Aliens

by Alan Dean Foster

  Ripley had already crossed to the far side of the annex to try the door. This time she wasn't surprised to find it locked. She worked on it as Hicks used his torch to seal the bent door they'd just come through.

  In the main lab Burke found himself backing across the dark floor. This time there would be no discussion of hypothetical iniquities, no polite give-and-take. He would be shot on sight Maybe Hicks would hold off, and Gorman, but they would be unable to restrain Hudson or that crazy Vasquez woman.

  Gasping, he crossed to the door that led out into the main complex. If the aliens were wholly preoccupied with his former colleagues, he might have a chance, might pull it off in spite o everything that had gone so dreadfully wrong. He could slip back into the colony proper, away from the fight, and make a roundabout run for the landing field. Bishop was amenable to argument and reason, as any good synthetic ought to be Maybe he could convince him that everyone else was dead. If he could manage that small semantic feat and disable the android's communicator so that the others couldn't contact him to dispute the assertion, they'd have no choice but to take off immediately. If the directive was delivered with enough force and with no one to counter it, Bishop should comply.

  His fingers reached for the door latch, froze without touching the metal. The latch was already turning, seemingly by itself. Almost paralyzed with fear, he staggered backward as the door was slowly opened from the other side.

  The loud crack of a descending stinger was not heard by those in the annex.

  Vasquez's grenade party had cleared the corridor long enough for Hicks to get the door sealed. It assured them of a few secure minutes, a holding gesture and no more. Now the corporal backed away from the doorway and readied his rifle for the final confrontation as something whammed against the barrier from outside, dimpling it in the middle. A second crash made metal squeal as the door began to separate from its frame.

  Newt tugged insistently at Ripley's hand. Finally the adult took notice, forcing her attention away from the failing door.

  'Come on! This way!' Newt was pulling Ripley toward the far wall.

  'It won't work, Newt. I could barely fit in your hideaway The others have armour on, and some of them are bigger They won't be able to fit in there at all.'

  'Not that way,' the girl said impatiently. 'There's another.'

  Behind a desk an air vent was a dark rectangle against the wall. Newt expertly unlatched the protective grille and swung it open. She bent to duck inside, but Ripley pulled her back.

  She glanced petulantly up at the adult. 'I know where I'm going.'

  'I don't doubt that for a minute, Newt. You're just not going first, that's all.'

  'I've always gone first before.'

  'I wasn't here before, and you didn't have every alien on Acheron chasing you before.' She walked over to Gorman and swapped her rifle for his flamethrower before he could think to protest. Pausing just long enough to tousle Newt's hair affectionately, she dropped to her knees and pushed into the shaft. Darkness unknown confronted her. At the moment it felt like a comforting old friend.

  She looked back past her shoulder. 'Get the others. You stay behind me.'

  Newt nodded vigorously and disappeared. She was back in seconds, diving into the duct to crowd close to Ripley as the older woman started forward. The girl was followed by Hicks Gorman, and Vasquez. Between their armour and the big pulse-rifles they were hauling, it was a tight squeeze for the soldiers, but everyone cleared the opening. Vasquez paused long enough to pull the grille shut behind them.

  If the tunnel narrowed down ahead or split off into smaller subducts, they'd be trapped, but Ripley wasn't worried. She had a great deal of confidence in Newt. At worst they'd have time to exchange polite farewells before drawing straws, or something similar, to decide who got to deliver the final coup de grace. A glance showed that the girl was right behind her.

  Closer than that. Used to moving through the labyrinth o ducts at a much faster pace, Newt was all but crawling up Ripley's legs.

  'Come on,' the girl urged her repeatedly, 'crawl faster.'

  'I'm doing the best I can. I'm not built for this, Newt. None of us are, and we don't have your experience. You're sure you know where we are?'

  'Of course.' The girl's voice was tinged with gentle contempt as though Ripley had just stated the most obvious thing in the world.

  'And you know how to get to the landing field from here?'

  'Sure. Keep going. A little farther on and this turns into a bigger tunnel. Then we go left.'

  'A bigger duct?' Hicks's voice reverberated from the metal walls as he spoke to Newt. ?Girl, when we get home, I'm going to buy you the biggest doll you ever saw. Or whatever you want.'

  'Just a bed will be fine, Mr. Hicks.'

  Sure enough, another several minutes of rapid crawling brought them into the colony's main ventilation duct, right where Newt said it would be. It was spacious enough to allow them to rise from a crawl to a low crouch. Ripley's hands and knees screamed in relief, and their pace increased markedly She kept banging her head on the low ceiling, but it was such a relief to be off all fours that she hardly noticed the occasional contact.

  Despite their increased speed, Newt kept up easily. Where the adults had to bend to clear the top of the duct, she was able to stand and run. Armour clattered and banged in the confined tunnel, but at this point it was agreed that speed was more important than silence. For all they knew, the aliens had poor hearing and located them by smell.

  They were coming up on an intersection where two main ducts crossed. Ripley slowed to fire a preventative blast from the flamethrower, methodically searing both passageways.

  'Which direction?'

  Newt didn't have to think. 'Go right here.' Ripley turned and started up the right-hand tunnel. The new duct was somewhat smaller than the colony main but still larger than the one they'd used to flee Medical.

  Behind her and Newt, Hicks was addressing his headset pickup as they scuttled along. 'Bishop, this is Hicks, do you read? Do you read, Bishop? Over.' Silence greeted his initial query, but eventually his persistence was rewarded by a static-distorted but still recognizable voice.

  'Yes, I read you. Not very well.'

  'Well enough,' Hicks told him. 'It'll get better the closer we come. We're on our way. Taking a route through the colony ductwork. That's why the bad connection. How are things at your end?'

  'Good and bad,' the synthetic replied. 'Wind's picked up a lot But the dropship's on its way. Just reconfirmed drop and release with the Sulaco. Estimated time of arrival: sixteen minutes plus. I've got my hands full trying to remote-fly in this wind.' An electronic roar distorted the end of his sentence.

  'What was that?' Hicks fiddled with his headset controls. 'Say again, Bishop. Wind?'

  'No. The atmosphere-processing station. Emergency venting system is approaching overload. It'll be close, Corporal Hicks Don't stop for lunch.'

  In the darkness the soldier grinned. Not all synthetics were programmed for a sense of humour, and not all those that were knew how to make use of it. Bishop was something else.

  'Don't worry. None of us are real hungry right now. We'll make it in time. Stand by out there. Over.'

  Preoccupied with his communication, he almost ran over Newt. The girl had halted in the duct. Looking beyond the girl he saw that Ripley had stopped in front of her.

  'What is it, what's wrong?'

  'I'm not sure.' Ripley's voice was ghostly in the darkness. 'I could swear I saw—there!'

  At the extreme limit of her flashlight Hicks made out a moving, obscene shape. Like a ferret, the alien had somehow managed to flatten its body just enough for it to fit inside the duct. There was additional movement visible beyond the invader.

  'Back, go back!' Ripley yelled.

  Everyone tried to comply, jamming into each other in the confined tunnel. Behind them the sound of a grating being torn apart echoed through the duct. The grating collapsed with a sharp spanggg, and a deadly silh
ouette flowed through the resultant opening. Vasquez unlimbered her flamethrower and bathed the tunnel behind them in fire. Everyone knew it was a temporary victory. They were trapped.

  Vasquez leaned to one side and stared upward. 'Vertical shaft right here. Slick, no handholds.' Her tone was clipped, matterof-fact. 'Too smooth to try a chimney ascent.'

  Hicks broke out his cutting torch, snapped it alight, and began slicing through the wall of the duct. Molten metal spattered his armour as sparks filled the confined tunnel with lurid light Vasquez's flamethrower roared again, then sputtered out.

  'Losing fuel.' From the other direction the column of aliens continued to close on them, their advance slowed by their need to squeeze through the narrow walls.

  Hicks had three-quarters of an exit cut in the side of the tunnel when the portable torch flickered and went out Cursing, he braced his back against the opposite wall of the duct and kicked hard. The metal bent. He kicked again and it gave way. Without pausing to see what lay on the other side, he grabbed his rifle and dove through the opening . . .

  . . . to emerge into a narrow serviceway thick with pipes and exposed conduits. Ignoring the still-hot edges of the cavity, he reached back inside to pull Newt to safety. Ripley followed turned to aid Gorman. He hesitated at the opening long enough to see Vasquez's flamethrower run dry. The smartgun operator dumped it aside and drew her service revolver.

  There was movement above her as a grotesque shape dropped down the vertical overhead duct. As the alien landed in the tunnel she rolled clear and let fly with the automatic pistol. The alien tumbled toward her as the small projectiles ripped into its skeletal body. Vasquez snapped her head to one side just in time to avoid the stinger. It buried itself into the metal wall next to her cheek. She kept firing, emptying the pistol into the thrashing form as she kicked at the powerful legs and quivering tail.

  A gush of acid finally cut through her armour to sear her thigh. She let out a soft moan of pain.

  Gorman froze in the tunnel. He glanced at Ripley. 'They're right behind me. Get going.' Their eyes met for as long as either of them dared spare. Then she turned and raced up the serviceway with Newt in tow. Hicks followed reluctantly staring back at the opening he'd cut in the ventilation duct Hoping. Knowing better.

  Gorman crawled toward the immobilized smartgun operator. When he reached her, he saw the smoke pouring from the hole in her armour, shut out the gruesome smell of scarred flesh. His fingers locked around her battle harness, and he started dragging her toward the opening.

  Too late. The first alien coming from the other direction had already reached and passed the hole Hicks had made. Gorman stopped pulling, leaned forward to look at Vasquez's leg Where armour, harness, and flesh had been eaten away by the acid, bone gleamed whitely.

  Her eyes were glazed when she looked up at him. Her voice was a harsh whisper. 'You always were stupid, Gorman.'

  Her fingers seized his in a death grip. A special grip shared by a select few. Gorman returned it as best he was able. Then he handed her a pair of grenades and armed another couple for himself as the aliens closed in on them from both ends of the tunnel. He grinned and raised one of the humming explosives. She barely had enough strength to mimic the gesture.

  'Cheers,' he whispered. He couldn't tell if she was grinning back at him because he had closed his eyes, but he had a feeling she was. Something sharp and unyielding stroked his back. He didn't turn to see what it was.

  'Cheers,' he whispered feebly. He clicked one of his grenades against one of Vasquez's in the final toast.

  Behind them, the serviceway lit up like the sun as Ripley, Newt and Hicks pounded along full tilt. They were a long way from the opening the corporal had cut in the wall of the duct, but the shock wave from the quadruple explosion was still powerful enough to rock the whole level. Newt kept her balance best and broke out in front of the two adults. It was all Ripley and Hicks could do to keep up with her.

  'This way, this way!' she was shouting excitedly. 'Come on we're almost there!'

  'Newt, wait!' Ripley tried to lengthen her stride to catch up to the girl. The sound of her heart was loud in her ears, and her lungs screamed in protest with every step she took. The walls blurred around her. She was dimly aware of Hicks pounding along like a steam engine just behind her. Despite his armour he probably could have outdistanced her, but he didn't try Instead he laid back so he could protect against an attack from behind.

  Ahead the corridor forked. At the end of the left-hand fork a narrow, angled ventilation chute led upward at a steep forty-five degrees. Newt was standing at its base, gesturing frantically.

  'Here! This is where we go up.'

  Her body grateful for a respite no matter how temporary Ripley slowed to a halt as she examined the shaft. It was a steep climb but not a long one. Dim light marked the end of the ascent. From above she could hear the wind booming like air blowing across the lip of a bottle. Narrow climbing ribs dimpled the smooth sides of the shaft.

  She looked down to where the chute punched a hole in the floor and disappeared into unknown depths lost in darkness Nothing stirred down there. Nothing came climbing toward them. They were going to make it.

  She put her foot onto the first climbing rib and started up Newt followed as Hicks emerged from the main corridor behind them.

  The girl turned to wave. 'Just up here, Mr. Hicks. It's not as far as it looks. I've done it lots of tim—?'

  Rusted out by seeping water, worn through by the corrosive elements contained in Acheron's undomesticated atmosphere the rib collapsed beneath her feet. She slipped, managed to catch another rib with one hand. Ripley braced herself against the dangerously slick surface of the chute, turned, and reached back for her. As she did so, she dropped her flashlight watched it go skittering and bumping down the opening unti its comforting glow faded from sight.

  She strained until she was sure her arm was separating from her shoulder, her fingers groping for Newt's. No matter how far over she bent, they remained centimetres apart.

  'Riiipplleeee . . .'

  Newt's grip broke. As she went sliding down the chute Hicks made a dive for her, laying himself out, flat and indifferent to the coming impact. He slammed into the floor next to the chute, and his fingers dug into the collar of the girl's oversize jacket, holding the material in a death grip.

  She slipped out of it.

  Her scream reverberated up the chute as she vanished plummeting down into darkness.

  Hicks threw the empty jacket aside and stared at Ripley Their eyes met for just a second before she released her own grasp and went sliding down the chute after Newt. As she slid she pushed out with her feet, braking her otherwise uncontrolled descent.

  Like the corridor above, the chute forked where it intersected the lower level. Her flashlight gleamed off on her right, and she shifted her weight so she would slide in that direction.

  'Newt. Newt!'

  A distant wail, plaintive and distorted by distance and intervening metal, floated back to her.

  'Mommy—where are you?' Newt was barely audible. Had she taken the other chute?

  The shaft bottomed out in a horizontal service tunnel. Her undamaged flashlight lay on the floor, but there was no sign of the girl. As Ripley bent to recover the light the cry reached her again, bouncing off the narrow walls.

  'Moommmeee!'

  Ripley started down the tunnel in what she hoped was the right direction. The wild slide down the chute had completely disoriented her. Newt's call came again. Fainter? Ripley couldn't tell. She turned a circle, panic growing inside her, her light illuminating only grime and dampness. Every projection contained grinning, slime-lubricated jaws, every hollow was a gaping alien mouth. Then she remembered that she was stil wearing her headset. And she remembered something else Something the corporal had given her that she'd given away in turn.

  'Hicks, get down here. I need the locator for that bracelet you gave me.' She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted down the servicewa
y. 'Newt! Stay wherever you are. We're coming!'

  The girl was in a low, grotto-like chamber where the other branch of the chute had dumped her. It was crisscrossed with pipes and plastic conduits and was flooded up to her waist. The only light came from above, through a heavy grating. Maybe Ripley's voice had also, she thought. Using the network of pipes, she started to climb.

  A large, bulky object came sliding down the chute. Hicks wouldn't have found the description flattering, but Ripley was immensely relieved to see him no matter how rumpled he looked. The mere presence of another human being in that stygian, haunted tunnel was enough to push back the fear a little way.