Chapter Text
Former Yaksa star system.
The dash panel clicked, a flashing text appeared on the main screen, Rava'an swiveled in his pilot's chair. He had arrived at his destination.
His ship emerged from hyperspace on the edge of the debris ring surrounding the star. The vessel advanced at a steady pace towards the inner system. Rava’an watched through the triangular windows of the ship’s bridge. There was an oddity not far from his position, a planet was embraced in a gravitational tug with a slightly smaller moon, orbiting in the habitable zone of the oblong blue star.
He gave his screen a cursory glance, everything he needed to know about the star was displayed in front of him. Yaksa called it Abhijit , named so for Ceta’nu , their god of death. It was an old name for the black warrior who wins all battles, for that is what it meant: the one who cannot be defeated.
Rava’an veered the ship towards the moon and it soon disappeared beneath its thick atmosphere. Below the clouds, a totally different world awaited. There was a dense, bright green jungle that covered most of the central continent. Tall mountains and plateaus rose to the sky, bathed in a grey-blue light. He landed the craft on one of the tree-covered plateaus near the center of the main landmass.
He descended from the man’daca and followed the positioning system on his wrist computer. He moved southwest until he came to a great sinkhole, barely seen from the air. The crevice in the limestone rock was so dark he could hardly make out the bottom; a stream flowed into it forming a small waterfall. Rava’an jumped into the darkness below.
The blue light penetrated some of the trees and reached the cavern's depths. The chute drained down the rocky floor and formed a rivulet that flowed into derelict ruins carved into the stone.
That was all that remained of one of the three Yaksa capitals destroyed long ago by the Devas , a rival humanoid race which established their own dominion over the ruins. The city was later abandoned for reasons unknown to Rava’an. He would not set foot on those unholy lands, but rather, he followed the stream into the old sacred Yaksa metropolis.
Large iron pillars decorated the atrium, the cavernous space was not well illuminated, but that wasn’t a problem for him. He navigated through antiquated corridors until he reached the great hall. The entirety of the north wall was filled with a series of niches in the stone, a worthy zulka’lara . A large, majestic black granite statue of Ceta’nu stood guard before it. The god posed unmasked and crouched, holding a spear in one hand and a skull in the other. Inscriptions at the base of the statue read “ Victorious lord of death''
Rava’an bowed reverently to the statue of the God of Death, the inevitable warrior who will eventually defeat him in battle. He untied a leather bag from his belt and pulled out a well-polished human skull. It was the first hunt he performed, the one with the samurai in the cherry forest.
He had sinned, by killing a youngling and his bearer. Albeit unwittingly, he had been turned into a Raksasa , a bad blood. Stripped of his rank and status, he had to bestow his most precious asset, the symbol of his prestige, to Ceta’nu . Rava’an prayed with his mandibles close to his inner mouth and deposited the skull in one of the empty niches. Many were already filled with other gifts from all sorts of creatures, there was even a Deva .
Next, Rava’an took off his stolen mask and using a vial of a green substance, erased the markings on it. He was stripping himself of his rank, a symbol of penance. He would not hunt for a hundred solar cycles and would live in complete austerity. His mask felt heavy as he hung it on a nearby weapons rack. Having completed the ritual, he left as silently as he'd come. When he reached the man’daca , he used the wrist computer to lock down his vessel and its contents, weapons and equipment alike. From this moment on, Rava’an would have to use his own wit to live on the jungle planet until he could take his trial and become a Yaksa again.
- o -
June 2020 C.E., Weyland Corp Health Division Headquarters, Mumbai, India.
Glass walked calmly through a series of security doors and metal scanners. Weyland Corp Health Division building in Mumbai was a marvel of hi-tech installation. Funded by Peter Weyland at the age of fourteen, it started as a small biotech laboratory. The young genius had studied a master in medicine at John Hopkins and later, developed a synthetic trachea. He used his first billion, made from his energy project, and transformed the small laboratory in the facility to what it was now. The institution was the most advanced in technology, medicine, genetics and biomechanics. They employed more than a hundred scientists, always looking for a cure for rare or deadly diseases.
Karen Connor, Peter Weyland's assistant, a robust woman with blue eyes and short brown hair, was eyeing him critically as he stopped in front of her pristine desk. Glass glanced at his watch, he was early.
The secretary pushed a button on the intercom connecting her office to Mr. Weyland's. She was completely ignored, it took her getting to her feet and knocking on the separating doors, ”Mr. Weyland?" She paused on the threshold, "Mr. Weyland, Jim Thomas from External Affairs is here for his Two o'clock." The middle aged CEO didn't say a word, just waved a hand, “Mr. Thomas,” the assistant turned towards Glass, "If you will." He stepped inside the clean-white room.
A large high-definition screen projected what Weyland was working on using virtual reality equipment. The schematics of a caucasian, blonde man with his outstretched arms zoomed and flipped on the display. It reminded Glass of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian man .
Weyland took off his VR goggles and examined Jim Thomas. He was wearing a suit and tie, but his corporal language told Weyland he was not a politician. He had a burn on his cheek and visible surgical suture scars on his neck that the collared shirt could not hide.
-”Good morning, Mr. Weyland,” Glass extended his hand to the CEO. “Jim Thomas, External Affairs.”
Peter Weyland ignored the gesture, instead, he invited him to sit in a chair. The rasp in his voice indicated that Mr. Thomas probably wore one of the few prosthetics that Weyland Corp provided.
-“I’m not interested in making bioweapons for the," There was a deliberate pause, "hum, ‘External Affairs’ department,” Weyland said as he sat in a strange looking chair. The walnut wood, copper and brass piece of furniture seemed very uncomfortable in Glass' mind, but it suited Weyland strangely well, making him look imposing and powerful, almost like a god, which went with his commanding personality.
-"Bioweapons?" Thomas made a questioning gesture, "External affairs is not-" Weyland waved a hand, interrupting him.
-"Jim Thomas, Lieutenant Colonel," Weyland recited calmly, "graduated Cadet Wing Commander, First Class from United States Air Force Academy at Colorado Springs in 1990. Officer Candidates School by 1995, at Quantico. CIA GS-14 operative in Syria, Beirut, Chechnya, Afghanistan," he paused to look Jim straight in the eye. "Nice places for vacations."
-"That information is classified," Jim's eyes narrowed as he stared at the stoic face of Weyland.
-"I like to know who I'm dealing with, Mr. Thomas," Peter answered casually, "It's bad for business to go into a meeting blind."
Weyland slid a file across the desk. Thomas took it and flipped through it. Indeed, everything was there, his military career, some of the operations he had participated in, even the details of his divorce.
The only thing he didn't see mentioned was the real reason for the operations, that reassured him slightly. At least he still had that ace under his sleeve.
-”We’re not playing around, Mr. Weyland” Thomas was serious, his words harboring a faint threat. Weyland didn't flinch, on the contrary, he straightened up in his chair.
-“First of all, my name ,” Weyland's tone was condescending, “is Sir Peter Weyland, don’t you forget that, Mr. Thomas.” Jim gulped, as Peter smiled faintly, “By the way, nice touch with External Affair s.”
Did he really know? Was Thomas' first thought, followed by his immediate rejection of the notion. It was impossible, OWLF was completely off the records, and only a select few knew of its existence. Peter Weyland was bluffing.
-"Corporations ARE the future," Weyland continued, "The real power here isn't you, Mr.Thomas," another faint smile graced his lips, "Welcome to the New World Order." For a moment Peter Weyland seemed menacing and powerful, exactly how Jim figured a man in control of the world would look. He backed up slightly in his chair. Having established hierarchies, Weyland struck a more conciliatory tone. "I'm a busy man, Mr. Thomas," Weyland spoke normally, as though they were discussing the weather, "my two o'clock appointment isn't for everyone. " He sighed, and motioned with his hand, "So tell me, what is the real reason that brings you here?"
-“I’m afraid,” Glass started slowly, “You’re not the only one who has done his homework.” He pulled out a stainless steel briefcase with a triangular logo and deposited it over the desk. “I have something you certainly want.”
-“There’s nothing you can offer me, Mr. Thomas,” Weyland responded, pushing the briefcase back to Glass. He was getting annoyed with the officer. How many times do I have to repeat that money is worthless here? he thought, surly.
-”Please, call me Jim,” Thomas said cordially as he unlocked the briefcase.
-”There’s nothing you have that I want or can't make myself, Mr. Thomas .” Weyland was unyielding, “Weyland Corp is financially sustainable now thanks to the almost free energy I provide," he flicked his eyes down to the briefcase, "the ongoing restoration of the arctic ice cap is in its final stage," His cold gaze returned to Glass', "Did you know I was nominated for the Nobel Prize for that?”
-“We are aware, Mister… Sir Weyland,” Glass corrected himself, he resumed opening his valise. “We are also aware of Project Panakeia .” Weyland stared at him, Panakeia was the code name for a secret project currently underway in the division.
-“Well," Weyland drawled, "you have my attention.” The cold eyes narrowed intently, “Speak.”
-“I have something here that may help you improve your,” Glass pointed at the display, “ little project .”
Weyland peered at Jim and linked his fingers, a thing he did when he was interested. "What’s your proposal, Mr. Thomas?"
-“Weyland Corp Health Division is developing a cure for cancer based on the bioluminescent proteins of small glowing worms discovered in Europe,” Glass informed casually. He tilted his head in Peter's direction. "Is that correct?” Weyland nodded slightly.
-“Luciferase-based gene therapy or BLADe uses bursts of light to kill cancerous cells,” Weyland explained slowly, his fingers typing on his keyboard. The screen showed various images; a tiny bioluminescent worm encased in ice, a microscope section of cancerogenous cells, the virtual image of a molecule.
-”I deduced that using luciferin produced by an animal with an extraterrestrial DNA chain," his gaze narrowed on the agent, "could be a more effective method since the DNA is different enough…" Weyland trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "What's this about?"
"Oh no, do go on," Thomas waved him forward.
"We’re trying to use alien genes to cure cancer…” He supplied, and then added, “All of them.”
It was time to drop the bomb, “What if I tell you someone has beaten you to it?” He gently removed a metal cylinder from the satchel, there was a biohazard sign printed on the side of it.
Peter Weyland leaned forward in his chair, his intent gaze on the glowing, green liquid that sloshed within as Glass raised it in his direction. He clicked his tongue and reached into a drawer in his desk to pull out a pair of safety gloves. His eyes were mesmerized by the fluorescent color, he was itching to examine it.
-“Who?” Weyland asked, clearly confused. He was reluctant to believe that there was someone else with his intelligence and resources that beat him to the punch.
-“ Quid pro quo , Sir Weyland, Quid pro quo .”
Weyland pondered for a moment. It wasn’t the first time a company resorted to corporate espionage and reverse-engineering to develop a new product. Even Weyland industries was guilty of it, but the fact was that if a rival pharmaceutical company had already developed a viable cure, why wasn't it in the market now?
The substance in front of him, he lifted the vial again, must have come from somewhere else. His calculating gaze returned to Thomas, it could only come from one place.
-“Let’s say…” Peter began casually, “Weyland Corp gives you whatever you request, Mr. Thomas," there was a pause, "within reason, of course." Weyland's eyes narrowed, "Where exactly did that come from?”
Glass smirked, Weyland had taken the bait, just like he figured he would. “We don’t know where they are from,” he started slowly, ”but they've been coming to Earth for a long time.”
-”Who are they ?” Weyland asked calmly.
-”From witness accounts we know they call themselves Yautja .” The CEO chuckled, the name sounding silly, Glass continued unperturbed, “Big, ugly motherfuckers with state of art technology, but they prefer crude, primitive melee weapons.” Glass waved a hand, “we’ve been keeping track of them since World War Two, but…”
-“By state of the art technology you mean…” Weyland interrupted him.
-“Spacecraft… obviously,” Glass responded, numbering with his fingers as he listed everything off, “thermal scanning, electromagnetic pulse and propulsion, plasma based energy directed weapons, active camouflage, fast healing and apparently, very long lives.”
-“Long lives?” Weyland pondered on that issue, “What do you mean by 'long lives'?”
-”Analysis on recovered tissue,” Glass explained, “indicates the individual in question was hundreds years old.” Weyland whistled.
“We believe that the bioluminescent in their blood,” he indicated the container in Weyland's hands, continued, pointing at the vial, “is due to the presence of a protein designed to kill cancerous cells," he let that sink in for a moment, "that may originate from prolonged exposure to radiation from their energy weapons and cloaking. It also slows the aging process, we theorize.”
Weyland glanced down at the glowing liquid, “What's the catch?”
Glass pulled out a few folders labeled ‘Encounters’ and pushed them across the desk at Weyland. “These are some documented incidents of which we are aware, or of which we have been able to... get our hands on." Glass sighed heavily, "We're outgunned and outmatched. In a few cases, it took a combination of skills and sheer luck to defeat them."
Weyland perused the files calmly with his gloved hand. A calculating gaze looked over photographs that he knew few had seen. "You need better weapons?" Peter murmured more to himself than to Glass, before he mumbled a couple words under his breath "Cloaking, plasma…"
"You give us the weapons," Glass leaned back in his chair, "And we'll get you the real deal," the agent grinned, "In the flesh."
There was a heavy silence that seemed to be deafening. Something lingered in Weyland’s mind. “You said they’re thrill hunters,” he expressed his concern, “Facing them with better weapons, wouldn’t we be encouraging them?”
-"Yes, sir," Glass nodded curtly, "Increases our chances in capturing their tech.” Still doubting, Weyland flipped through the reports once more, stopping at the label Valverde, 1987. It included a photograph of a smoking crater in the Central American jungle. Peter Weyland pointed at him. "Do you think they will remain with their arms crossed while you take your bounty?"
-"We’re aware.” Glass nodded again, "But, better to keep them busy than bored, right?”
Weyland nodded slowly, pushing the vial back towards Thomas. Jim shook his head. “You can keep that,” he returned the container. “As a sign of good faith, make another billion, or win another Nobel prize," he straightened his tie, "and leave us to deal with the creatures.”
-“I did not expect less,” Weyland said.
-”Then, it is settled,” Glass placed the folders he had shown Weyland inside the briefcase, and closed it. "I knew we could come to an agreement," Glass expressed, visibly pleased. He got to his feet and nodded in farewell.
-“ Otiosis manibus diaboli officinam ,” Weyland quoted quietly, “Idle hands are the devil's workshop.”
Glass did not bother turning back, instead he waved a hand and called over his shoulder, “We’ll keep in touch, Sir Weyland.”
Weyland used the intercom to summon Karen Connors, and instructed her to take the sample to one of the med-labs.
- o –
June 1 st , 2022.
BBC News: Cancer cure found!
June 1 st , 2022: 2:33 pm ET. London UK/EU: Scientists from Weyland Industries Health Division research in genetics, led by Nobel Prize winner and philanthropist Sir Peter Weyland, developed and released an effective cure for 98% of known cancers.
In a new study, researchers from the Weyland Corp Health Division inserted a gene extracted from Joviplatydemus lucifer , a new type of bioluminescent flatworm, discovered four years ago by a mission funded by Weyland himself on the Jovian moon Europa.
This gene therapy consists in inserting a light source, a protein called luciferase, extracted from these worms, which dosed cancerous cells previously treated with a photosensitizer with light. This triggers the production of radicals that destroy cancer cells, avoiding adverse effects on the patient.
“ We improved our immune system by giving white blood cells bioluminescence; these cells will light photosensitive cancer cells like a vampire exposed to daylight, killing them. We used DNA strands from European worms because they have evolved beyond Earth and their DNA has enough differences to trigger an effective immune response, due to evolving in a world inside a strong radiation belt like Jupiter’s. ” The Industrialist and Philanthropist was quoted as saying..
For this, Sir Peter Weyland has been nominated for the Nobel Prize next year. If he wins, it will make him the fourth person in history that won the Nobel prize twice, and the third to win it in the same category.
- o –
The End.