"After all, if you want to carry out interstellar voyages that last for decades, it's impossible without using cryogenic sleep chambers."
Just when George was feeling a bit puzzled, the characters on screen spoke, answering his doubts almost perfectly.
A strange thought flickered through George's mind. He was about to say something, but before he could, he was drawn back into the story again.
A weird signal tone suddenly sounded. George froze for a moment, turned his head to look, and found that everyone else was also staring in the same direction. The sound had come from a console full of buttons and strange devices.
"It's a signal. Seems like a distress call… but not quite." The one speaking was Ash, the Nostromo's science officer—a reliable man. On this ship, all the technical problems usually ended up in Ash's hands.
"Well, isn't this interesting? We were just woken up, and already we've received a signal." The captain of the Nostromo, Dallas, looked amused as he walked up to the console and checked the source of the transmission.
Kane followed along, still holding a drowsy Pikachu in his arms.
"Sorry about this. Pikachu's sleep pod had some kind of malfunction," Kane said apologetically, his expression awkward.
"Kane, it's not your fault. Still, I didn't expect the company's equipment to be this unreliable." Dallas shrugged and tapped at the console, trying to respond to the strange signal. But the more he looked at the readout, the more his expression grew uncertain.
Ash also leaned over to inspect the instrument panel.
"There's no reply at all. It seems the other side is simply transmitting on loop." Ash's tone was calm, but Dallas was tempted to shut the whole thing off. They had already completed the company's assigned mission on the Nostromo; all that remained was to return home.
But just then, another message arrived.
"Looks like we've got work to do. The company sent an order—go investigate the source of that signal." Dallas sighed helplessly. He had never wanted to interfere. As a captain, he understood all too well the most important rule in this cold and endless void:
Mind your own business.
But orders were orders. The company had spoken, and Dallas couldn't disobey.
After all, he still had a thirty-year mortgage and car loan to pay off. Without the company's generous salary, how else was he supposed to support his family?
"Oh, Arceus… fine, let's take a look." Dallas rubbed his temples, then pulled up the coordinates of the signal and steered the Nostromo toward the designated location. Soon, the source of the transmission came into view.
"The signal seems to be coming from that asteroid." Ash pointed it out. George stared curiously at the lonely rock. Against the backdrop of the vast, silent cosmos, it exuded an eerie sense of desolation.
What exactly was it? Why would a signal come from here? What secret was hidden inside this barren place? George couldn't stop wondering.
But someone had to go down and investigate, and someone else had to remain on the ship for backup. Decisions like these were left to Dallas.
The captain quickly chose his away team: himself, Kane, and Lambert—along with Pikachu—to explore the signal's source. The rest would stay aboard, while the third officer worked to decode the signal fully.
Kane followed along, descending to the asteroid's surface. Soon they discovered the wreckage of a massive alien spacecraft. Despite his unease, Kane trailed the others inside.
"You know, I don't really understand why the company insisted we bring Pikachu on this mission. A Pokémon doesn't seem very suited for a job like this," Lambert muttered as they moved deeper.
"Maybe they thought we'd get lonely otherwise. Besides, if the ship has a power failure, Pikachu could restore energy." Kane explained naturally while examining the alien corridors lined with bizarre symbols, utterly indecipherable.
Strange equipment was scattered throughout. The designs were alien, but in some ways resembled their own ship.
"Actually, Kane, you forgot one point," Dallas added with a chuckle, stroking the spacesuit-clad Pikachu in his arms. "The company also wanted to test how Pokémon adapt to different planetary environments."
Pikachu squeaked in protest, glaring at Dallas before curiously glancing around.
"These symbols… what could they mean?" Dallas eyed the wall, tempted to reach out and touch the markings. Before he could, Lambert's startled voice rang out:
"Look over here, I found something!"
Kane followed her into a large chamber. His eyes widened—the place was filled with rows upon rows of strange, leathery eggs.
"What are these? Eggs? Or maybe just decorations?" Kane muttered, bewildered. Pikachu padded closer, ears twitching.
At that moment, Dallas received a transmission from the Nostromo: the signal had been fully decoded.
And it wasn't a distress call.
It was a warning.
A warning to keep away from this place!
"Kane!" Dallas burst into the chamber, but he was too late. The eggs were already opening.
Kane had stepped closer to peer inside, only to be pounced on by a grotesque, spider-like creature that leapt from within and clamped onto his face.
He struggled violently, but the alien's speed was inhuman. He opened his mouth to scream—only for a long, fleshy tube to shoot down his throat.
The sensation was horrifying. Kane thought of undergoing a gastroscopy before, except this was far worse—agonizing, invasive, and unbearable. He felt something being pumped into his stomach.
His body stiffened before collapsing unconscious. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Pikachu—similarly attacked, its face also sealed by one of the creatures.
When Kane awoke, he was lying in the ship's med bay, surrounded by crewmates. Pikachu was alive and staring at him curiously. He sat up in confusion. What had happened?
Dallas didn't dwell on it. Since Kane seemed fine, he decided to head back.
But shortly after lunch, Kane felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He collapsed, writhing, clutching at his body in terror—until something tore its way out through his ribs.
A small, hideous creature burst from his chest. Kane's scream was cut off as life drained away. He lay limp, dead.
The next moment, George's perspective shifted—now he was Ellen Ripley, the Nostromo's true protagonist.
He looked down upon Kane's broken body and Pikachu's torn-open corpse. Both had fallen victim to the alien monstrosity. The creatures themselves had vanished into the ship, their whereabouts unknown.
"Ugh—" George stumbled into the restroom, clutching his chest. He tried to suppress the nausea, but when a foul stench wafted in from the next stall, he doubled over and vomited violently.
"This movie… ugh… I've never seen anything this disgusting in my life!"
Voices outside the restroom only made things worse. They were already discussing Edward's newest film, Alien. Just hearing the title triggered fresh images in Kane's mind, and he gagged again, retching helplessly.
From a professional critic's standpoint, however, George had to admit—this was a masterpiece.
Edward's patented filming technology was more refined than ever. His camera work, his use of language and visual storytelling, all had improved drastically compared to Dead Silence, One Missed Call, or even the highly popular Sherlock Holmes.
Every element—sound design, acting, effects—was flawlessly executed. Nothing felt jarring or fake.
But the visceral experience… was unlike anything Kane had endured.
To watch himself die in such grotesque fashion, to see the creature slaughter the crew in every horrific way imaginable, to live through jump scare after jump scare as though he were part of the story—it was almost too much.
From that perspective, the film deserved nothing less than a perfect score. But the side effects… were brutal.
He couldn't eat. He couldn't stop replaying the images. The alien impaling someone with its tail, ripping out entrails, then slicing the body in half in a spray of gore…
"Urghhh—" George vomited again.
He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop.
The film was so nauseating it could make anyone lose their appetite. Combined with the new immersive technology, Edward had, unintentionally, invented the most effective weight-loss program for moviegoers.
"Still… from a science fiction perspective, it checks every box. Alien spacecraft, extraterrestrial lifeforms, parasitism, cryo-pods, speculations about the cosmos." George thought aloud. As long as he avoided remembering the gore, it was easier to evaluate.
By the standards of Unova's latest film competition, Edward's Alien was more than qualified.
The director's imagination was, as always, boundless.
Just then, George's phone buzzed. His eyes lit up as he read the news, then hurried out.
Edward's film had officially premiered.
[Edward's new film Alien premieres! On opening day, theater restrooms are filled with furious janitors.]
[Alien: a bold, shocking vision of the cosmos. Daring predictions and unforgettable horror.]
[First-day box office exceeds 400 million before evening; Edward's patented tech captivates audiences.]
By two in the afternoon, the numbers were already climbing past 500 million. Edward was raking in profits—especially since the most expensive part, the spaceship sets, had been paid for by the Indigo League.
For him, it was nearly pure profit.
"Of course, this also means those people will be causing trouble again… I just hope I can win more awards this time." Edward rubbed his temples. Moments earlier, he had been delighted. But the reality sank in quickly: such massive success would stir resentment across the industry.
He couldn't solve it easily. Unless he somehow managed to produce more of his revolutionary cameras, sooner or later, the entire film world would turn against him.
"It's not going to be easy…" Edward sighed. He still hadn't figured out a solution.
(End of Chapter)