Alien: Earth episode 6 review — The Fly — Hybrid debates, corrosive beasts, and a question of free will

Scene from Alien: Earth | Image via: Disney+
Scene from Alien: Earth | Image via: Disney+

Alien: Earth episode 6, “The Fly,” carries a title loaded with horror history, but instead of paying homage to Cronenberg’s grotesque masterpiece (as I would expect from the title), it turns the image inward.

The flies here are not about transformation but annihilation, arriving in the form of airborne beasts with acidic bite that tear through flesh and trust alike.

What begins as a seemingly more restrained chapter after the previous episode’s intensity soon reveals itself as a philosophical gauntlet: the alien dread running through Alien: Earth grows heavier here, circling back to the same question: what does it mean to be human, and who gets to decide?

Scene from the show | Image via: Disney+
Scene from the show | Image via: Disney+

Talking to monsters like old friends

The opening sequence is unforgettable. Wendy, face to face with the growing Xenomorph, speaks to it with unsettling calm. The image echoes Harry Potter talking to a snake through glass, only notches up into something sinister and uncanny.

It’s a conversation that feels more intimate than hostile, and that very intimacy makes it dangerous. We’re watching her connection to the creature evolve, and it’s as chilling as it is fascinating.

"They did not ask to come here,"she said.

Alien: Earth uses this moment to blur the line between tenderness and threat.

Scene from the show | Image via: Disney+
Scene from the show | Image via: Disney+

The onion and the star

The episode is rich in philosophical barbs, and none cuts deeper than the line about humans taking care of hybrids to “an onion asking how to take care of a star.” It’s brutal, poetic, and funny in the cruelest way, reminding us that categories like “human” or “machine” dissolve the moment you press too hard.

These conversations make Alien: Earth more than horror. They make it allegory, testing the limits of empathy and arrogance in equal measure. The show thrives on this tension, always reframing what identity means in a universe ruled by control.

Nibs, memory, and autonomy

The subplot with Nibs deepens that sense of unease. Prodigy’s pressure to reset her memory feels reckless, a move that risks exposure at every corner. And yet Dame Sylvia, once the supposed moral compass, gives in.

It’s a betrayal that stings harder because it’s done in silence. Parallel to that, Wendy delivers her own sharp counterpoint. When her brother tries to drag her away, she simply asks,

“What if I don’t want to?”

That single question shatters the illusion that she has no choice. It’s the heartbeat of the episode, free will asserting itself against manipulation.

Scene from the show | Image via: Disney+
Scene from the show | Image via: Disney+

The brutal cost of survival in Alien: Earth

No episode of Alien: Earth would be complete without body horror, and here it arrives with Tootles’ horrifying death. Caught in the swarm of corrosive fly-beasts, his fate is grotesque, vivid, and unforgettable.

Acid eats through him as if the show is reminding us: the corporations can spin immortality and progress, but bodies remain fragile, and blood always tells the truth. Alien: Earth leans into its trademark horror here, confronting us with the cost of survival.

Cliffhangers and betrayals

The closing beats escalate in ways both tragic and inevitable: Slightly unleashes a facehugger, and Arthur, who has fought hardest to keep a moral line, becomes its victim. It’s the perfect storm of manipulations and accidents, leaving us with a cliffhanger that doesn’t feel cheap but cruelly earned.

Alien: Earth ends this chapter with a loss that will shape the rest of the season.

Rating with a touch of flair: 4 out of 5 corrosive flies buzzing with dread.


While The Fly may not be as intense as the previous chapter, it sharpens the philosophical edge of Alien: Earth while still delivering shocking body horror. It slips a point in momentum, but what it gains in allegory and character defiance makes it one of the most thoughtful entries yet.

Edited by Beatrix Kondo