Her first sight was of the others all crouching over the hole in the deck. 'What's going on? It hasn't come through yet.'
'I think it's lost steam.' Ash knelt over the pitted metal. 'Either the continuous reactions with the alloys have diluted its strength, or else it simply loses its caustic potential after a certain period of time. In any case, it no longer seems to be active.'
Ripley moved to check the still-smoking hole in the deck for herself. 'Could the alloy be stronger inside this deck than above? Maybe the stuffs corroding the deck horizontally now, looking for another weak place where it can eat downward.'
Ash shook his head. 'I don't think so. From what little I remember about ship construction, the principal decks and hull of the Nostromo are all composed of the same material. No, I think it's reasonable to assume the fluid is no longer dangerous.'
He started to put his stylus back in his pocket, still holding it by the unmarred end. At the last moment, he thought better of the idea, continued to let it dangle loosely from one hand.
Ripley noticed the hesitation, smirked at him. 'If it's no longer dangerous, why not put it back in your shirt?'
'There's no need to act recklessly. Plenty of time after I've run tests and made certain the substance is truly no longer active. Just because it can't eat through deck alloy any more doesn't mean it couldn't give you a helluva burn.'
'What do you think the stuff is?' Dallas's gaze travelled from the tiny crater in the deck to the hole in the ceiling overhead. 'I've never seen anything that could cut through hull alloy like that. Not with that kind of speed.'
'I've never seen anything like it myself,' the science officer confessed. 'Certain highly refined varieties of molecular acid are tremendously powerful, but they generally will act only on certain specific materials. They have restricted general applications.
'On the other hand, this stuff appears to be a universal corrosive. We've already watched it demonstrate its ability to eat through several very different substances with equal facility. Or indifference, if you prefer. Hull alloy, surgical gloves, the medical pallet, infirmary bedding; it went through all of them with equal ease.'
'And that damned thing uses it for blood. One tough son-of-a-bitch little monster.' Brett spoke of the hand-shaped alien with respect, despite his feelings toward it.
'We don't know for a fact that it uses it for blood.' Ash's mind was functioning overtime under the pressure of the situation. 'It might be a component of a separate circulatory system, designed to lubricate the creature's insides. Or it might comprise part of a protective inner layer, a sort of liquid, defensive endothelium. It might be no more than the creature's counterpart of our own lymph fluid.?
'Wonderful defensive mechanism, though,' Dallas observed. 'You don't dare kill it.'
'Not on board a sealed ship, anyway.' Ripley made the interesting point quietly.
'That's so,' Ash conceded. ' We could take Kane outside, where the creature's fluids couldn't damage the Nostromo, and try cutting it off, except that we're fairly certain it's the only thing keeping him alive.'
'Once we cut it off him and got that tube out of his throat, we could feed him oxygen.' Ripley pressed the thought. 'A thermal wrap would keep him warm. For that matter, we could set up an air tent with a ground seal. Let the liquid drip onto the ground below it.'
'Not a bad idea,' admitted Ash, 'save for two things.' Ripley waited impatiently. 'First, as we've already discussed, removing the creature forcibly might result in a fatal interruption of life-sustaining action. The shock alone could kill Kane.
'Second, we have no guarantee that, upon being sufficiently injured, the creature might not react by Spraying that liquid all over itself and everything else in sight. That would be a defensive reaction fully in keeping with the fluid's destructive and protective qualities.' He paused long enough to let the image dominate everyone's mind.
'Even if whoever was doing the actual cutting could somehow escape serious injury from the flying liquid, I would not care to be the one responsible for what would be left of Kane's face. Or head.'
'All right.' Ripley sounded a bit resentful. 'So maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea. What do you suggest instead?' She jerked a thumb toward the infirmary above. 'Trying to haul him all the way home with that thing sitting on his skull?'
'I see no danger in that.' Ash was unimpressed by her sarcasm. 'As long as his vital signs remain stable, I consider that a viable alternative. If they show signs of failing, naturally we'll have to try something else. But at this time I have to say that I think removing the creature forcibly presents greater potential for injury to Kane than it does improvement.'
A new face appeared at the top of the nearby companionway. 'Still no sign of the stuff. It's stopped bleeding?' Parker switched his gaze from the sullen Ripley to Dallas.
'Yeah. After it ate through two levels.' He was still a bit stunned by the potency of the alien fluid.
Ripley came to life, looked around. 'We're all down here. What about Kane? No one's watching him . . . or the alien.'
There was a concerted rush for the stairs.
Dallas was the first one back at the infirmary. A quick glance inside showed him that nothing had changed. Kane still lay as they'd left him, immobile on the platform, the alien secured to his face.
Dallas was angry at himself. He'd acted like a damn kid. The liquid had demonstrated unexpected and dangerous properties, sure, but hardly enough to justify the total panic that had ensued. He should first have delegated one or two members of the crew to remain behind and keep an eye on the creature.
Fortunately, nothing had changed during their absence. The thing hadn't moved, nor, from the looks of it, had Kane. From now on, regardless of any problem that might arise elsewhere, there would be someone assigned to the infirmary at all times. The situation was serious enough without offering the alien the opportunity to do things unobserved,
'Any of the acid get on him?' Parker was at the portal, straining to see Kane.
Dallas walked over and stood next to the platform. He inspected the exec's head carefully. 'I don't think so. He looks okay. The fluid ran down the outside of the creature without contacting his skin.'
Brett crowded into the doorway. 'Is it still dripping that crap? We've got some ceramics down in engineering supply that'll hold just about anything. I don't know about this stuff, but we can give it a try if we have to. I can jury-rig a container out of scraps.'
'Don't bother,' Dallas told him. 'It's stopped bleeding.'
Ash was examining the section cut by the laser knife. 'Healed over. No sign of the wound. Remarkable regenerative abilities. You'd never know it had been touched.'
'There must be some way we can get it off.' Lambert shivered. 'It makes me sick to see it resting there like that, that tube or whatever it is down his throat.'
'You'd be a lot sicker if it was on you,' Ripley taunted her.
Lambert kept her distance. 'You're not being funny.'
'I'll say again, sir, I don't think it would be a good idea to try removing the creature.' Ash wasn't looking at him. 'It didn't work out too well the last time.'
Dallas glanced sharply at his science officer, then relaxed. As usual, Ash was only being objective. It wasn't in his nature to be sarcastic.
'So what do we do?' Lambert wanted to know.
'We do nothing,' Dallas finally said. 'We can't do anything. We tried and, as Ash noted, it nearly cost us a hulled ship. So . . . we feed him back to the autodoc and hope it can come up with a better idea.'
He touched a control. There was a soft hum as Kane's platform slid back into the machine. Dallas threw additional switches, was again provided with internal views of the comatose exec, plus related schematics and diagrams. They offered no new information, and no solutions.
Ash was correlating several readouts. 'His bodily functions continue normal, but there's some fresh indication of tissue degeneracy and breakdown.'
'Then it is hurting him,' Lambert said.
'Not necessarily. He's gone without food and water for some time. These readings might reflect a natural reduction in weight. There's no indication he's being drastically weakened, either by the creature or circumstances.
'Nevertheless, we want to keep him in the best condition possible. 'I'd better get some intravenous feeding started, until I can determine for sure whether the alien's absorbing protein from his system.' He activated a block of controls. New sounds echoed through the infirmary as the autodoc began to efficiently assume the job of feeding the helpless Kane and processing the resultant waste products.
'What's that thing?' Ripley was pointing at a portion of the slowly shifting internal scan. 'That stain on his lungs?'
'I don't see any "stain".'
Dallas studied the view. 'I think I see what she means. Increase magnification on the respiratory system, Ash.'
The science officer complied. Now the small blot that had caught Ripley's attention stood out clearly, a dark irregular patch overlying Kane's chest cavity. It was completely opaque.
'We don't know that it's on his lungs.' Ash fiddled with controls. 'It could just as readily be a scanner malfunction, or a radiation-damaged section of the scanner lens. Happens all the time.'
'Try more power,' Dallas demanded. 'Let's see if we can't improve the resolution.'
Ash adjusted instrumentation, but despite his best efforts the dark blot remained just that: an unresolved splotch of blackness.
'I can't raise the intensity any further or he'll begin to suffer radiation damage.'
'I know.' Dallas stared at the enigmatic blot. 'If we lose scanning capability now we won't know what the hell's happening inside him.'
'I'll handle it, sir,' the science officer assured him. 'I think I can clean up the lens. It's just a question of some slight repolishing.?'
'But that'll leave us blind.'
Ash looked apologetic. 'I can't remove the blot without dismantling the scanner.'
'Skip it, then. As long as it doesn't grow to the point where it
obscures our vision.'
'As you wish, sir.' Ash turned back to his readouts.
Brett looked confused, sounded frustrated. 'What happens now, huh? We just sit and wait?'
'No,' Dallas responded, remembering that he had a ship to run in addition to caring for Kane. ?We sit And wait, you two go back to work . . .
VII
'What do you think?'
Parker was leaning as close as he could, sweating along with Brett as the latter attempted to seal the delicate last connections within the cramped confines of twelve module. They were trying to perform work that normally employed the services of a remote automatic tracer and the facilities of a computerized tool runner. Since they possessed neither runner nor tracer they were forced to cope with the trouble utilizing instruments not designed for the purpose.
Wrong tools for the wrong job, Parker thought angrily. Somehow, they would have to manage. Unless twelve module was properly repaired and made operative once more they'd have one hell of a time trying to lift off. To get away from this world, Parker would have made the necessary internal replacements with his teeth.
Right now, though, it was Brett's turn to fight with the recalcitrant components. Like every other instrument aboard the Nostromo, the module used snap-in, factory-sealed replacement parts. The trick was to remove the ruined garbage without interrupting other critical functions or damaging still more delicate portions of the ship's drive. The new parts would fit in easily, if they could only get rid of the carbonized junk.
'I think I've got it,' his companion finally said. 'Give it a try.'
Parker stepped back, touched two buttons set into the overhead console, then glanced hopefully at a neighbouring portable monitor. He tried the buttons a second time, without success. The monitor remained blissfully silent.
'Nothing.'
'Damn. I was sure that was it.'
'Well, it isn't. Try the next one. I know they all look okay, except for that number forty-three, and we've already replaced that. That's the trouble with these damn particle cells. If the regulator overloads and burns some of them out, you have to go inside and find the ones that have vacuum-failed.' He paused, added, 'Wish we had a tracer.'
'You and me both.' Soft sounds of metal scratching on plastic sounded from inside the unit.
'It's got to be the next one.' Parker tried to sound optimistic. 'We don't have to hand-check every single cell. Mother narrowed it down this far. Be thankful for small favors.'
'I'll be thankful,' Brett responded. 'I'll be thankful when we're off this rock and back in hypersleep.'
'Stop thinking about Kane.' He touched the two buttons, cursed silently. 'Another blank. Try the next one, Brett.'
'Right.' He moved to do so, replaced the cell he'd just checked in its proper place. Parker adjusted several overhead toggles. Maybe they could narrow down the injured line a little farther. Twelve module contained one hundred of the tiny particle acceleration cell chambers. The thought of manually checking every one of them to find a single one that had failed made him more than ready to break things.
At precisely the wrong moment, a voice called from a nearby 'com speaker. 'What's happening?'
Oh, hell, Parker thought. Ripley. That damn woman. I'll tell her what's happening. 'My Johnson is happening,' he informed her curtly, adding several things pitched just below the effective range of the omni pickup.
'Keep working,' he told his companion.
'Right.'
'What's that?' she said. 'I didn't catch that.'
He moved away from the module. A stab activated the 'com amp. 'You want to know what's happening? A lot of hard work is what's happening. Real work. You ought to come back here and give it a try sometime.'
Her reply was instant, composed. 'I've got the toughest job on this ship.' Parker laughed derisively. 'I have to listen to your bullshit.'
'Get off my back.'
'I'll get off your back when module twelve is fixed, not before. You can count on that.' There was a click at the other end before Parker could offer his ready comment.
'What's up?' Brett leaned out of the module. 'You two fighting again?'
'Naw. Smart-mouth broad, that's all.'
Brett hesitated, paused to examine the currently opened cell. 'Right. Let's try it again.'
Parker pushed the buttons, examined the monitor, thought of putting his fist through it while imagining it to be a certain warrant officer's face. He wouldn't do anything nearly so melodramatic, of course. Though short-tempered, he was sensible enough to realize how badly he needed the monitor.
And Ripley.
Ash was running a new battery of tests on Kane's comatose form. They provided additional information about his condition. None of it was particularly useful, but the science officer found it all fascinating.
Kane's insides were immediately visible to anyone who cared to enter the infirmary and have a look at the main medical viewscreen. Kane himself was in no position to object to this particularly intimate invasion of privacy.
Ripley walked in, took note of the readouts. His condition hadn't changed since she'd last seen him. She hadn't expected it to. The alien remained affixed to his face.
She studied the smaller readouts, then took the empty seat next to Ash. He acknowledged her arrival with a slight smile and did not turn from his console.
'Making some different tests on him,' he informed her. 'Just in case anything happens.'
'Like what?'
'I haven't the vaguest idea. But if anything does, I'll want to know about it as soon as it starts.'
'Anything new?'
'With Kane?' Ash considered, marshaling his thoughts. 'Still the same. He's holding steady. No, better than that. He's holding strong. No changes for the worse.'
'What about the creature? We know now it can leak acid and heal itself fast. Anything else we know?'
Ash sounded pleased with himself when he replied. 'Like I told you,
I've been running tests. Since we can't do anything for Kane, I thought it sensible to try to learn as much as we can about the creature. You never know what seemingly insignificant discovery might lead to its eventual removal.'
'I know that.' She shifted impatiently in her chair. 'What have you found out?'
'It's got an outer layer of what appears to be protein polysaccharides. At least, that's my best guess. Hard to tell without a piece for detailed analysis, and attempting to remove even a sample might cause it to drain fluid again. We can't risk it dissolving part of the autodoc.'
'Not hardly,' she said dryly. 'Right now that machine's the only chance Kane's got.'
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