“Goddamnit,” she snapped, angry at herself for not detecting the thing before it was too late.
In a narrow slash of starlight, she could see her attacker—its gargantuan claws pinning her down, its long, blue-black head poised above her like the business end of a hammer.
Sizing me up, she thought.
Ripley would have blasted it with her shock rifle if she’d had the option. But the impact had knocked the burner out of her hands, and she didn’t know where it had fallen.
She also didn’t know what happened to her companions, but she could guess. She had ordered Krakke to save Angie if they were attacked. He had too much esteem for her to do otherwise.
So Ripley was utterly and terribly alone.
The alien’s head tilted slightly to the side, a torrent of saliva dripping from its mouth on her face and chest. She was its possession, its plaything, its meat.
Ripley struggled to free herself, but to no avail. The thing was too heavy, too strong, too eager to partake of her blood.
Opening its maw, it revealed its inner teeth. They gleamed as they emerged into the starlight, sharp and hungry and poised to tear Ripley’s throat out.
Death was so close she could almost feel it. There was a moment, in fact, when she was sure it had already happened.
But the alien hesitated.
I’m not like the others, Ripley thought. She and the alien shared several rungs’ worth of DNA. They were family.
But it wasn’t like the situation on the Auriga. There, Ripley had ultimately been embraced by the aliens because she had carried their queen in her chest cavity.
Here, they were too distantly related for it to make a difference. It’ll kill me, DNA or no DNA. Pulling its head back, it prepared to do just that.
Which was why Ripley slugged the alien as hard as she could, causing it to recoil in surprise for a moment. But a moment was all she could buy herself.
With a scream of rage and frustration, the thing went for her with its inner teeth. Twisting in its grasp, she saw it snap at the ground instead of her face.
Ultimately, she knew, the encounter could end only one way—with her bloody, agonizing death. It wasn’t the way she had planned it. But she would struggle as long as she was able, giving the others a better chance to get away.
Ripley was still thinking that when something came barreling into the alien’s flank, rocking it sideways—giving her the opening she needed to extract herself. Rolling out from under her adversary, she caught sight of her burner.
And grabbed it. And fired—just as the alien sent someone flying with a slash of its long, black claw.
Sent reeling by Ripley’s energy discharge, the creature came up hard against a tree trunk—hard enough to shake leaves from the branches above it. But it was far from subdued—as it proved a moment later by lurching forward, burn or no burn.
Ripley saw the alien reaching for her through the crackle of blue-white energy, its legs working, its inner jaw extending greedily in her direction.
Her burner wasn’t stopping it. She was only slowing it down, prolonging the inevitable.
Then a second lance of energy joined the first, throwing the alien off-balance again. With a shriek of rage, it turned and went after the second source.
But that left its flank open to Ripley. Moving closer, she poured everything she had at the thing. And eventually, it fell under the weight of the combined barrage.
Writhing and spasming, it succumbed. But not until its flesh was thoroughly charred and an oily black plume was rising from it. Ripley turned to Krakke, the one who had come to her aid, and signaled for him to stand watch.
Then she went to the body she had seen fly through the air. It was lying against a bush, awash in blood, a pile of something sitting beside it. Only when Ripley got closer could she identify the pile as the victim’s guts, torn from their rightful cavity.
Looking up, she saw freckles under the blood, and a thatch of red hair. Simoni …
His eyes were open and staring, and for a moment Ripley thought he was dead. Then she saw his lips flutter. Moving to his side, she knelt and asked what he had said.
“Not a coward,” he breathed. Blood bubbled up over his lips. “Not a damned—” He groaned from the depths of him. “—damned coward.”
Because he had intervened on her behalf, and saved her life. And it was true that she would have died without Simoni’s help.
But people couldn’t preserve other people’s lives, as much as they liked to think they could. In the end they’ll all be lost, one way or the other. No exceptions.
She had learned that the hard way that over the long, dark years. But like Simoni, she was fool enough to keep trying.
“You’re not a coward,” she assured him, saying what he wanted to hear. “You’re a goddamned hero.”
Through his pain, Simoni took on a look of satisfaction. It was still there on his face when he went limp and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Ripley looked back at Angie, who was standing behind her, staring at Simoni. The botanist looked rooted to the spot.
Getting to her feet, Ripley said, “Let’s go. Or we’ll all be sitting somewhere with our guts hanging out.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before she heard the approach of something else—something ripping through the foliage to get to them. Wheeling, she trained her weapon in that direction and braced herself.
But it wasn’t an alien. It was a flivver, its headlights dark, with Call at the wheel and a grim-looking Johner riding shotgun.
Ripley swore softly. “About time you got here.”
Johner pointed to Simoni with his shock rifle. “What happened to him?”
Ripley scowled. “He was a hero. What’s the difference?”
Johner shrugged as Ripley climbed into the flivver. “Just thought I’d ask.”
When they were under way with everyone aboard, Call shot a glance back at Ripley. “The backup bay’s on the blink now too. We’re headed for the Betty.”
“So are we,” said Ripley, as they plunged headlong through the jungle, “so it works out.”
* * *
On hearing the hatch to her cockpit open, Bolero glanced over her shoulder—and saw one of the botanists.
Cody, she thought.
“Hope you don’t mind my coming up here,” he said. “But I can’t sit in the mess hall any longer, and it makes me dizzy to look down at the dome from that angle. Or set of angles, I guess you’d say.”
“Just as long as you clear out when I get the word we’re leaving,” she told him.
The botanist said, “Fair enough,” sat down beside her, and considered her instrument panel. “You know,” he said, “I wanted to be a pilot once. Even trained a little.”
“That’s great,” said Bolero, “but don’t get the idea it’s okay to touch anything. This is a delicate operation. One slip and we’re screwed.”
“Don’t worry,” Cody said. “The last thing I want to do is make everything in that dome die a little faster.”
“You mean the plants?” she asked.
“Obviously. There isn’t much else there.”
“Funny,” Bolero said. “If it were me, I’d be more concerned about my colleagues.”
“I am,” said Cody, a flash of indignation in his eyes. “Who wouldn’t be? But we’re not going to be killing one of my colleagues, and we are going to be killing what’s in the dome.”
“Out of necessity,” she reminded him.
He frowned. “Listen, I know this isn’t our priority, but is it possible there’s another way? Something we can do to keep those trees from being sucked into space?”
“We could stay here,” said Bolero, “like the boy with his finger in the dike. But that’s not going to happen. The people who arranged this little party are going to be by at some point to see how it went, and we’ll want to be long gone by then.”
“It’s a pity,” said Cody. “We put a lot into those plants. Losing them
is like losing a part of me.”
“You know what’s a real pity?” said Bolero. “The fact that I’m going to have to ask you to leave my cockpit.”
He looked at her, surprised. “Did I … do something to offend you?”
“You’re creeping me out,” said Bolero. “That’s offense enough. I can’t afford to have someone up here who’s not a hundred percent on board with everything we’re doing. So if I were you, I’d go bother Vriess.”
“Sorry,” said Cody. “I didn’t mean to—”
“And before you get any ideas,” she added, “I can have a burner in my hand faster than you can think about jumping me.”
Holding his hands up in a petition for peace, the botanist got up from his seat. “No need for that. I’m going, see?”
But before he could get anywhere, Vriess’s voice filled the cockpit. “Bolero? Ripley’s through the hatch to my right. I can’t tell how many she’s got with her.”
That meant they would be shoving off in a few minutes, depending on how many colonists Ripley had to push up the chain. Bolero started activating the requisite systems, putting Cody aside.
As it turned out, it was a mistake.
And she had been wrong—she couldn’t produce a burner faster than Cody could jump her. What’s more, he was surprisingly strong—so much so that when he pulled her out of her seat, she shot up like a distress flare.
“Vriess!” Bolero cried out over what she hoped was still a live comm link, and kicked Cody in the nuts.
As far as she could tell, he didn’t even feel it. And before she could try anything else, he slammed her into the nearest bulkhead, making her teeth rattle.
Dazed, the taste of blood thick in her mouth, Bolero regained her bearings in time to see Cody doing something at her instrument panel. Somehow, she picked herself up off the floor and leaped on his back. But he kept on working her controls as if she weren’t there.
Hearing a hiss behind her, the pilot glanced over her shoulder—and saw Vriess sitting there with a projectile rifle in his hands. Their eyes met for a moment, acknowledging the fact that an errant shell would do to the cockpit what they intended to do to the dome—leave a hole that would suck all its air out into the void.
But Bolero knew there was no better shot than Vriess. Dropping off the botanist’s back, she hit the deck.
“Cody!” barked the little man.
Cody didn’t turn around. He just kept on doing what he was doing, leaving Vriess no choice. Lifting his rifle, Vriess pumped a shell into Cody’s back.
It had no visible effect. Cursing, Vriess plugged Cody with a second shell, this one a little higher up. And this time it spun the botanist around, making him clutch at his back as if he thought he could pluck out the projectile.
Then something white and creamy flew out of his mouth, and he fell to the deck beside Bolero. But he didn’t just lie there—he twitched and jerked as if he were afflicted with a nervous condition.
“He’s an android!” Vriess spat out.
Like Call, Bolero thought. It explained the way Cody had thrown her around, and why Vriess’s first slug hadn’t accomplished anything.
The presence of an android among the colonists raised questions Bolero didn’t have time to answer. If Ripley was going to reach the bay in a matter of minutes, Bolero had to finish bringing the necessary systems online—and address any delays Cody had created with his manipulations.
By then, Gogolac had stuck her head into the cockpit. At the sight of Cody, her eyes went wide and round.
“He’s—”
“An android,” said Bolero, “we know.” Dragging her battered body to its feet, she grabbed hold of Cody’s armpits and swiveled him around until his head was facing Gogolac. “Now get him out of here.”
Numbly, Gogolac bent to her task. As she dragged the android out of the cockpit, Vriess went with her to make sure Cody didn’t give her any trouble—and also, of course, to make sure Gogolac didn’t present any trouble of her own.
And Bolero plopped herself down in front of her instruments, fighting through a haze to do what she had to.
18
Finally, Vriess saw what he had been waiting for—a sign of movement in the chain. Someone was climbing it, making it vibrate with the effort of his or her ascent.
“They’re coming up,” he told Gogolac.
“I’ll alert Bolero,” she said.
As the botanist accessed the intercom system from the control unit on the bulkhead, Vriess watched the sea of trees below. After a few minutes, he saw a feminine figure emerge, but it wasn’t big enough to be Ripley or Call.
“Angie,” said Gogolac, looking past Vriess. “For godsakes, she made it.”
Angie looks tiny, the man in the wheelchair observed. Like a little kid. But who am I to talk about size?
Pretty soon, Call broke out of the canopy as well. And then, as Angie approached the Betty, breathing hard and red-faced with effort, Krakke popped into sight too. And Johner was right behind him.
Vriess didn’t say so, but he could tell there weren’t any other colonists among the survivors. If there had been, they— like Angie—would have gone up ahead of Vriess’s comrades.
“Come on,” he yelled to Angie, who looked like she couldn’t pull herself up the chain even another meter. “Move your ass, goddamnit! There are people behind you!”
Grimacing, the botanist seemed to screw up her resolve. Then she ascended the chain a little faster, allowing Call and Krakke and Johner to do the same.
But after Johner, there was a gap, almost as if he were the last one headed back to the Betty. But that couldn’t be— could it?
Vriess frowned. Where the hell is Ripley?
* * *
Ripley stared at the creature in the near-complete darkness under the canopy, surprised it existed.
And yet, there it was—a big, black dog that had em-erged from the undergrowth while she was waiting for Johner to get up the chain. With her first glimpse of it, she had nearly nailed it with a burst of high-voltage electricity.
But she had held up in time. And now, faced with the prospect of leaving the animal here to be destroyed by marauding aliens, she found she couldn’t do it.
Not anymore than the original Ripley had been able to leave Jones, her cat, on the Nostromo as the self-destruct sequence was winding down.
Obviously, it was a character flaw, this desire to preserve certain life-forms. Why not try to save the plants too? And maybe the insects, while I’m at it?
Taking the dog with her up the chain would significantly hamper her efforts to save herself. The only sensible decision would be to leave the thing behind.
But she couldn’t.
Finally, Ripley tossed her rifle over her shoulder, snapped her fingers, and said, “C’mere, boy.” Warily, the dog walked over and let her pick it up. “We’re going for a ride,” she said.
With the dog in one hand, she took hold of the chain in the other. Then she began inching her way up to the Betty, using her insteps as clamps to consolidate her progress.
It wasn’t easy going. The strain on Ripley’s arm and shoulder was considerable. But she endured it, since that was what it would take to get out of the Domes.
Little by little, she ascended through the darkness toward the dense, almost unbroken canopy. Little by little, she made her way through it, finally emerging into the bright and insistent starlight.
The Betty was hunkered on the surface above her, just where Ripley remembered her. Another few minutes and Ripley would be inside the ship, along with the last of her burdens.
Then Ripley heard a thrashing in the treetops below and looked down, and saw something big and dark breach their surface—something with a long, sleek head and a ridged back and claws big enough to encircle her waist.
Climb, she thought.
Below her, the alien gathered itself. It’s going to jump. And as big and strong as it was, it would probably make it.
That was how Rama ha
d died—by falling prey to one of the aliens while he was dangling helplessly on the chain. However, Ripley had no intention of dying that way.
Or at all.
Holding on for a moment with her hand alone, she tangled one of her legs in the chain. Then she clamped down again with her feet, locking her leg in place.
That allowed Ripley to remove her hand from the chain, pull her burner off her back, and tuck its stock into the hollow of her shoulder.
The dog snuffled, no doubt aware of the precariousness of their situation. But it didn’t try to get away.
“Smart dog,” Ripley said.
As the alien leaped.
Gritting her teeth, Ripley depressed her trigger and unleashed her manmade lightning. The energy bolt stabbed at the thing, twisting it in on itself, searing the flesh of its head and shoulders.
But it didn’t stop it from grabbing Ripley’s ankle with its claw.
Suddenly, her foot began to slip, dragged down by the alien’s weight. In a few seconds, at most, she would lose her grip and go sliding down the chain—or else let go of something in her hands, which wasn’t an option either.
But if she fired at the thing with her shock rifle, the electrical discharge would afflict her as well. And she would succumb before the alien did.
So she shifted her grip on her burner, turned it around in her hand, and slammed it into the alien’s skull as hard as she could. Enraged, the thing looked up at her with its eyeless face, its inner maw sliding out at her.
“Goddamn you,” Ripley spat between clenched teeth.
Then she hammered at the thing a second time, and a third. Infuriated, it snapped at her. But she was too quick, twisting out of its way.
Then, knowing she probably wouldn’t get another chance, Ripley lifted the burner and brought it down with all the strength she could muster. The impact stunned the alien—just enough to make it lose its grip and send it slipping down the chain.
Unfortunately, it managed to latch on again a couple of meters further down. And a moment later, its mouth dripping with anticipation, it began climbing up to regain its prey.
The Complete Aliens Omnibus Page 20