Sea of Sorrows

by James A. Moore

  Hers was the only computer on the ship capable of breaking down the coded information.

  She was keeping very careful track of all of the data coming in, as it related to each member of the team on the surface. From her desk she could monitor their life signs, when they changed, and how they changed. She made sure to note when they died.

  Rollins used the available equipment to carefully map the entire series of tunnels beneath the surface. Had she been so inclined, she could have given the location of each and every member of the team, and precisely where each chamber lay within the vast network of tunnels. She even had data on the location of the alien life-forms—the Xenomorphs. Not all of them, she suspected, but a decent number. The aliens only registered when they moved. The rest of the time the tunnels they’d created worked brilliantly as camouflage. There were so many potential applications that it was staggering.

  But she felt no need to share. The situation was well in hand.

  Rollins scanned the data and considered all options. There was no doubt in her mind that there would be excessive collateral damage. That was acceptable. It was expected. It was what she wanted.

  Fewer witnesses, in the end.

  The mercenaries didn’t concern her. They were just there to make a dollar, and they would be the ones who brought her the specimens she needed. It was the others—the more respectable and therefore more credible workers—who posed the greater threat. The fewer of them who survived, the better.

  In the end, everyone was expendable.

  23

  LABYRINTH

  “We’re under attack! We need backup!”

  When the call came through, Decker watched the mercenaries. They all froze, just inside of a narrow chamber, and their eyes glazed as they listened to the chaos coming over the comm link. A couple of the men started to talk, and Manning waved a hand for silence. When they didn’t get the message, he flat-out roared for them to shut up.

  Then it hit him—hard.

  This wasn’t a general feeling—it was very specific. More intense than anything Decker had ever experienced from a human being. For a moment he thought it might have come from the men under attack, a reflection of their deaths, but quickly ruled it out.

  This was close, and getting closer. He backed away from the entrance they’d come through as fast and hard as he could, pushing past the redheaded kid, Garth. The kid looked at him with wide eyes.

  It came up out of the entrance, screeching like hell, and aimed itself right at him. But the chamber was confining, and there were people in the way. Something dark and wet grabbed Garth by his leg and pulled him down as it climbed from the tunnel. The kid screamed in shock and pain, and the thing let out a second screech as it crawled up the poor bastard’s body, its claws tearing through his flesh.

  Garth bled and screamed and all hell broke loose. They’d been climbing—none of them was prepared for an attack. The savagery was horrifying. The skinny guy—Decker never got his name—tried to fight, and was bent and broken for his trouble, bones popping in his body.

  The thing didn’t crawl out of the hole so much as it unfolded, slithering into the room and growing larger and larger as it came. It let out another hissing screech as it pushed the broken forms aside, and looked around.

  Seeking Decker. He knew it. Felt it. And he backpedaled again as the thing turned toward him.

  The claustrophobic space was filled with bodies and noise—everyone was screaming and shouting. A three-clawed hand lashed out and slapped across a man’s face, gouging bloody tracks across his features. He staggered under the onslaught and the thing charged, crouching and not really bothering with anyone in the way, simply wading through them on its way to Decker.

  He was a dead man. His limbs refused to move, his hands hung loosely at his sides, ignoring his demands that they go for the reaper, reach for another weapon, do anything at all.

  The butt of Adams’s rifle smashed into the thing’s face and knocked it sideways. Bridges’ massive boot pushed it further down as it tried to recover, and the man lowered a lethal looking, two-pronged muzzle against the creature’s torso. He pulled the trigger.

  Instead of exploding, the thing arched its entire body and shrieked, thrashed, and shuddered. It slammed to the ground and twitched, but otherwise did not move. The stench of ozone filled the air, along with an odor like hot metal.

  Bridges looked down at the thing with a murderous expression on his face. He backed away quickly, and by the time he’d taken two paces most of the people in the room were aiming a very large variety of weapons at the thing on the floor.

  They took a moment to look the thing over. It wasn’t a spider, not at all. Though there was certainly something insectoid to it. The long limbs were sealed in a glossy exoskeleton that looked all too much like the dark translucent walls of the tunnel where they currently stood. The head was almost as long as its torso, and half-hidden shapes rested within it. If there were eyes, they weren’t visible, but there was no missing the mouth on that monster.

  Dread centered around Decker’s heart. The thing was unconscious and still he knew it hated him for reasons he did not understand.

  Manning looked over at Bridges and slapped him on the arm.

  “Got yourself a genuine bug,” he said. “Good work.” He looked to one of the mercenaries at the back. “Check on Garth.”

  “That is one ugly motherfucker,” Bridges said. He sounded pleased with himself.

  Someone crouched down over the kid’s form, and then rocked back on his heels.

  “Garth didn’t make it. Neither did Holbrook.”

  Manning’s face was unreadable, and his voice was low.

  “Anyone here got some rope?” he asked. “Maybe a nice steel mesh net?”

  A wiry looking man turned his back to Manning, indicating his own backpack.

  “Help yourself,” he said. “But you’ll have to do it yourself—you don’t pay me enough to tie that thing up.”

  “Is it alive, Bridges?” Manning asked.

  “Shouldn’t be. The shocker’s set to kill.”

  Decker looked at the thing, and shook his head.

  “It’s alive,” he said. “I think it’s starting to wake up.”

  “How can you tell?” Adams peered at him, and then down at the thing on the ground.

  “Its emotions—if that’s what you can call them.” He followed her gaze. “It still wants to kill me.”

  “What did you do to piss these things off, Decker?” Manning was busily pulling a length of very thin rope from the other man’s pack.

  “I don’t know.” He took a very small step toward the thing. It moved perhaps an inch, and he backed up again.

  Bridges nailed it again, holding the twin contacts against the creature’s skin until they could all see the smoke rising from where the metal had touched. Then he looked at Decker.

  “Is it dead now?”

  “I have no idea. I can’t get anything from it. Maybe that’s a good sign,” he offered.

  Manning nodded and quickly started binding the arms.

  “Works for me.” He worked very efficiently and made sure to cover the arms, the legs, the feet, and the tail.

  The creature remained motionless.

  “How the hell are you going to tie up that head?” The man who’d offered the bindings was the one who asked. “It’s fucking huge—and that’s some seriously badass dental work.”

  “I got nothing, Wilson. And I’m not getting anywhere near those teeth.” He looked toward Alan. “You sense any more of those things, Decker?”

  “I don’t think so.” He stopped for a moment, and focused. The hatred had shifted into background noise—painful, but manageable. “I can’t be certain, though. We should head back down the tube.”

  “But what if there are more where that came from?” Adams asked. “It would’ve taken more than just this one to bring down DiTillio, Rodriguez, and Joyce.”

  Before he could respond, Manning jumped in. />
  “I think he’s right, and at least we know the way, back where we’ve been.” He looked at the thing on the ground. “We have a specimen. It’s maybe alive. We get this thing down to the lift, and we get the hell gone from here. Mission accomplished.”

  With that, he grabbed one of the cords, and began to drag the creature toward the opening.

  “One of you lazy excuses give me a hand here. This thing is stupid heavy.” Bridges stepped up, and Manning shook his head “Not you—I need you to take care of Garth. Have Duchamp help with Holbrook’s body.”

  Two other mercs jumped in, and found a grip on the alien shape. Half of the group dropped through the entrance of the tunnel, one at a time. The way was slick at times, making it harder to go down than it had been climbing up.

  Manning and another of the mercenaries started lowering the thing down, and then carefully began following it. The rest followed, and somewhere in the middle of the train of bodies, Decker started down, hanging near Adams without even being aware of it.

  It was difficult to see where they were going, it smelled like sweat and fear, and the beams of the flashlights sent shadows skittering around. At times the crush of bodies was so dense that the lights hardly penetrated at all. He found handholds, not by sight, but by touch.

  What a shitty place this would be to die, he thought.

  * * *

  After what seemed like forever, shouts erupted up ahead. Manning bellowed and someone else let out a loud scream.

  “Fuck it,” Manning said. “Let the bastard fall, and follow it. We’ll pick up the pieces when we get down there.”

  “Bit right through my damned boot!”

  “Your toes still there, Denang?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then call it a win, and keep going.”

  After that they traveled a bit faster. The darkness, the body heat, the echoing sounds of voices all grated on Decker’s nerves. On all of their nerves, he suspected. Adams was just below him. Suddenly she stopped, and she cursed under her breath. He tapped the guy behind him, telling him to do the same.

  She turned around, and shone her light up at him, covering it with her hand so that she didn’t blind him.

  “We have to start climbing,” she said, sounding pissed.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “We have to start climbing.”

  That made no sense. “Back up to where we were? Why?”

  “Because those things blocked the way.”

  “What?”

  “The way we came—it’s sealed,” she said. “Whatever they are, they’re at least a little smart. Manning tried to get down there and something was different. Instead of going into a straight descent, there’s a curve now. The tunnel’s changed.”

  Decker’s mouth felt dry and pasty.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Adams pointed her finger. “Manning’s pretty sure wherever the tunnel leads to now, it’s probably a trap, and we’re not taking the bait. So start climbing.”

  He turned, and the guy behind him cursed. But they started climbing, just the same.

  24

  EXAMINATIONS

  The van rolled along like a wounded beast, and slowed only as it rounded the edge of the ship.

  The three members of the comm team watched them approach and Dae Cho reached to the side of his console and picked up his assault rifle. Perkins and Dwadji stayed where they were, but their expressions said they approved. The weapon was solid and reliable, and came with four grenades and a launcher. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, and he didn’t much care. If the people on that truck came at him screaming, they would die that way.

  * * *

  Dina Perkins covered her free ear to block out the ruckus, and focus on what Manning was saying. According to him, they’d subdued a bug, but it had revived and bitten someone. They’d been forced to drop it.

  Their pathway in was blocked now, and they would have to find a different way out.

  No one could get a response from Connors—he and his team were missing in action. Piotrowicz and his team were still among the living, though at least one of them was wounded.

  Cho stood up from his seat and swung his rifle over his shoulder, the barrel pointed toward the heavens as he walked toward the newly arrived vehicle, sitting in a cloud of dust. Perkins stayed at her station and Dwadji stayed beside her, trying again to reach Connors.

  Willis was already at the door, pulling it open as the people inside tried to spill out. They crammed together so that no one could get anywhere, until the Weyland-Yutani bureaucrat grabbed a handful of shirt and half hauled the first one out. The rest sort of erupted from the vehicle in a frantic mass, like a grim parody of a clown car, seven in all and none of them remotely calm.

  A short, heavyset man in his late fifties grabbed Willis by his shoulders and half fell onto him as he looked around.

  “Go!” he said breathlessly, looking around in a panic. “We have to go.”

  “We can’t go anywhere, Doctor Silas,” Willis responded. “The lift is topside. We’re stuck until it gets back here, Nigel.”

  “Then call it!” Silas said. “There might be more of those things. We’ve got to—”

  Cho walked over and interrupted.

  “More of what things?”

  Short-and-round looked at Cho as if he was insane.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Security,” Cho said, before Willis could speak. “Now tell me what you’re in a panic about.”

  “That city,” Silas said. “It’s got occupants, and they’re evil.”

  “Wait, you mean the city at the dig site?”

  “Yes.” The man nodded emphatically. “There are things living there, and all they want is to kill us. We have to get away from here!”

  “Chill yourself,” Cho said. “We’re not going anywhere for a while. Like the man said, the lift is being loaded with mining equipment. Then it’s supposed to drop to level four and unload all of that stuff. And then it can come down here and get us.”

  The man looked like the devil himself was on their heels. His thin hair was plastered to his head with sweat and he wiped at it frantically.

  “You don’t understand! These things are insane!”

  There was motion off to the right, and Perkins jumped with surprise. Then she saw Piotrowicz and his group coming toward them. Lutz was dragging something on the ground behind him, hauling it by a line secured to what looked like a leg. Whatever it was, it didn’t look human enough for Perkins’s comfort. Anderson and Estrada were trailing toward the back, their weapons aimed at the thing. Half of Petey’s face was covered in gauze, and he looked like he wanted to kill something in the worst way.

  Perkins moved to get a better look at the thing. It was broken and dead and creeped the hell out of her. Her skin grew cold as she studied it. As the new arrivals moved closer still, half a dozen of the people from the transport moved in, scientific curiosity slowly winning over their fear.

  She was about to warn Cho, but saw him look past the shouting driver. He held up a hand to silence the man.

  “Got five people coming right now that killed the things on your truck,” he said. He pointed with his chin, and Short-Round turned. The man took in a deep shuddery breath, and exhaled.

  “Listen, where there’s one of those damned things, there could be more. We don’t know how many there are, but the probes show that there’s a lot of territory out there where they could be hiding.” He paused to breathe again. “They’re fast, and they’re deadly, and their one purpose seems to be to kill.”

  Willis interrupted.

  “You said the probes were working in the city?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything, Tom?” Nigel asked.

  “If the probes are working, they should tell us what is down there. Including any life signs.” Willis spoke very calmly. “Did you leave any of the probes up and moving?”

 
Silas swallowed a few times, and did his best not to sound like a lunatic. He wasn’t really succeeding but he was trying.

  “Tom, we launched more than a dozen probes. They’re still working, and still taking readings, but all they can do is map the area. It’s much larger than we thought it was. Might be that a lot of it is still buried—we can’t tell too easily—but there are places back there where the probes were moving freely, so it looks like we have open spaces.”

  Piotrowicz and his team reached them. The head of the team didn’t speak. He simply stood by to take in the information. Perkins walked over to their prize, and stared at it, trying to make something out of the jumble of limbs, claws, and teeth. Up close it was worse than before. As Piotrowicz stopped, the scientists clustered around his prize, wide-eyed and curious.

  Willis gestured to Silas.

  “We have thirty or so heavily armed security officers down here with us. You were out doing your survey when they arrived yesterday, but they’re here to help secure the area and keep us safe. I have every confidence that they’ll manage just fine.”

  Perkins noticed that he didn’t mention the eight people who were missing. No need to fuel the panic. Apparently the rest of the team agreed with her. They all kept their traps shut.

  Perkins looked at Piotrowicz.

  “Are you okay?” The man’s stance said he was pissed off. Still, he managed a smile.

  “Yeah. I’m good,” he said, but the bandages said otherwise. “Some burns, but nothing that can’t wait until everything calms down. Vogel already patched me up.”

  Cho nodded, looked at Silas, and adopted a placating tone.

  “We have a medic here,” he said. “Are any of your people hurt?”

  The short man nodded hard.

  “ …We can’t find…” He took a deep breath again. “There are four members of our expedition who we left behind when we were attacked. We should send someone to find them. And Colleen was attacked by something that tried to choke her. Whatever it was, it didn’t want to let go of her face, but it finally fell off on its own and died.”