“As soon as I’m done, Brodsky, reboot the system, and they’ll get in.”
“Okay, Ripley, rebooting the system now.”
Panic ran through her. “Brodsky! Fuck, no, don’t reboot it yet!” An alarm sounded as the airlock started to depressurize. “Fuck!”
“Ripley, what’d you do?” Brodsky demanded.
Amanda didn’t bother answering. She was too busy trying to figure out how to stop five people from suffocating and/or getting knocked out of the exosphere by the outgassing. Reaching down into the access panel, she found the inner door controls and yanked the wires away from them, reattaching them to the outer door controls. Then she was able to prevent those from opening.
The alarms continued to sound as the cabin depressurized. With luck, some of the five would be able to get their helmets on, but she couldn’t count on that. Even without their helmets, though, they would be okay. The worst that would happen would be for a couple of them to black out.
Once the airlock was depressurized, thanks to her switch she would be able to open the inner door. Then they could breathe Tranquility’s artificial air, and Amanda could take her time repairing the damage she’d been forced to cause.
* * *
Two days later, Amanda sat in a large room with Brodsky, Dmitriy, and Zula, facing three people from Weyland-Yutani.
Each of them was questioned in turn by the tribunal, who would make a determination on whether or not to press criminal charges against Dmitriy’s company, or against the individuals involved.
Brodsky had insisted for two days that Amanda told him to reboot the system. Amanda insisted that it wasn’t the case, but Brodsky was the engineer and she was the fuckup who’d sent her boss to jail. So more people believed him.
Dmitriy’s testimony was only that he’d sent the two of them on the assignment.
“I received a call from Weyland-Yutani that the airlock door was not functioning, and that five people were trapped in the airlock. I sent Mr. Brodsky to attempt to fix the problem, and I also requested that Ms. Ripley assist him.”
“Is this standard procedure,” one of the Weyland-Yutani tribunal, an Asian woman, asked. “To have an assistant accompany your engineers?”
“Sometimes,” Dimitry answered noncommittally. “It varies from job to job.”
“Yet Ms. Ripley did not join Mr. Brodsky until an hour after he began his work.”
“She was finishing another job.”
“Assisting another engineer?”
“Er, no, a minor repair job on her own.” Dmitriy squirmed in his seat. “Ms. Ripley is not a certified engineer,” he said quickly, “but she is rated to perform simple, menial tasks.”
Amanda scowled at that, but it was the truth, as far as it went.
Next came Brodsky.
“Ripley told me that I should reboot the system. I assumed that she had already finished cleaning the circuit board.”
“That’s bullshit!” Amanda said.
“Ms. Ripley, you will have the opportunity to tell your side of the story,” the Asian woman said. “Please be silent while we are deposing Mr. Brodsky.”
Amanda just folded her arms.
Another of the tribunal, a dark-skinned man, asked, “Mr. Brodsky, when you rebooted the system while the circuit board was still damaged, what was the overall effect?”
“The airlock depressurized, and the outer doors are programmed to open when that’s finished. But Ripley did some unauthorized tampering with the circuits, and switched them so that the inner door opened, instead.”
“Thus saving our employees’ lives,” the Asian woman said.
“Only after they were endangered by her in the first place.”
Brodsky was dismissed, and Amanda was called up. She wasted no time in refuting Brodsky’s statement.
“I told him that when I was finished cleaning the circuit board, then to reboot the system. He went ahead and did it right away.” They asked her a few cursory questions, but there wasn’t really anything more she could add in her own defense.
“It seems we are at an impasse,” the dark-skinned man said. “It is simply a question now of whom we believe, the certified engineer with years of experience, or the trade-school dropout who has a file with Lunar Law Enforcement and who has a history of difficulties with the law.”
And there it is. Amanda knew her career, such as it was, was toast. They even dug up the incidents where the company had bailed her out—records that supposedly had been purged, but apparently not.
Well, I don’t really need to stay on Luna anyhow. Haven’t found out shit about my mother since that Sotillo recording, and I could’ve gotten my hands on that myself.
“Oh, fuck this shit,” Zula whispered. “They’re not playing that bullshit.” Gingerly, she got to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said loudly.
“Yes?” the woman said. “And you are?”
“Private First-Class Zula Hendricks, Colonial Marines. I was present at the incident, and would like to give testimony.”
The tribunal exchanged glances. “Very well,” the Asian woman said, “Private, please tell us in your own words what happened.”
“I don’t need to, because you’ve already heard it from Ripley. Brodsky’s version of the events is false. Ripley specifically said that Brodsky should reboot the system after she wa—”
“That’s a goddamn lie!” Brodsky stood quickly, knocking over his chair. The third member of the tribunal, a pale, elderly man, spoke up.
“Mr. Brodsky, you have given your testimony. And be aware that you are now accusing a Colonial Marine of fabricating a story. Are you prepared to back that up in a military court?”
Brodsky sat down and shut up.
Amanda smiled.
“As I was saying,” Zula continued, “Ripley told Brodsky to reboot the system after she was finished cleaning the circuit board. Brodsky was the one who screwed up and endangered lives, and it was Ripley’s quick thinking that saved them all.”
“Thank you, Private Hendricks,” the Asian woman said. “That will be all.”
* * *
The verdict didn’t take long to come down. The tribunal held Brodsky responsible and pressed criminal charges. Dmitriy fired him, and Amanda was promoted to repair technician. Still not an engineer, but not just an assistant, either.
She insisted on taking Zula to lunch as a thank-you.
“Oh, please,” Zula said, “you ain’t got the money to buy yourself lunch. Just eat in the commissary with me.”
“I wanted to do something special. You saved my ass, Zula.”
“No, you saved those five people’s asses after Brodsky was a damned fool. That was some serious quick thinking there.”
Shrugging, Amanda said, “I was just doing my job—which I wouldn’t still have if you hadn’t spoken up. I honestly thought it was all over. So thanks.”
“No problem. C’mon, let’s get some food, I’ll do my PT, and then maybe tomorrow I can help you with your fancy new repair tech job.”
Amanda grinned. “Only if you hand me the right tools.”
WEYLAND-YUTANI CORP
“BUILDING BETTER WORLDS”
MEMO
From: Abernathy Smith, Chief Counsel
To: Nina Taylor, Deputy Assistant Counsel
Date: November 14, 2137
Re: Retrieval of data from Nostromo at Sevastopol
You’re being sent to Sevastopol Station to retrieve information regarding USCSS Nostromo. The flight recorder is important, yes, but the Nostromo was also engaged in Special Order 937. Your task is to execute Special Order 939: retrieve any and all data regarding the alien specimen, and any biological samples you can bring back.
Neither Samuels nor the consultant are to be made aware of Special Order 939. You are authorized to negotiate with the crew of the Anesidora for retrieval of whatever they salvaged from LV-426, and you have broad discretion with regard to recompense for them.
But don’t go crazy, Nina. Be s
mart, be tough, and bring it home for us.
This message and any attachments are confidential, privileged and protected. If you are not the intended recipient, dissemination or copying of this message is prohibited. If you have received this in error, please notify the sender by replying and then delete the message completely from your system.
27
SEVASTOPOL STATION
DECEMBER 2137
There was no Zula Hendricks to save Amanda now. Just her and a whole lot of dead bodies, and Ricardo’s voice in her ear.
“Rip, something’s happening.”
“What?”
“Your little purge reset everything!” he replied. “Lights, transit, scanning—everything’s coming back online. I think I might be able to get comms going, and I’m picking up something else. Something’s moving toward us!”
“Is it the Torrens?” Amanda got to her feet. Maybe she did have another Zula. “Or the Anesidora?”
“Not sure yet.” After a moment, Ricardo added, “Rip, I need you to get to medical right away.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it—trust me, please. I need to get to comms.”
“Um, okay.”
She started running, and discovered another bit of good news. Apparently, trashing the reactor like she did shut down the Working Joes. There were a lot of them lying on the deck, undamaged but inactive.
Small favors.
It took her the better part of half an hour to reach medical, finding herself back in the smoky remains of the section lobby. At least the fire burned itself out.
“Ricardo, I’m here at medical.”
“I’m at comms, but I’m too late. APOLLO has recovered from the reactor purge, and locked out external comms again.”
“Dammit.” Amanda slammed a fist into a bulkhead. “So why’d you send me here?”
“It’s Plan B,” he said. “I’m fairly certain the ship that’s approaching is the Anesidora. According to the logs, Marlow sent out his codes when comms were up after your sabotage.”
“All right.” That was the best news Amanda had heard all day. “We need to get to that ship. Is it docking?”
“No, it’s holding at a little less than a mile from the station, but that’s why I sent you to medical. They’ve got ambulance shuttles. Short range, but the Anesidora is close enough now to make it. Um—you can pilot one of those, can’t you? I mean, it’s mostly automatic…”
“Of course I can,” she said with more confidence than she felt. She’d driven ground vehicles on Luna during her five years there, but that was it. So she just hoped Ricardo was right about it being mostly automatic.
28
SALVAGE VESSEL ANESIDORA
DECEMBER 2137
Only one of the ambulance shuttles was still functioning. While there were five bays for the shuttles, only three were occupied, and the other two were damaged beyond Amanda’s ability to repair them—at least in the time they had.
Luckily, the third one was fine. Better still, it was well-stocked, including several more Fremon Bars and more bottles of water.
Ricardo had, in fact, been right. Amanda just had to program the navigation computer to take her to the ship that was outside Sevastopol. The nav system was designed for easy use by medical personnel who might need to get to a vessel in a hurry, even when a trained pilot wasn’t available. The shuttles were short-range so an untrained pilot—like Amanda—could only do minimal damage.
Climbing aboard, she followed the idiot-proof controls, and the shuttle launched itself. She instructed it to lock onto the nearest vessel. Moments later the Anesidora came into view, looming ever closer.
The good news was that the salvage vessel was programmed with auto-dock protocols that allowed hospital ships to link up with it automatically. The bad news was that the ship’s running lights were all offline, and her systems seemed to be cold.
Why is she powered down?
Emergency power kicked in, and the hospital shuttle was recognized as part of the emergency procedure, so the auto-dock still went off without a hitch. Now that she was off Sevastopol Station, however, she was no longer able to communicate with Ricardo. External comms were still down.
Once the umbilical attached itself to the hospital ship’s hatch and pressurized, Amanda went in. Yet another dark corridor, and this one far narrower than Sevastopol—or the Torrens for that matter.
Wonderful.
Using the light on her headset, she found her way to the very cramped flight deck. It was grimy, and in desperate need of an engineer to bring it up to speed, but there didn’t appear to be any damage—everything was just shut off.
So Amanda turned it all back on.
Once the flight deck lit up, she activated the comms systems and sent a message to Ricardo at Sevastopol. APOLLO had blocked incoming messages before, but Amanda decided to try in the hope that the A.I. hadn’t fully recovered from her reactor purge. Maybe Ricardo would hear her, even if he couldn’t reply.
“Ricardo, this is Ripley. The Anesidora was powered down for some reason, but I just got it back online. No sign of Marlow yet.” Remembering that Marlow had been with her erstwhile shipmate, she added, “Or Taylor. Assuming anyone else is alive. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you, me, and Marlow were the only humans left breathing around here.”
The Anesidora’s intercom crackled to life.
“Ripley, that you?”
“Marlow. Where are you?”
A bulkhead closed, trapping her on the flight deck. Fuck.
“Thanks for turning the power back on, Ripley,” the sonofabitch replied. “You saved me a trip. I just needed the power offline for a bit so I could fix some things. It’s all better now. Hey, wanna join my crew? Got lots of openings now. First mate, pilot, engineer…” He laughed, but it was hollow and frightening. “Oh, hey, got a friend here who wants to say hello.”
“Ripley?” As she’d expected, it was Taylor. “Marlow double-crossed me! He said he’d give me the data on the creature, but—”
Marlow cut her off. “That was never gonna happen.”
Amanda slammed a hand on the console. She climbed over to the door to see if she could get it open.
“Taylor, you okay? Marlow, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Doing? I’m doing what nobody else has been willing to do. Including me. I tried to save Foster, Ripley. She was my wife. We had a great run, the two of us, and when that alien… thing attached itself to her face, I broke every rule and I brought her here. Stupidest damn thing I ever did.”
Whoever had designed the bulkheads on the Anesidora knew their stuff. Marlow had activated a security lockdown, and it was damned near impossible to override it without an actual command code. Marlow would have it, but even the AW15 couldn’t hack it.
“That was so fucking stupid of me, Ripley,” Marlow babbled. “So stupid. Just made everything a thousand times worse.”
“No shit,” she muttered. “Sevastopol’s a graveyard, Marlow, and it’s entirely on you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Marlow snapped. “Fucking hell, all those people…”
The intercom crackled again, and Amanda worried that he was signing off. She’d prefer that he kept talking. Maybe she could find a way to convince him to open the damn door.
Keeping him talking was easy. “You’re not gonna get through that door, Ripley,” he said. “Lewis may be—may have been a shithead, but he knew his way around a security system.”
Amanda tried a workaround that failed. “Hope you won’t mind if I don’t take your word for it.” It was lame, but she had to keep him going.
“Hey, knock yourself out, but it doesn’t matter. That thing out there, Ripley, you can’t beat it. You just can’t.”
I’m starting to agree with you.
“All you can do is refuse to engage,” he said. “Wipe out every trace. Destroy any clue. Stop the infection from spreading. Make sure there’s no chance—none—of the human race m
aking contact with it. Because the moment it makes contact, it’s won. Lawyer Lady here really thought I’d give the company specifics on the creature, which just proves that she’s an idiot. The company’s never gonna know what happened here, Ripley. Nobody is. I won’t allow it.”
There was a pause. “Nobody else dies the way Foster died. Or the way the Nostromo died.”
That got Amanda’s attention. “What?”
“I’ve got a present for you, Ripley. Take a look at the terminal behind you.”
Turning around, she saw three words on the monitor.
NOSTROMO FINAL REPORT
“Holy fucking shit.”
“That’s not the whole thing,” Marlow said, “just a bit that I figured you’d want to hear. See, Lewis didn’t decrypt the stupid thing until we were practically at Sevastopol. By then, it was too late. We pulled it off the recorder so the company wouldn’t get it. Which is too bad, ’cause I was really looking forward to eating some grapes.”
“What?” Amanda looked in confusion at the ceiling, where she imagined the security camera was located.
Marlow was still rambling. “Didn’t think they’d send family members along to try to guilt-trip me, but I guess they’ll manipulate anyone, if it serves their purposes. Anyhow, there’s a lot of shit in there about LV-426, and the Nostromo, and the creature.”
Amanda’s eyes went wide. “So the creature did get on the Nostromo?”
“Yeah. Killed most of the crew. In fact, the only ones it didn’t get were your mom and the ship’s cat. Guess surviving must run in the family, huh?”
Amanda’s heart was beating so hard in her chest that her ribs ached.
“She’s alive?”
“Probably. Listen to the recording, Ripley.”
Turning around awkwardly in the cramped space, she climbed back into the seat. Her finger now hovered over the enter button, both desperate to hear the recording, and afraid.
This was why she’d come here.
This was what she’d been seeking for the last decade and a half.
Alien Page 24