"Ripley..."
"I don't want to hear about it, Bishop.
She's alive.
There's still time."
"In nineteen minutes in this area there's going to be a cloud of vapor the size of Nebraska."
"Hicks!
Don't let him leave!"
"We ain't going anywhere."
"It's okay.
We're okay."
"I knew you'd come."
"RIPLEY!!!"
It was on the fourtieth floor, Ward C of the Fieldcrest Home medical high rise where Hicks
and Newt would reunite, thirteen years after escaping LV426.
The Corporal's return to Earth began with several months in quarantine, waiting to be
cleared into the general populace.
Medtechs had tended to his wounds, though injuries sustained from the acidic blood expelled
on his face left him scarred and disfigured.
Parts of his memory were erased- that is - whatever parts weren't voluntarily erased from an ensuing
collapse into alcoholism.
During his quarantine, there were no visitors.
Pain, loneliness, and isolation followed Hicks in the years he was reinstated into active
duty within the corps.
Former comrades, fearful he may somehow be infectious from alien blood, avoided contact.
The Acheron mission had left Hicks haunted, and he was riddled with guilt over those he
couldn't save.
"I was one of the "lucky few."
Go marines, by God.
I keep remembering Acheron.
Drake, Vazquez, even that ass, Hudson - they were okay.
Okay, well, they were buddies.
And I let them all die."
Drunk and disorderly conduct, brawling, public intoxication- all became habitual: A sterling
record prior to the Acheron mission became tainted with repetitive infractions after
his return.
But still there was use for him.
After being in holding after further misconduct, Hicks was released to recieve a disc containing
video footage of the Coast Gaurd Probe ship Dutton.
The crew, on a routine mission to clear "floaters" from entering into Earth's atmoshpere, encountered
an abandonded cargo vessel, The Junket; its pilot pod ejected- blood, bullet and acid
holes, and dead bodies within the ship.
The Coast Guard's protocal was to destroy such floaters, and the Dutton's crew followed
through, but the vaccuum of the blast pulled in what they believed to be a parasite.
The creature, unmistakably to Hicks as a Xenomorph, broke through the Dutton's airlock, killing
the crew before its own injuries expelled its acidic blood, breaching the hull and resulting
in the ship's destruction.
Hicks observed, "The ship exploded, taking the alien son of a bitch with it.
But proof of the one meant there were more.
What was the old phrase?
Where there's smoke, there's fire.
Yeah.
The fires of hell.
"I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.
That's why the marines never kicked me out of the corps.
They knew it, too."
Hicks was ordered to meet with Colonel Stephens, accomponied by by Dr. Orona, a geneticist
and civilian advisor to the USCM who had a particular interest in the Xenomorph species.
Orona, aware of Hicks' history with the aliens, believed he would prove useful in the government's
proposed mission to journey to co-ordinates transmitted by the Dutton that could possibly
be the homeworld of the Xenomorph.
Hicks was offered a position aboard the USCSS Benedict, second-in-command to Colonel Stephens.
His proposal was simple: "You seek redemption.
I seek.. specimens."
While Hicks face his chance for redemption, Newt's experiences back on Earth were dire.
She dreamed of monsters.
The dreams tortured her to the point of what seemed to be madness.
At Fieldcrest Home, she was under constant supervision, with the doctors unable to make
any progress -- not so much helping her as they were containing her.
She was treated with a myriad of heavy drugs constantly, often left near-catatonic, left
alone with her thoughts.
"I'm staring at the cieling.
Tranked again-- thoradin.
I think.
The one that makes you feel like you're suffocating.
I relive the past again and again.
I was born on a terraformer transport in deep space.
My parents named me Rebecca, but everyone called me Newt.
Our new home was a desolate rock christened Acheron.
My parents had volunteered for the mission in the romantic spirit of the old earth pioneers,
but there was little romanece on that cruel world.
The wind and the cold meant nothing to the aliens.
They waited, dormant, until the time was right.
I was the only survivor.
I was found by a marine rescue team and returned to earth.
The doctors lost interest in me when I didn't respond to their treatments.
Bad dreams?
Sedatives.
Can't eat?
Sedatives.
Talk out of turn?
Sedatives.
I'll never make it.
Everything's slipping away.
The doctors can't figure me out, I didn't do anything - I just don't "get along."
Is that crazy?
I didn't ask to be born out there.
Nobody warned me about the risks.
Some see space as a panacea-- uncounted worlds with untold riches.
They look to the heavens and see the joy of opportunity.
I look into space and see the cold void of hell.
My only escape.
" Newt's nightmares stretched on endlessly,
becoming routine.
Then one day, there was a change.
She received a visitor.
A man, one side of his face scarred, sat in the chair two meters away from her.
He wore a military uniform.
"Hello, Newt.
I had to see you."
It was as if somebody suddenly slammed a fist into the side of her head.
The jolt rocked her physically.
Newt jerked and stared as a memory they'd tried to take away from her swam to the surface
like a whale needing air.
It was him!
The man who'd always saved her in her dreams.
"Wilks!"
"Yeah.
How they treating you in here?"
"You—you're real!"
"Last time I looked, yeah."
"You—you look… different."
He touched the scars on his face.
"Colonial Marine surgeons.
Buncha butchers."
"Wh-what are you doing here?"
"They told me you were in this place.
I figured I had to see you, once I found out you were having the dreams, too."
"About the monsters."
"Yeah.
I don't sleep that well myself.
Haven't since Acheron."
"It was real, wasn't it?"
"Oh, yeah.
It was real.
They had me, I'm in as long as they keep reactivating my secrecy clause, but you were
a civilian.
They decided to wipe you, but it didn't work, least not all the way."
Newt slumped, but at the same time felt a sense of relief like none she'd ever known.
It was real!
She wasn't crazy!
The dreams were memories, trying to get out!
Hicks stared at the kid.
Well, she wasn't really a kid anymore, was she?
Turned out to be a nice-looking woman, even in the hospital whites and obviously stoned
on whatever they gave her.
He wasn't sure why he'd come, except that maybe she was the only other person who would
understand the dreams he kept having.
"Why did you come?" she asked.
He pulled his thoughts back to the young woman on the other side of the thick, clear plastic
wall.
"They found what they think is the homeworld for those… things," he said.
"They're sending me there with some troops."
A few seconds went past.
"To destroy it?"
Hicks smiled, but it was a sour expression.
"To collect a 'specimen.'
I think MI wants to use the things as some kind of weapon."
"No!
You can't let them!"
"Kid, I can't stop them.
I'm a corporal."
And a drunk and chemhead brawler, he added mentally.
"Take me with you," she said.
"You don't mean that.
I shouldn't have come here."
"Can't you see?
They're killing me.
I'm not crazy.
The memories are real.
You can tell them.
They're trying to convince me everything I remember is an illusion but you know the
truth.
Tell them.
You saved me before, Hicks, do it again!
They're killing me in here with the drugs, the therapy!
I have to get out!"
The visitation was quickly terminated, both Hicks and Newt were escorted away.
The last thing Hicks could hear was Newt's screams for help.
As training began, Hicks shifted his focus to his bitter hatred of the alien.
But every moment brought him back to the memories of Acheron.
Even his new team reminded him of the old squad.
And his thoughts kept coming back to Newt.
He kept an eye on her.
Pulling a few favors, he accessed Newt's files on Fieldcrest's security mainframe.
12 Hours before mission launch, he saw the latest update.
Newt was scheduled for a full lobotomy.
Hicks, conflicted, left the base and made his way to the institution.
His mind racing.
"Why'd I see her in the first place?
Maybe I just wanted someone here to remember me when it was over - Christ, I don't know...
There was a time when living and dying meant something to me.
My old Squad: Hudson, Vasquez, and the rest- faced Hell itself to rescue a scared little
girl.
Now they wanted to destroy her.
Jesus, my friends died to save her.
Newt was the only thing left of them.
He infiltrated the floor, taking out any security that stood in his way, armed with explosives
to blow a way out, and "quote" borrowing a Jet Rescue rescue ship to make their way back
to the base.
Hicks recalls, "The ship had been designed for High-Rise
fire rescue.
But I remember what Sargeant Apone used to say: Marines don't quit.
They adapt.
By the time they traced us back to base, it would be too late.
One of the joys of taking a suicide mission, I suppose-- reprimands and court maritals
lose their sting.
For years, the general public had been fed this image of the marines as "Intellectual
Warriors", -- a college diploma in one hand, an M90 rapid fire in the other.
I guess it's more comforting to imagine the national defense system in the hands of a
stiff eyed, emotionless martinet than some scared teenager with a skin problem.
After a while, the marines themselves bought the the myth.
Big mistake.
Soldiers have the same wants and desires as everyone else.
Sometimes they do things not because it's right or wrong, but because they must.
For instance, nobody expects a marine corporal to smuggle an unauthorized passenger avoard
a top-security military flight.
Maybe that's why it was so easy."
Hicks had secured Newt, along with his new squad of grunts, and the USCSS Benedict cleared
for take off on its mission.
13 Years had separated them, but Hicks and Newt were together once more.
To help each other.
To find answers.
To survive.
It was unclear how their mission would succeed once they arrived at the Alien homeworld,
but little did they know, there would be a new challenge to face now that Operation Outreach
was now in effect.
The Earth War is one of the most crucial events in the Alien extended universe.
Over time, its narrative has been obscured.
Revisions made.
Names changed.
There are claims that challenge its very existence.
The purpose of these accounts is to tell the best possible truths of the war, and the events
that followed.
As always, Thank you very much for watching.
If you enjoyed this video, please make sure to give it a like, and you can also subscribe
for all the latest videos from the channel A very, very special thanks goes out to Weyland
Yutani Executive EmYaruk, part of the Patreon Hive.
If you'd like to join the hive and support the channel, check out my Patreon page for
exclusive posts and contests.
In the meantime you can catch up with Alien Theory over social media- follow @Alien_Theory
on Twitter, and @AlienTheoryYT on Facebook and Instagram for more.
And until next time, this is Alien Theory, signing off.
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