The Complete Aliens Omnibus, Volume One (Earth Hive, Nightmare Asylum, the Female War)

by Steve Perry

  No matter. It was what they had.

  Now the crew strapped into their seats.

  Billie offered her a quick and nervous smile as Ripley walked to the front and around the control area’s partition.

  Brewster sat in pilot one, Tully behind him.

  Wilks adjusted a strap on one of the secondary chairs.

  Ripley moved up to pilot two and sat.

  Wilks looked at her. “Hey, Ripley. We ran a matrix on the movement in the southern hemisphere, in case we have to land there.”

  “No, ‘in case,’” she said. “She’s there. You know it.”

  Wilks shook his head and grinned. “Okay, probably. We’ll know soon enough. Anyway, Tully picked up rock formations like you wouldn’t believe. It’s going to be tricky. There’s a little wind, too.”

  Brewster turned from the console and nodded at Wilks. “If it was easy, anybody could do it. Besides, topography’s the APC’s problem. All I gotta do is drop you off.”

  Ripley let the bitterness slip past. Brewster was obviously still pissed that he wasn’t going to attend their scouting party.

  “Yeah, but flying it’s going to be a bitch. Glad you’re at the helm, Brewster. Hotshot like you shouldn’t have too many problems.”

  Brewster didn’t reply, but Ripley saw him relax slightly. Good. They were going into harm’s way and the last thing she needed was a smarmy pilot.

  Tully spoke up. “Carvey and I sectored the APC’s comlink,” she said, “so you don’t have to worry about scattering.”

  “Great,” said Ripley. She looked at the readouts in front of her and felt her hands start to clench. The lack of tension she’d felt wasn’t going to last now that there was nothing left to do but sit and wait.

  “I guess we’re ready,” she said.

  “Good thing,” said Brewster, “’cause here we go, bearing oh-six—”

  The rest of his words seemed to fade as he punched a button and they fell out of space.

  * * *

  Billie gripped the armrests of her chair, eyes tightly closed. Her stomach was knotted in the usual lurch of free-fall. This was a feeling she didn’t think she’d ever get used to. She imagined the Kurtz shooting through the heavy clouds, pummeled by the rains and—

  Scratch that, she thought as she felt nausea rise up. She searched for a more pleasant thought. Last night with Dylan, the closeness, the touching, the rolling and pumping, over and over, falling forever—oh Lord, scratch that, too.

  The ship suddenly seemed to catch up to her twisted belly. Not an easy drop, but the worst had to be over. She opened her eyes. She hoped the worst was over.

  Char smiled at her shakily. “Not dead yet,” she said.

  Billie nodded and looked over at the nearest port. Nothing to see; they were still too high.

  Wilks leaned his head around the partition, expression tense. “Local winds look to be pushing 130 knots,” he said. “And that’s down below the jet stream. Better button up before it gets rough.”

  At the sound of his voice, Billie felt her guts tighten. So much for the worst being over.

  She fought down a rising sense of dread.

  She felt that her entire life had been spent in preparation for this moment. She believed in this, was ready to risk her neck for it—for Amy, for Ripley and Wilks and the others. They all had their own reasons. Duty. Honor. She looked over at Falk, at his blank face—he had vengeance. It wasn’t the thought of death that frightened her, it was the uncertainty.

  The flight smoothed out, became almost calm.

  Carvey and Falk unbuckled and moved to one of the ports.

  What the hell, Billie thought, and stood to join them.

  They broke out of the cloud cover into the most desolate place Billie had ever seen. The Kurtz moved too fast to get a good look, but as far as she could tell, it was all the same.

  Pools of shallow gray water stretched for klicks, broken up and surrounded by dirty humps of rock. Clumps of colorless vegetation, much of it apparently fungal, towered at the edges of the water. Some strange variety of beige moss seemed to cover everything. They passed a copse of the bizarre plant life, which struck Billie as the work of an insane sculptor. Twisted limbs and vines branched off into the air and pulsed slightly in the winds that shook the ship. Off in the distance, Billie saw impossibly-tall stands of rock scattered randomly in the endless dark sea. Nice place. She turned away.

  “We’d better head down to the APC,” she said.

  “Right,” said Carvey. He started toward the stairs, followed by Falk and Dunston.

  Jones walked back toward medical.

  Billie stood still for a moment, tried to prepare herself.

  “You okay?” Char asked.

  Billie looked at her friend, saw the concern on the lieutenant’s face.

  “Yeah. Just getting my nerve up.”

  As Billie walked behind Char to the lower level, she couldn’t stop the fear from welling up. That they were all just part of some huge plan; that their sense of purpose was fake. That maybe they hadn’t really come of their own accord, but had been lured by the dreams…

  * * *

  “Buddha, what a great place,” said Brewster. “Maybe I’ll take my vacation here.” He navigated the Kurtz through the strange environment. Crosswinds buffeted the vessel hard enough to rock it.

  Wilks stared. Yeah, this was without a doubt the most god-awful planet he’d ever seen. He could almost feel the thick wetness of the air around the ship, smell the dead chemical odor of the alkaline water. Just looking at this nightmare gave him the creeps.

  Brewster interrupted his thoughts. “I got a spot scoped where it seems relatively calm, not far from the main cluster of movement.”

  No one spoke for a minute.

  “Take it or leave it, folks—I can’t dick around for long in this damn wind,” said Brewster.

  “Take it,” said Ripley, and stood up. “Come on, Wilks, let’s go back with the grunts.”

  Tully smiled at them as they headed down the stairs. “Luck,” she said.

  Brewster struggled with the controls but managed a thumbs-up.

  The others were crowded around the APC in the dock. Wilks motioned for the rest of the crew to get on, and boarded last.

  He watched everyone strap in before he moved to the front. Billie sat at the console; she would monitor outside activity as they got closer to the motion Brewster had picked up.

  A voice crackled out over the intercom.

  “Hey, kids, almost there,” said Brewster. “Tully says the movement has stopped, but it seemed to be coming from a formation almost due west from where we’re dropping you—that’s a two-seven-two heading, to be exact.”

  “Rock formation?” said Billie.

  “Negative. Looks organic. Listen, Carvey, you still owe me money, so be careful, okay? Goes for the rest of you, too.”

  “Got it,” said Billie.

  “Thanks, Brewster,” Wilks said. “On your go.”

  Wilks keyed the controls for the machine and checked the navigational. Everything looked fine. The mobile unit was built like a chunk of lead on wheels, designed to move over any terrain, if not comfortably, at least efficiently. The front view-screen gave a good shot of the outside; currently, the inside of the dock. There was also a small kleersteel shield that offered a more limited view.

  There were recoilless guns mounted on the pivotal up top, as well as in the front. This was supposed to be a check—with any luck, he wouldn’t have to use them.

  “Stand by,” said Brewster, in a burst of static.

  Wilks tensed, ready.

  The Kurtz touched down. Wilks rolled his head with the sudden impact, felt the planet surface grind and crunch beneath the ship. The APC slid forward as the deck dropped out on metal struts, the hatch opening outward.

  “Go!”

  Wilks grabbed the control stick and eased the APC off the extended ramp and into the water. There were scattered rocks and weird vegetable grow
ths here and there, but essentially they were looking at an ocean less than a meter deep. Here, anyway. It surrounded them in every direction as far as he could see. Wind rippled the surface into a shifting washboard, occasional gusts blowing spray from the tiny whitecaps.

  The APC’s rear wheels pulled off the deck and they settled into the liquid with scarcely a bump.

  “Good job,” said Wilks. “We’re down. And welcome to town, folks.”

  “And we are outta here,” said Brewster.

  The sounds of the ship as it lifted were loud even inside the APC. Brewster and the others would head back up, above the winds, and wait for the pickup call.

  If there’s anybody left to send it, thought Wilks. There was something wrong, he felt it in his gut; but they were there, and it was time.

  “Let’s go see if the queen’s home,” he said.

  The APC rumbled forward.

  16

  From the position of the cam on the APC, it was nearly impossible to tell exactly what it was they were headed toward. The screen showed nothing but water and sky, close enough in color to be nearly indistinguishable. It was like moving through a void.

  Billie mostly kept her gaze on the motion sensors and the Doppler screen, where she had something to report. “We got six roughly spherical objects, approximately twenty meters apart and arranged in a circle. Largest measures maybe thirty meters high; it’s centered inside the others,” she said.

  “Sounds like Adcox’s nest,” said Wilks.

  “Yeah,” Billie said. She pushed her hair off her sweaty forehead. The APC’s coolers could only do so much against the wet heat of the planet that pressed in on them.

  They wobbled and bumped as the APC made its way slowly through the water.

  “Level, my ass,” Wilks said. “I’d like to see Brewster’s idea of rough terrain.”

  It all felt like a dream to Billie, and her heart thumped hard and loud enough she was surprised nobody noticed.

  “Wilks—this is supposed to be a scouting trip, right? Why are we headed straight to her nest? Shouldn’t we find somewhere safer, to observe—”

  “Look around. Where would you suggest?”

  “I’m just saying that we can scope things out a little more thoroughly, try a probe—”

  “Listen, kid, we’re not going to drive this thing into her front door, we’re just going to pull up nearby and see what happens, okay? If the probes we had were worth a shit, I’d send one, but none of the robots we got can do the job.”

  Billie nodded, but continued to worry. “It doesn’t feel good, Wilks,” she said.

  His lips tightened. “Yeah,” he said. “I copy that.”

  Billie sighed. She and Wilks had been here before. Not this place, but this kind of situation. Somehow that felt a little comforting. Between the two of them, they’d pulled off some pretty scary deals. “ETA, two minutes,” she said.

  “We’ll be ready,” Ripley called out from behind her.

  Billie wanted to go back and talk to Ripley about her fear. Maybe there was some kind of psychic thing going on.

  Suddenly the APC ground to a halt with a jarring crunch. The unit tilted to the left, throwing Billie back into her chair.

  * * *

  “What the fuck—?” began Falk.

  Ripley held up her hand for silence. “Wilks, Billie, what do we have?”

  Billie ran the diagnostic. “We bent one of the aft axle struts, but I think that’s it,” said Billie. Her voice sounded shaky.

  “What did we hit?” said Adcox.

  Wilks called out over his shoulder. “Don’t know. Something underwater; treads lifted and we lost traction. Hang on, let me see if we can rock back off it.”

  The APC’s engines rumbled. It took a few seconds, but Wilks managed to pull free of the obstruction. “Okay, we’re clear.” Then, “Take a look at the screen.”

  Ripley looked up at the vid screen and inhaled sharply as the picture panned left.

  “Oh, my God,” Adcox said.

  They were less than a hundred meters from a huge, round orb sitting in the murky water, pinkish gray in color, with strange lines crisscrossing the surface.

  Like veins, thought Ripley.

  A long, thick cord connected it to another orb, larger. The one they were closest to was the length of the APC and maybe twice as high.

  “I think we ran over something connected to that thing,” said Wilks.

  “Billie, is anybody home?” Ripley asked.

  “No movement. If they’re around, they must be asleep. Look, I think we should back off a little. I don’t feel so great about this.”

  Ripley frowned. “We’re here. If they heard that knock and they’re still not coming, I think we’ll be all right for a minute.”

  They all watched the screen with intense concentration.

  Nothing happened.

  Ripley half-expected to see a horde of the giant insects launch themselves from behind the weird orbs and attack. She looked at Billie; the girl was watching the sensor readouts closely.

  No movement…

  It was Falk who broke the silence. “Let’s go have a peek, what say?” He stood, picked up a comset, hooked it over the back of his head, and reached for a boot to one of the mechano suits.

  Dunston also stood.

  Ripley shook her head. “I think we should wait, maybe nudge one of them with the APC first,” she said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

  Falk continued to suit up. “Isn’t that why we came?” he said. “To find out?”

  Carvey got up and helped Dunston buckle on one of the lift boots before he grabbed a third suit.

  “It’s a good idea,” said Carvey. “We’ll just hop out and have a look. We’ve got weapons, we’re armored, and the APC’s right here. We’re out there five minutes, tops.”

  Ripley thought about it. They knew what the aliens were capable of; they weren’t going to be charging out there ignorant of what could happen. And Carvey had a point—they were as prepared as they were going to get. It was no crazier than the whole mission, which made less sense every time she thought about it.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “No,” said Billie from behind them. “Ripley, don’t let them go, this isn’t going to work. Can’t you feel it?”

  Dunston stepped forward, awkward in the suit. Hydraulics whined, the boots clumped heavily as he moved. “Billie,” he said, his voice calm. “This is a choice. We made the decision to come here. This is part of it.”

  Something in his face, perhaps the acceptance of fate, stopped Billie from protesting any further. She turned and moved back to the front without another word.

  The three men, fully suited, stood by the door and looked to Ripley for their cue. They each wore thick vests with head protectors, jointed metal running the length of their limbs. Each carried standard military carbines, the same 10mm caseless weapons Ripley had learned to use.

  “Listen to your sets,” she said. “Billie is monitoring the cluster. Any sign of trouble, get back here; we don’t want any dead heroes. Good luck.”

  She paused for a moment. What else is there to say? Nothing.

  “Go,” she said.

  The hatch slid open.

  * * *

  Wilks felt the blast of damp heat as the door slid shut. The smell was like he’d imagined, but worse—like rotten, poisoned food. The wind made the exposed edges of the hatch whistle.

  He breathed through clenched teeth and watched the screen. Billie was pallid and tense beside him, but she also watched the readouts carefully.

  Wilks wished he were out there with the others, but he tried to let it go. He was the best APC driver they had, and if anything went wrong they’d want to leave in a hurry.

  “Falk, talk to me,” he said.

  “We’re moving toward it, maybe thirty meters away now… We’ll stay on this side of it.” Falk’s transmission was clear.

  “Christo, it fucking stinks,” said Carvey.
“You’re missing out, Sarge.”

  “What are you bitching about? At least you can breathe.”

  “Wish I’d thought to bring a kite. Wind must be gusting to a hundred klicks out here.”

  “One-fifteen,” Wilks said.

  He watched as the three men appeared at the bottom of the viewscreen. “Okay, now we got you on visual,” he said.

  One of the figures turned and waved. “Hi, Ma!”

  Wilks grinned. “Knock that shit off, Carvey, you’re supposed to be part of a crack scouting team here.”

  Trying to be funny to break the tension seemed a little strained, but it was something.

  The figures approached the sphere. Their boots rose and fell in the muck that came up to their knees, spatters of it blowing away in the gusts.

  They separated a few meters from the orb; Falk remained in front while Dunston and Carvey moved to the sides.

  “Don’t get too far apart,” said Wilks. The three men stopped. “Stay in sight of each other.”

  “There’s goop all over this thing,” said Carvey. “Like, uh—jelly.”

  “Seems to be emanating from the formation’s core.” That from Dunston.

  “What are these things?” Carvey said. “They’re too big to be egg sacs—I hope they’re too big to be egg sacs. Whatever the hell it is, it’s oozing like a sonofabitch. I can almost see inside—” He raised a mechanical limb to touch it.

  Billie gasped and Wilks felt his heart catch.

  “Oh, fuck, movement!” she said.

  “Everybody get out of there now!” Wilks shouted.

  “It’s coming from inside the pods!” said Billie into the com. “Move, get away!”

  The three figures on the screen stumbled back as the nearest pod opened like a giant egg sac and a huge, glistening shape rose from out of it.

  Adcox cried out from behind them. A queen-sized drone, bigger than any Wilks had ever seen, snapped out one powerful claw so fast Carvey hardly saw it move and latched on to his head protector.