Alien 3

by Alan Dean Foster

  ‘I’m still sorry.’

  ‘For me? Or about what happened? If it’s the latter, so am I. About the prison sentence and subsequent restrictions, no. I deserved it. I deserved everything that’s happened to me. I wiped out eleven lives. Casually, with a dumb smile on my face. I’m sure that the people I killed had promising careers as well. I destroyed eleven families. And while I can’t ever forget, I’ve learned to live with it. That’s one positive thing about being assigned to a place like this. It helps you learn how to live with things that you’ve done.’

  ‘Did you serve time here?’

  ‘Yes, and I got to know this motley crew quite well. So when they stayed, I stayed. Nobody else would employ me.’ He moved to give her the injection. ‘So, will you trust me with an injector?’

  As he was leaning towards her the alien hit the floor behind him as silently as it fell from the ceiling, landing in a supportive crouch and straining to its full height. It was astonishing and appalling how something that size could move so quietly. She saw it come erect, towering over the smiling medic, metallic incisors gleaming in the pale overhead light.

  Even as she fought to make her paralyzed vocal cords function, part of her noted that it was slightly different in appearance from every alien type she had encountered previously. The head was fuller, the body more massive. The more subtle physical discrepancies registered as brief, observational tics in the frozen instant of horror.

  Clemens leaned towards her, suddenly more than merely concerned. ‘Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’re having trouble breathing. I can—’

  The alien ripped his head off and flung it aside. Still she didn’t scream. She wanted to. She tried. But she couldn’t. Her diaphragm pushed air but no sound.

  It shoved Clemens’s spurting corpse aside and gazed down at her. If only it had eyes, a part of her thought, instead of visual perceptors as yet unstudied. No matter how horrible or bloodshot, at least you could connect with an eye. The windows of the soul, she’d read somewhere.

  The alien had no eyes and, quite likely, no soul.

  She started to shiver. She’d run from them before, and fought them before, but in the enclosed confines of the tomblike infirmary there was nowhere to run and nothing to fight with. It was all over. A part of her was glad. At least there would be no more nightmares, no more waking up screaming in strange beds. There would be peace.

  ‘Hey, you, get over here!’ Golic suddenly shouted. ‘Lemme loose. I can help you. We can kill all these assholes.’

  The Boschian vision turned slowly to regard the prisoner. Then it looked once more at the immobile woman on the bed. With a singular leap it flung itself at the ceiling, cablelike fingers grasping the edge of the gaping air duct through which it had arrived, and was gone. Skittering sounds echoed from above, quickly fading into the distance.

  Ripley didn’t move. Nothing had happened. The beast hadn’t touched her. But then, she understood virtually nothing about them. Something about her had put it off. Perhaps they wouldn’t attack the unhealthy. Or maybe it had been something in Golic’s manner.

  Though still alive, she wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not.

  IX

  Andrews stood before his charges in the mess hall, silently surveying their expectant, curious faces while Dillon prepared to give his traditional invocation. Aaron sat nearby, wondering what his boss had on his mind.

  ‘All rise, all pray. Blessed is the Lord.’ The prisoners complied, striking reverent attitudes. Dillon continued.

  ‘Give us the strength, O Lord, to endure. We recognize we are poor sinners in the hands of an angry God. Let the circle be unbroken, until the day. Amen.’ Each prisoner raised his fist, then took a seat.

  As Dillon surveyed them his formerly beatific expression twisting with appalling suddenness.

  ‘What the fuck is happening here? What is this bullshit that’s coming down? We got murder! We got rape! We got brothers in trouble! I don’t want no more bullshit around here! We got problems, we stand together.’

  Andrews let the silence that followed Dillon’s outburst linger until he was confident he had everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat ceremoniously.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr. Dillon,’ he began in his usual no-nonsense tone. ‘All right. Once again this is rumour control. Here are the facts.

  ‘At 0400 hours prisoner Murphy, through carelessness and probably a good dose of stupidity on his part, was found dead in Vent Shaft Seventeen. From the information gathered on the spot it would appear that he was standing too close to the ventilator fan when a strong downdraught struck, and was consequently sucked or blown into the blades. Medical officer Clemens acted as coroner on the occasion and his official report is as straightforward as you might expect as to cause of death.’ Several of the prisoners murmured under their breath. Andrews eyed them until they were quiet once more.

  He began to pace as he spoke. ‘Not long thereafter prisoners Boggs, Rains, and Golic left on a routine forage and scavenge mission into the shafts. They were well equipped and presumably knew what they were about.’

  ‘I can confirm that,’ Dillon put in.

  Andrews acknowledged the big man’s comment with a glance, resumed his declamation. ‘At about 0700 hours prisoner Golic reappeared in a deranged state. He was covered with blood and babbling nonsense. Presently he is physically restrained and receiving medical treatment in the infirmary. Prisoners Boggs and Rains are still missing. We are forced to consider the possibility that they have met with foul play at the hands of prisoner Golic.’ He paused to let that sink in.

  ‘The history of the prisoner in question is not incompatible with such a suspicion. While no one is sent here who has not first been treated and cleared by Rehabilitation Central on Earth, not every programme of treatment is perfect or everlasting.’

  ‘I heard that,’ said Dillon.

  ‘Just so. However, until prisoners Rains and Boggs, or their bodies, are located and the reason for their absence resolved, any conclusions are necessarily premature. They may be sitting in one of the tunnels, injured and unable to move, waiting for help to arrive. Or they may have gotten lost trying to find their way out. Obviously there is an urgent need to organize and send out a search party. Volunteers will be appreciated and the offer appropriately noted in your records.’ He stopped in front of the north wall, which had been fashioned of locally poured lead.

  ‘I think it’s fair to say that our smoothly running facility has suddenly developed a few problems. It is no cause for panic or alarm and in fact is to be occasionally expected in a situation like this. Whatever the eventual resolution of this particular unfortunate incident I think that I may safely say a return to normal operations can be anticipated within a very short while.

  ‘In the meantime we must all keep our wits about us and pull together for the next few days, until the rescue team arrives to pick up Lieutenant Ripley. I may even go so far as to say that her unplanned arrival here, while creating some problems of its own, has likewise caused the Company to divert a ship to Fiorina. That means the possibility of obtaining extra supplies and perhaps a few luxuries well ahead of schedule. It is something to look forward to. So we should all be looking to the days ahead with anticipation.’

  The door to his right slammed open to admit Ripley. Out of breath and anxious, she ignored the stares of everyone present.

  ‘It’s here! It got Clemens!’ She was glancing around wildly, her eyes inspecting the dark corners and distant corridors of the assembly hall.

  The veins bulged in Andrews’s neck. ‘Lieutenant, I’ve had about enough of you. Stop this raving at once! Stop it! You’re spreading panic unnecessarily and without proof, and I won’t have it, you hear me? I won’t have it!’

  She glared at him. ‘I’m telling you, it’s here!’

  ‘And I’m telling you, get control of yourself, Lieutenant!’ He looked sharply to his right. ‘Mr. Aaron, get that foolish woman under control at once. Get her back
to the infirmary!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Aaron took a step towards Ripley. Her expression made him hesitate. She looked no less physically capable than the average prisoner.

  As he considered what to do next the lights suddenly flickered wildly. Prisoners shouted, ran into one another, looked around in confusion. Andrews shook his head dolefully.

  ‘I won’t have this kind of nonsense in my facility. Do you all hear me? I will not put up with it.’ A faint scraping noise caused him to glance upward.

  The alien reached down and nipped the superintendent off the floor as neatly as a spider trapping a fly. In an instant both predator and prey were gone. In the ensuing hysteria only Ripley and prisoner Morse actually saw the monster drag the quiescent form of Andrews into an open air shaft.

  * * *

  Ripley took up a seat in a corner and lit a narcostick. She found herself remembering Clemens. Her expression hardened. Clemens: better not to think of him, just as she’d learned to quickly forget other men with whom she’d formed attachments, only to have them snatched away and destroyed by other representatives of the seemingly indestructive alien horde.

  Except that they were not indestructible. They could be killed. And so long as she was alive, that seemed to be her destiny. To wipe them out, to eliminate them from the face of the universe. It was a calling she would gladly, oh, so gladly, have bequeathed to another.

  Why her? It was a question she had pondered on more than one occasion. Why should she have been singled out? No, she reflected, that wasn’t right. Nothing was singling her out. Fate hadn’t chosen her to deal with a lifetime of horror and devastation. Others had confronted the aliens and perished. Only she continued to suffer because only she continued to survive.

  It was a destiny she could abandon at any time. The infirmary was well stocked, its contents clearly labelled. A single, simple injection could wipe away all the pain and the terror. Easy enough to put an end to it. Except that she was a survivor. Perhaps that was her task in life, simply to survive. No, fate hadn’t singled her out for special mistreatment. She wasn’t responsible for the fact that she was tougher than anyone else. It was just something she’d have to learn to live with.

  Another man gone. One she hadn’t been especially fond of this time. She regretted it nonetheless. Andrews was human, and if nothing else deserved to die a decent death.

  The alien had left dead silence in the wake of its astonishingly swift attack. In its aftermath the men had resumed sitting or standing, each staring into the distance, at his neighbour, or inwardly. As usual it was left to Dillon to kneel and begin the prayer.

  ‘We have been given a sign, brothers. How we deal with it will determine our fates.’

  ‘Amen,’ several of the prisoners chorused. The comments of several others were fortunately unintelligible.

  Dillon continued. ‘We give thanks, O Lord, your wrath has come and the time is near that we be judged. The apocalypse is upon us. Let us be ready. Let your mercy be just.’

  Near the back of the hall the prisoners had begun to whisper to one another, Dillon’s prayer notwithstanding.

  ‘It was big,’ prisoner David muttered. ‘I mean, big. And fast.’

  ‘I saw it, asshole.’ Kevin was gazing intently at the place on the ceiling from which the alien had hung. ‘I was there. Y’think I’m blind?’

  ‘Yeah, but I mean it was big.’ So intent were they on the memory of what had just happened that they even forgot to stare at Ripley.

  Prisoner William rose and surveyed his comrades. ‘Okay, so what do we do now, mates?’ A couple of the men looked at one another but no one said anything. ‘Well, who’s in charge? I mean, we need to get organized here, right?’

  Aaron swallowed, glanced around the room. ‘I guess I’m next in line.’

  Morse rolled his eyes ceilingward. ‘Eight-five’s gonna be in charge. Jesus, give me a break!’

  ‘Don’t call me that!’ Aaron glared at the prisoner who’d spoken. ‘Not now, not ever!’ Rising, he advanced to confront them.

  ‘Look, no way I can replace Andrews. I’m not even gonna pretend that I can. You guys didn’t appreciate him. I know he was a hardass sometimes, but he was the best man I ever worked with.’

  Dillon was less than impressed. ‘I don’t want to hear that shit.’ His gaze shifted from the assistant to the lanky figure seated on the far side of the hall. ‘What about you? You’re an officer. How about showing us a little leadership?’

  Ripley glanced briefly in his direction, took a puff on her narcostick, and looked away.

  William broke the ensuing silence, gesturing at Dillon. ‘You take over. You run things here anyway.’

  The bigger man shook his head quickly. ‘No fuckin’ way. I ain’t the command type, I just take care of my own.’

  ‘Well, what’s the fuckin’ beast want?’ the discouraged William inquired aloud. ‘Is the fucker gonna try and get us all?’

  The narcostick eased from Ripley’s lips. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that sweet?’ Morse growled sarcastically. ‘How do we stop it?’

  Disgusted, Ripley tossed the remains of her narcostick aside and rose to confront the group.

  ‘We don’t have any weapons, right? No smart guns, no pulse-rifles, nothing?’

  Aaron nodded reluctantly. ‘Right.’

  She looked thoughtful. ‘I haven’t seen one exactly like this before. It’s bigger, its legs are different. The other ones were afraid of fire, or at least respectful of it. Not much else.’

  She let her gaze roam the hall. ‘Can we seal off this area?’

  ‘No chance,’ Aaron told her. ‘The developed mine complex is ten miles square. There’s six hundred air ducts that access the surface. This goddamn place is big.’

  ‘What about video? We could try to locate it that way. I see monitors everywhere.’

  Again the assistant superintendent shook his head. ‘Internal video system hasn’t worked in years. No reason to keep an expensive high-tech system just to monitor a lousy twenty-five caretaker prisoners who aren’t going anywhere anyhow. Fact is, nothin’ much works here any more. We got a lot of technology, but no way to fix it.’

  ‘What Eight-five’s tryin’ to tell you—’ Morse started to say.

  ‘Don’t call me that!’ Aaron snapped.

  The prisoner ignored him. ‘—is that we got no entertainment centres, no climate control, no viewscreens, no surveillance, no freezers, no fuckin’ ice cream, no guns, no rubbers, no women. All we got here is shit.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Dillon said warningly.

  ‘What the hell are we even talkin’ to her for?’ Morse continued. ‘She’s the one that brought the fucker here. Let’s run her head through the wall.’

  Ripley shrugged ever so slightly. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  Dillon walked over to confront Morse. ‘I won’t say it again,’ he said softly. ‘Keep your mouth shut.’

  Morse considered, then dropped his gaze and backed off. For the time being.

  The assistant super eyed Ripley. ‘All right. What do we do now?’

  She was aware that not just the three men at the table but the majority of the prisoners were watching her, waiting.

  ‘On Acheron we tried to seal ourselves off and establish a defensive perimeter. It worked, but only for a little while. These things always find a way in. First I need to see, not hear, what our exact physical situation is.’

  ‘It’s fucked,’ Morse growled, but under his breath.

  Aaron nodded. ‘Come with me.’ He looked to Dillon. ‘Sorry, but you know the regs.’

  The big man blinked slowly by way of acknowledgement. ‘Just don’t be too long, okay?’

  Aaron tried to grin, failed. ‘Look at it this way: no work detail today.’

  Dillon let his gaze sweep the upper level of the library. ‘Then why is it I don’t feel relaxed?’

  * * *

  They moved along the main passageway, Aaron holding the schematic map, Rip
ley shifting her attention from the printout to the corridor and walls. There was overhead light, but dim.

  Morse was wrong. Some of the complex’s basic life support system still functioned.

  She tapped the plastic sheet. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Access serviceway. Connects the infirmary to the mess hall.’

  ‘Maybe we can go in, flush it out.’

  He stayed close. ‘Come on. There’s miles and miles of tunnels down there.’

  She traced lines on the sheet. ‘It won’t go far. It’ll nest in this area right around here, in one of the smaller passageways or air shafts.’

  His expression twisted. ‘Nest? Don’t you mean “rest”?’

  She glanced over at him. ‘I mean what I say. Just don’t ask me for details. If we can kill or immobilize it, remind me and I’ll explain. Otherwise you don’t want to know.’

  He held her stare a moment longer, then dropped his eyes back to the map. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It’s like a lion. It sticks close to the zebras.’

  ‘We don’t have any zebras here.’

  She halted and gave him a look.

  ‘Oh, right,’ he said, subdued. ‘But running around down there in the dark? You gotta be kiddin’. We got no overheads once you get out of the main shaft here.’

  ‘How about flashlights?’

  ‘Sure. We got six thousand of them. And rechargeable batteries. But no bulbs. Somebody forgot that little detail. I told ya, nothin’ works.’

  ‘What about torches? Do we have the capability of making fire? Most humans have enjoyed that privilege since the Stone Age.’

  * * *

  The old vertical shaft stretched up and down into darkness, the ladder welded to its interior filthy with carboniferous grime and accumulated gunk. Damp air ascended languidly from the black depths, thick in Ripley’s nostrils as she leaned out of the corridor and aimed her torch downward. No bottom was visible, nor had she expected to see one.