The Prometheus had state-of-the-art recording equipment, which meant that everything that happened next was preserved for posterity.
The boarding party entered the Magellan's Hope first, documenting the carnage they found within. The bodies—or what remained of them—were photographed, sampled, and bagged for later study. The blood patterns were analyzed. The trajectory of the attacks was mapped.
And in engineering, they found the torch.
Doctor Mercier examined it personally, noting the scorch marks on the creature's hide that still adhered to the nozzle. "They fought back," he murmured. "Remarkable. They actually managed to wound it."
"Wound what, sir?" asked one of the security officers.
"Why, whatever did this, of course." Mercier bagged the torch carefully. "We'll need to find it. Capture it, if possible. Think of what we could learn."
The security officer looked unconvinced. "Sir, whatever did this killed seven people. Maybe we should just blow the ship and go home."
"And miss the opportunity of a lifetime?" Mercier laughed. "Nonsense. This is what we came for. This is what Weyland-Yutani pays us for."
They moved on to the alien vessel, where the real discoveries awaited.
The egg chamber was intact—hundreds of eggs, still pulsing with inner life. The scientists went into a frenzy, taking samples, running tests, arguing over taxonomy and classification. Mercier stood in the center of it all, arms spread wide, drinking in the wonder of it.
"Imagine," he breathed. "A complete alien ecosystem. A new branch of life, entirely separate from anything on Earth. This is bigger than Darwin. Bigger than Einstein. This is—"
One of the eggs opened.