Space Station

The ship flew quietly through the starry sky.

"Drinking fat-nerd happy water out in the universe really hits different." Ian leaned back in the cockpit seat, toying with the blue egg in his hand.

There were a few more cracks in the shell than before. Blue light seeped through them, casting a soft halo in the dim cockpit.

"Hiss, hiss, hiss!" The little Xenomorph lay sprawled across his knees, belly up, all four limbs spread wide, sleeping soundly. Its body was already a size larger than when he had first picked it up, its black skin smoother, its tail longer. Every now and then, it flicked in its sleep and slapped Ian's arm.

It made a soft patter.

This thing really grew fast.

He wondered whether the people in the God Kingdom could develop Xenomorph cuisine. How should he put it? This was a creature whose rate of putting on meat was comparable to Warhammer universe military rations.

"A space station has been detected ahead." Black Box's voice sounded, Tony Stark's lazy tone carrying a hint of boredom. "It's a trade station, with all kinds of civilizations. Need supplies?"

Ian thought for a moment. "Stop for a bit. The ship's low on fuel. Mm, that excuse isn't good enough. I just want to see if there's anything interesting while we're there."

"Interesting things? Do you mean like the Xenomorph, or like the Weeping Angel?"

"Either works."

Black Box sighed. The ship slowed, gradually approaching the space station.

It was a huge ring-shaped structure, roughly five kilometers in diameter, slowly rotating among the stars. All kinds of ships were docked along the exterior—some looked like metal beetles, some like glowing shells, and some like twisted branches. Looking out through the porthole, he could see creatures of every species moving around inside