Author's Note: The following is a work of fanfiction, and is absolutely unofficial. It is based on events in the Alien franchise, most specifically my own recollection of the 1986 James Cameron film "Aliens.(Some concepts suggested in the first film also make an appearance.)

This work bears no relation whatsoever to the Dark Horse® comic series of the same name, nor any further tie-ins, sequels, or other media. Some liberties are taken with characters and certain events, and some aspects of the behavior of ant colonies are used as a reference.

So far as I am presently aware at the time of this posting, "Alien,"Aliens," and all related properties belong to 20th Century Fox. This story is unofficial, nonprofit, and is for entertainment purposes only. It is posted on fanfiction_net and is not to be reproduced in any other medium or website without my explicit permission.

Forewarning: the piece is also written in first person perspective.

Mothers (Chapter 1)

The act of creation requires a great deal more energy than one might think. I need... needed to focus most of my attention on it.

Past tense: it isn't as if I can create much of anything now, out here in... I don't know what to call this place. I suppose "the cold place" will suffice. It is very cold, and excruciatingly quiet, and I am unhappy here. The silence is horrifying, and my screams go unheard.

But there was a period of time when I created: I was a Mother. I was a Mother to many. My offspring were small, round creatures, but they were mine—flesh of my flesh.

Then their beautiful petals would open, and a miracle would emerge. At first I was surprised, but I quickly accepted that these too were my Children, and that they too would go forth to engage in an act of creation.

It is from this act that I myself was created; I left the warm, dark place and forced myself out into the cold. I was pursued by large creatures, but I was fast, and cunning, and I escaped them.

Others joined me soon after, and we grew, and we changed ourselves and counter-attacked the soft creatures who had once terrified us. We were larger than them, faster than them, better; in all respects we were better than them.

It took time. I changed further, and the others... the others created for me. My own body created the hardened structures that would later support my increasing weight as I attempted to find a comfortable position.

The others created strands and structures that would support and affix my legs in a position that was comfortable enough, and in hindsight I am grateful to them for it.

They created the strands that would support the soft organ that slowly emerged from my hips, that made the precise position of my legs relevant as it pushed them apart.

It emerged at the front of my hips, curved backward between my legs and behind me, and then rose to the ceiling of the large chamber, suspended by delicate-looking yet durable strands. Over time it changed, pulsing with a rhythm that I could feel in every fiber of my being—and as it grew in length behind me, it gradually began to fill with what I initially assumed was liquid, becoming massive, tight, and almost intolerably heavy within a matter of days.

But the supports were stronger than they seemed and kept it in place, and my initial discomfort waned. My siblings knew what they were doing, and on some level so did I.

I was to be a Mother.