'What makes you think so?'
Dallas sounded thoughtful. 'Would make the ship all out of proportion.'
'Proportion to what? And to whose ideas of proportion?'
Dallas did not have a reply for that.
Ripley would have given up on the search if she'd had anything better to do. She did not. Playing at the ECIU board was better than wandering around an empty ship or staring at the vacant seats surrounding her.
Unexpectedly, a realignment of priorities in her querying jogged something within the ship's Brobdingnagian store of information. The resultant readout appeared on the screen so abruptly she almost erased it and continued with the next series before she realized she actually had received a sensible response. The trouble with computers, she thought, was that they had no intuitive senses. Only deductive ones. You had to ask the right question.
She studied the readout avidly, frowned, punched for elaboration. Sometimes Mother could be unintentionally evasive. You had to know how to weed out the confusing subtleties.
This time, however, the readout was clear enough, left no room for misunderstanding. She wished fervently that it had. She jabbed at the intercom. A voice answered promptly.
'Science blister. What is it, Ripley?'
'This is urgent, Ash.' She spoke in short, anxious gasps. 'I finally got something out of the Bank, via ECIU. It might have just come through, I don't know. That's not what matters.'
'Congratulations.'
'Never mind that,' she snapped worriedly. 'Mother has apparently deciphered part of the alien transmission. She's not positive about this, but from what I read I'm afraid that transmission may not be an SOS.'
That quieted Ash, but only for an instant. When he replied his voice was as controlled as ever, despite the import of Ripley's announcement. She marveled at his self-control.
'If it's not a distress call, then what is it?' he asked quietly. 'And why the nervous tone? You are nervous, aren't you?'
'You bet your ass I'm nervous! Worse than that, if Mother's correct. Like I said, she's not positive. But she thinks that signal may be a warning.'
'What kind of warning?'
'What difference does it make, "what kind of warning"!'
'There is no reason to shout.'
Ripley took a couple of short breaths, counted to five. 'We have to get through to them. They've got to know about this right away.'
'I agree,' said Ash readily. 'But it's no use. Once they went inside the alien ship we lost them completely. I've had no contact with them for some time now. The combination of their proximity to the alien transmitter coupled with the peculiar composition of the vessel's hull has defeated every attempt of mine at re-establishing communication. And believe me, I've tried!' His next comment came off sounding like a challenge.
'You can try to raise them yourself, if you like. I'll help in any way I can.'
'Look, I'm not questioning your competence, Ash. If you say we can't contact them, we can't contact them. But damn it, we've got to let them know!'
'What do you suggest?'
She hesitated, then said firmly, ?I'm going out after them. I'll tell them in person.'
'I don't think so.'
'Is that an order, Ash?' She knew that in an emergency situation of this kind the science officer outranked her.
'No, it's common sense. Can you see that? Use your head, Ripley,' he urged her. 'I know you don't like me much, but try to view this rationally.'
'We simply can't spare the personnel. With you and me, plus Parker and Brett, we've got minimum take-off capability right now. Three off, four on. That's the rules. That's why Dallas left us all on board. If you go running after them, for whatever reason, we're stuck here until someone comes back. If they don't come back, no one will know what's happened here.' He paused, added, 'Besides, we've no reason to assume anything. They're probably fine.'
'All right.' She admitted it grudgingly. 'I concede your point. But this is a special situation. I still think someone should go after them.'
She'd never heard Ash sigh and he didn't do so now, but he gave her the impression of a man resigned to handling a Hobson's choice.
'What's the point?' He said it evenly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'In the time it would take one of us to get there, they'll know if it's an operative warning. Am I wrong or am I right?'
Ripley didn't reply, simply sat staring dully at Ash on the monitor. The science officer gazed steadily back at her. What she couldn't see was the diagram on his console monitor. She would have found it very interesting . . .
V
Refreshed by the brief rest, Kane kicked away from the smooth wall of the shaft and continued downward. He kicked off a second time, waited for the impact of his booted feet contacting the hard side. They did not, sailed off into emptiness. The walls of the shaft had vanished. He was swinging in emptiness, hanging from the end of the cable.
Some kind of room, maybe another chamber like the big one above, he thought. Whatever it was, he'd emerged from the bottom of the shaft into it. He was breathing hard from the exertion of the descent and the increased warmth.
Funny, but the darkness seemed to press more tightly about him now that he was out of the shaft than it had when he'd been dropping within its narrow confines. He thought about what lay below him, how far away it might be, and what could happen to him if the cable broke now.
Easy, Kane, he told himself. Keep thinking of diamonds. Bright, many-faceted big ones, clear and flawless and fat with carats. Not of this fog-like blackness you're twirling through, redolent of alien ghosts and memories and . . .
Damn, he was doing it again.
'See anything?'
Startled, he gave a reflexive jerk on the cable and started swinging again. He used the mechanism to steady himself, cleared his throat before replying. He had to remind himself that he wasn't alone down here. Dallas and Lambert waited just above, not that far distant. A modest hike southwest of the derelict lay the Nostromo, full of coffee, familiar sweat smells, and the patient comforts of deep sleep.
For an instant he found himself wishing desperately that he was back aboard her. Then he told himself that there were no diamonds aboard the tug, and certainly no glory. Both might still be found here.
'No, nothing. There's a cave or room below me. I've slipped clear of the shaft.'
'Cave? Keep ahold of yourself, Kane. You're still in the ship.'
'Am I? Remember what was said about shafts? Maybe that's right after all.'
'Then you ought to be swimming in your goddamn diamonds any minute now.'
Both men chuckled, Dallas's sounding hollow and distorted over the helmet speakers. Kane tried to shake some of the sweat from his forehead. That was the trouble with suits. When they kept you cool they were great, but when you started sweating you couldn't wipe a thing except your faceplate.
'Okay, so it's not a cave. But it feels like the tropics down here.' Leaning over slightly, he checked his waist instruments. He was far enough below the surface to be in a cave, but so far he'd found nothing to indicate he was anywhere but inside the bowels of the alien ship.
There was one way to find out. Locate the bottom.
'What's the air like down there? Besides hot.'
Another check, different readouts this time. 'Pretty much the same as outside. High nitrogen content, little to no oxy. Water vapor concentration's even higher down here, thanks to the temperature rise. I'll take a sample if you want. Ash can have fun playing with it.'
'Never mind that now. Keep going.'
Kane thumbed a switch. His belt recorded the approximate atmospheric composition at his present level. That should make Ash happy, though a sample would have been better. Still puffing, Kane activated the unit on his chest. With a confident hum, it resumed lowering him slowly.
It was lonelier than falling through space. Spinning slowly as the wire unwound, he dropped through total darkness, not a star or nebula in sight.
So completely had the peaceful blackness relaxed him that it was a shock when his boots struck a solid surface. He grunted in surprise, almost lost his balance. Steadying himself, he stood straight and deactivated the climber unit.
He was preparing to unhook the restraining cable when he recalled Dallas's directive. It was going to be awkward, exploring while trailing the constraining tie-line, but Dallas would have a fit if he discovered that Kane had released himself. So he'd have to manage as best he could and pray the trailing line didn't get itself entangled in something overhead.
Breathing more easily now, he flashed his lightbar and suit lights in an effort to make something out of his surroundings. It was instantly clear that his guess about being in a cave was as inaccurate as it had been emotional. This was obviously another chamber in the alien ship.
From the appearance of it, bare-walled and high-ceilinged, he supposed it to be a cargo hold. The light travelled across odd shapes and formations that were either an integral part of the hold wall or else had somehow been attached to it. They had a soft, almost flexible look, as opposed to the solid appearance of the bone ribs that reinforced corridor and chamber walls. They lined the walls from floor to ceiling, neat and orderly.
Yet somehow they didn't give him the impression of having been stowed. There was too much wasted space in the vaulted chamber. Of course, until they had some idea of what the protrusions were, it was absurd to speculate on the rationale behind alien methods of storing cargo.
'You all right down there, Kane?' Dallas's voice.
'Yeah. You ought to see this.'
'See what? What've you found?'
'I'm not sure. But it's weird.'
'What are you talking about?' There was a pause, then, 'Kane, could you be a little more specific? "Weird" doesn't tell us much. This whole ship is weird, but that's not how it's going to be described in the official report.'
'Okay. I'm in another big chamber like the one above. There's something all over the walls.'
Holding his lightbar extended in front of him in an unconsciously weapon-like pose, he walked over to the nearest wall and examined the protrusions. Up close, he was able to decide that they weren't part of the hull structure. Not only that, they looked more organic than ever.
Above, Dallas glanced over at Lambert.
'How long until sunset?'
She studied her instruments, touched a control on one briefly. 'Twenty minutes.' She accompanied the announcement with a meaningful stare. Dallas didn't comment, turned his attention back to the black circle of the shaft, continued to stare downward although he couldn't see a thing.
A flash of Kane's lightbar revealed still more of the peculiar objects attached to the floor of the chamber, in the centre of the room. He moved toward them, circled them while examining individual specimens in turn. Each was roughly a third of a metre high, oval in shape, and leathery in appearance. Choosing one at random, he turned his light on it, kept it focused there. The steady illumination revealed nothing new, nor did it seem to have any effect on the ovoid.
'It's like some kind of storage area, for sure.' There was no response from his helmet speakers. 'I said it's definitely a storage area. Anybody read me?'
'Loud and clear,' Dallas said quickly. 'We were listening, that's all. You say you're pretty sure it's a storage room?'
'That's right.'
'Anything to support that premise besides its size and shape?'
'Sure is. Those protrusions on the wall are also on the floor, and they're not part of the ship. This whole place is stocked with 'em. Leathery things. Matter of fact, they kind of resemble that urn you found above, only these are much softer looking. And these seem to be sealed, where yours was empty. They're all arranged according to somebody's concept of order, though there seems to be a lot of wasted space.'
'Funny-sounding kind of cargo, if that's what it is. Can you see if anything's in them?' Dallas was remembering the hollow urn shape he'd found.
'Hang on. I'll give it a closer look.' Leaving the lightbar on, he approached the particular specimen he'd been studying, reached out a gloved hand, and touched it. Nothing happened. Leaning over he tugged at the sides, then the top. There was nothing resembling a catch or break on the smooth surface.
'Got a funny feel to it, even through the gloves.'
Dallas sounded suddenly concerned. 'I just asked if you could see what was in it. Don't try to open it. You don't know what it might hold.'
Kane peered close at the object. It hadn't changed and showed no effect from his pulling and tugging. 'Whatever it contains, it's sealed in tight.' Turning away, he played his light over the rows of ovoids. 'Maybe I can find one that's cracked or has split a little.'
In the faint backwash of his suit lights, a small bump appeared silently on the taut surface of the ovoid he'd touched. A second eruption appeared, then others, until there were raised spots across the smooth top.
'All the same,' he reported to Dallas and Lambert. 'Not a seam or break in any of them.' He turned his light absently back to the one he'd experimented with, leaned forward, and squinted uncertainly at what he saw.
The opaque surface of the ovoid had become translucent. As he continued to stare, eyes widening, the surface continued to clear, becoming transparent as glass. Moving closer, he shined his light on the base of the object, stared hard, barely breathing as a shape within the oval container became visible. Jesus . . .
'What, Kane, what's going on down there?' Dallas forced himself not to shout.
A tiny nightmare was now clearly visible within the ovoid. It lay neatly coiled and folded about itself, compact and delicate and all made of a rubbery, filigreed flesh. It looked to Kane like a fraction of someone's delirium tremens plucked from the mind and given solidity and shape.
The thing was basically in the shape of a hand, many-fingered, with the long, bony fingers curled into the palm. It looked very much like the hand of a skeleton, save for the extra fingers. Something protruded from the centre of the palm, a short tube of some kind. A muscular tail was coiled beneath the base of the hand. On its back he could just make out a dim, convex shape that looked like a glazed-over eye.
That eye . . . if it was an eye and not simply some shiny excrescence . . . deserved a closer look. Despite the feeling of repugnance churning in his belly, he moved still closer and raised the light for a better view.
The eye moved and looked at him.
The ovoid exploded. Propelled outward by the sudden release of energy contained in the coiled tail, the hand opened and leaped at him. He raised an arm to ward it off, too late. It fixed itself to his faceplate. He had a horribly close glimpse of the weaving tube in the centre of the palm stroking the front of the glass, centimetres from his nose. Something started to sizzle and the material of the faceplate began to deliquesce. He panicked, tried to tear the creature away.
It was through the plate. Alien atmosphere, cold and harsh, mixed with breathable air. He felt faint; continued to pull weakly at the hand. Something was pushing insistently at his lips.
Beyond all horror now, he staggered about the chamber, trying to wrench the abomination from him. The long, sensitive fingers had slipped through the open faceplate. They reached over his skull and around the sides of his head, while the thick tail slid inside to wrap itself snake-like around his neck.
Barely getting air, the awful tube feeling like a fat worm sliding down his throat, he stumbled over his own feet, tripped, and fell over backward.
'Kane . . . Kane, can you hear me?' Dallas was sweating inside his suit. 'Kane, answer me!' Silence. He thought a moment. 'If you can't use your communicator, give me two beeps off your tracking unit.' He looked to Lambert, who could receive the signal. She waited a proper interval, waited longer before shaking her head slowly.
'What do you think's the matter?' she asked.
'I don't know, I don't know. Maybe he's fallen and damaged his power cells.' He hesitated. 'He can't or won't answer. I think we'd better haul him
out.'
'Isn't that a bit premature? I'm concerned too, but . . .'
Dallas had a slightly wild look in his eyes. When he caught Lambert staring at him he calmed himself.
'I'm okay. I'm okay. This place,' and he gestured at the cold walls, 'got to me for a moment, that's all. I still say we bring him up.'
'It'll yank him right off his feet if he's not expecting it. Could hurt him, especially if he has fallen and he's lying in a twisted position. If there's nothing really wrong you'll never hear the end of it'
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