Author's Note: 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.

Random note: this seems to be the most popular piece I've ever written, period. Different fandom, different audience. And only a few reviews. But I've been looking at the traffic for May and... just wow. 186 visitors, 277 hits.

This is the finale.

Mothers (Chapter 3)

The act of destruction requires a great deal more energy than one might think. I faced off against the Other. It dared to challenge me. I fully intended to destroy the creature completely, to tear it apart, to kill it, to end it, and that task took all of my energy and focus. My Task was ended, and vengeance had become my only purpose.

We fought. We fought viciously, bitterly, both enraged; two Mothers attempting to kill one another in the most violent way possible. I attempted to overpower it, and it counterattacked, driving me backward.

And then the Other drove me back with fire, lifted me, pushed me over the precipace of a great pit. But I grabbed hold of the Other, and the two of us fell.

In the end I lay pinned beneath the heavy creature, my tail-spike cruelly broken off either by the impact of landing... or by the impact of the creature landing upon me. The latter of these did more damage; I remember a loud crunching noise and excruciating pain as my body was compressed, pinning and damaging my right arm.

The Other pulled itself from its own wreckage (much as I had before) and scaled the wall as swiftly as one of my own Children, nearly escaping me. I prevented this, pulling the Other within reach with my tail, and grasping one of its limbs with my remaining arm... and the creature responded by doing something I still do not completely understand; it activated one of its mechanisms.

The floor opened beneath me.

It was terrifying: beneath me was emptiness and cold. Through all of my existence I had been warm, and contained within a structure of some sort; beneath me was cold and nothingness. Panic stirred within me, but I quashed it with anger.

Unable to find purchase on the wall, unable to move my injured arm, I fell further, blown by a great wind into the cold place. I tried to drag the Other with me, desperately clinging to a final act of retribution—but I failed, and I know not what became of the creature; I can only hope that it followed me—but if that was indeed the case I am unable to sense it.

I am still here: broken, crippled, nearly blind; Childless, purposeless, my movements useless; unable to breed or even to direct myself, with only my own thoughts for company and a terrible empty void where part of me is missing.

It's very quiet here: I hear nothing but the throb of my own pulse—but that doesn't stop me. I will not give in to the silence: I rage at the emptiness; I rage at the void; I rage at the injustice of it all.

My life was destroyed; I have lost everything—and I shriek without voice or sound because my chest and my throat are empty and cold. There is no sound in this place.

No one can hear me scream.

Author's Note: This story was written on a smartphone in a single night (May 20/21) then edited in OpenOffice, and eventually broken down into three chapters.