Alien

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  She’d trusted Kuhlman, and he sent her off to be killed. She’d trusted Axel, and he killed someone just inches away from her. She’d trusted Samuels, and he got her into this fucking mess.

  Back on Luna she’d trusted Brodsky. He’d almost killed five people, and nearly got her fired. She’d trusted Mendez, and she tried to screw her over. Hell, back when she was a kid she’d trusted Okeke, and he’d succeeded in screwing her.

  She’d trusted her mother, who abandoned her.

  Stop being such a tool, Ripley, she thought as she moved through the maintenance tunnel to another hatch. Learn from experience. Keeping an eye on the motion detector, she worked her way to the airlock. The dead body on the deck barely registered with her. What caused her to pause was that the airlock wasn’t pressurized.

  Of course it isn’t. That would be too easy. She started the pressurization sequence, then looked around for an EVA suit.

  “Airlock pressurization initiated.”

  To her horror, she realized that the EVA locker was inside the airlock.

  No wonder they shut Gemini down. Idiots.

  Checking her motion detector, she saw that the monster was coming up on her.

  Fuck.

  “Airlock pressurization at twenty-five percent.”

  At this rate, it would be at least another minute before she could get into the chamber, and the oversized cockroach would be on her ass in thirty seconds. Pocketing the motion detector she unshouldered the flamethrower, pointing it at the corridor where the monster was approaching. As soon as she sighted the gleaming black creature, she opened fire.

  “Airlock pressurization at fifty percent.”

  While the plume of flame wasn’t long enough to reach the creature, it caused it to stop in its tracks.

  Good. Just stay there a little longer.

  “Airlock pressurization at seventy-five percent.”

  As if prompted by the announcement, the creature started running toward her again, and again she opened fire. This time it recoiled, the flames brushing against its chitinous exoskeleton.

  “Airlock pressurization complete.”

  The door opened and she ducked into the airlock, punching the CLOSE button. The creature scrabbled toward her, but the door shut seconds before it arrived. Even so, it struck with such force that she thought it might break through.

  Finding the locker, she pulled out the EVA suit. Thankfully, both her pack and her flamethrower fit inside with her. Then she started the depressurization sequence, hitting the buttons with a thick-gloved hand.

  That was the easy part, she thought, her mind whirling. The hard part would be timing everything right. The lab was still tumbling through space, and moving farther and farther away from Sevastopol.

  Grabbing a metal bar with one hand, she opened the airlock door with the other. Immediately she could see the gas giant, moving past her field of vision for about ten seconds. Then, for about a minute, it was just open space with nothing but blackness and fields of stars. The lab spun some more, and she could see Sevastopol move by for—she timed it—twenty-two seconds.

  That twenty-two-second window was all she would have to push off from the airlock. Preferably right in the middle of it. Positioning herself, she waited for the lab to tumble round again.

  Watched KG348 pass by.

  Watched the emptiness of space.

  Tried not to think about dying in that emptiness if she missed the station, and then…

  Sevastopol came into view.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off.

  At this distance, she was far enough away that it would take several minutes to get to the station. While there was debris floating outside the station, none of it was in her way. Her trajectory was a straight line from lab to hull, and it would remain that way without friction or anything else to impede her.

  Everything was just so quiet.

  Amanda had been alone most of her life. There were always people around, but to her they were barely there. A mother who was away, working all the time, a father who disappeared when she was an infant, a stepfather who never gave a fuck whether he was there or not. No real friends at school, since she was just another poor kid with no prospects.

  She generally got along with people, but the only ones she even came close to caring about were Mom, who was gone forever, and Zula, who she’d probably never see again.

  Even so, she rarely got to experience quiet on this level. The only sound her ears picked up was her own breathing.

  It was remarkably… tranquil.

  Part of her wished she could stay out here. She’d just drift away. No one would really give a shit. Her mother was dead, Paul was probably still in jail, and Samuels and Taylor were just interested in company property. Assuming they survived, which was pretty unlikely. No, she could just die out here, and nobody would even notice. Hell, Waits and Ricardo probably thought she was dead already, ripped to pieces by the alien.

  Assholes.

  Still, as quiet as it was here, she didn’t fancy the notion of starving to death in an EVA suit.

  The station grew closer, until it filled her entire field of vision. A black and gray surface, rarely smooth because of all of the components that covered it. Stark shadows cast by the gas giant and millions of stars, each doing its part. There were dents and impact points that showed where space garbage had struck and disintegrated, or bounced off.

  Letting her body go limp, she slammed into the hull.

  Crap! She was battered by the impact, the EVA cushioning proving less efficacious than she’d hoped. My bruises have bruises now.

  Moving her arms was painful, but she did so anyhow, crying out as she reached toward a handhold. She grabbed it before she could drift away. Closing her eyes, she waited until the pain began to recede, then she opened them again.

  Looking around, she spotted an emergency hatch about fifteen yards to her right. Taking a deep breath, forcing herself to ignore the sparks of agony that coursed through pretty much every inch of her body, she crawled slowly over, nabbing handholds and dragging herself across the hull. After a few minutes she reached her goal.

  Pulling down the lever, she looked through the hatch and saw a light come on. While she waited for the chamber to depressurize, she tried the radio.

  “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

  “Ripley?” a voice answered. “Fuck me, is that you?”

  “Yes, Waits, you sonofabitch, it’s me. What the hell was that?”

  “Me doing my job.” The marshal didn’t even sound apologetic, the bastard. “It worked—we got that damn thing off the station. I had to do that by any means necessary.”

  “So you left me to die.”

  “Yeah, well, it goddamn worked, didn’t it?” She couldn’t fault the logic. “And look at that—you’re alive, so quit bitching. Where are you?”

  The airlock slid open and Amanda climbed in. She started the repressurization sequence, then looked up at the sign over the door.

  “I’m at the Solomons Galleria. I can get to you in about ten minutes.”

  “Peachy.”

  She was beginning to hate that word. “Then we can have a conversation about your methods. Ripley out.”

  The inner door slid open. Cautiously, she poked her head out, then she started down the hallway. As she did, yet another computer voice sounded over the PA. Amanda had never really liked computer voices, and she was getting well and truly sick of the ones Sevastopol employed.

  “Be advised: APOLLO has raised the Hazard Containment Alert to Level Omega. Thank you.”

  Oh for fuck’s sake, what is it now?

  “Ripley, it’s Ricardo. You made it?”

  “No thanks to Waits, yeah,” she muttered.

  “He’s a ruthless sonofabitch, always has been. Stubborn, too. If he’d just listened in the first place, things never would’ve gotten this far.” Part of Amanda wondered what Ricardo had suggested, but mostly she had no inclination to give a shit. She had more
important things to think about.

  “It’s done now.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ve got more bad news.”

  “Good, it’s been three seconds since the last bad news. I was beginning to get bored.”

  Ricardo chuckled bitterly. “Yeah. Something’s up with the androids.”

  “Something’s been up with the androids since I got here.”

  “This is something new. They’ve all left their posts. I just saw some of them in the public area, and that’s not normal. Watch your back.”

  “Like I’m not already?” She sighed. “Thanks, Ricardo. I’ll be at the bureau soon.” She walked past the Solomons Galleria entrance and saw two Working Joes moving toward a woman.

  “Stay back!” the woman cried, but one of the Joes simply walked up to her and snapped her neck. Amanda didn’t even have time to process what was happening. It was done. The Joe didn’t say anything, just killed her.

  Ricardo had warned her.

  A wave of shock swept over her. Amanda hadn’t believed she could be surprised by anything, not any longer. She was grateful to know that she could still feel, and appalled that Sevastopol kept finding new lows to which it could sink.

  The woman fell to the deck. Pulling out her Jacobs, Amanda fired it at the Joe’s head, which split apart. The android fell alongside its victim, while the other moved straight for her.

  She shot at that one, too. It took three shots, but eventually it fell. Stowing the pistol, Amanda ran over to the woman, and quickly confirmed that she was dead.

  Shit.

  She tapped the radio. “Waits, it’s Ripley. What the hell’s happening with the androids?”

  Waits actually sounded frantic. “I don’t know. They just started going fucking nuts.”

  “What about the change in alert status?”

  “Dammit, I don’t know! I can’t get through to Samuels. Maybe he knows what the hell APOLLO’s playing at!” As he spoke she passed by several boarded-up stores and shut-down businesses, and remembered what Waits had said about decommissioning.

  Gunshots echoed through the corridor. Up ahead she saw a pile of burning wreckage and a faux neon sign.

  THE SPOT

  It was a bar that overlooked an atrium one level down. Moving quickly to the railing in front of the bar, she saw seven more Joes and those three Seegson Security dumbasses, Squeaky, Scratchy, and Deep.

  One of the Joes spoke.

  “Are you aware of the current Hazard Containment Breach?”

  “Fuck, get away from me!” Scratchy cried out.

  Deep was shooting at another Joe—aiming for the chest rather than the head—and not making much headway. The Joe got its hands around his neck, and strangled him.

  A look of utter terror on his face, Squeaky ran away from a third, only to fall into the arms of yet another Joe. Within seconds all three of the humans were dead, and only Deep had managed to take out one of the androids.

  Hardly managing to breathe, Amanda was disgusted—at the massacre, at herself for being even less moved by it than the last one she saw, and by the fact that she had to use the plural when describing the massacres she’d witnessed. Moving away from the railing, she turned, ran, and called Waits on the radio.

  “Waits, for God’s sake, what’s going on? The Joes are off their leash. APOLLO’s got them attacking anything that moves!”

  “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, Ripley. They’re—I don’t know, hunting. Never seen anything like it. I—”

  Waits was interrupted by the computer voice again. “Sevastopol Hazard Containment Alert has been raised to Omega. Please stand by for further instructions.”

  Amanda sprinted down the corridor only to find the security shutters closed up ahead. “Waits, I’ve got some shutters blocking my way. Can you open them?”

  Static.

  “Waits?”

  More static, then Waits was shouting, “Sonofabitch, get away!” Amanda jumped with surprise when she heard the reports of gunfire.

  “Waits?”

  “Dammit! Fuck you, you sons of bitches! Ripley, the androids are storming the bur—”

  The radio went dead.

  Fuck.

  Finding a panel in the wall, she yanked it open. It took only a few seconds for her to rewire the thing so that the shutters opened. She activated her radio again.

  “Samuels, this is Ripley—you copy?”

  Nothing.

  “Samuels! Dammit.”

  Breathlessly, fighting fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her, she continued to the Marshals Bureau offices. By the time she made it there, the massacre was over. She found four dead bodies. One of them was Waits, and she didn’t recognize the other two. There was blood all over the floor, mixed in with some white lubricant.

  Waits’s body was slumped unceremoniously on the deck, head at an impossible angle.

  “Rest in peace, Marshal,” Amanda muttered. Looking over at the infirmary, she saw that Taylor was gone, too. No body, no blood, but no Taylor either.

  Her next stop was the brig. Marlow was probably safe in his cell, but she wanted to be sure he was alive. She still had a lot more to say to that asshole.

  His cell was empty, the door unlocked.

  What the fuck’s going on?

  Then she saw Ricardo. He was sitting at the end of the hallway outside the cells. On the floor, knees up near his face. As she moved closer to him, she could hear sobs.

  “Ricardo?”

  He looked up, his eyes bloodshot and streaked with tears. “Rip? They’re all dead. It was horrible.”

  “I know, I saw. Have you seen Marlow or Taylor?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No, they were gone when I got here. Waits—” He shuddered. “I never much liked the man, but he didn’t deserve that.”

  “None of us do,” she said. “Look, I need to find Samuels.”

  Ricardo looked up again. “Why?”

  “Waits sent him to check on APOLLO, and now the androids are going batshit. I need your help—I need you to guide me the way Waits did.”

  “No way!” His face twisting into a rictus of fear, Ricardo backed away. “I’m not going back in there!”

  “You have to, Ricardo. You’re a marshal, your job is to protect people. More than that, you’re in charge now with Waits gone. Now c’mon, I need eyes and ears.” She held out a hand.

  Ricardo stared at the hand as if it was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen. Then he grabbed it, and allowed her to help him to his feet. They walked back to the main office without looking at the bodies.

  “Lock the doors,” she said, “don’t let anyone in unless it’s me.”

  Transcript

  Marshals’ Bureau Audio Diary

  Sevastopol Station

  November 28, 2137

  MARSHAL JETHRO WAITS: What do you want, Ransome?

  KENRY RANSOME: Not going to offer me a drink?

  WAITS: I’m busy, Ransome. What do you want?

  RANSOME: Lot of red on that wall.

  WAITS: That’s people. Every pin on that wall represents one of my people who was lost.

  RANSOME: You don’t have that many marshals.

  WAITS: I meant people I’m responsible for protecting, Ransome. Which is everyone on this station. Even you.

  RANSOME: Ouch. (Pause.) Listen, I’ve been thinking about what happened at the hospital. I can help save your—your pins. If you’re willing to listen.

  WAITS: I don’t need—or want—your help.

  RANSOME: Look, you don’t want a panic, I get it, it’s messy. But you show me what you have on that thing. I have a lot of connections here. Smart, discreet people. I’m talking about catching the specimen without killing it. It could set us up for life.

  WAITS: No deal. I won’t risk any more blood on my hands, I find that creature and it’s dead.

  RANSOME: Don’t tell me you weren’t angling to get a reward for Weyland-Yutani’s flight recorder. Yeah, I know that’s why you let them on
board. It’s a bit late to have a conscience now.

  WAITS: The woman died, Ransome.

  RANSOME: Whatever. Maybe you don’t want my help but you’ll come to me in the end.

  WAITS: Get out of my office.

  RANSOME: Sure. Oh, by the way—you’re running out of pins.

  24

  SCIMED SPIRE, SEVASTOPOL STATION

  DECEMBER 2137

  The transit car deposited Amanda in the SciMed Spire near Android Processing. The flamethrower was spent, so she left it behind in favor of a shotgun. It was a two-shot, but there was plenty of spare ammo, which she stuffed into her pockets. As she did so, she silently thanked Zula for showing her how to use these things.

  There were, at least, fewer bodies here.

  She found herself in a showroom, with several display platforms—but nothing on them. However, the floor was littered with the remains of Working Joes. Panicking at first, she checked each body, making sure they were the bald, plastic-skinned Joes and not Samuels.

  But he was nowhere to be found.

  A Joe came through the door in the back.

  “You do not have an appointment,” it said.

  “Nope.” Amanda blasted it with the shotgun. It fell to the floor, and she walked past the body, being careful not to slip in the white fluids that were pooling there. On the other side of the door was a waiting area filled with overturned chairs and tables. It had a window onto what looked like a laboratory facility. Through the window, she saw Samuels and two Joes. The synthetic held the gun Waits had given him.

  “Weyland-Yutani synthetic registered, attempting unauthorized access.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Samuels said. Then he shot the Joe in the face. As it hit the floor, Amanda entered the lab. As far as she could tell, Samuels seemed surprised to see her.

  “Ripley! Glad to see you’re still alive.”

  “Me too,” she admitted.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to access APOLLO. It’s been designed so that only Seegson synthetics can interact with it.”

  Amanda frowned. “Stupid corporate paranoia.”

  “Indeed. I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something rather drastic, if I hope to connect with the A.I.”

  “How?” Her frown deepened. “I’ll use the reformatting chamber. Its direct link to APOLLO should enable my efforts. Before this gentleman showed up, I diverted power from the area to allow me to try. It’s in the next room.”