Alien 3

by Alan Dean Foster

  Disoriented, Troy halted at an intersection. He’d moved too fast, ignoring the map and trusting to memory. Now he found himself appraising the multiple tunnels uncertainly.

  ‘Channel F? Where the fuck—There ain’t no fuckin’ Channel F.’

  He moved forward, hesitated, and chose the corridor to his immediate right, instead.

  That corridor, however, was already occupied by another frustrated inhabitant.

  Dillon and Ripley heard the distant screams. As usual, the screams didn’t last for very long.

  ‘Morse?’ Dillon called out. ‘Kevin, Gregor?’

  Ripley strained to see past him. ‘What’s going on back there?’

  The big man glanced tensely back at her. ‘All they have to do is run down the damn corridors.’ He hefted his axe and started forward. ‘Stay here.’

  The side corridor from which they expected their visitor remained deserted. No alien. No people. Only distant, echoing voices, some distinctly panicky.

  Behind him, Eric voiced his thoughts aloud. ‘Where in hell is it?’ Dillon just glanced at him.

  Sucking up his courage, David moved back to the door and peered through the small window. The corridor beyond was empty. He raised his voice.

  ‘I’ve lost him. Don’t know where the fucking thing is. Not gonna open the door. I think it went up in the fucking air vent.’ He turned slowly to inspect the single air vent in the tunnel above him.

  He was right.

  Ripley waited until the last of the echoes faded to silence. Eric had been moving forward, his eyes harbingers of imminent collapse. If someone didn’t do something he was going to break and take off running. There was nowhere to run to. She moved towards him, caught his gaze, trying to stare him down, to transfer some of her own confidence into him.

  Dillon had disappeared down the side corridor. It didn’t take him long to find Troy’s remains. After a quick look around he retreated back the way he’d come.

  Morse and Jude had finally linked up. They ran along side by side… until Jude slipped and went down hard. His fingers fumbled at the warm, sticky mess which had tripped him up.

  ‘For fuck’s sake… yuck.’

  When Jude lifted it towards the flare for a better look, Morse recoiled in horror. Then he got a good look at what he’d picked up, and they screamed in unison.

  Ripley listened intently, momentarily forgetting Eric. The screams were close now—immediate, not echoes. Suddenly the prisoner whirled and rushed back towards the piston control. She ran after him…

  As the alien appeared, racing across the corridor.

  Eric’s fingers started to convulse on the control and she barely had time to grab his hand.

  ‘Wait! It’s not in position yet!’ With an effort of will she managed to block him from releasing the piston.

  That was all it took. Defeated mentally as well as physically, he slumped back, exhausted and trembling.

  Kevin moved slowly through the corridor. He was getting close to the piston alcove now, as safe a place as any. He’d done everything that had been asked of him. They couldn’t ask for more, not now.

  Something made him look up. The alien positioned in the vent above didn’t bother to drop. Instead it reached down and snatched him up as easily as if it had been fishing for a frog. Blood splattered.

  At the far end of the passageway Dillon appeared. Spotting Kevin’s jerking legs he rushed forward and threw both arms around the twitching knees. It was something the alien wasn’t prepared for and the two men dropped.

  Ripley saw Dillon drag the wounded prisoner into the main corridor. With a glance at the useless Eric she started forward to help.

  Blood spurted from the injured man’s neck. Whipping off her jacket, she wrapped it around the wound as tightly as she could. The blood slowed, but not enough. Dillon held the man close, murmuring.

  ‘No death, only—’

  There was no time to finish the prayer. The alien emerged from the side access. Ripley rose and started backing away.

  ‘Leave the body. Draw it in.’

  Dillon nodded and joined her, the two of them retreating towards the control alcove.

  The alien watched. They were moving slowly, with nowhere to retreat to. There was still life in the damaged figure on the floor. The alien jumped forward to finish the job.

  Spinning, Ripley made a slashing gesture in Eric’s direction. Eric erupted from his hiding place and slammed his hand down on the control.

  The piston shot forward, sweeping up both Kevin’s body and that of the alien, shunting them towards the gap which led to the furnace. Heat and howling air filled the corridor.

  But the alien had vanished.

  Sweating, Ripley took a step forward. ‘Where the hell’s it gone?’

  ‘Shit!’ Dillon tried to peer around the machinery. ‘It must be behind the fucking piston.’

  ‘Behind it?’ She gaped at him.

  ‘Seal the doors,’ he bellowed. ‘We gotta get it back!’ They exchanged a glance, then took off in opposite directions.

  ‘Jude, Morse!’ Dillon pounded down the corridor he’d chosen, searching for survivors. Meanwhile Ripley went in search of Eric and William. Found them, too, all mixed up together and no longer worrying. About anything. She continued on.

  Morse was creeping now, no longer running. Hearing a noise, he paused to check the side accessway from which it had come, exhaled at the sight of nothing. He began retracing his steps, keeping his eyes forward.

  Until he bumped into something soft and animate.

  ‘What the—!’

  It was Jude. Equally startled, the other man whirled, displaying the scissors he carried like a weapon. Simultaneously relieved and furious, Morse grabbed the twin blades and angled them upward.

  ‘Not like this. Like this, moron.’ He whacked the other man on the side of the head. Jude blinked, nodded, and started off in the other direction.

  Dillon was back in the main corridor, yelling. ‘Jude, Jude!’ The other man heard him, hesitated.

  The alien was right behind him.

  He ran like hell, towards Dillon, who urged him on.

  ‘Don’t look back. As fast as you fucking can!’

  Jude came on, trying, trying for his life. But he wasn’t Kevin, or Gregor. The alien caught him. Blood exploded against the door that Dillon desperately sent slamming shut.

  In the next corridor Ripley heard, growled to herself. Time was ticking away as the piston continued its inexorable and currently useless slide forward.

  Gregor screamed for help, but there was no one around to hear him. He raced blindly down the passageway, ricocheting off the corners like a pinball until he slammed into Morse, running hard the other way. Nervous, then half laughing, they picked themselves up, staring in relief at one another.

  Until the alien flashed past and smashed into Gregor in mid-laugh, tearing him apart.

  Blood and pulp showering his face and torso, Morse fought to scramble away, screaming for mercy to something that neither understood nor cared about his desperation. He could only stare as the creature methodically eviscerated Gregor’s corpse. Then he crawled frantically.

  He bumped into something unyielding, and his head whipped around. Feet. His head tilted back. Ripley’s feet.

  She threw the flare she was holding at the alien as it tried to duck into an air vent. The burning magnesium alloy forced it to drop Gregor’s ravaged body.

  ‘Come on, you bastard!’

  As Morse looked on in fascination, the alien, instead of rushing forward to decapitate the lieutenant, coiled up against the far wall. She advanced, ignoring its cringing and spitting.

  ‘Come on. I got what you want. Follow me. I want to show you something. Come on, damn you!’

  The alien’s tail flicked out and lashed at her. Not hard enough to kill; just enough to fend her off.

  At that moment Dillon arrived in the doorway, staring. She whirled on him. ‘Get back! Don’t get in the way!’

>   The alien resumed its attack posture, turning to face the newcomer. Desperately Ripley inserted herself between it and Dillon, who suddenly realized not only what was happening but what she was trying to do.

  Moving up behind, he grabbed her and held her tight.

  The alien went berserk, but kept its distance as the two humans retreated, Ripley tight in Dillon’s grasp.

  It followed them into the main corridor, keeping the distance between them constant, waiting. Dillon glanced towards the waiting mould, called out.

  ‘In here, stupid!’

  The alien hesitated, then leapt to the ceiling and-scuttled over the doorjamb.

  ‘Shut it!’ Ripley said frantically. ‘Now!’

  Dillon didn’t need to be told. He activated the door in front of her. It slammed tight, imprisoned them both in the main corridor with the creature.

  Morse appeared behind it, saw what was happening. ‘Get out! Get the fuck out now!’

  Ripley yelled back at him. ‘Close the door!’ The other man hesitated. As he did so, the alien turned towards him. ‘Now!’

  Morse jerked forward and hit the switch. The door rammed down, sealing them off from his position. A moment later the piston appeared, continuing on its cleansing passage and obscuring them from view.

  He turned and ran back the way he’d come.

  Within the main corridor the piston crunched into the alien, knocking it backward. Forgetting now about the two humans, it turned and sought to squeeze a leg past the heavy barrier. There was no room, no space at all. The piston continued to force it towards the mould.

  Dillon and Ripley were already there. End of the line. Nowhere else to go.

  Morse scrambled up the ladder which led to the crane cab, wondering if he remembered enough to activate it. He’d have to. There was no time to consult manuals, and no one left to ask.

  * * *

  The massive landing craft disdained the use of the mine’s ill-maintained landing port. Instead it set down on the gravel outside, the backwash of its manoeuvring engines sending dirt and rocks flying. Moments later heavily armed men and women were rushing towards the facility’s main entrance.

  From within the lock Aaron watched them disembark, a broad smile on his face. They had smartguns and armour piercers, thermoseeking rails and rapid-fire handguns. They knew what they’d be up against and they’d come prepared. He straightened his uniform as best as he could and prepared to pop the lock.

  ‘I knew they’d make it.’ He raised his voice. ‘Hey, over here! This way!’ He started to activate the lock mechanism.

  He never got the chance. The door exploded inward, six commandos and two medical officers rushing through even before the dust had settled. All business, the commandos spread out to cover the lock area. Aaron moved forward, thinking as he did so the captain in their midst was a dead ringer for the dead android that had been on the lieutenant’s lifeboat.

  ‘Right, sir,’ he announced as he stopped in front of the officer and snapped off a crisp salute. ‘Warder Aaron, 137512.’

  The captain ignored him. ‘Where is Lieutenant Ripley? Is she still alive?’

  A little miffed at the indifference but still eager to be of help, Aaron replied quickly. ‘Right, sir. If she’s alive, she’s in the mould. They’re all in the leadworks with the beast, sir. Absolute madness. Wouldn’t wait. I tried to tell ’em—’

  The officer cut him off abruptly. ‘You’ve seen this beast?’

  ‘Right, sir. Horrible. Unbelievable. She’s got one inside her.’

  ‘We know that.’ He nodded tersely in the direction of the commandos. ‘We’ll take over now. Show us where you last saw her.’

  Aaron nodded, eagerly led them into the depths of the complex.

  * * *

  Ripley and Dillon continued retreating into the mould until there was ceramic alloy at their backs and nowhere else to stand. A grinding of gears caught her attention and her head jerked back. Overhead she could see machinery moving as the refinery responded inexorably to its programmed sequence.

  ‘Climb,’ she told her companion. ‘It’s our only chance!’

  ‘What about you?’ Dillon spoke as the alien entered the back part of the mould, forced along by the massive piston.

  ‘It won’t kill me.’

  ‘Bullshit! There’s gonna be ten tons of hot metal in here!’

  ‘Good! I keep telling you I want to die.’

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t—’

  Soon the alien would be on top of them. ‘Now’s your chance,’ Ripley shouted. ‘Get going!’

  He hesitated, then grabbed her. ‘I’m taking you with me!’ He shoved her bodily upward.

  Despite her resistance he managed to climb. Seeing that he wasn’t going to go without her she reluctantly started to follow suit, moving in front of him up the side of the mould. The alien turned away from the piston, spotted them, and followed.

  At the top of the mould Ripley secured herself on the edge and reached down to help Dillon. The pursuing alien’s inner jaws shot out, reaching. Dillon kicked down, slashing with the fire axe.

  Ripley continued her ascent as Dillon fought off the pursuit. More noise drew her attention to the now functioning gantry crane. She could see Morse inside, cursing and hammering at the controls.

  The Company squad appeared on the crest of the observation platform, their leader taking in all of what was happening below at a glance. Morse saw them shouting at him, ignored them as he frantically worked controls.

  The container of now molten alloy bubbled as it was tipped.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ the captain of the new arrivals shouted. ‘No!’

  The alien was very close now, but not quite close enough. Not quite. White-hot liquid metal poured past Ripley and Dillon, a torrent of intense heat that forced both of them to cover their faces with their hands. The metallic cascade struck the alien and knocked it screeching back into the mould, sweeping it away as flames leaped in all directions.

  High above, Morse stood and stared down through the window of the crane, his expression a mask of satisfaction.

  ‘Eat shit, you miserable fucker!’

  Dillon joined Ripley on the edge of the mould, both of them staring downward as they shielded their faces against the heat rising from the pool of bubbling metal. Suddenly her attention was drawn by movement across the way.

  ‘They’re here!’ She clutched desperately at her companion. ‘Keep your promise!’

  Dillon stared at her. ‘You mean it.’

  ‘Yes! I’ve got it inside me! Quit fucking around!’

  Uncertainly, he put his hands around her throat.

  She stared at him angrily. ‘Do it!’

  His fingers tightened. A little pressure, a twist, and her neck would snap. That was all it would take. A moment of effort, of exertion. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how, as if he hadn’t done it before, a long time ago.

  ‘I can’t!’ The denial emerged from his throat half cry, half croak. ‘I can’t do it!’ He looked at her almost pleadingly.

  His expression turned to one of horror as he turned around, only to confront the burning and smoking alien. Resigned, he allowed himself to be pulled into its embrace, the two of them vanishing beneath the roiling surface of the molten metal. Ripley looked on in astonishment, at once repelled and fascinated. An instant later the curving alien skull reappeared. Dripping molten metal, it began to haul itself out of the mould.

  Looking around wildly, she spotted the emergency chain. It was old and corroded, as might be the controls it activated. Not that it mattered. There was nothing else. She wrenched on it.

  Water erupted from the large bore quencher that hung over the lip of the mould. She found herself tangled up in the chain, unable to get loose. The torrent of water drenched her, sweeping her around in tight spirals. But the chain would not let her go.

  The cold water struck the alien and its hot metal coat. The head exploded first, then the rest of the body. Then the mould, vomit
ing chunks of supercooled metal and steam. Morse was thrown to the floor of the crane’s cab as it rocked on its supports, while the commando unit ducked reflexively for cover.

  Warm water and rapidly cooling metal rained down on the chamber.

  When the deluge ended, the commando team resumed its approach. But not before Ripley had swung herself up onto the crane platform, Morse reaching out to help her.

  Once aboard, she leaned against the guard rail and gazed down into the furnace. Time again to be sick. The attacks of nausea and pain were coming more rapidly now.

  She spotted the Company men coming up the stairs from below, heading for the crane. Aaron was in the forefront. She tried to escape but had no place to go.

  ‘Don’t come any closer,’ she shouted. ‘Stay where you are.’

  Aaron halted. ‘Wait. They’re here to help.’

  She stared at him, pitying the poor simpleton. He had no idea what the stakes were, or what was likely to happen to him when the Company finally obtained what it was after. Except that that was not going to happen.

  Another wave of nausea swept over her and she staggered against the railing. As she straightened, a figure stepped out from behind the heavily armed commandos. She gaped, uncertain at first of what she was seeing. It was a face she knew.

  ‘Bishop?’ she heard herself mumbling uncertainly.

  He stopped, the others crowding close behind him, waiting for orders. The figure indicated they should relax. Then he turned to her, smiling reassuringly.

  ‘I just want to help you. We’re all on the same side.’

  ‘No more bullshit!’ she snapped. Weak as she was, it took an effort to make the exclamation sound convincing. ‘I just felt the damn thing move.’

  As everyone present watched, she stepped farther out on the gantry platform. Something smacked into her lungs and she winced, never taking her eyes off the figure before her.

  It was Bishop. No, not Bishop, but a perfect duplicate of him. A completely in control, perfect down to the pores on his chin double of the sadly dismembered and cybernetically deceased Bishop. Bishop II, she told herself numbly. Bishop Redux. Bishop to pawn four; Bishop takes Queen.