wc: 1.4k
a/n: Just a heads-up! This mini-series was originally a one-shot but ended up longer than expected. So once I post the final chapter (when Andy chases Navarro and Bjorn after the facehugger incident), that will be the end of the Phantom Code series. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
It lingers like a half-forgotten dream, a distant warmth that fades with each passing day. Hard to even believe you ever felt it.
Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you can almost feel it: soft and golden, brushing against your skin like the wind.
But here on Jackson's Star, the sun is nothing more than a ghost. It's a myth—a wishful story where the only source of light is from the cold, artificial glow of machinery.
This planet—this forsaken mining colony—is all you've ever known; your prison and your home. You don't remember how you got here, and never really understood why.
Your parents were never meant to be here, that much you knew. They were once something else—Weyland-Yutani engineers and technologists, people who made things better.
Specifically, they worked with androids.
Seeing first-hand the abuse and mistreatment of the synthetics, they tried to change the way they were treated. They spoke out against the horrors, fighting to stop the androids from being nothing more than tools and trash.
But the world doesn't like change, not when it threatens the order of things.
And so for their efforts, your parents were stripped of everything: their titles, their work, their lives as they knew it. Sent away to this death trap of a planet where they could be forgotten.
They never spoke much about the past. But in the quiet moments, when they thought you were asleep, you'd hear them whisper about it—about the life they once had, about the things they lost.
And you'd feel the weight of it, heavy and suffocating, until it was hard to breathe...
You were already half asleep when your mother tucked you into bed, her hands gentle but worn from the day's work.
The faint hum of the machinery outside your small window was a lullaby you'd grown used to, a constant presence that wrapped around you like a blanket.
As she leaned down to kiss your forehead, the shadows deepened the lines on her face.
"Sleep tight, my little Byte," she whispered, her voice tinged with a weariness that you couldn't quite place. "Dream of better things."
You nodded, your eyelids heavy from the weight of the day. Yet your mind was still awake, filled with thoughts that always seemed to follow you into sleep.
Why were you here? What had happened to the life you once had? Why did it all feel like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from?
But soon sleep came, as it always did, pulling you under with the promise of oblivion.
Until the whispers woke you.
At first, you thought it was part of a dream, the murmurs blending with the darkness. But then you heard it: harsh whispers and a heavy thud that filtered through your half-open door.
"...please...have to help me..."
The voice was unfamiliar, but there was something desperate in it that sent a shiver down your spine. Your heart pounded as you slipped out of bed, your feet barely making a sound on the cold, metal floor.
Creeping towards the door, you peer out, straining to catch more of the conversation.
"...can't keep here...it's too dangerous..."
"...kept hidden for this long...don't know where else to..."
There, in the small dimly lit sitting area, stood your parents with their backs to you; instead facing a man who looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
He was tall, deep lines etched into his face. His eyes were dark and tired, pleading and desperate. There was something about him that tugged at your memory, a vague recognition.
Mr. Carradine. You'd heard your parents mention him a few times in passing.
He was the man you'd occasionally see walking with your father, their heads bowed in conversation as they made their way back from the mines.
But seeing him here, in your home, with that look in his eyes—it was different. He seemed older, more worn down, as if whatever burden he carried had finally become too much to bear.
Your father's voice was tense as he spoke, "Carradine you know we can't... it's too risky."
"Please," Mr. Carradine interrupted, his voice breaking. "I'm begging you. She's all we have. I can't do this alone."
The room fell quiet, air thick with the weight of unspoken words. You saw your father glance to your mother, his expression torn as his shoulders sag in defeat.
Deciding you've snooped enough you move to go back to bed. But your arm brushes against the door as you did, causing it to creak. Three pairs of eyes turns toward you.
Your mother's eyes widened at the sight of you. "Sweetheart," she whispered, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, "you should be in bed."
You stepped forward, unable to keep the question from spilling out. "What's happening?"
Mr. Carradine fumbles. You immediately catch his movements, his hands swiftly pulling down on a tarp to cover whatever's underneath—a tarp you don't recall seeing before bed.
Seeing your interest piqued, your father hesitates for a moment before ultimately letting out a resigned sigh.
"Sweetheart," your father starts, voice cracked. But he stops, glancing at Mr. Carradine.
The man's gaze softened in understanding before nodding. "It's alright," he said quietly. "She deserves to know."
Your father meets your mothers gaze once more, another silent conversation passing between them.
"Alright, sweetheart," he motions for you to come closer, a weariness in his voice you couldn't refuse.
You approached them slowly, your eyes flicking between the three adults before landing on the tarp-covered object on the kitchen table.
When you were close enough, your father gently placed a hand on your shoulder, as if grounding himself before he spoke.
"Mr. Carradine found something," he explained, his words heavy with meaning you didn't fully grasp. "Someone, really. He... he's an android, one that was meant to be scrapped."
Your heart skipped a beat. An android?
You knew what androids were—machines made to look like people, to work like people, to serve people...but weren't people at all.
They were always treated as less than human, as nothing more than tools. You'd seen the way people talked about them, the way they were discarded when they were no longer useful.
"Why is he here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Carradine gave a nervous hum as if to keep himself from crying.
"Rain...my little girl....she has no one but me an' her mom," he said, voice cracking on the words. "I've been hiding him, but I can't do it alone. I need your parents' help to keep him safe...to keep her safe."
He steps forward and pulled back the tar—
your breath catches in your throat.
There, lifelessly sitting in one of your dining chairs, was the most beautiful android you'd ever seen.
The synthetic skin that covered him was a soft, smooth and flawless warm shade of brown that almost glowed in the dim light.
His hair was short and tightly curled, sitting perfectly in place with each strand meticulously crafted to maintain its natural look.
His broad shoulders were relaxed, but there was a strength in his posture. Large hands rested on his lap, fingers curled as if they might twitch to life at any moment.
If you didn't know better, you'd think he was human.
His face is what got you, it held a sort of softness that was disarming: full lips that were slightly parted as if caught mid-breath, closed eyelids framed by dark lashes that rested against his cheeks like shadows.
It made his appearance oddly serene —like he was simply sleeping, not powered-down.
He made your mind fuzzy in a way that it shouldn't, but it did.
"What's his name?" you whispered, awe and confusion trembling your voice.
Mr. Carradine's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Andy," he said quietly. "His name is Andy."
Andy...
The name echoed in your mind. The longer you looked at him, the more something stirred in your chest—a spark, a connection you couldn't explain.
But in that moment, none of it mattered.
All you could do was stare, your eyes fixed on his face. Your heart pounded as you whisper his name under your breath
wc: 1.2k
a/n: Just a heads-up! This mini-series was originally a one-shot but ended up longer than expected. So once I post the final chapter (when Andy chases Navarro and Bjorn after the facehugger incident), that will be the end of the Phantom Code series. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
You were in the middle of your shift when it happened.
The hum of the machinery was a familiar comfort, the routine maintenance tasks performed almost second nature by now.
Suddenly without warning, you were called to report to a meeting. It was brief, no explanation given. Just a directive to come immediately.
And even though the abruptness of the call made you uneasy, you pushed the feeling aside. It was probably just a routine briefing, nothing more.
It wasn't until you arrived at the designated room that you realized something was very, very wrong.
Bjorn was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. You didn't say anything to him, and he didn't speak to you.
You noticed a young girl sitting off to the side, barely a teenager.
She was too young to be working in the mines, and yet, here she was: her wide eyes darting between you and Bjorn.
You recognized her—she was supposed to start her training soon, but hadn't officially begun working yet.
Why she was here only made the situation even more unsettling.
The three of you exchanged uneasy glances, wondering what was going on. Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last.
Until finally, an official walked in. The man's face was solemn, he didn't bother with introductions or small talk.
Eyes swept over the three of you before speaking, his voice so flat it sent chills down your spine. "There was an accident in Sector 7 today. A gas leak."
Your heart sank. Sector 7....
That was where your father had been working. The knot of dread in your stomach tightened.
You wanted to believe it wasn't as bad as it sounded, but the look on the official's face told you otherwise.
"The leak spread rapidly," the official continued, his tone grim. "The android supervisor for that division on-site—Model HY-471—made the order to seal off part of the sector to contain it. In doing so, three miners were trapped inside... and sacrificed to save the rest of the team."
The first name was your father's. It hit you like a physical blow, the breath leaving your lungs as you tried to process what you'd just heard.
The other names barely registered—Bjorn's mother, and Marcus Harland, another miner you vaguely knew.
You felt like you were floating outside of your own body, watching everything unfold from a distance.
The young girl crumpled to the floor, her uncontrollable sobs tearing through the otherwise silent room.
You saw the color drain from Bjorn's face as he stared blankly ahead. He didn't say a word, didn't move, as if the news had frozen him in place.
The rest of the meeting was a blur. You didn't remember leaving the room, didn't remember walking out of the building.
It wasn't until you stepped into the cold night air that the world started to come back into focus. The streets were in full movement, thrumming with life as if yours hadn't just ended.
You took a few steps, your body moving slow and mechanical as if on autopilot.
Shoulders of passersby bump into you, jostling your frame, but you barely feel it. You just need to keep moving, to do something...anything, other than stand there.
Staring at the ground as you walk, a pair of shoes came into view. It was Bjorn.
His face was blank, his nose raw from the cold or from holding back tears—maybe both. His steps were slow, almost mindless, like he didn't know where he was going.
When your eyes met, there was no need for words. You both understood.
You fell into sync, walking side by side in silence for what felt like eternity. It wasn't until you neared your homes did Bjorn suddenly stop.
His shoulders began to shake, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to hold back.
You hesitate for a moment before stepping closer, reaching out to him. The moment your hand touched his arm, it was like something inside him broke.
Bjorn fell to his knees as he finally let go of everything he had been holding back. He buried his face into your shoulder, his body wracked with sobs as he clung to you for support.
You held him tightly as your own tears surfaced, the loss of your father hitting you with a force that left you breathless.
"I-I don't know what to do," Bjorn choked out, his voice barely audible between his tears. "She's gone... m-my m-mom's gone..."
"I know," you whispered, your own voice trembling as you try to stay calm. "I know, Bjorn. I'm so sorry."
The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, your arms wrapped around him as he poured out his heart.
It was a sight to many who considered it a regular day; no one stopped to console or empathize, instead just continuing with their own lives.
When Bjorn's sobs finally began to quiet, you gently pulled back with comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You'll get through this," you said softly, though the words felt hollow in your mouth. "I know you will..."
Bjorn nodded, though his eyes were still filled with a sadness that seemed too deep for words. He didn't say anything, just looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
The rest of the walk home was quiet, both of you lost in thought. When you finally reached your door, you hesitated, turning to Bjorn one last time.
"If you ever need to talk..." you began, but he cut you off with a nod.
"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you." With that, he turned and walked away, his figure blending into the crowded street.
In the days and weeks that followed, you found yourself slipping deep into a depression you couldn't seem to escape from.
It was a struggle to get out of bed each morning, to find the energy to face the world. You rarely went out unless you had to.
Work had became your only salvation; a place where you could lose yourself in the monotony of tasks that required no thought—no emotion.
The grief was always there. It lurked at the edges of your mind, threatening to pull you under if you let your guard down.
What happened that night was never brought up, the vulnerability that had been shared left unspoken.
But even so, something shifted between you and Bjorn. He seemed to act...differently.
He wasn't as brash with you, not as quick with his teasing. There was a gentleness inn the way he spoke to you, something that hadn't been there before.
Still the same impulsive and headstrong person, there was now an undertone of care in his actions toward you.
Yeah he still teased you, but it was different—less biting, more affectionate, almost protective.
And the way he looked at you; at times where no one paid attention, the softest lidded eyes would stare your way.
Bjorn (unbeknownst to you) had even began to badger Rain with questions about you, trying to learn more about the person who had comforted him in his darkest hour.
He may not fully understand these feelings: the grief of losing a parent, a newfound hatred for synthetics, the hope and excitement at getting out of this mining hellhole.
But one thing he did know for sure...there, in that whirlpool of emotions, was a budding crush for you.
wc: 1.3k
a/n: Just a heads-up! This mini-series was originally a one-shot but ended up longer than expected. So once I post the final chapter (when Andy chases Navarro and Bjorn after the facehugger incident), that will be the end of the Phantom Code series. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
After that night, your parents reluctantly agreed to help Mr. Carradine.
Your mother, with her skills in engineering and maintenance, took it upon herself to make sure he stayed functioning.
She would spend hours reading over schematics; surveying the company's scrap yards, marking down the locations of parts that could be used to keep him working.
Your father also played a part in keeping Andy safe.
He and Mr. Carradine would go out at night, scavenging for the parts your mother had identified, risking everything to ensure that Andy stayed hidden.
It was a dangerous game, but they played it for the sake of family.
You ended up spending a lot of time with the synthetic, learning everything you could from your parents.
They taught you about his systems, his coding—everything they knew—so that you could if they were no longer around.
Soon you became proficient, able to handle most of the routine maintenance on your own.
As for the crush you had on him, it faded as all childhood infatuations do. You grew older, wiser, and understood that Andy was a synthetic being—an android, not a human.
But that didn't erase the fondness you felt for the android. You found yourself flushing at the small, thoughtful gestures he made, even if they were merely a result of his programming.
Life at the moment was getting better...
...until it wasn't.
It was a bitter winter, the cold seeped into every corner of the colony.
Pneumonia claimed your mother and the Carradines; leaving behind you, your father, and the Carradines' daughter—Rain.
As for her, she had become more distant after that, retreating into herself.
The reminders of what she had lost were too much for her to bear, and the bond between your families began to unravel with each passing day.
Your father did his best to fill the void left by your mother's absence, but it was clear that he was struggling. He became a sort of pseudo-guardian to Rain, checking in on her when he could, trying to keep the connection alive.
But Rain wasn't interested in the connection. The only thing that kept her tethered to you at all was Andy.
After your mother's death, you inherited her role of maintaining.
You would visit Rain's home, check up on his functioning and giving her the occasional lesson in how to care for him herself.
These visits were often brief, filled with awkward silences and the ghost of what had once been.
Like now: alone with Andy, muttering to yourself during a tricky repair—a habit gotten from your mother as a way to keep thoughts organized as you tinkered with circuits and lines of code.
"W-why...do you talk...to yourself?" Andy's voice stuttered, catching slightly before he could finish the question.
You blinked in surprise and looked up. He was already staring at you—his eyes, usually still, flickered slightly.
The intensity of his dark gaze seemed to pierce through you, making your heart skip.
"I... uh..." You stammered, feeling heat creep up your neck. "I-I guess it helps me keep track of what I'm doing. Talking out loud, I mean. It's easier for me to...organize my thoughts that...way?"
Your explanation felt clumsy, and you half-expected him to nod and move on, but he didn't. His stare remained unbroken.
"I... see," he said with a noticeable pause between words, voice crackling as if struggling to process each syllable. "C-can you... explain... what you're doing?"
His request caught you off guard, and you weren't quite sure how to respond. It made your stomach flip in an unfamiliar way.
"Um... y-yeah sure," you finally said, offering a small, shy smile as you tried to ignore the way your heart was racing. "Yeah, I think it would help."
So you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you turned your attention back to the task. You began to explain what you were doing, talking through each step in greater detail than before, as if teaching him as you went along.
It was awkward at first; your words came out stiff. You stumbled over explanations, acutely aware of Andy's gaze on you.
But then, something shifted.
As you got deeper into the explanation, the nervousness faded and was instead replaced by the familiar focus you always felt when working.
The more you talked, the more you lost yourself in the technicalities of the process. And soon enough, you found your rhythm again.
"So that's why we need to adjust this part here," you continued as you worked, "If we don't, it could lead to a power imbalance, which would mess with your central processing unit."
Andy said nothing, simply watching as you spoke. There was no reaction from him, other than an involuntarily twitch of his fingers and the occasional sudden jerk of the head.
Suddenly aware of how much you were talking, embarrassment crept in, he probably didn't understand half of what you were saying.
"I-I'm sorry for rambling! I didn't mean to go on and on like that. I know it's probably boring to hear me—"
"Don't... be," Andy interrupted, his flat and stilted tone cutting through your self-consciousness. "I... like the... sound... of your voice."
The words jolted you.
You knew he meant it innocently—he was an android, after all, and couldn't possibly understand the implications of what he'd just said.
But that didn't stop the shiver of excitement that ran down your spine, the way your heart seemed to flutter in your chest.
"O-Oh," was all you could manage, your face getting hotter by the second.
]You tried to brush off the feeling, to remind yourself that he was just a machine, but it was harder than you expected.
Because, despite everything, Andy was attractive—stunning, even.
The way his dark smooth skin contrasted with the gentle coils of his hair, the way his (kissable) lips parted ever so slightly when he listened—it was impossible to ignore.
Then there were his eyes. Oh, his eyes.
Always seemed to hold more than they should, that he was seeing something in you no one else did. It was enough to make your breath hitch.
To make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than you'd known.
But what you didn't know was that Andy was learning. Every word you said, every concept you explained, he absorbed it all with the precision of a machine.
He wasn't just listening to the sound of your voice—he was processing everything, storing the knowledge you shared, and soon enough, he understood coding just as well as you did.
It was one of those things that fell into a comfortable middle ground—neither too close nor too distant.
You weren't best friends; not the kind who shared secrets and dreams, who leaned on each other through thick and thin.
But you weren't strangers, either.
It was a kind of relationship that only existed because your parents knew each other, a connection formed out of circumstance rather than choice.
And so, most of your interactions with Rain were brief—exchanging greetings in passing, a nod, a polite smile.
Rain had her own life and friends—Tyler and his sister Kay, Bjorn and his adoptive sister Navarro. They were always together, a tight-knit group that seemed to share everything with each other while you stayed on the outskirts.
You didn't mind; being on the outside let you to observe without getting too involved, and that suited you just fine.
You actually got along with them all—except for Bjorn that is. You never particularly liked him.
He was brash, loud, and often rude with a temper that flared up at the smallest provocation. He seemed to delight in teasing you, making offhand comments that would get under your skin.
To you, Bjorn was an asshole, plain and simple. And you did your best to avoid him whenever possible.
But life has a way of forcing people together, especially in the wake of tragedy.
I find it kind of disheartening to see posts complaining of the love Andy from Alien: Romulus is getting. Like to go through the tags to see a post talking about me (cause I'm not seeing any other ones calling Andy a Retriever), assuming I'm infantilizing him because I called him cute???
Like where do you get that from? Yes, I understand how big the gap is between poc characters and their white counterparts, but I don't like the fact they were quick to jump and place me in that box when the fact they don't even know I'm a black autistic writer in the process of some drafts focusing on Andy. To be quick to assume I will praise and focus on white male characters than him os WILD.
I messaged them privately to say I'm not doing that, but me personally, I just had to make a official post to get this off my chest
Like damn I can't call him cute?? No worries, I blocked them so they won't have to see any of my future content when I officially start posting Andy fics.
I have a bit of a secret. Well not much of a secret, actually, but it’s something I’ve been working on.
I have another blog that I work on with my Hubby called, ‘What Andy Does”. www.whatandydoes.wordpress.com
When Hubby was gifted with a small rubber HTC Android Toy, just before going on tour with the kids in Europe, he decided that “Andy” should go along with us for the ride. Almost immediately, Andy was a naughty little droid and came free from his lobster claw hook and that’s when we knew he’d never survive the rigors of travel through Italy and Germany in that fashion, so into Hubby’s pocket he went.
While we were on the bus, with plenty of time to act like silly people, we started taking some photos of Andy in different places for Hubby to send out on his Twitter Stream. Most of the photos were really cute and some were downright clever, but the response we got from people back home meant that Andy had claimed an audience of his own and so was born his blog, “What Andy Does”.
Now Andy travels with us everywhere and you never know where or when he’ll show up. Hubby and I have found that we look at the world with a new perspective. One that comes from the vantage point of a tiny lime green guy and his adventures in the world. Go check him out!
