The Complete Aliens Omnibus, Volume 3

by Sandy Schofield

  Gibbs shouted behind him. “Crespi!”

  He searched for a weapon, nowhere, no time, ran back to see Gibbs fire at the first drone. Another one behind it, taken down in a blast of fire and acid. A third—

  Crespi aimed carefully, felt no relief as his last three rounds shattered the shrieking monster. There were more coming, but they were farther behind, a few seconds, maybe the last few seconds of his life—

  The ATV’s com squawked amid the fading reverberations and the sounds of the drone pack moving closer.

  “—not compromise the safety—” static, “out in the open, over?”

  Shitshitshit! They wouldn’t, couldn’t come in, they were fucked!

  “Crespi! Grenade left!”

  He turned, saw Gibbs throw a six-second thermal at the light-filled crack in the cavern wall. Crespi dropped his useless weapon as he scrambled over a pile of rocks to crouch behind the transport, Gibbs right behind him.

  A horrible scream behind them. Gibbs turned, fired at the metallic blackness that ran toward them—

  WHOOOM!

  A deafening explosion filled the cavern as the grenade blew, rocks and dust flying. The ATV rocked and swayed, settled. Crespi felt liquid trickle from one ear and from his nose, barely registered the sudden silence before Gibbs was pulling at him, jerking at his arm.

  They stumbled through the settling cloud of powdered rock and then Gibbs was climbing and pulling him up.

  “Come on—” The barest whisper, though Gibbs must have shouted it.

  Oh, God, daylight. A sudden wistful hope filled his fogged brain. They were out, crawling through the jagged hole the grenade had left, halfway up a barren slope in a series of barren slopes. Crespi squinted down into the shadows, saw dark shapes moving toward them—

  Gibbs pushed him, hard, and then they were both falling, rolling down the steep hill and away from the hole where the monsters dwelt. Crespi felt a rib break, then another, and he cried out—but at least there was light, at least they weren’t in the cavern anymore.

  He slid to a stop, saw that Gibbs was near. The sergeant was pointing, shouting. “Come on, we can make it!”

  Crespi looked, saw what Gibbs was pointing at. The ship. The beautiful transport ship that would get them the fuck away from this nightmare…

  Run, they had to run. The ship wouldn’t come any closer, only a few hundred meters, they could make it—

  Crespi stood, looked back—and saw several glistening black shapes, no less frightening in the daylight, creeping out of the rip in the stone. They were coming.

  Gibbs saw what he was looking at and started to run, limping. Crespi took a few steps and then fell, got up and kept going in spite of the terrible pain, ribs, shoulder, his entire body; hell was behind them.

  He didn’t look back, kept his bleary gaze on the ship in front of them. Gibbs was faster in spite of the limp, but they both moved slow, too slow. The ship hovered, kicking up whirling clouds of dust far ahead.

  Crespi didn’t hear it because of the ringing in his ears, but he knew, suddenly knew—something was right behind him. Something much faster than him.

  A bolt of agonizing pain in his side as a giant, dark claw grasped his broken ribs. He was spun around, vaguely aware that he screamed but unable to hear the depths of terror in his own voice when he saw the thing that held him.

  A giant, seething animal, crowned with a massive, gleaming comb of black. She had two pairs of arms, the ones that held him long and articulated with tight strips of dark matter, the talons sharp and piercing. Blood ran from the wounds in his chest, and he saw behind her another entrance to the hellish cavern—her lair. For this monstrosity was surely the queen, half again as tall as her drone minions, hissing and screaming at him with no sound—

  She brought him closer, close enough to see the pearly spittle glisten across her steel teeth. The horrible jaws opened, impossibly wide, and he saw the second set extend, slowly, so slowly—

  Crespi struggled, screamed, his dusty boots kicking against her skull, but she was too strong, carried him to her dripping jaws with ease. He was going to die.

  —I’m sorry, sorry—

  Suddenly she jerked, screamed, and even through the ringing he could hear the bullets, see the splashes of bubbling blood that exploded from her back and pattered the dust beyond them. Her tremendous hands clenched, crushed him—

  —and dropped him to the ground. She turned, shrieked in rage and hurt—and then fell, writhing, pulling herself away from him, back to her darkness. Miraculously, only a few tiny droplets of her obscene blood had hit him, splashing across his chest armor.

  Hands clutched at him, unbuckled the hissing chest plate and threw it aside. Gibbs. “You all right?!”

  He was being pulled again, and he let out a strangled sob; he was alive, hurting but alive. “No—”

  Gibbs slung Crespi’s arm over his shoulder and limped on, grunting with each shuffling step. “We gotta get in the clear so they’ll open the lock, we’re gonna make it, hold on—”

  It seemed an eternity of rocks and dust beneath their feet, and Crespi could hear the sound of the ship’s air compressors getting louder—but behind them, the shrieks of the creatures also increased in volume. Gibbs kept talking, mumbling words of encouragement. Crespi realized that he was in shock, for in spite of the planetoid’s desert temperature, he was shaking with cold.

  It was Gibbs’s laughter that finally made him look up. In front of them, not five meters, the drop lock of the transport ship, lowered within their reach. Gibbs let go for the barest second, hoisted himself up onto the grided platform, and then reached back for Crespi.

  The large man lifted him easily and pushed him ahead, over the waist-high railing and into the lock. Crespi still shook, but he managed a smile in return to Gibbs’s wide grin, reaching back with numb arms to help. The ship lifted, up and away, the desert rock dwindling beneath them at incredible speed.

  God, they were safe! They had made it, alive, and Crespi began to laugh as Gibbs grinned, the truth of it in his eyes.

  And then the grin opened wider, the eyes suddenly bulging from their sockets. Gibbs screamed, his thick fingers clutching convulsively through the wire, skin cracking—

  NO!

  A dark metal rod, red and slick, tipped with gnashing teeth, shot out from Gibb’s open mouth. His cracked skull elongated, ripped in half, spewed Crespi with warm, quivering flesh and blood. The sergeant reached forward with one dying hand, a last instinct to save himself—and fell away, the alien still enmeshed in his body, its inner jaws clicking wetly through the back of his skull. He tumbled down in a cloud of his own gore, into the teeming nest of black drones far below that hissed and shrieked their fury to the skies.

  Crespi fell to his knees, the hot wind whispering past his tortured ears. Fell to his side, curled into a ball of aches and wounds. And finally, he slept.

  7

  Church watched as Doctor Crespi’s face went pale and his eyes seemed to glaze over with some ancient dream, a nightmare by the expression. Interesting; perhaps they were kindred spirits, at least in shared experience. Or perhaps some little drone had jumped out at him from behind a rock on some piddling mission or other, frightened poor Crespi into soiling his skivvies. Traumatic, to be sure…

  Church gazed back down at the now-sleeping drone, felt a trace of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Sometimes things came full circle; how fortunate that he was here to appreciate the irony of it.

  He blinked, and in that briefest flash of darkness, he remembered. Not the specifics, the sounds or smells, but the feeling—of knowing the hatred for flesh, the silent screaming realized in the separation of body and spirit—

  Another blink and it was gone. Below them, the beast hissed softly, asleep in its own dark reality. And now Church did smile, feeling a sudden rush of something like affection for the creature. After all, he was no longer in a cage.

  Doctor Crespi had gone positively numb in flashback, so Churc
h politely cleared his throat before speaking.

  “Won’t you let this spunky little fellow into your heart?”

  Crespi’s eyes seemed to clear a bit, but he was still quite ashen. “What—what if it—it can’t jump out?”

  Church shook his head. “Don’t worry. There’s a force field, of course. And the pit is seven meters deep, with no purchase—solid acid-neutralizing alloy.”

  Crespi didn’t look convinced, his gaze steady on the drone. Church pointed at one of the dozen electrodes set low into the walls of the enclosure. “See the electrodes? They’re motion-activated. If an alien attempted to jump, it would be roasted alive.”

  They stood and watched for a moment, but the napping creature didn’t stir. Church turned and walked back up the ramp, stopping at the metal steps when he realized Crespi hadn’t followed.

  “Colonel Doctor Crespi?”

  The man seemed to shake himself, then backed away from the viewing platform to join him. Church led him down the stairs and onto the main floor, over to the vid console. He tapped a few keys at a small screen, pulling up a layout grid for the lab connections.

  “This will give you an idea of the extent of this operation.”

  Crespi studied the map, frowning thoughtfully. “This must utilize half the Innominata’s nonrenewable resources.”

  Church smiled. “More like five-eighths.”

  When Crespi looked up, he was still frowning, but some color had come back into his face. “Why are you so eager to help me shut you down?”

  Church leaned past him, tapped a few more keys, then motioned up to the vid screen as it flared to life. “Ask me later. Heads up.”

  The screen contained a close-up shot of the sleeping drone, the shielded camera illuminating the creature in full, glorious color. Church smiled again; he had to admit, he liked this part.

  He punched the small yellow button at his fingertip and the drone sprang awake, screaming.

  * * *

  Crespi’s heart plummeted into his stomach as the horrible shriek echoed dully through the lab. The picture on the giant screen was one of pure rage, the alien leaping to its guard, arms outstretched and ready to destroy. Its long tail whipped around, lashed into the walls of the pit in a flurry of metallic slaps; its jaws dripped ichor as it spun, searching for its tormentor. Church had shocked it, hard.

  He couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice. “Why did you do that?”

  Church looked at him seriously, his earlier humor set aside. “It’s necessary to administer electric shocks periodically when they’re in captivity; keeps them from going into a dormant state. I have four more adult specimens aboard in semi-cryogenic kennels. They don’t live long isolated from their clan like this. I have to get all I can out of them.”

  Crespi turned back to the screen, studied the angry drone. The research might be interesting, sure, but how could he stand to work with the monsters that had slaughtered his friends, his lover, had almost killed him …? For months, years after the attack, he had been unable to talk about it, the mere mention of the breed leaving him pale and shaking.

  And yet—

  “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind giving that thing a shock or two for auld lang syne myself. I had a run-in with a nest of them once.”

  Church’s gaze was cool, unreadable. “You don’t say.”

  Crespi looked at the creature alone in the pen, hissing softly again, pivoting its obscene head slowly from side to side.

  “Yes. Years ago, a long time… on a rock near Solano’s moon. They attacked my squadron and killed everyone but me. We knew they were dangerous, of course, but we didn’t know—” He faltered, searched for the right words, and came up blank. “I didn’t know how they were.”

  Crespi couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away from the drone. He felt like he was sinking back into the memories of that horrible day, memories he had tried hard to lose. “What I remember—all I remember is that skin, that stink, flashes of teeth. Gibbs, he—”

  He looked at Church and realized he was babbling about things that the doctor probably had already had experience with.

  “Anyway, everyone died.”

  Church’s eyes were still without emotion. “Dear me, how awful for you.”

  Crespi nodded, tried to regroup. That was a long time ago, a lifetime. He pushed the memories away, refocused on Church.

  “Say, didn’t I read that you survived an encounter as well?” He had, in Church’s stat sheet before he’d left Earth. Nothing specific except the date, some forty years ago—

  “Sir, the system is ready.”

  Crespi started, turned. A young tech in a clean gray coverall had joined them.

  Church smiled. “Very good, Hawks.” He motioned at Crespi. “This is Colonel Doctor Crespi, he’s here to uncover our—illegal operation.”

  Hawks snapped a salute, his face uncertain. “How do you do, sir. Illegal operation? I don’t understand.”

  Church walked to another vid screen, calling out over his shoulder. “That’s all right, Hawks, neither does he. Just step over here, Doctor.”

  Crespi returned the salute impatiently and followed Church. He wasn’t here to swap horror stories. The shock of seeing a live drone again was wearing off rapidly; it was time for a few straight answers.

  Is it, Doctor? Or is it just time to avoid remembering anymore?

  Crespi told his mind to shut up.

  The screen they stood in front of was bigger and showed a different view of the pen. Crespi frowned as a door slid open from the enclosure to some type of corridor, probably into the labyrinth of sublevel passageways that he had seen on Church’s layout grid.

  The older man spoke softly, as if explaining to a child. “That door leads into the maze. Once inside, the creature will be confronted with choices. Let’s see if you can second-guess its behavior.”

  Crespi scowled, opened his mouth to speak—and then thought better. The video image changed, the camera angle from behind the drone as it cautiously moved into the corridor. There was a small table, bolted into the wall of the passage—and on top was a pig, a real pig, drugged or asleep. And next to that—

  “There’s a man in there!” Crespi could hear the anxiety in his own voice. The guy was armored and armed, but Jesus, what was Church doing?

  The bespectacled doctor nodded calmly. “Yes. Aliens don’t have eyes, they can’t be fooled by holograms. But don’t worry, I’ve taken every precaution. If the alien attacks, the automatic sensors will activate the electrodes.

  “Now, Crespi—that drone is starving, and as you may know, these creatures are very fond of pig. What will it do?”

  Church was relaxed, self-assured. Obviously he couldn’t go around killing volunteers, the project would have to be full-proof safe—although Crespi wondered just what the hell they had offered that man to go in there alone.

  He swallowed, tried to consider the question clearly.

  “Well. I know it won’t retreat, but…” Starving, the thing’s starving. “I think it’ll attack the pig, eat, and then attack the man.”

  The drone crept closer to the two choices, hissing low in its dark throat.

  “Wrong, Crespi.” Church’s voice was a whisper. “R-O-N-G, wrong.”

  The alien shrieked and lunged for the suited man, its talons extended. Crespi just had time to see the terror on the poor man’s face before he raised his weapon, too late—

  A flash of brilliance and the drone screamed again, this time in frustration and pain. It crumpled to the floor, dazed, steam or smoke rising up from its black exoskeleton. The armed man was pale, but unharmed. He backed up to a door a few meters behind him and exited quickly.

  Church went on as if nothing particularly interesting had happened. “As you saw, it barely hesitated. It will starve to death before it will neglect an opportunity to attack an enemy.”

  Crespi nodded, willed his pounding heart to slow down.

  Church gestured at the unmoving drone on the screen.
“I believe they don’t consider themselves as individuals; they fight for their species, not themselves. They cannot be frightened, intimidated, or bribed into not attacking, as a threat to one is a threat to all—and to leave that threat standing is to go against their basic instinctual drive. Pain, fatigue, overwhelming odds… nothing mitigates their aggression.”

  He nodded toward the vid. The drone had pulled itself to its feet slowly and now hissed at its unseen enemy.

  Church smiled faintly. “As you can see, it’s up and at ’em again. And in a minute, it will have to make another choice.”

  The alien moved closer to the pig, and the cameras switched to an overhead view. Crespi could see that there was a chain binding one of the pig’s legs to the table. The noise of the attack had woken it somewhat, and it grunted sleepily as the creature approached.

  To the left of the food animal was a small passage set into the floor. The alien stood between the pig and the exit way, its tail clattering lightly on the floor behind it.

  Church enlarged the vid slightly with the touch of a button. “Here it is confronted with a choice between food and the possibility of escape. That small tunnel leads to a storage room. The alien can sense that there are no men down the tunnel; if it wants to escape, that’s the route to take.”

  Crespi raised his eyebrows. The drone would want the food, but against the chance to escape…?

  The creature turned toward the passageway as the pig whuffled to itself. Crespi felt his muscles relax slightly; he hadn’t even realized how tense he had been until—

  The drone spun, shrieked, and tore the now-screaming pig off of the chain. The high-pitched squeals of the terrified animal filled the lab as the monstrous black talons pierced its hide, spewing thick streams of blood against the walls.

  The alien thrust its head forward and its inner jaws shot out and tore into the flesh of the helpless pig. The animal seemed to explode into a mass of writhing, dying flesh, the heavy blood spraying the drone’s malefic form as it shrieked again in conquest.

  No electrodes this time. Crespi turned away from the screen, unable to watch the creature feed. And as he turned, he saw Church studying the video image intently.