An Alien's Story
The xenomorph soldier stood bent over his kill, globs of glistening saliva dripping from it's jaws like congealed sewage from a broken pipe. A gigantic black hunter, it stood with the pride of a lion having caught the fastest wildebeest in the land.
Having killed the human by a stab through the torso with it's razor-sharp tail, the alien would've licked it's lips had it's tongue not had had another mouth. Bending down even further, the alien prepared to sink it's teeth into the thin shell that was the human's skull and scoop out the –
"Moe! Hey, Moe!" a voice shouted.
Hissing indignantly, the xenomorph straightened up, turning to face the caller. "What now…?" he muttered while the smaller alien was still out of ear-shot, before sighing. "Yes, Jim?"
When the drone finally reached the alien soldier, it bent over double, breathing heavily. "Hmm…? Oh, yeah," Jim mumbled, calming himself down. "Me and the resta the guys spotted a human Humvee patrolling the horizons…"
"Yeah…so?" the soldier retorted scathingly, eyeing his meal as it didn't get any fresher. "Why don't you skitter off and tell the Queen that?"
The drone swiped a clawed-hand through the air dismissively. "Aw, right! Like she don't know already! And do you hear any orders from her to go and get them for incubating…?"
If I humour him, he'll probably leave, the soldier thought bitterly. "No, Jim, I don't hear anything."
"Well, don't that pretty much mean we can do what we want with 'em?" Jim the drone asked excitedly. "It does, you know," he added not a split-second later. "So me and the resta the guys are gonna go eat 'em…"
"You see, Jim, that is what makes me a soldier and you a worker-boy – I know my responsibilities, I only kill when need be. You don't on both accounts," Moe muttered darkly, hissing under his breath.
"But I thought you loved Meals on Wheels?" the drone asked innocently, before laughing hysterically at his own joke, alone. "You get it, Moe? Humvee – Meals on Wheels? You get it??"
Must remind self: Genocide is bad. "Jim, that one is older than the stars…even the humans have better jokes than that – and I can't understand what the hell they're saying!"
At the soldier's mention of 'humans', the drone looked down at the corpse by Moe's feet. "Uhm…you gonna eat that one, Moe?" it asked tentatively.
The alien soldier examined the body as if for the first time, eyes wide if he damn-well had any. "Why, sure, I guess so…"
"Uh…I'll have it if ye really don't want it, Moe," Jim the drone muttered hungrily, tongue lolling, globs of spittle splashing onto the floor.
"Nah, it's okay, Jim, I'm sure I'll manage just fine on my own, thanks…haven't you got a Humvee to catch?"
The drone tilted it's head sideways, confusion somehow etched upon it's blank banana-shaped head. "Oh, right!" Jim screeched, suddenly clicking. "Yeah, you're probably right…can't keep the resta the guys waiting, huh? After all…those human scum won't eat themselves, right?"
"Oh, I'll think you'll find that some of them do…I mean, well don't let me keep you, Jim!"
"Oh, okay…erm, was a screamer, Moe?" the drone asked, claws pointing at the corpse.
"It went out pretty loud, yeah," Moe muttered nonchalantly.
"Oh, good…makes all the blood rush to the head, doesn't it?"
"I don't know," the soldier growled warningly. "I haven't had a chance to find out yet…"
"Right! I'll be off then!" the drone chittered, catching Moe's drift and retreating towards the exit of the Hive, quickly skittered out of sight.
Sighing gratefully, the soldier xenomorph turned his attention back to his meal, saliva dropping steadily again. Okay, so it wasn't fresh anymore…but it was his! Grabbing a huge napkin from the recesses of the Hive wall, Moe tied it delicately around his thin neck and flexed his claws. "Bon apetite…"