The Complete Aliens Omnibus

Home > Horror > The Complete Aliens Omnibus > Page 44
The Complete Aliens Omnibus Page 44

by B. K. Evenson


  “I hope to hell you’re right,” he said.

  Air began to hiss its way into the chamber, the artificial gravity coming slowly on as well, Bjorn very quickly becoming more than he could manage to hold. Grunting, he laid him down as softly as he could.

  When the green light flashed, both he and Frances took off their helmets, stripping their suits off as well. Kramm took out the pistol, checked it again. Still only one shot. What did I expect? he wondered.

  He held the gun awkwardly in his mangled hand as he pressed his good hand against the lock’s touchpad.

  Welcome, Anders Kramm, the touchpad read. Hands up, please.

  He tossed the gun into his other hand as the door slid open. On the other side was a brightly lit corridor, seven men in lab coats aiming guns at him and Frances.

  “Hands up,” said one of them.

  “No,” said Kramm.

  They looked vaguely puzzled and anxious, as if this was not the answer they expected.

  “Don’t make us shoot you,” said the same man, a dark-haired fellow with glasses.

  “You’re not going to shoot us,” Kramm said. “If you wanted us dead, you never would have let us inside in the first place.”

  They looked back and forth among themselves.

  “Do you have any idea of the value of the equipment you’ve destroyed?” asked the dark-haired man, saying this as if it was something he’d long rehearsed.

  “Are you the leader?” Kramm asked. “Are you in charge here?”

  “Yes,” said the man. “Yes, I am.”

  “Good,” said Kramm, and shot him dead.

  Most of the other men just gaped. One raised his gun toward him; Kramm aimed the now-empty pistol toward him. “Don’t try it,” he said, then shifted his aim quickly over to another one, then back again. “There’s no reason for anyone else to die,” he said. “Unless one of you has a death wish. None of you know how to handle these guns,” he said, and hoped it was true. “I do.”

  They stayed like that, in a slow stalemate, Kramm keeping his hand and eye steady, until he felt them beginning to get used to it. “You have my word I won’t hurt any of you,” he said. “Frances, please take these gentlemen’s guns away.”

  Frances flashed him a nervous look, then moved carefully past him. She approached the first man, holding her hand out. It took a long moment for him to give her his gun, but finally he did. Kramm took a deep breath. The bluff had worked. It would only get easier from here.

  He kept the empty gun trained on them until Frances had all their guns, then put it in his belt. He took one of their guns in his hand, put two others into his pockets. Frances took the remaining three.

  “There’s an unconscious man in the airlock,” Kramm said. “A friend of ours. It’ll take four of you to carry him in.”

  He designated four of them, urged them forward by waving the new gun.

  One of the remaining two was sullen. Watch him, Kramm told himself. The other, though, was wringing his hands, looking as if he was ready to cry.

  “What are you going to do?” the man suddenly blurted out.

  Kramm turned slowly toward him, bringing the gun to bear. “Do?” he said. “First we’re going to haul my friend into surgery and cut off his legs and replace them with something better. Then we’re going to figure out how we’re going to keep him alive. Then we’re going to square off this hand of mind and treat it for infection. While we’re doing that, the young lady will be sending a distress signal out on one general channel and a message about what you’ve been up to here out on another. Then we’ll throw the lot of you into cryonic storage and sit back and wait for the law to arrive.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” the sullen one said.

  “Get away with what?” asked Kramm. “Staying alive?” The other four passed, struggling with Bjorn, Frances covering them with two pistols. Kramm moved the other two into line behind them.

  “They’re on their way,” said the sullen one, looking back over his shoulder at him. “We’ve been in touch with them ever since you crossed through the hive. They’ll be here long before the galactic council sends colonial marines. And they’ll be armed to the teeth.”

  “My guess is that they’ll stop down below and bring some of our little friends with them,” said Kramm coolly. “Don’t you think?”

  “Guns and bugs,” said the sullen man, less sullen now, stopping and turning to face Kramm with a look of defiance. “Bugs and guns. You don’t stand a chance. You’re trapped here. No way out. No escape.”

  But Kramm, face serene, just smiled broadly.

  “Bring it on,” he said.

  He turned the man by his shoulders and pushed him after the others, making him run until he caught up. Trapped or no, he was thinking, what a great day to still be alive.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  S. D. PERRY is a top genre author, who has written tie-in novels to the much-loved Resident Evil games franchise, as well as novels for popular series Aliens, Alien vs. Predator, Star Trek and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, movie novelizations for Timecop and Virus, and the game tiein novel Shadow of the Tomb Raider: Path of the Apocalypse. She is the daughter of bestselling sci-fi author Steve Perry and lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and two children.

  BRIAN EVENSON is the author of a dozen books of fiction, most recently the story collection A Collapse of Horses (Coffee House Press 2016) and the novella The Warren (Tor. com 2016). He has also recently published Windeye (Coffee House Press 2012) and Immobility (Tor 2012), both of which were finalists for a Shirley Jackson Award. His novel Last Days won the American Library Association's award for Best Horror Novel of 2009. His novel The Open Curtain (Coffee House Press) was a finalist for an Edgar Award and an International Horror Guild Award. Other books include The Wavering Knife (which won the IHG Award for best story collection), Dark Property, and Altmann's Tongue. He has translated work by Christian Gailly, Jean Frémon, Claro, Jacques Jouet, Eric Chevillard, Antoine Volodine, Manuela Draeger, and David B. He is the recipient of three O. Henry Prizes as well as an NEA fellowship. His work has been translated into French, Italian, Greek, Spanish, Japanese, Persian, and Slovenian. He lives in Los Angeles and teaches in the Critical Studies Program at CalArts.

 

 

 


‹ Prev