted as her wet hair hung down. The radio hissed with static. She frowned. She repeated the hail, be received more static for her efforts. She growled as she replaced the microphone.

She looked out at the dangerous seas. She didn't want to, but she had no other choice. If she didn't move fast, they might find Mac before she did. If they hadn't already. Sam fired up the engines. As she pulled the boat out of the docks, the radio hissed again, this time as another voice came on.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?!" yelled a male voice over the static. She frowned as she turned the wheel.

"There's trouble and I have to warn Mac. If he shows up, tell him I'm looking for him, and warn him there's Off-Worlders gunning for him," she said as she steered out to sea.

"What else is new? Everybody and their aunt are gunning for Mac." Sam frowned further as she adjusted for a was true. Mac had made more than his fair share of enemies over the years.

"Not like this, Carl. These are SS." she replied. The line was silent.

"This storm is going to get really bad really quick. You might make it if you really lean on the throttle," said Carl, the Dock-Foreman. Sam smiled, despite the situation.

"Thanks, Carl." What she heard in response might have been a sigh, she couldn't tell through the static. The waves crashed and the wind howled louder as Sam streamed towards the island where Mac lived and landed. Every now and then she looked out the windows as the storm became worse. She just hoped and prayed that she could beat the storm.

Her boat was only a small tug with two wheels, rather like the old-fashioned paddle-wheelers from Ancient Earth. Her boat wasn't built for speed. Sam was fighting the panic as she listened to the engines as she sped through the stormy seas.

She could still hardly believe that the Nazis were there on Zerichs II.

How had they gotten in? Sam shook her head as she increased her speed. There were only a few possibilities and they all made her shudder. Either they had landed illegally, or they had snuck in. Possibly in shipping containers. The last thought made her freeze.

Shipping containers . . . Like the kind Mac hauled on a regular basis.

Sam suddenly hit the throttle and pushed it as far as it would go. Sam was panting now. Her mind was filled with images of dozens of Nazis coming out of shipping containers in Mac's ship and ganging up on him. Sam frowned deeply as the engines whined under the strain. The sky suddenly lit up with lightning. Sam's eyes flicked to the screens and she growled as she saw her radar and other instruments were nothing but fuzzy screens of static due to the storm. She shook her head as she looked out through the windows and the pouring rain.

No! She wasn't going to let that happen. She was going to get there, she would beat the storm. Mac was going to be fine. Sam was startled when the ship rocked violently and a loud noise echoed through the boat. Sam was almost knocked over. She looked around in alarm. "What in the-?"

"Warning! Warning! Inner and outer hull breached. Engaging emergency bilge system," said the automated voice of the computer. Sam gawked.

" 'Hull breach'?!" Sam yelled. She reached out and pressed a switch and watched the screen as it changed. In seconds, it showed a video feed from below deck, a large hole in the hull and sea water gushing in at an alarming rate. Sam blinked as she looked at the screen. She saw the cause of the breach clearly: Coralyte.

The floating coral, though beautiful and important to the ecosystem, was a danger to sailors. Sam fought the urge to panic and grasped the radio as her other hand flicked on the emergency SOS beacon. "Mayday! This is The Bogart, I have a massive hull breach! Need assistance immediately! Any ships please respond!" The radio hissed with static. Sam radioed for help several times before she gasped as a large wave crashed on her small boat. When she looked down, she was already up to her ankles in water. Sam was breathing hard as she saw how fast she was taking on water.

Sam looked around. She didn't like the idea, but she had no choice but to abandon ship. Sam moved her wheelchair back, and not a second too soon, as a large piece of Coralyte smashed through the windows to her right. She was startled as it came close to killing her. As it was, though, it had her trapped. With how the long piece was laying, she was trapped. She couldn't get out the door and she couldn't go anywhere else but down below.

She looked down and saw the water was up to her knees and the seat was soaking. She tried desperately not to panic as she engaged the emergency pontoons of her chair. Being paralyzed from the waist down, Sam had made sure she had fail-safes, but she doubted what good it would do. She reached for the radio, grunting as she saved the microphone from falling in the water.

She hurriedly pulled it over, the cord stretching as far as it would go. Sam panted as she looked around. "Mayday! This is The Bogart, anybody please respond! I'm trapped in here! I'm taking on water, fast!" Sam gasped as another wave swept in through the broken windows. She held the microphone out of the water as it got higher. Sam felt the fear chill her as her voice trembled.

"Please, anyone . . . help." she began to sob softly as the storm raged and the waves crashed.

The next wave made her panic as she felt the water suddenly splash against her face. "Help me, please help me! Anybody!" the water was getting higher and higher as lighting cracked right over her, deafening in its massive blast. The front of the boat was almost under water now. Sam didn't care if she was panicking, now. She held the microphone tightly as she yelled. "Anybody, please! Anybody help me!" The next wave almost fully flooded the small cabin of the boat as Sam fought to keep her head out of the water as she screamed desperately into the mic.

"Help! Help me!" she screamed, loud and shrill before her cries were cut off by the water at last. She managed to take a partial breath before the water covered her head. Underwater, she could see the lights from the lightning dancing on the surface of the ocean that was quickly receding further and further away. She fought, desperately to free her chair from the Coralyte that kept her trapped.

She was startled when she looked up and saw the lights had been above her and not to the sides. The boat had turned and the front was now facing up. As if fate wanted her to take one last look at the surface she would never see again. The overwhelming panic and fear gave way to sadness as Sam watched the lights dance on the surface.

Sam thought of MacReady. She felt like she had failed her friend.

She couldn't tell if she cried, as her tears were gone into the sea the instant they left her eyes.

Her burning lungs finally could stand no more as sea water flooded into her lungs. Her arms were so weak, they floated helplessly upward as the edges of her vision quickly began to dim.

She looked up, and she could see a light at the end of the increasing tunnel of dark. She had always heard about the light, but never thought on what it looked like. It rippled like the waves. The darkness of her vision was quickly blocking out the light. As she looked at her floating hand, she thought she saw something.

A dark shape, silhouetted against the light. It moved with magnificent grace through the water, seeming to swim towards her. It was almost serpentine. Then, darkness filled her vision completely, and her mind faded away.

XXX

Sam was surprised when her vision came back. It was very blurry, though. She could see a shape moving, and she could see light. She felt numb all over. Her body, her mind, all of it was numb.

She slowly felt her hearing return. At first, she couldn't tell what she was hearing. As she felt her hearing come back into order, she recognized it was a voice, though she couldn't make out what it was saying at first.

"-okay. You're safe. You're going to be all right." the voice said. It was soft, and had a hint of melody to it. It seemed to be a male voice, but a young one. Sam shuddered as she felt some feeling come back, if only a little. Then, she felt warm, and fuzzy. Like she was wrapped in a warm, fuzzy heating blanket. It was then that she realized something.

She was breathing. She saw something through her eyelashes and turned her head slightly.

She could see something blocking light above her. She focused her eyes, forcing them to show her.

Her vision slowly began to clear, and she saw gold. Golden hair, backlit by the light above as the person looked at her. Worried emerald eyes looked at her from under bangs of sun-bleached blonde hair. Sam took another breath of the wonderful fresh air as she gave a soft smile, realizing that she was in an Autodoc.

The person over her smiled back, but it was a worried one. As Sam began to feel sleepy, and the edges of her vision blurred, she saw another form block out the light as it looked down at her.

Sam had never seen anything like this one, though. She couldn't make out the vague, large form next to the worried face. It was dark, like obsidian. Her tired eyes couldn't take anymore, and closed on their own. She heard the soft voice again and she smiled. "Don't worry. You're going to be just fine."

Author's note: This story is dedicated in loving memory to my Grandma, who instilled in me, among many things, the love of reading and storytelling. Thanks, Grams.