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

by Steve Perry

  Falk hit the button. The hatch slid up and in, too slow. Wilks crouched down and fired as several of the bugs scrabbled to get in. One of the drones grabbed at the barrel of his rifle just before the deck shut. He shot its glistening teeth through the back of its skull.

  Tiny molten flecks peppered Wilks’s cheeks.

  But they were all inside. A score of aliens pounded at the closed hatch, their cries muffled through the alloy.

  “McQuade, Brewster, get us out of here!” Ripley yelled into her set. Wilks slammed a fist against the hatch. Billie was too late.

  29

  The flier descended slowly over the trees.

  Despair washed over Billie at the sight of the empty compound—well, almost empty. Even in the heavy dusk she could see the dark, alien bodies strewn on the ground.

  “Oh, no,” she said softly.

  The old man clenched his hands and said nothing. She had explained the situation on the way. Since the coordinates were preset and neither of them was a pilot, they’d had to return to the compound first; Billie had hoped that the Kurtz’s computer could help them locate Amy’s ship, but now—

  They’d had to leave, there’d been no choice, she told herself over and over.

  In spite of what she knew to be the truth, a knot formed in her throat; she had been abandoned. Ripley had finished the detonator and the Kurtz had left. They would die.

  Billie swallowed hard as the ship settled gently to the ground. She had made her decision and had no alternative but to accept the results.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the pain on his face as their mutual hope died.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice dull. “You tried. I—I’m glad it’ll be over soon.”

  “We could try to escape the blast,” she said, but disregarded the words as she spoke them. Where would they go? The planet would be dead, was already dead—

  “Amy was all I had,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Tears finally spilled down Billie’s cheeks and she nodded. She understood.

  She turned to him, not certain of what to say—

  And heard the sound of engines overhead.

  Her heart pounded as she grabbed for the comset by her feet and held the plug to her ear.

  “…in, Billie! Talk to me!” It was Brewster.

  Her tears turned to relieved sobs as the old man put his arm around her and laughed out loud.

  * * *

  “No,” said Ripley. “We have to get out of here, now. If the things come back and start poking around the compound, they could mess up the bombs. I’m sorry.”

  Jesus, what a shitty deal, she thought. She was sorry; but the truth was that someone had to keep the priorities straight.

  The Kurtz’s engines were cycling. Ripley stood in the APC bay with Billie and the old man, had listened to their story with mixed emotions. The initial happiness that Billie had returned had been replaced by frustration and disbelief. And a horrible, dreadful sense of nostalgia.

  “You don’t have to wait for us,” said Billie. She wiped at her tear-stained face roughly, like a child, but stood tall. “Just help us find the ship. You can do that with the computer in a minute.”

  “And then what?” said Ripley. “You’re going to set down in the middle of 10,000 drones on the chance that she’s alive? I understand why, I know how it feels, but that’s suicide!”

  Ripley knew that she was right, but suddenly didn’t want to meet Billie’s gaze. Did she remember how it felt?

  Fucking hypocrite. What had happened to her? All she wanted now was to destroy the breed that had destroyed her life by taking her daughter.

  “Maybe you can leave without her,” Billie said. “I can’t.”

  Ripley didn’t speak, her thoughts jumbled. Her goal was to kill the creatures. Once upon a time, there had been other goals. Back when she still cared…

  She looked up at Billie and saw a very familiar face.

  “A ship set down about ten klicks east a few hours ago,” she said. Her mind began to clear as she spoke.

  Ripley turned to the old man. “Can you handle a military carbine?”

  “My eyesight isn’t so good,” he said, “but I can probably hold my own.”

  Ripley shook her head. “This isn’t going to be a few drones, and it won’t be easy in the dark.” She paused. “I guess I’ll have to go with you,” she said to Billie.

  * * *

  Wilks watched as Ripley gathered extra magazines and two portable lamps from supply and felt the anger build. Finally, he couldn’t stand it.

  “You’re out of your fucking minds!” He searched for words, frustrated. “Think about it!”

  Ripley spoke over her shoulder as if she hadn’t heard him. “Stay here as long as you can, then put down somewhere safe nearby. We’ll come back here. If we haven’t shown on the sensors in an hour, you get to be in charge again.”

  She turned, faced him, expression set. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  He wanted to scream. When McQuade had spotted Billie’s flier, something inside of him had—released; that was the only word he could put to it. And now Billie and Ripley were about to go try and kill themselves.

  No. Stop this.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said. “At least let me do that.”

  “No,” said Ripley calmly. She shouldered her rifle. “Someone’s got to make sure things get finished.”

  “You can start the timer going now,” he said. “In six months it goes off, we don’t have to wait—”

  “Wilks—” Ripley began.

  “She’s not your kid!” he tried.

  Billie and Ripley looked at each other and then at Wilks. “Yeah, she is,” Billie said. “She’s ours.”

  Ripley said, “Besides, we don’t have any room.”

  “That’s bullshit! There’s—”

  “Cut it, Wilks. We’re going, you’re not.”

  He followed them down the steps and into the APC bay and tried to think of something else to say. The old man waited there. Moto stood nearby with a rifle.

  “Ready?” said Billie.

  The old man touched her arm. “I wish I could be of more help,” he said. He started to say something else, then fell silent.

  Billie nodded. Ripley handed her a lamp as Moto stepped to the entry button.

  Wilks looked at Billie. He wasn’t sure how he felt, didn’t know what could happen between them in the right circumstances, but—

  She looked back at him, obviously prepared for some kind of plea. Defiant, strong—

  “Please come back,” he said to her. “You have to come back, kid, because… because—”

  She put her fingers on his lips. “I know, David.”

  Christ, he felt as if he were going to cry. He turned to Ripley. “Be careful,” he said.

  She nodded at him.

  The door opened and they were gone.

  * * *

  They flew to the east without speaking. Billie was scared but determined, and she could see that Ripley felt the same way. There was nothing to say.

  The flier’s lights illuminated very little of the landscape, a blanket of trees and the peaks of the hills.

  As they got closer to the queen’s mountain, the noise increased, making the situation pretty damned clear. The combined hisses and howls of the monsters almost drowned out the ship’s engines as they circled the peak.

  Billie drew in a ragged breath as the flier’s lights lit the ground. The circle of light was filled with moving black shapes.

  “The ship is a little farther east,” said Ripley. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

  “Maybe,” said Billie. She had never been much on gods, given her upbringing, but she prayed to any that might exist that Amy was still alive.

  * * *

  Ripley vaguely remembered some part of a quote as she maneuvered the ship toward the small peak in front of them. How did it go? Into the valley of death rode t
he six hundred…?

  Below, maybe 100,000 of the queen’s children screeched, a roiling sea of deadly, mindless monsters. She wondered what was on the agenda for their convention, if they had any idea what they were doing here or what was going to happen to them. And she wondered how many more there were to come.

  They skimmed the peak and Ripley slowed the flier. They didn’t have to search, at least. The land was flat here, some kind of recreational area gone to seed. The ship was in plain view, directly starboard.

  Dozens of the drones ran west through the light of the descending ship. Ripley edged the hopper as close as she could to the larger ship and set it down.

  The pounding started almost immediately. Through the shield dark figures continued to stream past, their cries Dopplering away.

  Both of them stood and moved toward the hatch.

  “We stick together,” said Ripley. “Get inside, find her, back out.”

  Billie nodded, her cheeks flushed.

  She’s probably dead, thought Ripley, but didn’t say it. After all, so where they.

  She slid the hatch aside.

  * * *

  The doors of the ships faced one another, both open.

  Billie leapt from the flier and faced east. She depressed the trigger without aiming; it wasn’t necessary. A wall of creatures ran into the blasts and fell, sprayed acid and bits of exoskeleton behind them.

  Ripley jumped with her and fired repeatedly into the oncoming tide of drones.

  An alien skittered across the top of the flier and prepared to lunge. Billie smashed in its chest with a short burst.

  They sidestepped to the breeder ship, weapons on full auto. Enough of the things had dropped to create an obstacle; more monsters clambered over their fallen siblings to be slaughtered.

  Billie ejected a spent magazine and slammed in another, just in time to pick another creature off the roof of the ship. The explosive bullets were shattering the things, and still they screamed and charged.

  When they hit the entry of the breeder ship, Ripley covered as Billie moved inside.

  A drone shrieked, reached for Billie from inside the doorway—

  She sprayed it with steel and its acidic blood spewed and bubbled the wall—

  The alien cries quieted abruptly as Ripley slammed the hatch closed.

  Billie moved into the hold. Dim emergency lighting, two exits, there didn’t seem—

  A creature howled and emerged from one of the hallways in a crouch, cramped by the two-meter-high ceiling—

  Ripley blasted it.

  The monster’s head blew apart; its arms flailed for another second before it realized it was dead and fell to the floor.

  They scanned the room for more. Billie took in the human blood that painted the interior, the articles of shredded clothing that lay about. And the bodies.

  “Amy!” she screamed.

  It had been a massacre. Billie counted twenty humans, maybe more, in a tangled heap in a corner of the room. Some had been ripped apart there she saw a naked arm separated from its torso, here a disembodied leg…

  She stepped over the serrated tail of one of the dead bugs and screamed again. “Amy!”

  No response. There was only the pounding of her heart, matched by the pounding cries of the alien sea behind them.

  * * *

  Ripley took in the destruction, the wasted life that littered the ship, her mind in overdrive. She had been here before…

  Billie took a step toward what was probably the control area and called for the girl again. Nothing. The young woman approached the heap of corpses, searched for the lost child in their midst. Ripley kept her rifle trained on the door closest to Billie.

  It’s better if she’s dead than taken—But her heart wrenched as Billie let out a cry and fell to her knees before the pile, her face gray.

  “No, no, no—” Billie repeated the word again and again as she reached through the tangle of limbs—

  —and the hatch behind them pulled loose with a metallic screech and monstrous cries filled the room—

  * * *

  Billie was nauseated. The people must have huddled together at the end as they attempted to fend off an attack. At least two of the dead still clutched weapons—had the breeders gotten control? Or had the fanatics finally understood that the creatures didn’t give a shit about any human life?

  It didn’t matter, none of it. She felt a blind second of hope as she looked quickly at each body.

  A small face, flecked with gore, eyes closed, half beneath the body of a tattered corpse. Billie felt her legs buckle; words of denial came from far away, from her.

  Amy.

  Billie shoved at the bodies, placed a shaky hand on the tiny brow. Oh, God, Amy—

  The little girl’s eyes flickered open.

  Gunfire roared.

  * * *

  Ripley spun and fired. Two meters away, a drone’s grin melted and ran. A speckle of burning acid hit Ripley’s arm as she shot again; another bug’s chest exploded into black shards. She backed up a step as a third creature ducked toward her from the stream outside—

  “Billie!” she yelled. She opened fire; the blasts took the bug at its thighs, the limbs skittered away from its torso, and still it reached—

  The thing’s arms flew back as Billie stepped beside her and shot its abdomen to bits. A scream—

  Amy?

  The scream was human, a child’s. A red-haired girl clung to Billie and cried out, the sound lost as the weapons thundered.

  Ripley moved forward again. They had to get back to the flier, back past the relentless wash of death—

  —her rifle clicked empty as a taloned claw shot through the entry and grabbed at her—

  —and Billie fired, sent alien shrapnel flying as Ripley jammed a new magazine into her carbine—

  It had to be now.

  “I’ll cover!” Ripley shouted. “Go!”

  She jumped out into the darkness. She sprayed bullets, cut at the things. She was dimly aware that Billie and the girl were ducking behind her toward the flier, was dimly aware that she was screaming—a hoarse cry of rage from deep inside. All thought was gone, blotted out by the hatred that controlled her, that pulled the trigger—

  They ran toward the flier, almost there—

  Billie slapped at the external control. The hatch opened.

  The girl stumbled, fell into the flier. Billie was right behind her, Ripley almost on top of them. Ripley spun, hosed her weapon back and forth, sleeting death on full auto—

  The hatch closed as her weapon ran dry.

  The ship rocked from side to side as the aliens swarmed over and around it, howled and hit.

  The girl huddled against the wall and sobbed.

  Billie crooned at the girl: “It’s okay, Amy, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

  Ripley ran to the pilot’s seat and fumbled with the controls. There was a splintering crash from behind, then another.

  They’re tearing the goddamn walls—

  “Hang on!” Ripley screamed.

  The engine whined and groaned. And lifted the ship several meters before letting it crash back to the ground.

  * * *

  The impact dropped Billie to the floor. She turned to the child, who trembled and cried but didn’t seem injured.

  Too much weight—

  The flier couldn’t lift with the monsters still clinging to it, screaming—

  There was a wrenching crack from the rear. A jagged, gaping hole appeared in the wall. Black taloned arms pulled at the edges, widened it. A strange, oily smell filled the small ship.

  Billie aimed at the hole as a great black skull, teeth dripping, hissed and craned into the flier.

  “Billie, no! Don’t—”

  Billie fired. The drone vanished—and the entire rear of the little ship exploded into flames.

  * * *

  Ripley smelled the fuel and turned; the fuckers must have ruptured the tank—

  She saw Billie point h
er weapon.

  “Billie, no! Don’t shoot!”

  The words were lost as a great flash of heat washed over Ripley. Billie was thrown backward; the little girl tumbled with her to the front.

  Aliens shrieked outside.

  Fuck—!

  Ripley ran to the hatch, weapon extended, and hit the control. Nothing. Electrical and hydraulics were shot, the door jammed.

  The fire spread toward them, licked up the walls as the air became thick with greasy smoke. They were going to fry, unless—

  She triggered the explosive bolts and the hatch fell away. Cool air rushed in.

  Billie staggered over, coughing, one arm around the child.

  They had to make it back to the breeder ship and pray that it would make air—

  Ripley raised her weapon and stepped back into the middle of the nightmare.

  * * *

  Billie hustled Amy out the door in front of her. She searched the darkness wildly for targets, but the creatures were preoccupied with the flames. A drone fell toward them with a scream, its spindly torso coated and consumed with fire. Bright orange crackled up its dark body as it writhed on the ground. Other aliens drenched in flaming fuel ran from the ship, living torches.

  Amy screamed and pointed to the roof of the breeder ship. Billie aimed as a monster flung itself toward them, shot it. The creature clattered to the ground.

  “Move!” shouted Ripley. She ran for the breeder ship, firing occasional bursts of ammo at the creatures that still ran at them.

  There were at least a dozen caught in the explosion. The huge bugs danced and hissed, lit the night with their fire-soaked movements. The air had heated to blistering—and the creatures had ceased attacking.

  They didn’t like fire, Billie remembered.

  She and Amy followed Ripley back onto the breeder ship.

  Stupid, stupid! Ripley had tried to warn her; she should have known the smell of fuel.

  “Watch the door!” Ripley yelled. She ran for the control room. Billie aimed at the broken hatch, her vision blurred from the heat and sweat.

  Amy screamed behind her—

  Billie pivoted, saw the drone rise up from behind the form-chairs and reach for Amy—

  The spray of bullets batted it down. Amy cried out again, looked past Billie—