AN: This is a complete re-write of my story "Problems of a Dual Nature". I started writing this story back when I was in high school, and bored. Now I'm almost out of college and not much has changed, though I'd like to think I'm a little more mature, a little smarter. I sure as heck paid out the rear for it. A couple days ago I saw someone had followed one of my old stories, and said to myself, "Wow. People still read that?" And even though it's a handful of people a month or so, I'm still surprised. I wrote it back in my awkward teenage years and never finished it. So I decided I needed to finally finish this thing, at least for my own peace of mind; I can't stand reading incomplete fics. So while I don't promise it will be any good, I do promise to try and finish it.

So I started by going back through and trying to familiarize myself with the plot, and holy cow I was a bad writer. I was also like 15 at the time so there's that. I'm pretty sure back then I hit almost every red flag I can think of. I think I'm happier if I go back and fix the problems I saw in my work, instead of just picking up where I left off. This should be more or less a straight rewrite all the way up to the point where I left off. Maybe I'll finish a chapter every other week or so. Wish me luck, and I hope you like this rewrite more than you like the original. I hope I do too.

"I am altering the timeline. Pray I don't alter it any further."

Chapter 1: Copilot

The Weyland-Yutani corporation is vast, powerful, and nearly omnipresent. Its various child-companies and subsidies create products from video game software and mass produced interstellar shuttles all the way to military training equipment and prefabricated project housing. But the core of W-Y was research and development. Every single venture that they undertook was rooted in their immense R&D budget. No research avenue was left unexplored, not even; if rumors were to be believed, genetic manipulation to produce weapons of mass destruction.

Finding a job as an employee of W-Y wasn't all that difficult. Your nearest fuel depository is likely owned, operated and staffed by W-Y. But finding a well-paying job it a bit harder. For their most closely scrutinized departments it was nearly impossible. Human Genome and Genetics. Artificial Intelligence. Advanced Materials Engineering. Nathaniel graduated nearly a half decade ago, by calendar time. Factor in interplanetary cryosleep and it felt only like a couple years. He attended the top private university, and left top of his major class, with a degree in Materials Engineering, and proceeded to relentless hound every major W-Y conference, seminar, and public-relations event that he could find, hunting for the job of his dreams.

He didn't find it, and eventually he caved to a recruiter who offered him an entry-level position as security management. It required some advanced training but the recruiter implied after a couple years that he could move upwards into the research position he truly wanted. At least Nate would be able to observe from a distance. After being out of university for almost a year, this was a good enough compromise. He got the required training and shipped out to his facility, not that he was told where that was until he had signed mountains of contracts and non-disclosure agreements. Top-secret and all that.

Everything went smoothly, or what passed as smoothly for working at a job he lacked the real experience and training for. Still he scraped by for the next two years, and even met a cute girl. They got along well together. But eventually his lack of training and experience caught up with him. Maybe it was simply bad luck. But nonetheless, there was an Outbreak. That was almost a month ago now.

Everything hurt. His eyes were stinging and swollen, his muscles ached, and it hurt to breathe. His chest felt too tight and his nose was a mash of bruised flesh. He tried futilely again to reposition and stretch, but the restraints that kept him firmly attached to the gurney wouldn't let him move.

When he was brought here, he had thought it was a hospital. The happy ending to a long and painful time, trapped in a secret facility under thousands of tons of rock, where every other living soul was dead or dying. Or a living weapon.

I suppose that the biological weapons research division was showing some results finally. Whatever those creatures were surely wrote security off easily enough. Or perhaps not, seeing as I'm pretty sure the creatures started their rampage in that division.

It was not a hospital. They were circumspect at first, with some suited-up lawyers questioning him on what exactly went wrong, what happened at the site on Clarsus-08. They initially dodged his questions about the aftermath. Then when he pressed they simply outright refused to tell him where he was. When he tried to leave they stopped him with force. With indiscriminate force. It felt like they'd broken what little of him remained whole, and beat the rest of him soundly into unconsciousness. Now he was chained to the gurney itself.

The room was almost completely empty, save for him and his bed. The walls and floors were a smooth matte material, and the door was the same thing. There was the customary access-panel next to the door, but all the lights on it were off, not accepting any input. Even if he could get out of his restraints and off this bed, the pressure-sealed door would have been impossible to open. The only other defining feature of the room was the outline of a pressure hatch in the dead center of the ceiling, and the distinctive black bubble of a security camera in the corner of the room.

One of the lights recessed into the ceiling was flickering on and then back off every couple of seconds. Under that damaged light, he saw it, one of the things that now haunted his nightmares. One of the little spider-like aliens. He was sure W-Y had a name for them but he didn't know it. They were like wasps, injecting their prey with an egg that grew inside their victim, and then ate them from the inside before erupting in a gory mess. He'd seen it happen once, inside the hell that site Clarsus-08 had become.

It wasn't moving. He hoped they if he held still, perhaps it wouldn't notice him. He knew it was a futile hope.

Wellan woke up in the middle of falling, before crashing to the concrete floor. He swore harshly, clutching his head before he stood and righted his chair. He'd been tipping his chair on two legs, and he must have dozed off during his shift. Normally he was on duty as a lab technician, but today he was stuck on monitor duty, watching the Coward to make sure nothing went wrong with his execution.

It was a boring task, about as intellectually stimulating as watching paint dry. Wellan didn't mind one bit. The boredom was worth every second if he got his satisfaction. He was sitting in a dim room with a bank of monitors in front of him. Several of them displayed medical information he wasn't qualified enough to understand, and a couple showed camera feeds in both visible wavelength and infrared. From the little he understood of the medical information, he could see increased brainwaves, respiration, and heartbeat.

Ah see here, looks like the Coward's awake.

He adjusted his headset, thumbed a large button on the console, and crooned into the microphone.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?"

The heartbeat spiked on the monitor. The Coward's response was too quiet to make out until he adjusted the volume. His voice was rough, filled with fear.

"-of here. There's a Spider. Please, help me!"

Wellan smiled, though it was closer to a rictus than a real smile. "Oh dear, a spider? Is it a very big one? I'm quite sure it won't hurt you."

The coward was still whispering, harsher now. "Not that kind of spider! An alien! Can't you see it? It's right under your cam! I've seen what they can do!"

Wellan could see it, he'd watched it as it was dropped into the room hours ago, watched with anticipation as it did its job. He dropped all pretense of friendliness, his voice was ice. "I'm sure you have seen what they can do; watched as they killed your comrades while you hid, Coward."

"I did what I had to do, to survive! I'm surprised any of us made it out at all."

"Alas, you seem to be mistaken. No one made it out." Wellan's voice was full of fake apology again. "All hands lost at sea, so to speak. As for the -what did you call it? A Spider?- As for the spider I'm afraid you were down for the count, and slept right through the start of the show."

The heartbeat on the monitor spiked again, and the Coward's face grew pale. On a different monitor, a second smaller heartbeat remained calm, slow, steady. But growing stronger.

"But don't worry. I've been told the finale, is to die for!"

Wellan laughed. He laughed and turned the microphone off as his laughs turned to sobs. Wellan would see that Blayne was avenged. He'd watch and he'd smile as the Coward paid for his sins. It wouldn't bring her back, but maybe it would make him feel a little better. Maybe.