Hello all, and welcome to the first chapter or...prologue of my third fanfiction, and my second Alien series fanfiction. FYI for those who haven't, please go and read my first fanfiction ALIEN ISOLATION: NOT ALONE. I would really appreciate it.

Now on with the story. This is the sequel to the prior above named fic, and the majority of the story will (spoiler alert) take place over the course of 1986's Aliens. Now as much as I am dedicated to keeping canon intact I will be changing some details found within the movie's context, nothing too major, but still fairly noticeable.

Anyway enough of my talking, NOW ON WITH THE SHOW!

ALIENS IS OWNED BY 20TH CENTURY FOX/DISNEY

THE OCS (ALL FOUR OF THEM) ARE OWNED BY ME.

ALIENS: NOT ALONE

Prologue

The darkness of space, a mixture of blues and blacks, stars and asteroids. Against the darkness of space a lone dot floats across it.

The dot drifts ever closer, details becoming ever clearer and more numerous as the dot reveals itself as a small shuttle. On closer inspection markings become visible, letters forming a word.

NARCISSUS. Once it served as the escape shuttle for a larger vessel. Any computer within range that was the least bit curious could link with it and see that the larger vessel had been the USCSS Nostromo. The ship itself had gone missing over fifty years ago, the Narcissus having been adrift the entire time.

Inside the craft, three survivors sleep in cryostasis.

Of the eight members of the Nostromo crew, six were now dead...

The ship had received a distress signal on its way back to Earth, said signal led the crew to a planetoid near Zeta 2 Reticuli. They homed in on the signal, an apparent SOS, and stumbled across a derelict alien ship containing countless numbers of eggs. The discovery brought instant regret as executive officer Kane was attacked by some sort of parasite, which launched onto and attached itself to his face. Shortly after they had left the meteoroid, the parasite appeared to die and fall off Kane's body. Later, during dinner, a creature unlike any the crew had ever seen emerged from Kane's body, killing him in the process, and one by one the crew were killed by the creature. The engineer's mate, Brett, was the first to die horribly, then Captain Dallas, then Engineer Parker and Navigator Lambert.

The organism itself was bad enough. It was deadly, intelligent, and clearly sadistic in the manner in which it had first toyed with and then tail raped and murdered Lambert. It just wasn't the only threat. What made matters even worse was when Third Officer Ripley, along with Chief Tactical Officer Mils, discovered that the Company had betrayed them. Weyland-Yutani wanted the creature to be preserved for their Bioweapons Division, as it was deemed the "perfect organism" by the ship's Science Officer, Ash, who was revealed to be an android sent to protect the creature. All other considerations had become secondary to bringing back the alien. The rest of the crew, according to Special Order 937, had been deemed expendable.

Out of desperation, the surviving members of the crew decided to blow up the ship, and escaped on the Narcissus. Though they succeeded at blowing up the ship, the creature somehow survived. Its biomechanical appearance had enabled it to blend in with the ductwork aboard the Narcissus, and when the Nostromo's engines detonated, it revealed itself and cornered the two survivors on the shuttle. Mils was wounded by the creature while Ripley donned a spacesuit, but the two of them worked together to finally eject the creature out of the shuttle and into the path of its engines.

With the creature dead, both Ripley and Mils finally breathed a sigh of relief...they have laid inside the chambers now for almost sixty years, untouched by time, waiting to be found.

The Narcissus is discovered by a massive salvage ship, the small shuttle is sucked up into a holding area of the exterior of the ship and is clamped to it with a thud, after which the door to the shuttle is cut open and a robot emerges. Once inside it scans the surrounding area, and once the scanning cone of vision washes across both Mils' and Ripley's forms twice it turns it's scanner off and backs out of the doorway it had cut open. Three men, all wearing protective suits enter the shuttle and begin searching its interior with large industrial flashlights. One approaches the hypersleep chamber containing Ripley and her cat, Jones. He wipes his hand across the frost-covered dome hull of the stasis pod, revealing the pair a little more clearly. He checks a terminal nearby and sees that Ripley's life readings are still strong.

"Bio readouts are all in the green, looks like she's alive...cat's okay too" one of the salvage crew say to the pair to his left checking on Mils' pod.

"Same goes for this one over here," one of the two men add, and the leader of the crew takes off his mask and breathes a sigh of slight disappointment.

"Well there goes our salvage boys...better get the Captain down here," he says as his compatriots take their masks off.

Within days of the Narcissus being found, Weyland-Yutani and the US government are contacted separately. It was the equivalent of finding a lifeboat from the Titanic only all the people in it were still alive and hadn't aged a day. There were now two witnesses to what happened to the Nostromo and the other members of the crew.

Now all that matters is if the two survivors should wake up...

...

Meanwhile thousands of miles above Earth a large, a gun metal covered ship makes it way towards a military space station for some shore leave. The ship carries a small strike team of a little more than a dozen United States Colonial Marines.

The name of this ship is the USS Sulaco, an Conestoga Class Transport ship, it's current a cargo were the Marines of Platoon 3091, Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Colonial Marine Regiment, 1st Colonial Marine Division.

They were more colloquially known as Bravo Team.

In the crew quarters which also counted as a "lounge" of sorts, the fifteen members of the team were scattered around the large area.

At the poker table Corporal Cynthia Dietrich, Private First Class William Hudson, and Private Ricco Frost were playing a rather casual game of Texas Hold 'Em, with Hudson trying to keep a cool head despite his losing streak.

"Awh shit! Man, if we were playing for real I'd be fucked..." Hudson says adjusting his reversed baseball cap.

"Hudson, you know this isn't a practice round," Dietrich says, smiling and not taking her eyes off her cards.

"Wait, what?" Hudson says in mock surprise. Frost shakes his head, chuckling as he takes a sip of his beer.

Privates First Class Tim Crowe and Trevor Wierzbowski are sitting by their lockers, Wierzbowski leafing through a pornographic magazine, while Crowe is busy trying to get a rather sleazy image of his girlfriend off the back of his chest armor, cursing silently to himself yet nodding with approval at every page Wierzbowski showed him from his reading time.

"Hey check this one out Crowe...pretty nice huh?"

"Yeah, I didn't know your sister posed for Playboy, Ski..." Crowe replied rubbing away at the faded porn on his armor

"Oh, fuck off!" Wierzbowski replies with a half-hearted grin, throwing the magazine at Crowe.

Corporal Dwayne Hicks is quietly dozing in a comfy chair near a muted Television, while Corporal Raylene Ferro is in the hangar doing some last-minute maintenance on one of the UD-4L "Cheyenne" Dropships located in the hangar. Looking down, she sees PFC Daniel Spunkmeyer reading a comic book.

"Size six socket?"

He reaches over without looking and hands her the first thing his hands come into contact with. Instead of taking the proffered implement, she raises her leg and stomps on his shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain.

"Ow! Ferro, what was that for?!" he complains, rubbing his shoulder.

"I asked for a size six socket...you handed me the oxyacetylene torch, Genius!" Ferro says.

"You and I both know the Marines took me for my looks and not my brains," he replies, handing her the proper tools.

"Considering you were drafted I'd say neither really are a factor."

"Funny, funny, Ray Ray!"

Meanwhile in the weight room section of the ship, Private Mark Drake and Pfc Jenette Vasquez were lifting weights, constantly challenging each other to go up on the weight they were each lifting. Being the two smart-gun operators they had to be in top physical shape.

"Come on baby one more rep...one more rep. Come on, you sexy bitch!" Drake says spotting Vasquez on the bench

"Alright, estúpido, you want it, you got it!" She replies as she lifts the heavy weight up from her chest with a grunt, racking the bar with a loud clang.

"There we go!" Drake yells at the top of his lungs, causing everyone to turn their heads towards he noise. only to turn their heads back to what they were doing with a sigh.

"Chingale mi…" Vasquez mutters, exhausted but happy.

"Love ya, baby," Drake smiles at her.

In the rec room near the sleeping Hicks, a pair are currently engaged in a game of checkers, with two black pieces gaining up on one red one. The loser, a bubbly and excitable blonde nicknamed "Sparks", AKA PFC Ashley Stone, turns her head towards the sound of Drake's triumphant exclamation. She has a cute blonde buzz cut that looks more like white paint than hair next to her Southern California tan. Her ice blonde eyebrows raise, and her strong blue eyes widen in momentary surprise. When she turns back toward the game she sighs, as she sees her competitor hasn't advanced at all on her one piece.

She was generally friendly towards all the Marines in her platoon, but she had gotten closest with her current opponent, her best friend, Corporal Christopher Mils, who was solely focusing on the beer in his hand and the board in front of him.

Mils has dark brown hair and a hint of grey in his eyes. He is tall, too. In fact he is the tallest member of the platoon, edging out Frosty by just a few inches at 6'4". His fellow Marines call him "Stretch" for that very reason, as height runs in his family, both his mother and father having been fairly tall.

His gaze slightly drifts away from the board to the fairly attractive woman sitting across from him, and though he has known her for several years, by this point he has found it harder and harder to suppress his feelings about the woman he calls his squad mate. They had joined up at the same time, went through boot camp and infantry training battalion at the same time. They are inseparable, even though their personalities differ as Mils, like Hicks in a lot of ways, tends to be quieter and lead by example, which also is in accord with the platoon's commanding NCO, Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone, who tends to bark orders out loud like a drill instructor.

He is snapped out of his gaze by Stone's observation of Vasquez and Drake's workout antics.

"Sooo...either Vasquez and Drake have finally decided to consummate their Corps marriage, or she finally benched Drake's weight goal on bench," Stone commented, like a scientist who had just observed a new type of behavior in a bacteria under a microscope. Mils only grunts in response as he's busy ogling Stone's figure, which it probably doesn't help that she has her Colonial Marine Corps jacket unzipped, revealing her tank top which currently housed her rather large and lovely...

"Hey, Chrissy!" Stone yells to get her friend's attention.

"Huh? Uhh...sorry, guess I was daydreaming," Mils responds, blushing so hard from having been caught in the act that his head could have resembled a tomato.

"Uh huh," she answers skeptically, cupping her breasts and lifting them, grinning like the cat that just ate the canary as she speaks. "Look, I know that staring at these is part of your job description and all, but could you maybe make an exception, just for once?"

"Ahh, sorry Sparks. So where were we?"

"I think we were trying to finish the game we started - six hours ago!" she responds loudly, leaning in and smiling.

"It hasn't been that long," Mils says, looking her in the eyes for once before moving his two pieces into position.

"It's called hyperbole, big guy."

"I know, Ash. And it's also called...your move."

"Oh..." Stone says as she plans to execute her movement on the board.

"Ya know, it'll be good to get some shore leave after the last op," Mils states trying to distract her.

"You said it. After all the shit we've been through, a week seems like a vacation."

"Technically, it's eight days...but I get your point. Oh it's going to be good to sleep in a normal bed!" Mils exclaims, leaning back with his hands on top of his head, stretching with his eyes closed.

It is just the moment she has been waiting for. With a smirk Stone quickly moves her red piece over both black pieces, not only kinging the piece, but winning the game.

"King me! Match, set...your winner, the beautiful and talented Private First Class Ashley Nicole Stone!" Stone yells surprising Mils and getting everyone's attention.

"Ahh...son of a bitch!" Mils says with a mix of mock anger and shock.

"And the loser, who's buying all his squad mates a round of drinks...Corporal Christopher Mils!" Stone yells to the rest of the squad who all yell with excitement, all except Hicks who wakes up from all the commotion.

"Only covering the non-alcoholic beverages," Mils yells half heartedly. As the rest of the squad celebrate, Gunnery Sergeant Apone walks in on the racket, chewing on his cigar with the team's synthetic, Bishop, next to him.

"Now that is a damn good sight right there...a damn good sight!" Apone yells getting the attention of the platoon. He isn't an officer, so the platoon doesn't snap to attention standing stiff and straight. Instead they act as if the captain of the football team had just walked in.

"Hey, Top! What's the op?" Hudson asks, adjusting his hat as Apone walks into the rec room, while the group gathers around him in a circle, expecting an epic speech.

"Now as you all know there is nothing I love more than the good and glorious Corps. Every meal's a banquet, every paycheck a fortune, every formation a parade, and for now...every shore leave a vacation!" Apone finishes as the squad high five each other in a celebration.

"So when we arrive at Jackson your scraggily asses are as free as birds for 200 hours - but know this, people! IF you are late to roll call on Monday morning at 0500, your ass will become space dust, and I'll be the dust buster...do I make myself clear?"

Nobody answers.

"I SAID DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR MARINES!" Apone yells taking his cigar out of his mouth.

"SIR YES SIR!" They all yell in unison.

"Well then, dismissed."

"OO-RAH!" They hustle to the platoon's locker room, grins plastered so thickly on their faces they could have been carved from marble, as Bishop approaches Apone with the Marines gathering their things.

"They definitely look happy to be off duty," Bishop observes.

"Happy Marines...happy platoon daddy...happy android?" Apone asks looking towards Bishop.

"I suppose I could be considered content."

"You know, Bishop, you could go with them."

"I'm fine with staying and watching over the ship Gunnery Sergeant...and this message came for Corporal Mils," Bishop says as he hands Apone a piece of paper, he briefly looks at it and sighs while chewing on his cigar some more.

Back in the squad bay, the Marines are still chattering excitedly, knowing they have two hundred hours of doing whatever they want ro do. The notion of modesty was long since extinct as they had seen each other naked many times in the cryogenic compartment. Thus it is a foregone conclusion that stripping off their uniforms in front of each other, knowing that for two hundred hours they would either wear civvies or nothing, is much more exciting. The female lockers were still kept separate from the male lockers in an attempt at gender solidarity, but they have been taught as Marines that Death does not discriminate by sex.

"Hey Vas, where you going for shore leave?" asks Stone.

"Eh Ash, don't really know, but as long as there's a gym, a bar and a shooting range I'm just fine," Vasquez responds.

"I thought you'd wanna be away from guns for a while considering all the action we've seen" Dietrich added putting on a new shirt and jacket.

"Something about a gun just gets me going, ya know?" Vasquez adds, taking her lucky headband off and putting it in her locker.

"You and Drake both share that trait," Ferro says, putting on some small earrings.

Vasquez turns towards the pilot. "Like you and Spunkmeyer don't share a love for all things with an engine," she points out.

"Among other things..." Dietrich says under her breath which causes Stone's eyes to widen and for her to form an O with her mouth that slowly widens into a huge grin.

"That's the only thing we share. Spunky's sweet but not exactly the smartest guy. Good copilot though, real good copilot, and that's not an innuendo, Sparks," she retorts, pointing at the riflewoman for emphasis. "And don't look at me with those puppy dog eyes! You've had a thing for Mils ever since boot camp!" Ferro adds, with Stone's face showcasing a shocked expression.

"Oh, come on - that's just not fair!" Stone pouts.

Nearby, the male squad mates equally look forward to shore leave, with Hudson going on and on in true form about all the women he plans to sleep with.

"I'm telling ya, man - the ladies are gonna be all over the ultimate badass tonight!" Hudson yells loudly celebrating as he takes off his Marine shirt.

"I swear, the bigger you boast, the worse you end up losing in the end Hudson" Frost says shaking his head.

"Aww come on, it's not that bad! I always score on a few colonists who need to lose their virginity," Hudson argues.

"Yeah, and every time you do, you end up being caught in the act by said colonist's father or boyfriend or both!" Crowe points out.

"And every time that happens you call upon us for the evac," Spunkmeyer ironically points out, putting his dog tags around his neck after changing shirts.

"Ahh, come on - it hasn't happened that many times, has it?" Hudson says sarcastically.

"It's in the double digits at least," Wierzbowski states, reaching under his shirt to apply deodorant.

"That many?! No fucking way!" Hudson exclaims.

"Face it Hudson you are fucking hopeless - if you had a face like this, the ladies would be all over you" Drake comments, aiming his index finger at his own jawline for emphasis.

"Only Vasquez finds that face attractive," Spunkmeyer mutters.

"Fuck off, pole smoker. Go fuck Ferro again!" Drake says.

"Man, I'm too short for this shit. I mean seriously, I think I could do a combat drop off a fucking dime," Hudson muses aloud, contemplating his current situation as he pulls on a shirt. A passing thought gets him thinking, though, and he turns back to the others. "Really though, guys. How many times have you pulled me out of the fire?" Hudson asks with a more serious tone.

"Eleven," Hicks answers, tying his boots while holding a cigarette in his mouth. "We - or should I say I - have pulled your short-as-shit horndog ass out of that pussy-lit fire eleven times, twice by myself, four times with Stretch tagging along, and five times with the whole squad," Hicks points out as he finishes the knot on his boots.

"Shit, I really am hopeless. I guess I need to have a tracker on me or something," Hudson says, grabbing a pair of aviator sunglasses just as Mils walks up, his hair wet from taking a quick shower.

"You would remember where we put it, and knowing how tech savvy you are, you would probably end up hacking it or something," he says jokingly.

"Ehh there's the bartender; I'd like my first drink to be an ice cold..." Hudson begins before he is interrupted by Apone.

"Stretch, get your lanky ass over here son!" Apone yells from across the room near his locker, and Mils instinctively jogs over to the platoon sergeant.

"What's up, Sarge?" Mils asks as Apone holds up a piece of paper with a few paragraphs of info printed on it, along with Weyland-Yutani corporate letterhead.

"Got a little detour for ya, Stretch. Wey-Yu found something so important you have to go check it out. Must be some shitty time capsule you sent up while in the Girl Scouts, I reckon. Anyway, once we dock you're to head to Gateway Station ASAP. Don't worry, it should take only a few hours for you to get there and planetside...that is if they don't try to recruit you. Here," Apone says as he hands Mils the letter.

On said letter, a message detailing an "insurance policy" related to a distant family member of his. The letter is signed by A "Carter J. Burke".

"Great...fan fucking tastic"

"Relax sweetheart...way I see it the beer you so graciously will be paying for will still be cold when you get planetside, just remember...You're a marine and a damn fine one, don't let this bureaucratic shit get in the way...Hear me?" Apone says walking away with his cigar in hand. Mils keeps looking over the letter skeptically, wondering why he's being told about an insurance policy now of all times.

Once the Sulaco arrives at Jackson Military Space Station, the squad of Marines embark into the departure section, all looking forward to the next eight days.

"Shore leave here we come...express elevator to PARTYTOWN going down - wooh!" Hudson yells as they move into a shuttle, while Mils stays on the station.

"I'll catch you guys in a few, got some business to attend to," Mils says, holding his duffel bag over his shoulder, as Stone walks up to him before she gets on.

"What's up, Chrissy?" she asks.

"Would you stop calling me that!" Mils stresses

"Okay Stretch..." Stone surrenders, still grinning from her high off her slight victory from the checker game.

Her high also comes from Mils's laser stare at her cleavage earlier, but she decides to keep that little bit of satisfaction to herself for now.

"I've got some business to take care of at Gateway...I'll catch up," Mils explains.

"Well, don't be too long - and you better not cop out on the free round you owe everyone!" Stone says, punching Mils lightly in the arm before she leaves, and he smiles and comically salutes the squad as the doors to the shuttle close for the descent to Earth. Mils waits for the shuttle for Gateway to arrive, unsure at what news awaits him.

Across the vastness of space, on a lonely, desolate planetoid known as LV-426, there is a human colony funded and owned by Weyland-Yutani. Ostensibly, the purpose of the colony is the discovery of salvage, but perhaps more importantly is the extraction of minerals in the 'toid's crust. The colony contains a little over a hundred colonists with basic security, science, medical and administrative teams. For the colonists life is cramped, but still worth living as many live on the colony with their families.

The colonists named their new world Acheron, and their little burgeoning boom town Hadley's Hope.

In the science building of the colony, a few botanists and geologists are hard at work on some soil samples to see if the colony could produce any form of agriculture. One of the scientists working on the samples, a geologist named Doctor Valerie Dillon, is currently comparing the soil of the meteoroid to that of the Earth's. The Acheron soil samples are few and quite barren, being as there is no loose soil on Acheron anywhere - it has to be cut out of the crust and brought in to be pulverised by lasers before analysis can begin. It hasn't been a stretch of the imagination so far to say that the crust of Acheron is tougher than a Company boss's hide.

But Val Dillon, after a nasty divorce following the conviction of her husband for murder, plus his subsequent sentencing to life in prison on Fiorina 161, which is notorious for confining men who were identified as "Double Y Chromo", had decided to rethink her life, and she applied for an outworld posting. When she got the message saying she was to ship out for LV-426, she had jumped for joy. The smile could have been carved from her ebony features.

She looks over to her colleague, a tall woman with brown hair and a pair of glasses on. She holds a small clipboard and pen, jotting down a few notes about the specimen of grass she is currently studying.

The woman's name is Elizabeth Amanda Ripley, named after a friend of her parents and her grandmother. Her middle name coming from her mother's first, while she took her mother's maiden name as her last when she left college, her form of independence.

Both she and her brother wanted to tour the stars, though they went through it in different ways - her brother had entered the military, making it through Colonial Marine boot camp, and she had gone into the civilian corps as it were, going into the scientific sector of Weyland Yutani, which at the time brought on the ire of their parents, especially their mother.

Though she is younger than most scientists in the colony, she makes up for it with a very well versed knowledge of her field which ranged from agriculture to horticulture, and from botany to zoology. Her age has also attracted the occasional flirtatious intern or assistant...or in one case a janitor. As a scientist she thought she would face the unknowns of space, maybe even discover a new alien species or something of that nature. She smiles at her unintended pun - except for facing the reality that her job might consist of nothing more from day to day than looking at cups of soil and grass and determining what grade it should get based on how fertile it could be, Ripley is just enduring another day in paradise.

She was snapped out of her daze as she looked towards Dillon, who was celebrating her recent discovery.

"Yes! The soil is retaining 70 percent water! In theory, if we can keep the soil hydrated for a longer period of time it should finally produce a healthy specimen."

"In theory?" Ripley questions raising a skeptical eyebrow towards her friend, who looks sheepish at the sight.

"Well we'd have to work out sunlight, which we haven't had in some time - UV lamps ought to be sufficient if we can adjust them to a precise wavelength - but as much as it rains around here, we should have plenty of water for the next month or two" Dillon explains.

"Well, Val, sounds like all we need is a giant heat lamp, " Ripley says, taking a sip of her coffee.

"If that's all we need I'm sure Maintenance will give us the parts," Dillon humorously suggests, which causes the pair to laugh. Ripley checks her watch, noticing that the duo has been working for over ten hours nonstop.

"Hey, do you realise what time it is? Damn, it's late! We should probably grab some dinner." She looks at her watch again to be on the safe side, and sighs. "At this hour, knowing our luck, it's probably an early breakfast," she adds.

"Too true, my friend, too true. Though drinking coffee this late might be counterintuitive..."

"Look at you with all the big words..."

"I am a doctor" Val shrugs.

The two scientists quietly eat their dinner/breakfast alone in the main mess hall area.

"So, with any luck Haynes will give us a little more attention with our soil theory," Ripley says, biting into what's supposed to be an egg salad sandwich and grimacing at the flavour.

"True, but it's not like we're at the top of the food chain. From what I hear the bioweapons division gets all the attention and they have only one guy working for them. What was his name, Barker? Yeah, Barker sounds about right," Dillon replies.

"Yeah, I think I do know him, he's always awkward around me for some reason."

"Probably 'cause you literally look down on him Ellie..." Val smiles

"Not my fault my parents played basketball and ran track."

"Still, I don't think you'll have to worry about him. He left for Earth a few days ago. Speaking of, when's your next trip home?"

"A week from now - plenty of time to get the presentation done."

"Any plans for home?"

"Probably just take it easy, relax on a beach somewhere with an umbrella drink in my hand and not a care in the world. The question is, can my assistant hold the fort of soil down while I'm gone?" Ripley says trailing off.

"I've got it covered...anyway what about your brother? Is he still single?" Dillon asks, hiding her grin by taking a bite out of her cheeseburger.

"Don't you even think about it, Val," Ripley warns.

"Aww, come on - I can't daydream?"

"Not about my little brother you can't."

"I thought you were twins!"

"Yeah, but I came out first. At least that's what Mom told me."

Val smiles, "I'm sure your dad told your brother the same thing."

"I'm sure he did. Anyway, what about you? You never talk about your family much, why?"

"Well the one ex I have was a hit and run relationship and it wasn't exactly pleasurable...it sure as hell wasn't pleasurable for me. Then there's my brother who hasn't called me in a few years. Family is hit or miss for some people."

"Too true," Ripley replies as she finishes her sandwich and Dillon her burger.

"Well Ellie, I'm going to hit the sack. Night," Dillon says, throwing her trash away.

"Goodnight Val...see you in a few hours."

"Ugh, don't remind me…" Dillon says as she rolls her eyes.

Once Ripley returns to her room, she changes into her night outfit. Changing might have been an exaggeration as she actually has just a few outfits, all of them identical. Her night outfit is just her normal work outfit with the top unzipped and her shoes kicked off.

As she lays down on her small modestly made bed, she turns to look at the family picture on her nightstand, taken around the time she graduated from college.

She had her cap and gown on, smiling like a goofball as always. Her mother was a little teary-eyed as she held her Daughter's arm proudly displaying the diploma, and her father was behind the two women placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. Next to her, holding on to her other arm and holding up a thumbs up with his free hand was her brother, all dressed up in his Colonial Marine dress uniform.

This was one of the last times they had been together. Shortly after that her brother shipped out on assignment, while she had been assigned to the Outer Veil colonies.

Sadly, the next time they were together tragedy had struck. Her dad had been killed in a accident, and a few years after that her mother had passed away from cancer.

After the funeral, her brother had shipped out again, that time for longer, and shortly after that she had been posted to LV-426.

She missed her brother, of course. Though she wouldn't admit it openly, they were twins and it felt like they had a cosmic connection of sorts. They were together in the womb, so it only made sense that, apart, they felt a little uncomfortable in certain situations.

As she began to drift off to sleep, she thought one thing to herself.

"I only hope you're having more fun than I am Chrissy..."

End of Prologue

...

So that's a wrap for the prologue for Aliens: Not Alone hope you all like it and stay tuned for more.

Also as in Alien Isolation: Not Alone story I'm going to go ahead and identify who would play Christopher Mils, Ellizabeth Ripley and Ashley Stone.

For Mils it would be Don Johnson from Miami Vice.

For Ripley it would be Catherine Mary Stewart from Weekend at Burnie's and The Last Starfighter.

For Stone it would be Helen Slater from Supergirl (both the movie and the TV show)

Now for Andrew Mils I'm not sure because I'm not sure what role he'll play yet in the story.

Anyway thanks for all the views and I appreciate any feedback.