Aliens vs Predator Omnibus

by Steve Perry

  He smiled at her. “Better to think about beans ‘n’ franks than lurking Death. I say go for it.”

  “Yeah,” said Daniels. “We got guys back on the bus. Might as well have ’em do something other than sit around with their thumbs up their butts.”

  “Well, I should hope they’re not preparing the food,” sniffed Attila.

  “Right. And I should hope that it’s something better than beans or creamed chipped beef,” grumbled Daniels.

  “Let’s check.” She tapped out the numbers, spoke into the radio node sticking in front of her face.

  “Yo. Michaels?”

  A bit of static in her ear. Then: “Got you.”

  “How’s it look there on the bus?”

  “Still all bozos here.” Pause. “’Bout the same as before. You guys just left minutes ago.”

  “Well, you know the saying. An army travels on its stomach. So we were just wondering here—what’s for lunch?”

  Lane Michaels laughed. “You mean that big ice chest they sent with us? I been wondering about that myself. Maybe I better get that lawyer in to work on it.”

  Machiko laughed. “You do that. Get him to do something other than cower in the back.”

  Abner Brookings was turning out to be something less than the Great White Hunter he fancied himself. He hadn’t wanted to come along on this mission, but Evanston had ordered him to, so he could pinpoint for the group the exact location. Brookings at least had the gift of a quick and smooth tongue, and he’d persuaded Machiko to allow him to hang back as consultant rather than directly participate in the maneuvers. His “inexperience,” he claimed, might hamper the operation. But, please, don’t tell old man Evanston. In return he promised to “have another look” at Machiko’s contract and “provide her with free legal help.” The ashen pallor of his face informed her that this was no act. Although he had a gun, it was clear that his enthusiasm for weapons had waned somewhat.

  Just as well, really. Amateurs and guns generally didn’t mix.

  “I am not cowering at all,” declared Brookings’s voice abruptly. “I am available for consultation. And I am performing valuable help in guarding your means of transportation back.”

  There wasn’t a trace of irony in the man’s voice, which ingratiated him to her not a wit. “That’s very kind of you. We do appreciate that effort… Now, could you both check that storage box?”

  There was a moment of silence, followed by thumping and opening sounds.

  Michaels came back on-line. “Hmmm. Lots of cheese. Fruit. A nice ham. Crusty bread. Looks mighty tasty. I think I’ll make myself a sandwich right now.”

  “I think you’d better consult with Mr. Lawyer there on the legal implications before you do that,” said Machiko, laughing. “But I think you’ll have a few disgruntled comrades as well.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Guess that wouldn’t go down too well.” Dumb voice, with fake realization.

  “Right. Just stay on call, both of you. We’re getting into the area where you said you were attacked, Brookings.”

  “Good. Keep your line open. I’ll do what I can from here.”

  Just because she was actually glad he hadn’t come along didn’t mean she couldn’t rib him about the subject. Besides, the other guys were in on the joke. It kept things light in the face of some pretty heavy-duty danger.

  In fact, they were entering some heavier growth, just as Brookings had described. Without focusing Machiko could almost imagine herself on some African veld, approaching forest. However, there were no earthly leaves that looked quite like the ones that dangled in the breeze, glistening with jewellike dew.

  “Anything, Til?”

  “Nope. No signs of bodies.”

  She didn’t really expect any. When working covertly like this, the yautja tended to take their grisly trophies and dispose of the bodies cleanly. Still, you never knew, and she actually approved of Evanston’s suggestion. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of coming up against a pack of the Hunters so soon, but she honestly didn’t expect any such contact.

  Too, it was good to work with these people. On the way out they had been an unruly lot, joking and cursing and laughing. Now, though, they were falling into line like a practiced crack unit. Zorski had chosen well.

  “Just a minute,” said Attila. “I’m picking up something…”

  Machiko’s stomach lurched a moment, that familiar surge of fear. However, the adrenaline kick that followed evened her out, even thrilled her. This was what she’d been seeking—this moment of on-edge aliveness.

  “Anything specific?”

  “Odd. It’s about sixty yards over there, among the bush. Residual traces of burning… carbon ash… acid… biologic residue.”

  “We’d better go check it out then, eh?”

  “Yeah. That would be a good idea,” said Daniels. “Ned and I will take point, if you like.”

  “No, just back us up. Attila knows how to use the sensor unit.” The android had an instrument sensor pack to account for his talents, but in truth he was relying mostly upon his internal nodes.

  “Sure. Go ahead. Ned, you’d better go with them, though.”

  “Right.” The dark eyes remained expressionless, absolutely free of fear or nervousness. There was, however, a flicker of something in them now, a crinkle of a smile, as though Sanchez was grateful to help out.

  Machiko felt an unfamiliar warmth in her heart at the sign. The guy liked her, wanted to watch out for her. An instinctual man-woman thing. Not that she needed it; she’d watched her own ass for a long time, but it warmed her cockles. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t mind warming his.

  There might be some other perks to this job.

  “All right,” she said. ‘Let’s do it.”

  The three of them, weapons at the ready, moved ahead into the area that Attila had indicated. They walked through weeds and brush, and the sweet smell of bright flowers. The mist was gone now, and the sun was fully launched, chasing away most of the shadows. They passed through a stand of trees into an other clearing, cautiously. Immediately Machiko’s nostrils flared; a harsh acrid smell assaulted them.

  “Damn. No wonder your sensors beeped. What is that?”

  Burned shell?

  Burned insulation?

  Burned blood?

  All of them.

  “Over there,” said Attila.

  “Right. I can see it,” said Sanchez.

  Machiko could see it too, poking above a clump of grass. Some kind of greasy, blackened pile.

  “Something dead,” she said.

  “Yeah, but no flies,” said Sanchez.

  “Correct. Presumably this planet has other decompositional agents.”

  “I don’t know. Even a bacterium couldn’t grow in that,” said Sanchez.

  Machiko stepped up to it. At first it looked like the remains of some kind of garbage-heap fire, but then she started to discern identifying details.

  “Looks like the burned remains of a bug. That would explain the acrid odor. Burned acid.”

  Machiko found a stick and poked around.

  “I detect metal and plastic and glass as well—” said Attila.

  Machiko poked some more. Overturned fused glass and blackened circuitry.

  “Analysis?”

  “Too far gone to tell,” said Attila.

  “Looks like somebody threw some equipment on top of a bug body, doused it with incendiary chemicals, and then torched it,” said Sanchez. “But why?”

  “Some sort of cover-up?”

  “What—by the alien Hunters? To hide their presence?” said Attila.

  “That must be it.”

  “On top of a bug and equipment?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they were hiding the equipment too. Maybe it was just convenient. Maybe we should take back a specimen—”

  A yelp over the radio, echoed by a real-life vocalization beyond the tree.

  Then:

  “Noguchi. You’d better get back here.” Daniels’s
voice.

  “Right. Come on, guys.”

  It could be the Predators. She steeled herself. She wasn’t particularly ready for them today.

  But, then, was anyone ever ready for them?

  They ran back. She expected to hear the sounds of battle at any second, the sizzle of blasters through the air, the booms of explosions.

  Instead she saw merely that the party had moved closer together, and weapons aimed toward a clump of bush.

  She ran up to Daniels.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Something’s in there.”

  “Could be some kind of animal.”

  The bushes shook. Something stood up, staggered out.

  Weapons raised.

  “No. Hold your fire.”

  The figure stumbled into a clearing. Blood. Torn clothing.

  A woman.

  She gripped a gun but made no effort to use it. She just staggered forward.

  “Stay back,” said Machiko.

  The woman stopped. Fell to her knees.

  “Thank God,” she said. “Thank God you’ve come for me.”

  “It’s one of the damned guests,” said Daniels. “She’s survived somehow.”

  “How come you didn’t go back?”

  The woman shook her head dizzily. “Don’t… know… unconscious…”

  “Well, don’t just sit around gawking,” said Machiko. “Give the lady some water. She’s probably dehydrated.”

  Water was administered, and then a name was obtained.

  “Petra Piezki,” said Machiko over the radio. “Ring any bells, Brookings?”

  “I don’t believe it… I thought she was dead. There was this—”

  “Whatever. We’re bringing her in. She needs medical attention. You want to break out the first-aid kit?”

  “Of course.”

  Piezki drank some water. With the help of a man to either side of her, she was able to walk.

  “Piezki. What did you see out there?” Machiko asked her.

  “Monsters. Killers.” Then her head slumped, eyes dimming, as though to escape.

  “Let’s get her some help. And then we’ll think about looking around some more.”

  Actually, Machiko had pretty much found what she wanted to find. She’d tested the mettle of her people and was satisfied that she had a crack troop.

  Anything else would be pushing things too far.

  They’d probably stretched their luck far enough, and when you dealt with the Predators, luck was a commodity you didn’t play games with.

  15

  “You bastard. You left me!”

  “Piezki! I thought you were dead.”

  “That’s a lie! You left me out there to die!”

  Before Machiko could do anything to prevent it, the seemingly weak Piezki lurched from her slumped position at the campsite and lunged across toward Abner Brookings. Her thick hands clamped around Brookings’s neck, and she began to throttle the lawyer, shaking him violently. “You left me! You left me!” Brookings’s eyes bugged. The surprise of the attack had caught him off guard, but he was not a defenseless or weak man. With one great heave he pulled Petra Piezki off her feet and then slammed her into the metal side of the ground crawler.

  Piezki’s hands lost their grip. Her eyes rolled up. She slid down the side of the bus, unconscious.

  “Oh, great,” said Machiko. “She’s going to tell us all about what she saw now.”

  Brookings loosened his collar. He was gasping. “You saw it. Self-defense. She was trying to kill me!”

  “Apparently with good reason, if you left her to die!”

  “I swear, we were both running… I thought she was a goner. If I thought I could have helped, I would have.”

  “She’s all right,” reported Sanchez, looking up from the unconscious body.

  “Save the real story for later,” said Machiko. “Let’s get her back to Evanston. We’ve got a report to make.”

  * * *

  Machiko sat down beside Sanchez. Their vehicle was bumping its way back home, and the man’s dark eyes were directed toward the passing landscape.

  “Nice planet,” said Machiko.

  “I’ve seen more beautiful, I’ve seen more dangerous, I’ve seen not-nice planets I liked better,” he said, not looking at her.

  “I get the feeling you’ve been on your share.”

  He shrugged. “After you fight the bugs awhile, you get sort of empty inside. You need to go away for a while, or you just get a bad case of interior rot.”

  “So why are you back in the bug-battle saddle?”

  He looked at her. “Money.”

  “A guy like you could earn money other ways.”

  “I did. Not enough. Let’s just say this was an offer I could have refused but would have been an idiot to.”

  “I think I know what you mean. But there’s more to you than just money, isn’t there, Sanchez?”

  He looked at her. “Is there?”

  “You fight bugs for a while, you get a sense of nobility, don’t you? Like you’re doing something important. I bet you haven’t been doing anything really important for a while.”

  “Combating an intergalactic blight. Yeah, I guess it makes you feel like something more than a pile of shit.”

  For the first time something tremulous and deep crept into his intonation, something beyond sardonic monotone.

  She thought about this for a moment.

  “We may have more in common than our brilliant and wonderful personalities,” Machiko said finally. “Maybe I should buy you a beer tonight and we can talk about it.”

  He looked at her.

  “Sure. Can’t hurt.”

  “A nice beer generally helps.” She looked up and saw that they were approaching Evanstonville. “And something tells me after today we’re both going to need one… even though I generally don’t drink the stuff.”

  * * *

  “Ms. Piezki. How are you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “Ms. Piezki, I can’t tell you how sorry we are about what happened,” said Livermore Evanston in his most charming and mellifluous tones. “Nonetheless, you were aware of the danger involved. It was in your contract with us. And you are an employee.”

  Piezki eyed them, daggers gleaming in her eyes. She said nothing, but the threat was there: I’m going to nail you if I can.

  Lawyers, thought Machiko Noguchi.

  What a lovely, lovely bunch.

  Take Brookings, for example. The bastard was sulking in a corner, clearly not wanting to be there, but waiting for the debriefing.

  Chet Zorski was there, looking awake and aware and concerned, leaning on her chair and studying the patient, clearly taking mental notes.

  And, of course, there was old Evanston himself, solid but hovering. He’d come immediately to this treatment room when he’d heard there’d been another adviser located.

  “May I suggest you settle that matter later?” said Machiko. “What we need now is information. Ms. Piezki, we’ve pretty much heard your colleague’s story about what happened on that safari. Would you care to give your version?”

  Piezki coughed.

  “Are you all right?” asked the medtech who’d cleaned the woman’s cuts and applied the bandages.

  “Yeah. Little pain in the chest. Catch in the throat. Glass of water.” The medtech got her one, and Piezki drank it all down. “Yeah. Better. Thanks.”

  She told her story.

  It was almost exactly the same story that Brookings had told, save for one significant strand of facts.

  The hunt. The hunters. The quarry. The invisible hunters. Massacre. The run… loss of memory…

  The change of detail was that Brookings’s valor had not quite been as much in evidence as he’d claimed.

  “What happened when you tripped?”

  “Can’t remember,” she said, shaking her head. “Something dark. I remember screaming and hearing my own muffled screams… and that was it.” S
he put her hand to her chest. “Nurse, do you have something that will settle my stomach? I seem to have developed a really terrible case of heartburn.”

  The woman looked uncomfortable, but nothing that made Machiko immediately alarmed.

  Something bothered her, though.

  “And you were in the same location for about a day and a half—most of it unconscious.”

  “I remember bashing about in the brush, but that was it. I’m just glad I’m”—she accepted a glass of fizzing stuff with a thank-you—“alive.” Drank.

  “They let her live,” said Evanston. “How curious.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t know about her,” suggested Zorski. “If she was out in the bushes, they just must have moved on.”

  A possibility. If she’d run far enough away, they wouldn’t have detected her heat-image, thought Machiko.

  Then again, there were bugs in the area… and that was what bothered her.

  “Brookings. Did you see anything attack this woman?” she demanded suddenly.

  Brookings shook his head. “No. Like I said I thought that she’d been killed. Truly.”

  Muffled screams? Something over her head? Why hadn’t she thought about this before?

  “Brookings, this is very important. Is that the absolute truth? Because if it’s not, this woman could be in danger from—”

  “Absolute truth,” said Brookings, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  Suddenly a surprised look came over Piezki’s face.

  Her face twisted.

  “Ms. Piezki,” said the tech. “Are you all right?”

  Piezki belched.

  She took a breath and smiled… “Oh. That’s much better.” Relief was obvious on the woman’s face.

  Machiko relaxed.

  Piezki fell off her chair.

  She writhed and screamed, and a sudden bubble bloomed on her chest.

  “Get back!” cried Machiko.

  Too late.

  Before any of them, frozen with surprise, could do a thing, the bubble burst. Like a gory jack-in-the-box, flaps of bone and flesh lifted off, and suddenly a wormlike thing stood up in the middle of Piezki’s chest. Blood sprayed around the room like a crazy water sprinkler.

  They were all splattered with it.

  Petra Piezki got one look at the creature she’d given crimson breech birth to, and then her head fell back, holding Death in its eyes.