Alien 3

by Alan Dean Foster

  ‘Here! Take a shot, fucker!’

  Where quarry was concerned the alien once again demonstrated its inclination to choose proximity over proliferation. Whirling, it pounced on Junior. The two tumbled backward… into the storage chamber.

  Struggling to ward off the intense heat, Dillon continued to extinguish flaming companions. When the last man was merely smouldering, he turned and tried to penetrate the flames to reach the back wall.

  Ripley reached the control box and fumbled for the red button as Aaron jammed still another flaming mop into the entrance. A moment later Dillon managed to activate the sprinkler system.

  Junior uttered a last, faint, hopeless cry as the heavy door slammed shut in front of him, sealing off the storage chamber. At the same time the showers opened up. Exhausted, terrified men, all with varying degrees of smoke or burn damage, hovered motionless in the corridor as the water poured down.

  A noise from behind the door then, a distant skittering sound. Things that were not hands exploring, not-fingers scraping at their surroundings. The trapped alien was hunting, searching, for a way out. Gradually the noise ceased.

  A couple of the survivors looked at one another as if about to burst into cheers. Ripley anticipated them curtly.

  ‘It’s not over.’

  One of the men retorted angrily, ‘Bullshit. It’s inside, the door worked. We’ve got it.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Aaron challenged her. ‘We got the bastard trapped, just like you planned it.’

  Ripley didn’t even look at him. She didn’t have to explain herself because the silence was suddenly rocked by an ear-splitting concussion. A few of the men winced and a couple turned to run.

  The rest gaped in amazement at the door, in which a huge convex dent had suddenly appeared. The echo of contact continued to cannonade along the multiple corridors. Before it had faded entirely a second thunderous boom reverberated through the antechamber and a second bulge appeared in the door.

  ‘Son-of-a-bitch,’ Aaron muttered aloud, ‘that’s a ceramocarbide door.’

  Dillon wasn’t listening to him. A survivor of another kind, he was watching Ripley. She hadn’t moved, so neither did he. If she started running he’d follow close on her heels, without any intention of stopping.

  But she continued to hold her ground as a third dent manifested itself. His ears rang. This is a lady I wish I’d known before, he mused silently. A lady who could change a man, alter the course and direction of his life. She could have changed mine. But that was before. Too late now. Been too late for a long time.

  No more concussive vibrations rattled his eardrums. No fourth bulge appeared in the barrier. Dead silence ruled the corridor. Gradually everyone’s attention shifted from that no longer perfect but still intact doorway back to the single woman in their midst.

  When she slowly sat down and closed her eyes, back against one wall, the unified sigh of relief that filled the room was like the last failing breeze that marks the passing of a recent storm.

  XI

  The survivors gathered in the assembly hall, reduced in number but expanded in spirit. Dillon stood before them, waiting to make sure all were present. Only then did he begin.

  ‘Rejoice, brothers! Even for those who have fallen this is a time of rejoicing. Even as we mourn their passing we salute their courage. Because of their sacrifice, we live, and who is to say which of us, the living or the dead, has the better deal?

  ‘Of one thing we are certain: they have their reward. They are in a far better place because there can be no worse one. They will live forever. Rejoice. Those who are dead but go on, freed of their restraints, free from the excoriations of a thoughtless society. It abandoned them, and now they have abandoned it. They have moved up. They have moved higher. Rejoice and give thanks!’

  The men bowed their heads and began to murmur softly to themselves.

  Ripley and Aaron watched from the gallery above. Eventually the assistant superintendent glanced over at his companion. Both had spent time in the showers. They were far from refreshed, but at least they were clean. Ripley had delighted in the hot, pounding spray, knowing that this time she could enjoy it without having to keep a wary eye on the seal-tight or the vents.

  ‘What do you think of this?’ He indicated the ragged, makeshift assemblage below.

  She’d been listening with only half a mind, the rest of her thoughts elsewhere. ‘Not much. I guess if they take pleasure in it.’

  ‘You got it right there. Fuckers are crazy. But it keeps ’em quiet. The super and I were in agreement on that. Andrews always said it was a good thing Dillon and his meatballs were hung up on this holy roller crap. Makes ’em more docile.’

  She glanced back at him. ‘You’re not the religious type.’

  ‘Me? Shit, no. I got a job.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I figure rescue team gets here in four, five days. Six, tops. They open the door, go in there with smartguns, and kill the bastard. Right?’

  ‘Have you heard anything from them?’ Her tone was noncommittal.

  ‘Naw.’ He was feeling pretty good about the situation. And about himself. Out of this mess there was sure to come some good things.

  ‘We only got a “message received.” No details. Later we got something that said you were top priority. Again, no explanation. They don’t cut us in on much. We’re the ass-end of the totem pole out here.’

  ‘Look,’ she began guardedly, ‘if the Company wants to take the thing back—’

  ‘Take it back? Are you kiddin’? They aren’t lunatics, you know. They’ll kill it right away.’ He frowned at her, then shrugged mentally. Sometimes he thought he understood this unusual woman perfectly, and then she’d throw him a complete curve.

  Well, it wasn’t his business to understand her; only to keep her alive. That was what Weyland-Yutani wanted. With Andrews gone and the alien safely contained, he was beginning to see some possibilities in the situation. Not only was he now the one in charge, it would be up to him to greet and explain things to the Company representative. He could render himself, as well as recent events, memorable in the eyes of his superiors. There might be a bonus in it for him or, even better, early retirement from Fiorina. It was not too much to hope for.

  Besides, after years of toadying to Andrews and after what he’d been through the past couple of days, he’d earned whatever came his way.

  ‘Hey, you’re really concerned about this, aren’t you? Why? What’s there to be worried about? The damn thing’s locked up where it can’t get at us.’

  ‘It’s not the alien. It’s the Company. I’ve gone around with them on this twice before.’ She turned to him. ‘They’ve coveted one of these things ever since my original crewmates discovered them. For bioweapons research. They don’t understand what they’re dealing with, and I don’t care how much data they’ve accumulated on it. I’m concerned that they might want to try and take this one back.’

  He gaped at her, and she found his honest disbelief reassuring. For the moment, at least, she was not without allies. ‘Take it back? You mean alive? To Earth?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘Look into my eyes, Aaron. This isn’t a real humorous subject with me.’

  ‘Shit, you mean it. That’s insane. They gotta kill it.’

  Ripley smiled tightly. ‘Right. So I take it that we’re agreed on this point?’

  ‘You’re damn right,’ he said fervently.

  He was with her, then, she mused. For now. The Company had a way of swaying people, inducing them to reassess their positions. Not to mention their values.

  * * *

  The infirmary was quiet. Peace had returned to the installation, if not to some of its inhabitants. Concerned that in Clemens’s absence certain of the prisoners whose presence on Fiorina stemmed at least in part from their personal misapplication of certain proscribed pharmaceuticals might attempt to liberate them or their chemical cousins from their designated reposi
tory, Aaron sent Morse to keep an eye on them, as well as on the infirmary’s sole occupant.

  Morse sat on one of the cots, perusing a viewer. He was not one of those despondent over the dearth of entertainment material available on Fiorina, since he’d never been much of one for casual diversions. He was a man of action, or had been in his younger, more active days. Now he was a spieler, dealing in reminiscences.

  Despite the fact that they’d known each other and had worked side by side for years, Golic had offered no greeting at his arrival, nor a single word since. Now the hulking prisoner finally turned his face away from the wall, his arms still buried inside the archaic restraining jacket.

  ‘Hey, Morse.’

  The older man looked up from his viewer. ‘So you can still talk. Big deal. You never had nothin’ to say anyhow.’

  ‘C’mon, brother. Let me out of this thing.’

  Morse grinned unpleasantly. ‘Oh, so now that you’re all wrapped up like a holiday roast suddenly I’m a “brother”? Don’t give me any shit.’

  ‘Come on, man, it hurts.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Morse turned back to his viewer. ‘Aaron says to let you go, I’ll let you go. Until then you stay tied up. I don’t wanna get in no trouble. Not with a Company ship coming.’

  ‘I didn’t do nothing. I mean, I understand I was a little crazy for a while. Shit, who wouldn’t be after what I saw? But I’m okay now. The doc fixed me. Just ask him.’

  ‘Can’t do that. The doc bought it. You heard.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. That’s right. I remember now. Too bad. He was a good guy, even if he did slap me in this.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me.’ Morse made a disgusted face.

  Golic continued to plead. ‘What’d I do? Just tell me, what’d I do?’

  Morse sighed and set the viewer aside, eyeing his fellow prisoner. ‘I dunno, but I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m gonna guard your ass just like I was ordered.’

  Golic sniffed derisively. ‘You afraid of that pissant Aaron?’

  ‘No, I ain’t, even if he is the unofficial superintendent now. I just don’t want no trouble with Dillon, and if you’re smart, which I doubt, neither do you.’

  The bigger man sniffed glumly. ‘All I did was tell about the dragon. About what it did to Boggs and Rains. Nobody believed me, but I wasn’t lying. I should be the last one to be tied up. It ain’t fair. You know what I’m sayin’ is true. You saw it.’

  Morse remembered. ‘Fuckin’-A I saw it! It was big. And fast. Man, it was fast. And ug-ly.’ He shuddered slightly. ‘There’s cleaner ways to die.’

  ‘Hey, that’s right.’ Golic struggled futilely against his restraints. ‘Let me loose, man. You got to let me loose. What if it gets in here? I couldn’t even run. I’d be dead meat.’

  ‘You’d be dead meat anyway. I saw enough to know that. But it doesn’t matter because it ain’t gonna get in here.’ He smiled proudly. ‘We got it trapped. Me and the others. Locked up tight. I’ll bet it’s good and mad. The Company’ll deal with it when the ship gets here.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Golic agreed readily. ‘And the way I hear it, they’ll be here soon. So what’s the big deal? Why should I have to hang around like this? By the time the ship shows orbit my arms’ll be dead. I’ll need surgery, and all for nothin’. Come on, man. You know they ain’t gonna take me offworld for no surgery, and we may not get a new medic for months. I’ll have to suffer all that time, and it’ll all be your fault.’

  ‘Hey, lay off. I didn’t put you in that.’

  ‘No, but you’re keepin’ me in it, and the guy that gave the order’s dead now. Aaron doesn’t give a shit. He’s too busy trying to make that lady lieutenant. Has he even asked about me?’

  ‘Well, no,’ Morse admitted guardedly.

  ‘See?’ Golic’s face was full of pathetic eagerness. ‘I won’t cause you no trouble, Morse. I’ll lay low until the ship gets here. Aaron won’t even know I’m around. Come on, lemme loose. I’m hungry. What’s the big deal? Didn’t I always give you free ciggies before anybody else?’

  ‘Well… yeah.’

  ‘You’re my friend. I love you.’

  ‘Yeah, I love you too.’ Morse hesitated, then cursed softly. ‘Fuck it, why not? Nobody deserves to be tied up like an animal all day. Not even a big dumb schmuck like you. But you’re gonna behave yourself. No fuckin’ around or I’ll get nothin’ but shit.’

  ‘Sure, Morse. Anything you say.’ He turned to present his back and Morse began undoing the seals on the straps. ‘No problem. Trust me, buddy. I’d do it for you.’

  ‘Yeah, but I ain’t crazy enough to get myself in a sack like this. They know I’m sane,’ the other man said.

  ‘C’mon, don’t make fun of me. Do I sound like I’m crazy? Course not. It’s just that everybody likes to make fun of me because I like to eat all the time.’

  ‘It’s not that you like to eat, it’s your table manners, man.’ Morse guffawed at his own humour as he undid the strap. ‘That’s got it.’

  ‘Gimmie a hand, willya? My arms are so numb I can’t move ’em.’

  ‘Shit. Bad enough they ask me to keep an eye on you, now I gotta play nursemaid too.’ He reached up and pulled the jacket off Golic. The bigger man helped as best he could.

  ‘Where they got it?’

  ‘Up in the nearest waste tank on Level Five. Man, did we get that sucker nailed down! I mean tight.’ He fairly preened. ‘Fuckin’ Marines couldn’t do it, but we did.’

  Golic was swinging his arms. Back and forth across his expansive chest, then up and around in ever-widening circles, getting the circulation back.

  ‘But it’s still alive?’

  ‘Yeah. Too bad. You oughta see the dents it put in the door. Ceramocarbide door, man!’ He shook his head wonderingly. ‘One tough-ass organism. But we got it.’

  ‘I gotta see it again.’ The big man’s gaze was focused on a point beyond Morse, on something visible only to Golic. His expression was impassive, unwavering. ‘Got to see it again. He’s my friend.’

  Morse took a sudden, wary step backward. ‘What the fuck you talkin’ about?’ His gaze whipped to the infirmary entrance.

  Golic calmly ripped a small fire extinguisher off the nearby wall and the other man’s eyes widened. He made a leap for the door… too slow. The extinguisher came down once, a second time, and Morse crumpled like a misplaced intention.

  Golic looked down at him thoughtfully, his face full of idiot sadness, his tone apologetic. ‘Sorry, brother, but I had a feeling you wouldn’t understand. No more ciggies for you, mate.’

  Silently he stepped over the unconscious form and exited the room.

  XII

  Aaron fussed with the deep-space Communicator. He was checked out on the equipment—it was a requirement of his rating—but he hadn’t had occasion to make use of it since his assignment to Fiorina. Andrews had always handled things on the rare occasions when expensive near instantaneous communication between the installation and headquarters had been required. He was both pleased and relieved when the readouts cleared for use, indicating that contact with the necessary relays had been established.

  Ripley hovered over him as he worked the keyboard. She offered no suggestions, for which he felt an obscure but nonetheless real gratitude. The message appeared on the main screen as he transmitted, each letter representing an impressive amount of sending power. Fortunately, with the fusion plant operating as efficiently as ever, there was no dearth of the necessary energy. As to the cost, another matter entirely, he opted to ignore that until and unless the Company should indicate otherwise.

  FURY 361—CLASS C PRISON UNIT, FIORINA

  REPORT DEATH OF SUPT. ANDREWS, MEDICAL OFFICER CLEMENS, EIGHT PRISONERS. NAMES TO FOLLOW…

  When he’d finished the list he glanced back up at her. ‘Okay, we got the first part. All nice and formal, the way the Company likes it. Now what do I say?’

  ‘Tell them what happened. That the alien arrived on the EEV and esc
aped into the complex, that it was hunting down the local population one man at a time until we devised a plan of action, and that we’ve trapped it.’

  ‘Right.’ He turned back to the keyboard, hesitated. ‘What do we call it? Just “the alien”?’

  ‘That’d probably do for the Company. They’d know what you were referring to. Technically it’s a xenomorph.’

  ‘Right.’ He hesitated. ‘How do you spell it?’

  ‘Here.’ She elbowed him aside impatiently and leaned over the keyboard. ‘With your permission?’

  ‘Go ahead,’ he said expansively. Impressed, he watched as her fingers flew over the keys.

  HAVE TRAPPED XENOMORPH.

  REQUEST PERMISSION TO TERMINATE.

  Aaron frowned up at her as she stood back from the board. ‘That was a waste. We can’t kill it. We don’t have any weapons here, remember?’

  Ripley ignored him, concentrating on the lambent screen. ‘We don’t have to tell them that.’

  ‘Then why ask?’ He was obviously confused, and she was in no hurry to enlighten him. Just then there were more important things on her mind.

  Sure enough, letters began to appear on the readout. She smiled humourlessly. They weren’t wasting any time replying, no doubt for fear that in the absence of a ready response she might simply proceed.

  TO FURY 361—CLASS C PRISON UNIT FROM NETWORK COMCON WEYLAND-YUTANI MESSAGE RECEIVED

  Aaron leaned back in the chair and rubbed his forehead tiredly. ‘See? That’s all they ever tell us. Treat us like shit, like we’re not worth the expense of sending a few extra words.’

  ‘Wait,’ she told him.

  He blinked. Subsequent to the expected official acknowledgement, letters continued to appear on the screen.

  RESCUE UNIT TO ARRIVE YOUR ORBIT 1200 HOURS. STAND BY TO RECEIVE. PERMISSION DENIED TO TERMINATE XENOMORPH. AVOID CONTACT UNTIL RESCUE TEAM ARRIVES. REPEAT IMPERATIVE—PERMISSION DENIED.