Alien 3

by Alan Dean Foster

  It had attracted its share of stares when it had first been hauled inside the complex. Ripley drew rather more as she and Clemens approached. She did a much better job of pretending not to notice than the prisoners did of trying not to look.

  ‘Just what kind of place is this work prison?’ she asked her guide as they started up a ramp towards the battered lifeship.

  Clemens stayed close. ‘Used to be a mine cum refinery. Mostly platinum-group minerals. Naturally the raw ore was refined on the spot. Much cheaper than shipping it offworld for processing elsewhere. I understand there was a considerable rise in the price of platinum about the time the ore body here was located. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been worth the Company’s while to go to the expense of setting up a facility this size this far from any point of consumption. It was a rich lode, highly concentrated.’

  ‘And now?’ She had stopped outside the EEV and was inspecting the damaged hull.

  ‘Weyland-Yutani’s got it on hold. Interstellar commodities trading isn’t exactly my speciality and I don’t know that anybody here gets their jollies from following the relevant rises and falls in raw materials prices. I think I heard that a drop in the price of the refined metal was accompanied by less need for the stuff.

  ‘So most of the equipment here’s been mothballed. Not worth the expense of moving it, not worth enough as salvage. There’s still ore in the ground and if the price goes up I’m sure the Company would reopen. That means we’d probably get moved. Wouldn’t do to have felons associating with nice, moral miners. Not that anybody would mind being shifted off this rock. The change would be sweet and it’s pretty hard to conceive of anyplace else being worse.

  ‘So we’re just caretakers, just a custodial staff. Keeps things from freezing up in case the price of the ore or the need for it goes back up. Works out well for the government and the Company.’

  ‘I’d think you’d go crazy after a year or so in a place like this.’

  Clemens had to laugh. ‘That’s what they said some of us were before we were sent here. But I don’t think we are, at least not the majority of us. The isolation isn’t nearly so trying if you can learn to think of yourself as a contemplative penitent instead of an incarcerated felon.’

  ‘Any women ever been here?’

  ‘Sorry, Lieutenant Ripley. This is a double Y chromosome facility. Strictly male.’

  She nodded, then turned and bent to crawl through what remained of the battered air lock. Clemens let her forge a path, then followed.

  The battered exterior of the craft was pristine compared to what she encountered inside. Walls were crumpled and bent, readouts and consoles smashed, equipment strewn haphazardly across the deck. The thick smell of salt water permeated everything. She paused, astonished that anything or anyone could have survived intact, much less her own fragile form.

  ‘Where are the bodies?’

  Clemens was equally taken with the extent of the destruction, marvelling that Ripley had suffered no more damage than she had.

  ‘We have a morgue. Mining’s the kind of enterprise that demands one. We’ve put your friends in there until the investigative team arrives, probably in a week’s time.’

  ‘There was an android…’

  Clemens made a face. ‘Disconnected and discombobulated. There were pieces of him all over the place. What’s left was thrown in the trash. The corporal was impaled by a support beam straight through the chest. Even if he’d been conscious he’d never have known what hit him. As it was he probably never came out of deep sleep long enough to hurt.’

  ‘The girl?’ She was holding a lot in, Clemens saw. He had no idea how much.

  ‘She drowned in her cryotube. I don’t imagine she was conscious when it happened. If anything, she went out more quietly than the corporal. I’m sorry.’

  Ripley digested this quietly. Then her shoulders began to shake and the tears came. That was all. No yelling, no screaming, no violent railing at an unfair, uncaring universe. Little Newt. Newt, who’d never had a chance. At least she was free. Wiping at her eyes, Ripley turned to survey the remains of the little girl’s cryotube. The faceplate was broken, which was understandable.

  Abruptly she frowned. The metal below the faceplate was strangely discoloured. She leaned forward and ran her fingers over the stain.

  Clemens looked on curiously. ‘What is it?’

  Ripley rose, the emotion of the moment transformed into something else. There was no concern in her voice now, none of the tenderness he’d noted previously.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I told you, the morgue. Don’t you remember?’ He eyed her with concern, worried that she might be having a reaction to something from the armpack. ‘You’re disoriented. Half your system still thinks it’s in deep sleep.’

  She whirled on him so suddenly that he started. ‘I want to see what’s left of her body.’

  ‘What do you mean, what’s left? The body’s intact.’

  ‘Is it? I want to see it. I need to see for myself.’

  He frowned but held off questioning her. There was something in her expression… One thing was clear: there would be no denying her access. Not that there was any reason to. He had the feeling her desire to view the corpse had nothing to do with nostalgia. Difficult on short acquaintance to figure what she was really like, but excessively morbid she wasn’t.

  The circular stairwell was narrow and slippery, but cut time off the long hike from the storage chamber where the EEV had been secured. Clemens was unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

  ‘Any particular reason you’re so insistent?’

  ‘I have to make sure how she died,’ she replied evenly. ‘That it wasn’t something else.’

  ‘Something else?’ Under different circumstances Clemens might have been insulted. ‘I hate to be repetitious about a sensitive subject, but it’s quite clear that her cylinder was breached and that she drowned.’ He considered. ‘Was she your daughter?’

  ‘No,’ Ripley replied evenly, ‘she wasn’t my daughter. My daughter died a long time ago.’

  As she spoke her eyes avoided his. But of course she was still weak and had to concentrate on the narrow, spiralling steps.

  ‘Then why this need?’

  Instead of answering directly she said, ‘Even though we weren’t related, she was very close to me. You think I want to see her the way you’ve described her? I’d much rather remember her as she was. I wouldn’t ask to do this if it wasn’t damned important to me.’

  He started to reply, then stopped himself. Already he knew that Ripley wasn’t the sort of person you could force a reply from. If she was going to tell him anything it would come in her own good time.

  He unlocked the entrance and preceded her inside. A bottom drawer responded to his official key code and slid open on silent rollers. She moved up to stand alongside him and together they gazed down at the peaceful, tiny body.

  ‘Give me a moment. Please.’

  Clemens nodded and walked across the room to fiddle with a readout. Occasionally he turned to watch as his companion examined the little girl’s corpse. Despite the emotions that had to be tearing through her, she was efficient and thorough. When he thought a decent amount of time had passed, he rejoined her.

  ‘Okay?’ He expected a nod, perhaps a last sigh. He most definitely did not expect what she finally said.

  ‘No. We need an autopsy.’

  ‘You’re joking.’ He gaped at her.

  ‘No way. You think I’d joke about something like this? We have to make sure how she died.’ Ripley’s eyes were steel-hard.

  ‘I told you: she drowned.’ He started to slide the body drawer back, only to have her intervene.

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want you to cut her open.’

  He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Listen to me. I think you’re disoriented. Half your system’s still in cryosleep.’

  ‘Look,’ she said in a thoroughly no-nonsense tone, ‘I have a
very good reason for asking this and I want you to do it.’

  ‘Would you care to share this reason?’ He was very composed.

  She hesitated. ‘Isn’t it enough that I’m asking?’

  ‘No, it is not. “Request of close personal friend” won’t cut it with Company inspectors. You’ve got to do better than that.’ He stood waiting, impatient.

  ‘All right,’ she said finally. ‘Risk of possible contagion.’

  ‘What kind of “contagion”?’ he snapped.

  She was clearly reaching. ‘I’m not the doctor. You are.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’ll have to do better than that.’

  ‘Cholera.’ She eyed him squarely. Her determination was remarkable.

  ‘You can’t be serious. There hasn’t been a case reported in two hundred years. C’mon, tell me another. Never turn down a good laugh in this place. Smallpox, maybe? Dengue fever?’

  ‘I am telling you. Cholera. I was part of the combat team that nuked Acheron. They were experimenting with all kinds of mutated bacterial and viral strains in what was supposed to be a safe, closed environment. Maybe you know about some of the Company’s interests. The infection got loose and… spread. It was particularly virulent and there was no effective antidote. Nor could the infection be contained, though the people there tried.’

  ‘So they nuked the place? Seems like a pretty extreme prescription. Of course, we don’t hear much out here, but it seems to me we would have heard about that.’

  ‘Really? I guess you don’t work for the same Company I do. Or maybe you did hear. Your superintendent doesn’t strike me as an especially loquacious kind of guy. He may know all about it and just decided there was no reason to pass the information along.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She had him confused, Clemens had to confess. And curious. Was Andrews hiding that particular piece of news? It wasn’t as if he was obligated to keep the prisoners conversant with current events.

  But cholera? Mutated strain or not, it still seemed like a pretty thin story. Of course, if she was telling the truth and the little girl’s corpse was infected with something they might not be able to combat…

  Or maybe it was a half-truth. Maybe there was a risk of some kind of infection and the cholera story was the only cover she’d been able to think up on short notice. Obviously she thought she had her reasons. She was military. What the hell did he know about it?

  She was standing silently, watching him, waiting.

  What the hell, he thought.

  ‘As you wish.’

  Compared to the morgue the rest of the petrified, neglected complex was as bright and cheerful as an alpine meadow at high spring. Stainless steel cabinets lined one wall, bar codes taped to several. The tough laminated tile floor was chipped and cracked. Easy enough to repair, except that they didn’t have the equipment or the necessary skills, and nobody cared anyway.

  The gleaming cream-white table in the centre of the room was bare beneath the overhead lights. A masked and gowned Clemens bent over the prepped corpse of the little girl and commenced the initial incision with the scalpel, pausing to wipe at his brow. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like this and not only was he badly out of practice, he wasn’t at all sure why he was doing it now.

  A saw sliced silently and efficiently through the undersized rib cage.

  ‘You’re sure you want to go through with this?’ he asked the staring Ripley. She ignored him, watching silently, her heart cold, emotions stored safely away where they wouldn’t interfere. He shrugged and continued with the incision.

  Placing both gloved hands in the opening he’d made, knuckles against knuckles, he took a deep breath and pulled apart, prying open and exposing the chest cavity. Concentrating, he peered inward, occasionally bending close and looking sideways for a different view. Eventually he straightened and relaxed his fingers.

  ‘We have nothing unusual. Everything’s where it’s supposed to be. Nothing missing. No sign of disease, no unusual discolouration, no sign of contagion. I paid particular attention to the lungs. If anything, they appear abnormally healthy. Flooded with fluid, as I suspected. I’m sure analysis will show Fiorinan sea water. Kind of an odd physical state for cholera, hmmm?’

  He made a final cross-lateral cut, inspected within, then glanced up. ‘Still nothing. Satisfied?’

  She turned away.

  ‘Now, since I’m not entirely stupid, do you want to tell me what you’re really looking for?’

  Before she could reply, the far door was thrown open. The two sombre figures who entered ignored it as it smashed into the interior wall.

  Andrews’s expression was even less convivial than usual.

  ‘Mr. Clemens.’

  ‘Superintendent.’ Clemens’s reply was correct but not deferential. Ripley observed the unspoken byplay between the two with interest. ‘I don’t believe you’ve met Lieutenant Ripley.’

  She suspected that the burly super’s appraising glance lasted rather longer than he intended. His attention shifted to the operating table, then back to his med tech.

  ‘What’s going on here, Mr. Clemens?’

  ‘Yeah, right sir,’ Aaron chipped in, a verbal as well as physical echo of his boss. ‘What’s going on, Mr. Clemens?’

  ‘First, Lieutenant Ripley is feeling much better, I’m happy to say. As you can see, physically she’s doing quite well.’ Andrews didn’t rise to the bait. Mildly disappointed, Clemens continued. ‘Second, in the interests of public health and security, I’m conducting an autopsy on the deceased child.’

  ‘Without my authority?’ The superintendent all but growled.

  The tech replied matter-of-factly, not at all intimidated. ‘There didn’t seem to be time.’

  Andrews’s brows lifted slightly. ‘Don’t give me that, Clemens. That’s one thing we have in surplus on Fiorina.’

  ‘What I mean is that the lieutenant was concerned about the possible presence in the body of a mutated infectious organism.’

  The superintendent glanced questioningly at the silent Ripley. ‘Is that true?’

  She nodded, offering no further explanation.

  ‘It’s turned out all right,’ Clemens interjected. ‘The body is perfectly normal and shows no signs of contagion. I was certain,’ he finished dryly, ‘that you’d want me to follow up on this as promptly as possible. Hence my desire to begin immediately.’

  You could almost see the thoughts dancing in Andrews’s brain, Ripley thought. Fermenting.

  ‘All right,’ he said finally, ‘but it might be helpful if Lieutenant Ripley didn’t parade around in front of the prisoners, as I am told she did in the last hour. Semimonastic vows notwithstanding. Nothing personal, you understand, Lieutenant. The suggestion is made as much for your protection as for my peace of mind.’

  ‘I quite understand,’ she murmured, half smiling.

  ‘I’m sure that you do.’ He turned back to the med tech. ‘It might also be helpful if you kept me informed as to any change in her physical status. I’m expected to keep the official log updated on this sort of thing. Or would that be asking too much?’

  Ripley took a step forward. ‘We have to cremate the bodies.’

  Andrews frowned at her. ‘Nonsense. We’ll keep the bodies on ice until a rescue team arrives. There are forms that will need to be filled out. I don’t have that kind of jurisdictional leeway.’

  ‘Cremate… that’s a good one, sir,’ Aaron sniggered, always eager to please.

  ‘Look, I’m not making an arbitrary request here,’ Ripley told him, ‘and it has nothing to do with… personal feelings. There is a public health issue at stake.’ She eyed Clemens expectantly.

  What on earth is troubling her so? he found himself wondering. Aloud he said, ‘Lieutenant Ripley feels that the possibility of a communicable infection still exists.’

  The superintendent’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. ‘I thought you said there was no sign of disease.’

  ‘What I said was that
as far as I was concerned the body was clean and showed no sign of contagion. You know how sophisticated the facilities I have at my disposal are, and what an outstanding reputation I maintain in the interworld medical profession.’ Andrews grunted understandingly.

  ‘Just because I pronounce the body clean doesn’t mean that it necessarily is. It would appear that the child drowned plain and simple, though without the proper forensics tests it’s impossible to be absolutely certain. At the risk of contradicting my own analysis I think it would be unwise to tolerate even the possibility of a mutated virus getting loose within the installation. I don’t think the members of the rescue team would look kindly on such a development upon their arrival, either. It might make them rather standoffish, and we do treasure our occasional visits, don’t we?

  ‘Not to mention which a preventable outbreak of something the Marines had to nuke Acheron to destroy would look very bad on your report, wouldn’t it? Assuming you were still alive to care.’

  Andrews now looked distinctly unhappy. ‘Freezing the body should take care of any viruses present.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Ripley told him.

  ‘How do you know it wouldn’t?’

  ‘We’re talking complex bioengineered mutations here. How do you know that it would?’

  The superintendent cursed under his breath, his troubled expression deepening. ‘There are at present twenty-five prisoners in this facility. They are caretakers second. All are double Y chromos—former career criminals, thieves, rapists, murderers, arsonists, child molesters, drug dealers… scum.’ He paused to let the litany sink in.

  ‘But scum that have taken on religion. It may make them appear and sound mellow, but I, for one, don’t think it makes them any less dangerous. However, I value its meliorating effect. So I try not to offend their convictions. They appreciate my tolerance and I’m rewarded with a greater amount of peace and quiet than you’d expect to find in a situation like this.