"Tell me about it. Suddenly your nice, big freighter starts feeling like a sardine can."
Suddenly you're aware that in every nook and cranny might be the sleek gasoline shape that'd ravaged your crew. Suddenly you're no longer able to differentiate between the purring instrumentalities of the Nostromo and the quiet swell of an alien creature's lungs. Every shadow, every tinker of metal or wet drip of condensation bringing you closer to death.
"They have a real propensity for causing trouble, those higher-ups. Shove their noses where they don't belong while we suffer the consequences. My crew and I would have survived were it not for the fuckers who shepherded us back at headquarters. War and money, that's all they care about."
She wonders what form this woman's alien takes on. Sentient enough to wage war, by the sound of it. Then again, wars are fought between all kinds of creatures. Lions who career into each other in their brawls for dominance, down to the microscopic, one amoeba eating the other.
"That's... good to know, actually. I've haven't socialized very much around here. The work schedule makes it difficult, though I guess I've treated that like a blessing rather than a curse."
The stretching space between the left and right isles feels suddenly insurmountable. Impersonal. She picks herself up out of her seat, stands and extends a hand.
no subject
Suddenly you're aware that in every nook and cranny might be the sleek gasoline shape that'd ravaged your crew. Suddenly you're no longer able to differentiate between the purring instrumentalities of the Nostromo and the quiet swell of an alien creature's lungs. Every shadow, every tinker of metal or wet drip of condensation bringing you closer to death.
"They have a real propensity for causing trouble, those higher-ups. Shove their noses where they don't belong while we suffer the consequences. My crew and I would have survived were it not for the fuckers who shepherded us back at headquarters. War and money, that's all they care about."
She wonders what form this woman's alien takes on. Sentient enough to wage war, by the sound of it. Then again, wars are fought between all kinds of creatures. Lions who career into each other in their brawls for dominance, down to the microscopic, one amoeba eating the other.
"That's... good to know, actually. I've haven't socialized very much around here. The work schedule makes it difficult, though I guess I've treated that like a blessing rather than a curse."
The stretching space between the left and right isles feels suddenly insurmountable. Impersonal. She picks herself up out of her seat, stands and extends a hand.
"CT. Strange name, I like it. Ellen Ripley."