Order.
Clarity.
If the Xenomorph had been human, she would have made one hell of a writer. Such an organized mind, no detail would go unattended. She would put most writers to shame, many lacked even the simple ability to maintain continuity. But there was continuity within her mind - everything centered around survival.
In two hours and thirty-seven minutes the tattered remains of a game would be found. Blood would be found. The owners of that blood would not be found.
In two hours and thirty-eight minutes, a hysterical woman would make a call to the local police. By then, humanities fate would already be sealed.
The remains of Kenneth, Josh, Marcus, Allison, and Fluffy (Jill's cat) were already being processed and fueling Jill's new body and mind. They wouldn't be with her in heart, that concept was alien to Jill now... but they were with her... in her upper digestive track; bits and pieces slowly dissolving in the harsh acid secretions that broke the Xenomorph's food down into basic components for digestion. A skull fragment here, a tongue there, a finger, a toe, a tail, a liver... a stew of dying tissue, sacrificed for the Xenomorph's Directive.
These 'humans' - these alien beings - could not comprehend their importance to the Queen. They didn't have the clarity of mind to see The Directive as she did. Their minds were feeble, clouded with foolishness and nonesense, unorganized emotion. But they were the tools by which the Queen would bring a new hive of her people into existance. Notions of sentiment, fear, anger, glory, love... they didn't cloud her mind like they did those of the humans. The humans' instincts were all too often broken, mislaid. Their emotions made them do things contrary to their own survival, to The Directive. They were destructive, even worse - self-destructive. They were a menace to the galaxy. The Queen's sense of respect was quite different from that of a human, but even she saw how little respect most humans had for one another. They killed not only for their Directive, but sometimes for reasons contrary to their own survival and CONTRARY to The Directive. The Queen knew that death must always serve The Directive. There would be much death. It was necessary to fulfill The Directive, and so it WOULD serve it. And within the confines of her orderly mind, the Queen knew it would be glorious.
The queen rested. She had already found what she had needed. Shelter. A dark, damp place where she could fulfill the mandates of her nature.
Whether part of the spell, or whether the human Jill had a remarkable immune and reproductive system that had carried over to the Xenomorph form, things were progressing much faster than was even normal for a Xenomorph. Somehow the Queen knew this. Perhaps the survival instincts of a thousand generations of Xenomorphs had crossed over into her DNA when the spell had remade her. Whatever the cause, she knew things. She looked at her massive egg sack draped out behind her, and she knew that it wouldn't be long now.
Soon the eggs would be laid.
Soon the seed layers would hatch and impregnate the hosts she already had secured to one wall of the tunnel.
Earth would be remade.
Humans would become livestock alongside the cow and the lamb. They would resist, that was in their nature. In the end, the humans would fail. Their irrational and selfish nature would be their undoing.