The creature's inner jaw punched through his skull.
The deep-space salvage ship Romulus drifted through the asteroid field like a tomb. Its three-person crew—Elena, a jaded engineer; Kael, a rookie pilot; and Dr. Aris, a disgraced xenobiologist—had been hired to strip a dead Weyland-Yutani science vessel, the Prometheus's Shadow .
The lights died. The emergency klaxons wailed. And from the vents came the wet, chittering sound of something that had already learned to open doors.
However, that's a file name, not a story request. Let me clarify what you likely need:
"It's not possible," Aris whispered. "These should be dormant for centuries."
The first facehugger took Kael before he could scream. Elena watched in frozen horror as the spider-like creature wrapped around his helmet, cracking the visor, forcing its ovipositor down his throat. Aris locked them both inside a cryo-lab, but the lab wasn't empty. A wall of amber resin contained a half-formed Xenomorph—twitching, growing, watching .
And a single word, whispered in Kael's voice, through the ship's dying comms: