The Complete Aliens Omnibus, Volume 3

by Sandy Schofield

  Doctor Church had taken one of his aliens out into the station earlier; it had been the talk of the rec room and again over dinner. If her suspicions were correct, that Church had been involved with David’s death, the reason was becoming apparent, the evidence fitting together into a picture of undeniable clarity—Paul Church was insane.

  She thought about David for a moment, their too-short time together, and then quickly pushed it away. From the day she’d decided to come to the Innominata, she hadn’t allowed herself the leisure of grief. And wouldn’t allow it now, not when she’d found out so much.

  She wondered vaguely what he would think of her now—hell, what anyone would think. A woman obsessed, poking through matters that she probably had no business with.

  Sure, obsession’s the word, and it doesn’t matter. Because nothing matters anymore except for what I can find to bring Church down.

  The personal beeped again, an end signal, and she reached over to tap through the extensive list it presented. It took a few minutes to get through, consumption records, power placement—

  Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. She went back to the beginning, read it again. A third time.

  McGuinness laughed, high and shaky, looked back at the surveillance monitor and picked out Church.

  “Got you, you bastard,” she whispered, and hoped to God that she was right.

  14

  Crespi looked exhausted, but he had that happy, glazed look that told Church things couldn’t have gone better. They walked through the lab, past Stockdale, meticulously cleaning the equipment. It was still another hour until “dawn,” when the station’s light would cycle up to full power.

  “—and if we can use one more specimen I can get sixteen different models on re-quad, no problem.”

  Church struggled to get his lab coat on as Crespi babbled, full of ideas and propositions. The younger scientist seemed to have that boundless, wired energy that came from too little sleep.

  Church smiled tiredly. “We’ll start on the next shift, if you like.”

  Crespi smiled. “Excellent, excellent. The implications of this project are mind-numbingly significant, Doctor.”

  Church fixed him with a serious gaze. “I quite agree. And if I may say so, it takes a special kind of scientist to appreciate that.”

  Crespi smiled and nodded shortly, accepting the compliment without fluster.

  And without seeing it for what it is…

  “Why don’t you go get some rest, eh? You look all done in.”

  Crespi shrugged, grinning. “Right, though I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. See you in eight hours.”

  He veered down the corridor back toward his quarters, and Church went toward his own. His room was located next to one of the smaller, unused labs, on the station’s industrial level. It was quieter there, more private, and he liked feeling that he was the only man alive down there…

  He took the lift down and walked to his quarters, yawning. He was bone-weary, too old to be staying up all night. Not that his body couldn’t function, but his mind grew distant, hazy.

  In spite of his exhaustion, he knew it would be a while before sleep came. He’d been suffering a mild insomnia for several months, perhaps from the excitement of his research. He’d made quite a few breakthroughs since he’d started the experiments, and felt that he was coming closer to his quest with each day.

  Did Crespi understand? That seemed to be the question, didn’t it? False flattery aside, the man was quite capable, if somewhat limited; there was no reason for Church to dismiss him, certainly, he seemed to grasp many of the minute details that previous assistants had not. But would it be enough? Did he dare to hope…?

  Sleep now.

  He entered the dark room and went to the small kitchen area, where he kept a few assorted drugs—sleep enhancers, caffidrine pills, and the like. He tapped a glass of water and downed two of the sleeping tablets before heading back into the dim bedroom.

  Church removed his shoes and glasses, then lay back to wait for the pills to kick in.

  Funny, how seeing the drone die had stirred up such emotion; he usually felt something like regret, even pity—but the feelings that had rushed over him earlier had been intensely unhappy ones, bitterly nostalgic. He didn’t like to think of the…

  (hell)

  …time that his family had stopped on that small moon, it was pointless and painful. But there were times he couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold back the flood of memories that he’d worked so hard to dam. Most had faded with time, the emotions muted, the times and chronology misplaced…

  Church closed his eyes, helpless to stop himself as the sleep tablets rushed through his system.

  There were some things he’d never forget.

  * * *

  The aliens jerked and pulled the stumbling humans through the low brush of Eden, away from the Genesis station and their ship.

  “Paul? Paul!” His mother was somewhere ahead of him, couldn’t see that he was still there.

  “Okay!” he shouted, though he felt anything but okay. The monster that held him did so with incredible strength; his arms were already bruised and aching, and he knew, with no trace of doubt, that they were all being taken to their deaths.

  Why haven’t they killed us already? Why would they—

  A sudden, sick dread filled him. Those stories they’d heard back on that military station—the aliens used humans for more than food, used them for…

  Paul struggled harder against the merciless claws, but the creature gripped tighter, hissing. Small rivulets of blood ran down his arms as the talons pierced his skin.

  Ahead, a huge rock, overgrown with weeds and green moss, easily as big as their ship. Bigger. As they got closer, Paul could see that it wasn’t a rock at all. And the smell—

  It was the source of the fetid scent he’d noticed earlier. An odor of decay, of mold, and a strange, sour musk like nothing he’d ever smelled before. It was of rotten flesh, dying sweat, of boiling vomit and flat, poisonous chemicals. He knew he’d never be able to describe it to someone who didn’t already know it, and he realized at the same time that he probably wouldn’t survive to…

  They hadn’t seen the hive when they’d landed because of the vegetation all over it. A stupid, possibly fatal mistake—because the drones had seen them, probably watching from their rancid nest, hissing and shrieking in mad pleasure—

  “Everybody try and stay calm! They’re not going to kill us right away, we’ve still got—”

  His father’s voice was cut off as the creature that carried him shoved him toward an opening at the base of the hive, a dark, ragged hole. One by one, Paul’s family and friends were pushed through the opening, followed and led by the hissing drones.

  Paul was last, and he could hear the choked moans of the others as the stench hit him. It was beyond stench, a foul miasma that raped his lungs and burned his eyes and throat. He tried to breathe shallowly, through his mouth, but the air tasted almost as brutal as it smelled.

  He heard the sound of someone throwing up, Louise Clark, and he thought insanely that the creatures would stop, let her clean herself up—

  No. That was the thought of a human mind, a civilized gesture that meant less than nothing in this place. He had to stop, try to see past his panic, and accept that this was happening; to do less was to invite insanity…

  The drone dragging him along caught up to the rest, where he could see their pallid faces in the dim, murky light, contorted with terror and pain. Louise was drenched in vomit and drew in deep, ragged breaths, the bile still trickling from her chin.

  The journey probably lasted only a minute or so, but it felt like forever, a twisted, terrifying jaunt through a haunted cavern. Strange, misshapen ropes of dark secretion hung from the walls, the bizarre symmetry as alien as the creatures themselves. The walls had hollow places, pits, from which black, grinning heads peered out to study the new arrivals, cluttering in flashes of shining, wet teeth.


  They were brought to some kind of open chamber and dumped unceremoniously on the ground, the high walls stretching up into the stinking darkness like a cathedral of bones. His parents crowded around him, as Rebecca’s did for her—as if they could protect their children in this place, keep them from harm. Judith stepped up to Paul’s father.

  “Can you defend us?” His voice was shaky and frightened.

  Even she seemed pale in the gloom, the only light filtered through webbed cracks high above. “If they attack.”

  Lucian Church had started to cry. “They have, don’t you see that? Can’t you kill them?”

  Judith shook her head. “I will defend you to the best of my abilities, but I probably won’t cause any damage before they stop me.”

  The drones had pulled back for a moment, but now they came closer, crept forward with their arms outstretched.

  It was hopeless, there were too many of them. Paul spun around wildly, frantic for a way out, but there was none; cracks and fissures high above seemed to mock them, casting faint, sweet light from Eden so far away… there was only murk and hissing monsters and the promise of impregnation, their bodies used to incubate the alien young, a cruel, living torture before death. And that horrible, horrible stink. If they made it out of this, he’d never forget it, or what it felt like knowing that hope was sometimes all one had.

  Never—

  * * *

  He slept, dreaming that the sun had died, casting an eternal darkness over all the worlds that man had ever known.

  15

  Crespi was getting undressed for bed when someone buzzed at his door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Lieutenant McGuinness, sir.”

  Just a moment.”

  He quickly pulled his pants back on, and after a slight hesitation, grabbed for his overshirt. He had almost forgotten his dream from the night before, but her cool voice over the com reminded him.

  He buttoned up and ran his hands through his hair. “Come in.”

  McGuinness stepped into his quarters looking nothing like she had in his unpleasant dream; her hair was tied back, her face strained and sleepy. Still, he felt almost embarrassed just looking at her.

  The smooth, full weight of her breast in his hand, her agile tongue—

  Whoosh.

  As if that didn’t make things awkward enough, they were also going to have to clear a few things up about Church. And considering her emotional investment in the search, he might have to fall back on rank. He kept his tone controlled and official.

  “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “I’ve found out something very important, about Church and—”

  “So have I, McGuinness.” He smiled gently at her and hoped that she would listen and understand.

  “I’ve just spent six hours watching Colonel Doctor Church in action; the man is, to use a much abused term, a genius. The work he’s doing here will change the face of science forever.”

  McGuinness frowned. “But—”

  He cut her off again; she wasn’t getting it. “I realize you had personal motivations, but Church is a total professional. As of this moment, you will desist spying around. Understood?”

  The lieutenant remained calm, her voice steady. “Sir, I’ve been pirating the station surveillance system. I’ve followed Church’s every move for the last eighteen hours, I watched you and him dissect the alien—”

  Crespi sighed. He was going to have to make it a direct order, perhaps even limit her access to the mainline. It was unfortunate, really, he liked the lieutenant well enough—

  —and maybe more, Doctor, don’t you think?

  —but this had to stop. Church was opening doors to technological innovation that bordered on the mystical, true breakthroughs into—

  Her sharp, pleading tone cut his thoughts off. “Listen to me! He’s toying with you, sir. The alien research is only a small part of what he’s doing here; the station resource requirements don’t jibe with consumption records, do you understand? They don’t match up. Something on board the Innominata is using a third again as much power as all known systems, including the alien lab, combined.”

  It took a few beats for her words to sink in. Crespi felt a slow but unstoppable shock course through him, but he still struggled to stay on top, not wanting to believe her. “But what Church is doing, that would take up a lot…”

  McGuinness shook her head. “He has a hidden operation on board. Something big that he doesn’t want you to find. He’s engaged your interest in the alien research to throw you off track; it’s all on the record, sir, you can look for yourself.”

  Was it possible? He thought about Church’s strange smiles, the odd lapses at the autopsy, the sidestepping. The compliments…

  He turned his head, closed his eyes. Instinct. Goddamnit, instinct!

  Church is still holding back; you know it.

  Crespi did know it.

  Maybe.

  He looked back at the lieutenant, waiting patiently for his response. He felt uncertain, but McGuinness had been straight with him so far—and Church had lied about the crew fatalities, or at least it seemed. If he’d been tricked…

  It had to be true, she said there was proof.

  He felt a cold, sudden hatred for Church, and a sudden warmth of gratitude to the woman who stood in front of him.

  “McGuinness, you’re a good soldier. Do you know where this ghost facility is?”

  She seemed relieved, the small lines of tension in her face melting away. “I think so, sir. I believe it’s located in K lab, down on his drone maze level. It’s designated as a zero-G facility, but that’s where the thirty percent power overage is going. Church has had three double-code, single-access lock doors installed, and it’s not on the station mainline at all.”

  Which means no one can get in but Church.

  “My name’s Tony,” he said absently. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. How do we get in?”

  McGuinness grinned tightly. “Church has a code slate. If we can get that, I can extract the key. I saw him leave it on his private console in his unity office.”

  Crespi nodded. “Where is he now?”

  “Took something. He should be out like a light by now.”

  He took a deep breath. “Can you get the slate?”

  “The bioscan won’t let me in. You’ll have to do it.”

  Crespi hesitated, his brief certainty now wavering. This wasn’t concept, it was a reality—he would have to take action. If McGuinness was telling the truth, he had no choice. It almost certainly meant the end of Church’s research, if he was doing something so illegal that it was being hidden from the Corps—and that would be an immeasurable loss of time and effort, his work with the alien telepathy wasted. There would be years of red tape before it could be started up again, if it ever was.

  And if he got caught—if she was lying…

  You’ll know soon enough, won’t you?

  Crespi spoke quickly, sounding calmer and more controlled than he felt. “Stay here, I’ll be right back. Use my private com line if anything comes up.”

  She nodded mutely and he turned and walked out, before he could change his mind.

  * * *

  After Crespi left, McGuinness sighed, sagged down onto the rumpled bed, and lay back. It had been a long couple of days, and she was exhausted. The sheets smelled pleasantly masculine, comforting scents from her time with David—soap and clean sweat, and also an odor that was distinctly Tony’s—

  She closed her eyes, smiled sadly. That’s Colonel Tony to you, Lieutenant. David was still too close. And she wasn’t ready, at least not until this was over with.

  Although you could ask him to call you Sharon…

  She sat up, half amused by her moot speculation. It wasn’t the time, and definitely not the place. She looked at the clock on the wall, watched the seconds tick by, and wished Colonel Tony luck. He was probably going to need it.

  * * *

  Crespi hurried to the lift and then
stepped out into the unfamiliar corridor, feeling angry and nervous. He hadn’t been to Church’s unity hole yet, though it wasn’t technically off-limits; the office was centrally located, most of the main labs branching out from it.

  Relax, the place should be deserted at this hour.

  True enough. He felt stupid anyway, skulking around like some kind of thief—particularly if Church was hiding something. He had a right, a duty to find out the truth. He straightened his shoulders, hung a right at the end of the passageway. A small flight of stairs, then the office door.

  He paused outside the heavily armored entry, and a fresh wave of anxiety flowed over him as he realized that he hadn’t brought his piece. Not that he’d need it, necessarily, but not having it made him uncomfortable. What if—

  What if what, Crespi? What if Church is lurking in there with a grenade launcher? Get the fucking slate and get on with it!

  Crespi pressed his thumb into the indented hand plate and waited. In few seconds, the door swung open, leading through a small antechamber to another door.

  The lights were dim, but the passage was empty; he felt his guts loosen, and he chided himself for acting like a fool. He strode to the second entry, which slid open to reveal a dark office, the only light coming through a window wall at the far end of the large room. Past that was a combination office/laboratory, and Crespi could see that the dim illumination came from a few monitors there, blinking softly.

  Crespi’s gaze darted to the main desk, littered with hard copy and empty coffee mugs. A hand-sized slate lay amid the clutter, on the keyboard of a small PC.

  He walked over and picked it up, shoved it into his breast pocket.

  See? Right where it was supposed to be, no fuss, no alarms, no armed Marines telling you to drop it—

  He told his mind to shut up as he turned to leave the office. McGuinness would get the key; they could check out the private lab and get this whole covert business behind them—

  He stopped, turned back to the darkness. Something stank. Maybe a tech had left their donut out too long, there was a definite rotten odor; he could at least throw the thing away, whatever—