That’s when she heard it. The splashing. It took everything in her to reach up and catch the Facehugger, its tail whipping wildly, looking to catch her throat.

She howled in panic and fury. She could picture Gardner in her mind, that thing latched to him. That wasn’t going to be her.

The ship sat smoking, practically in pieces. There was no longer protective glass at the cockpit. The cargo was spilled everywhere, barrels and boxes floating in the waves.

As the cargo began to sink, three barrels sunk particularly faster than the others, the open eggs quickly lost to the waves.

A shooting star? A meteorite?

No, it’s too big to be either of those. Too manmade. That’s a crashing ship.