Author's Note: I have observed that the foreword of a story is generally easy to understand and efficiently transmutes the author's incomprehensible neuron firings into plausible and reasonably composed vernacular. In a egotistical, but ultimately futile gesture of narcissistic despotism, I have determined that proceeding to do the very opposite of the aforementioned standard would doubtless antagonize a certain percentage of the audience, but nonetheless would bring excitement and satisfaction into the existence of subject A, the writer. Okay, you can uncover your ears, I'm done now. First (posted) story, w00t! Enjoy. Review! Flames (in tandem with common conventional fuel sources) will be used to heat the homes of the poor.

Another Author's Note: Writing those first two lines was fun, sorry for any bruised cranial matter. No thesauruses were consulted or harmed in the making of this foreword.

Disclaimer: I don't own Aliens, Google, Chrome, or stuff like that. The plot and the characters, as well as their respective predicaments, are mine. Do I really need this?

Nate carefully opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light shining directly at his face. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, a stark white metal room, with what appeared to be a blast door worthy of bomb shelter mounted in the far wall. Attempting to shield his eyes with his hands proved that he was indeed strapped to a wall. A single reinforced one way mirror was embedded within the left wall.

"Crap." Sweat instantly began beading on Nate's forehead as, with trepidation and horror, he recognized where he was. Frantically searching about the room, he found what he hoped he wouldn't, his eyes settling on the husk of a dead facehugger in the corner.

"Help me..." He groaned weakly into the air. Already he began to feel short of breath, and a tightness in his chest.

He felt a hammering in his sternum, or was that his heart beating its way out of him? No, just his heart. It had to be. It couldn't develop that fast could it? Not without a hive to guide it, Nate decided. He supposed that was a benefit to the failed containment of the Xenomorph specimens. That breakout had been his fault, and that was why he was now strapped to a wall, aiding in the repopulation of the Xenomorph hive. The company had been forced to destroy the entire research lab using high explosives. Only Nate, Natasha, and a few other scientists working in the station had been able to evacuate before the Xenos and the following destruction of the station wiped out 95% of the research and security teams.

The feeling of weight on his chest began to increase, his breath quickening, and a layer of cold sweat coating his forehead, his fear compounding. For a security officer, he was pretty cowardly when it came to impending doom. The overall effect of fear, the restraints, and shallow breathing apparently began to take its toll.

A blinding headache seemed to form out of nowhere, rivaling the pain felt when he had received a concussion while employed as a construction worker. Groaning in agony, he almost forgot that sometime within the next several minutes, a ravenous Xenomorph larvae was going to burst out from within his chest cavity, and eat his corpse. Or was it an embryo? Xenobiology was never his strong suit, that was why he was a lowly security guard, tasked with the protection of the people who knew what they were doing.

His headache worsened, temporarily blinding him. As his vision slowly returned and the pain receded, slightly, Nate prayed he wouldn't pass out. Or did he want to pass out?Then, he wouldn't feel anything when the time came for the larvae, or Chestburster as it was dubbed by some of Nate's now-deceased colleagues, to "make an entrance".

Nate was now convinced that the searing pain originating from within his skull was actually a multi-dimensional being exerting his will towards the purpose of Nate's complete and utter destruction. Or was it a migraine? What constituted a migraine, and what was the difference anyway? The pain within his head doubled; it felt like it was splitting in two! Oh, god! It couldn't actually split in two, right? Clenching his eyes shut against the pain and the self-induced fear, he hastily performed a mental exercise he came up with a couple years ago. In his mind he took a series of highly illogical statements, and, disregarding common medical knowledge and several horror films, therefor disproved the possibility of a head being split through any known means.

Slowing his breathing and calming his rapid breathing seemed to help with the pain a little, but the pain was still greater than almost anything he had ever experienced. The pain felt upon death of his late wife, Jenna, could never be surpassed. Even thinking about her made tears well within his eyes. Compared to the agony felt at her death, and the subsequent years without her love, the pain with his head no longer felt so great.

A spike of pain, so great that words fail to do it justice. Sight returning to his eyes, he throat felt raw, and realized he had probably screamed loud enough to be heard at least two cells away.

A loud scream jolted Wellan awake. Reclined in a computer chair at the control console, feet on the counter above, he had fallen asleep at the console. A real shame too, he would've missed all the fun. Fortunately, the rather unfortunate soul, the man Nathaniel, had been kind enough to give him a wake up call.

Assuming the moment was near, Wellan activated the audio-visual recorders placed within the reinforced cell, both for scientific purposes, and so they could make an example of the former guard restrained within the chamber. The company had lost an entire complex because of him, and 200 of the company's best researchers, xenobiologists, and geneticists with it.

Arming the remote gas containers throughout the room so the Xenomorph could be retrieved once it had emerged from its host, Wellan sat back and waited for the fun to begin. When he'd heard that scream, he'd through he'd been too late, but no erupting Chestburster yet. He now took a moment to examine today's entertainment, he was simply a "specimen" to others, but Wellan took his entertainment when he could get it. The man, clothed in a gray and white uniform resembling a prisoner's, was brown haired and brown eyed, modestly tall, and slim built. Pale and writhing in pain, the man appeared to be in mortal agony.

"It'll be any minute now" Wellan chuckled. Judging by the amount of pain the man appeared to be in, Wellan wouldn't be surprised to learn that the Chestburster inside was deliberately prolonging the man's suffering.

After several more minutes of otherwise inactivity, Wellan soon grew bored of the prisoner's writhing. Leaning back in his chair, he never even noticed as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Agony coursed through Nate's veins. Thrashing weakly in his bonds, his eyes gazed sightlessly about the room. Another spike of intense pain jolted him, arms straining against his bonds, then something... clicked, and the pain disappeared.

He let his head sag in his restraints, arms going limp. Breathing heavily, he briefly thanked the powers-that-be, and considered what had just happened. Minor stroke? No, that was ridiculous. It was like nothing he had ever seen or heard of before, and he'd be a Xenomorph's mother if it didn't... oh. Wait. He WAS a Xenomorph's mother. Well. Hmm. He'd be a, umm, elephant's cousin if that little episode didn't have to do with the Chestburster he was carrying around in his body.

Well, as the Chestburster didn't seem inclined to kill him right now, he figured he better get some sleep, though doing so while strapped to a wall was going to hurt like hell later. Along with how worn out his muscles doubtlessly were, it might even rival what he had felt just moments ago. Trying to find a comfortable position, Nate settled down and painfully drifted off to sleep.

END OF CHAPTER 1

Author's Note: Had some trouble with Nate's emotions and state of mind, he seemed to almost go from lucid to delirious and back again. Read, Review, and tell me if you agree with my previous statement, and suggestions on how to fix said problem would be much appreciated. Flames (along with other electronic based fuel sources) will be used to cook bacon, and as such will be still accepted, if not as much appreciated. On a side note, I think Google is screwing with me. Chrome told that "sightlessly" and "repopulation" were misspelled. I wouldn't know though...

Hindsight Edit, about 2 Hours after posting: Even though I've already got an idea of where I want to take this (won't say for cliffhangger-type reasons), I could, at this point, swing it basically any way I want to. Any suggestions?

Hindsight Edit, about 12 Hours after posting: Figured out how to put a real line break, got rid of the "BREAK" throughout the story.