Parallels of Eden

PRIVATE EDITION. NOT FOR SALE OR DISTRIBUTION. FAN WORK.

This is a non-commercial fan fiction (crossover), created for creative and exploratory purposes. All rights to the characters and universes of Mass Effect, Alien, The Walking Dead, Event Horizon, and others belong to their respective legal copyright holders. The author does not claim ownership of these characters and receives no financial profit from this work. This piece is transformative and represents an original narrative built upon the mentioned universes.

Co-authors: Ridley Scott, Dan O'Bannon, Ronald Shusett – creators of the original film «Alien», whose ideas and inspiration laid the foundation for this work.

Also, my co-authors and sources of inspiration:

J. R. R. Tolkien – author of «The Lord of the Rings», whose worlds and mythology significantly influenced the creation of this work (borrowed two characters);

Stephen King – author of “The Langoliers», whose ideas about time and reality inspired certain plot elements (appropriated the Langoliers themselves);

Robert Kirkman – creator of the «The Walking Dead» comic, whose concepts of survival and human relationships in a zombie apocalypse are reflected in the story (swiped the zombies);

James Cameron – director of «The Terminator» whose ideas about time travel and artificial intelligence were used in developing the plot (invited Arnie from the second part);

Stephen Sommers – director of «The Mummy» and «The Scorpion King», whose elements of adventure and fantasy inspired the creation of the atmospheric backdrop (made off with the Scorpion King himself).

These individuals are mentioned as the creators of the canon, without any desire or their consent to participate in this literary work.

Natalya Reznikova – editor and co-player, provides corrections and assistance in writing.

Main author of the work.

Interstellar tug «Nostromo», Alpha Centauri system.

Crew: of seven members, only one remains.

Cargo: an automated refinery processing 20 million tons of mineral ore.

Course: return to Earth.

August 27, 2122.

Ellen Louise Ripley.

The siren wailed incessantly, signaling that the «point of no return» had been passed and the ship's automatic self-destruction was imminent. Chaos had already begun on the lower decks long ago: steam from the halted steam generators started pouring into its interior, creating the most favorable environment for the upcoming explosion. Nascent chemical compounds ignited, destroying its internal fittings. But on the central deck, there was no chaos. Yet. She heard the wild howl of the siren, through which the echo of explosions reached her. Still very distant. She knew that, very soon, this same mayhem would begin on the main deck as well, and she hurried to leave the doomed ship.

The woman glanced furtively around the corner, her eyes searching for the THING that had caused the demise of the crew, and, in the near future, the ship as well. All her thoughts now were on survival. For herself, as the sole witness to the disaster, and for her «little, furry, younger brother» – the cat Jones. The cat sat in its carrier, frightened, but unaware of the passions raging in the human's soul.

The airlock space was empty. She cautiously approached the door frame and peered out, assessing the presence of danger. Not seeing the terrible creature, which, after its horrific birth, had «dealt with» the crew in less than a day, she turned her back to the open door of the lifeboat, pointing the flamethrower into the corridor of the already nearly destroyed cargo tug. A nearby explosion boomed, and a wall of flame slammed into the corner of the corridor, right where she had stood moments ago. She ran into the lifeboat and sealed the entrance behind her before another jet of fire could reach her.

Inside the lifeboat, a siren was also howling: the «Narcissus» was the tug's standard escape craft. The woman was already closing the lifeboat's doors when the voice of Mother, the «Nostromo»'s artificial intelligence, came from the speaker built into the small ship's control panel:

- YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE LEFT TO LEAVE THE SHIP. – This was something the woman herself knew perfectly well, without reminders. After all, she was the one who had initiated the self-destruct sequence. – THE SHIP WILL BE AUTOMATICALLY DESTROYED IN ONE MINUTE.

The woman rushed headlong to the central panel, pressing buttons to clear the lifeboat's path from the mother ship. The siren's wail only spurred her on. She sincerely hoped that the thing which had destroyed her crew, her friends, and any possible future happy life, would remain there, outside her small shuttle, and share the «Nostromo»'s fate… She barely managed to release the clamps and activate all the shuttle's systems. The shuttle was ready for flight. A reminder appeared on the screen before her: «Purge». She strapped herself carefully into the seat, knowing the startup acceleration would press her firmly into the pilot's chair. The shuttle began to exit the bay, where it had been «docked» to the «Nostromo», when Mother's voice sounded again:

- THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING…, - and then Mother began the «countdown». – TWENTY-NINE, TWENTY-EIGHT... - At the count of «twenty-six», the shuttle's main engine ignited, and the «Narcissus» surged forward, carrying her away from the mother ship.

The G-forces pressed her into the chair, but to the woman, «this» didn't matter at all. The most important thing now was to be as far from the epicenter of the explosion as possible. The «Nostromo», along with the refinery, was over a kilometer long, which implied a double detonation. She stared straight ahead, but saw nothing. Now she was PRAYING that her escape plan would succeed… When Mother's count reached sixteen seconds, the «Narcissus» finally emerged from under the refinery's massive bulk and began to move away from the doomed leviathan.

The tranquility of the blackness of space was shattered by two explosions: first, the tug exploded. And, since the reactors of the refinery platform, which it had been towing to Earth, were «inked» to the «Nostromo»'s reactor, their detonation occurred a few seconds after the cargo tug's explosion.

At that moment, as it seemed to her later, all the Gods of the Universe helped her: the shuttle managed to get to an almost safe distance. She had left the zone of the possible blast epicenter, and had practically left the secondary zone as well; however, the shockwave still managed to give her small ship a good shake. For a while, she just sat in the chair, still not believing that she had managed to carry out her plan.

The explosions of the tug and the refinery, almost simultaneous, turned out to be merely a prelude to WHAT happened next. The fabric of space-time shuddered from the absorbed kinetic energy and, unable to withstand the immense pressure, tore, forming a limb: a gigantic «black hole», which seemed to be touched by the very essence of the Universe's horror. No matter how hard the cosmic darkness tried to remain intact, the invisible threads of fate intertwined for a moment, creating a connection between the fantastic future and the real world of humans. At the heart of this cosmic intersection, white stars flickered with strain, and their cold shadows covered everything around like a nocturnal cloud.

When the energy of the rupture was released, and the vacuum began to fall into the abyss, a giant accumulation of asteroids, pulled in by a small moon, was located not far from the space lane along which the «Nostromo» had once rushed home: each one was firmly held in its orbit. The moment of the third explosion changed everything. The energy of the newborn «black hole» spilled into the surrounding space, only to roll through the space sector and then return back. One of the giant stone blocks found itself at the very center of this chaos. The asteroid, a mute witness to the disaster, was drawn into the abyss; the «hole» swallowed it like a giant vacuum cleaner. Passing through the «accordion» of space-time, the meteorite sped off on a course known only to itself. Each moment of its movement towards the planet distanced it further from the cosmic darkness of the sector it had left behind. The asteroid was inexorably approaching Earth, whose inhabitants had no idea of the threat.

The collision was only a matter of time.

***

International Airport Tolmachevo, Terminal A,

Novosibirsk, Western Siberia, Russian Federation,

January 15, 2021.

Natalya Reznikova.

The bus lazily pulled up to Terminal A of Tolmachevo International Airport, and the passengers - few of them - began to get off. The driver stepped out and opened the luggage compartment. Immediately, a couple of men and one woman approached and started pulling out their rather heavy suitcases, carelessly shoving a large trekking backpack and a ski bag further to the back.

Outside, it was relatively cold, and those who managed to grab their luggage hurried inside the warm terminal building.

"Well, holy shit..." The woman who was last to reach the luggage compartment practically climbed inside the bus to grab her backpack. "Well, aren't you nice people..." she muttered a silent curse. "Thanks a lot." She finally managed to grab the ski bag by its handles. "And thanks for not breaking anything..."

She slipped her arm through the right strap. Her hat slid down onto her forehead, and the woman, snorting, quickly pushed it back into place. The driver stood nearby, waiting for everyone to collect their bags, then closed the compartment, got back on the bus, and shut the doors. Holding the ski bag by both straps, the woman hurried into the air terminal.

Inside, it was warm, cozy, and absolutely packed with people. Tolmachevo reminded her of a giant anthill, swarming as if someone had poked it with a stick.

"But people aren't ants," Natalya thought as she surveyed the area she'd soon enter after passing security. "Tolmachevo isn't an anthill - it's a people-hill." A chuckle escaped her lips, and the passenger in front of her turned around, making her cut it short.

She felt excitement bubbling inside her but tried to hide it. Every moment in the airport stirred mixed feelings: on one hand, she was on the verge of a new adventure; on the other, everything felt too familiar. Tolmachevo was a place where joyful trips and returns had once begun, but it was also tied to moments she'd rather forget. Just… blot them out. Seriously. And forever.

Standing in line, she noticed the man ahead of her nervously checking his watch.

"Aha, probably rushing to an important meeting," she thought, "or he cut it close and check-in is about to close. Or - very possible - he checked in online, but now BOARDING is ending. Now that would be funny, if his flight gets screwed."

This involuntary people-watching was a habit for Natalya, a kind of game that entertained her and distracted her from her own anxieties. From the anxiety of meeting someone she only knew from the internet - from their shared role-playing games. But now, their Skype chats had led to this. Natalya had often wondered: what possessed her to suggest to Maria - who, before this proposal, was just an ephemeral co-player - that they go skiing together? And not just anywhere, but in Sochi, at Krasnaya Polyana, where the Olympics once were...

Still in line, she pulled off her hat and stuffed it into the ski bag. Then she went through the security arch, first placing her backpack and skis on the conveyor belt. The woman sitting at the X-ray screen said nothing, signaling that nothing prohibited was found. Natalya nodded to herself, unzipped her ski jacket, put her phone in a small tray, and walked through the metal detector.

A sharp beep sounded. Another woman, holding a handheld metal detector, approached her.

"Arms out, please."

"For Christ's sake," the passenger replied, spreading her arms. The officer waved the detector near her clothing.

The beep sounded again near her pocket. The woman reached in and pulled out a handful of loose change, which she wordlessly showed to the security officers. The woman with the detector nodded and then moved it down to her hips.

Another beep. The woman unzipped her ski pants, revealing a set of keys.

"Put the money and keys with your phone and go through again."

The passenger had no choice but to comply. This time, thankfully, the arch stayed silent. The security officer nodded and gestured "go ahead," already looking at the next passenger—a heavyset man around 50, who had also set off the alarm.

Walking away from the "early detection of potential trouble" post, Natalya barely noticed other passengers exchanging knowing glances. Each of them, though absorbed in their own thoughts, suddenly felt a strange sense of unity in that small space.

She nodded back, grabbed her things, and headed off to find the check-in counter for S7 Airlines - the flagship carrier of the Siberian region. Having passed through the arch, she breathed a sigh of relief. This moment reminded her that all these security hassles were just part of life's multi-layered game. She was learning to relax in each moment; it was becoming a habit.

Before her, the world of travel opened up again: glass windows let in light, creating an atmosphere full of hope and anticipation. People bustled around her, reminding her how important it was to appreciate the present moment, to leave unnecessary worries behind before every journey.

Back when she'd bought her ticket online, she knew the plane taking her first to Moscow was an Airbus A-320, so she'd paid extra for seat 18A in advance. She loved sitting there, watching the captain "play with the flaps," seeing the plane "move" its ailerons in flight, and raise or lower the flaps during takeoff and landing.

Her path took her past one of the countless little bistros in the airport. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries wafted through the air, slightly distracting her from the memories of her recent snowy trek that had flooded back. Every rustle in the line, every laughing face around her, created a sense of homely comfort, but Natalya couldn't shake a slight unease, as if something was subtly waiting for her around the corner.

She paused for a moment, debating whether to grab a cup of strong coffee, but… seeing a check-in counter free up, she hurried over.

Approaching the counter, she handed her passport to a young guy.

"Right," he said, opening the document and staring at his computer screen for a moment. Then he looked at the woman and grinned widely. "Natalya Reznikova, seat 18A," he announced, handing back her passport with the boarding pass carefully tucked inside. "You're early - check-in doesn't start for another six hours."

"It's not me, it's the bus," Natalya replied, taking her passport. "And this is my luggage." She placed her backpack and skis on the conveyor belt, and the guy deftly slapped sticky tags on them. Then he pressed a button, and the belt started moving… "Careful with the skis!" the woman's voice rose, but the guy had already placed them correctly, and the belt carried everything away into the baggage hold…

Her luggage disappeared from sight, and Natalya let out a careful breath. Checking in her bags was a sure sign that the rest of the journey was just around the corner. She turned towards the terminal's glass doors and saw the winter blizzard raging outside. The airport's steady hum was created not just by people, but by sounds: the murmur of conversations, the click of keyboards, the rumble of suitcase wheels on the floor… all blending into a symphony only travelers could understand.

"Something new ahead," she murmured to herself as she headed towards the waiting areas. "Oh, Masha, what if you don't like me in real life? I'm such a… character!" she said to herself with a chuckle, moving towards one of the small cafes. Inhaling the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, she realized her anxious thoughts were beginning to dissolve. Every bit of energy filling the space around her was a comfort. She knew every second here mattered, and letting go of the past meant leaving everything unnecessary behind. With that, she approached a coffee vending machine, hesitated for a moment, and selected a large Americano.

"At an airport without coffee is like in the mountains without snow! Especially when you're heading there to ski for fun," she said, stretching until her joints cracked.

As she pulled the hot drink from the machine, Natalya took a small, cautious sip and felt the warmth spread through her body. She looked again at the glass doors, where her own reflection stared back: her gaze was full of anticipation and determination.

"Alright," she said aloud, "the show must go on!" And she headed towards the waiting area, where small sofas and tables were set up.

She found herself in a hall full of people: some reading books, some laughing loudly, some sitting with their faces buried in their phones, oblivious to everything. Natalya caught snippets of a conversation between two girls discussing their plans. In their words, she saw her own reflection: their excitement, hopes, and dreams echoed her own feelings.

Then she realized she'd forgotten something. She put her cup down on one of the tables and sat down nearby. She pulled her passport and the boarding pass tucked inside it from her pocket and began scrutinizing it for typos or any other flaws. She had experience with this - though, truth be told, that experience wasn't with any airline operating in Russia. Right now, all her thoughts were on an incident that had happened to her at the airport in Bishkek, the capital of a neighboring friendly country.

"Air Manas" - that was the airline where, due to a typo on her boarding pass, they'd refused to let her fly. Later, of course, the whole airport regretted that. The General Director of OJSC "Manas International Airport" personally apologized, and they bundled her off back to "her native Tolmachevo" on an Aeroflot flight, via Moscow, in first class. And the cost of her tickets came straight out of the pocket of the employee who'd made the mistake.

She definitely didn't want to "cause a scene where she lived," so she kept examining the boarding pass over and over. Finding no flaws, she smiled, finished her coffee, and tossed the cup in the nearest bin. Then she got up and headed for the departure area, deciding she had nothing left to do on the ground floor of the terminal.

Halfway there, she felt like letting her gaming buddy know she was already at the airport, already "at the starting line." Pulling out her iPhone (which she was terribly proud of), she dialed Maria Vorobyova's number—her internet friend and co-player—and waited for the connection…

Co-player: Maria Vorobyova – a real person, co-author and active participant in the literary game, with whom the joint creative work is conducted.

Natalya Reznikova – editor and co-player, provides corrections and assistance in writing. Main author of the work.

Masha absolutely hated being late. It always made her nervous, so she always tried to arrive "a little early" everywhere. But this time, Moscow traffic jams were really letting her down, even considering the general rule of thumb to "arrive four hours early." Nervously glancing at her phone, the girl bit her lip and sighed in frustration. Thankfully, she always checked in online and chose her seat in advance. The self-service kiosks at the airport made printing her boarding pass quick and easy. But she still had to do something about her luggage. Holding her breath, then slowly exhaling, Masha mentally began to pray, trusting in God's mercy, when at that moment her phone vibrated rhythmically.

"Yeah? Hello?" Her voice trembled slightly with frustration.

On the other end, a cheerful voice rang out.

"Hi!" From her voice alone, Maria could tell her invisible caller was grinning from ear to ear. "So. I've arrived at the airport, but here's the catch: I'm EARLY, like six hours before check-in even starts." The invisible собеседница coughed, probably into her fist. "How's Your Highness? What are you up to?"

"Her Highness is trying to buy skis," the girl replied, finally realizing who was on the other end of the line. She touched her fingers to her forehead. Of course, she thought, this is what she had to do today. On the day of departure, and never any other time. Masha gave a humorless chuckle. On top of everything, her vacation had nearly been cancelled because Klavdia Stepanovna, the light of her life, had suddenly decided to ask HER specifically to come in today - to perform surgery in place of a sick colleague. It wasn't exactly relaxing. "I haven't skied since ninth grade, you know. Plus, there's all this news about that meteorite... I'm nervous. The memory of the one that fell in Chelyabinsk is still fresh."