by Tim Lebbon
“We’re going to do this,” Hoop said. “We’ve got to. Get away from this pit, get back home.”
Lachance looked across in surprise.
“Never thought you had anything to go back to.”
“Things change,” he said. Hopefully. Hopefully things can change.
“We’ve left them all behind,” Lachance said, relaxing into his seat. He scanned the instrument panel as they went, hands on steering stick, but Hoop heard such a sense of relief in his voice. “Who’d have thought we would? I didn’t. Those things... they’re almost unnatural. How can God allow something like that?”
“God?” Hoop scoffed. But then he saw something like hurt in Lachance’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m no believer, but if that’s your choice, then...” He shrugged.
“Whatever. But those things, I mean... how do they survive? Where’s their home planet, how do they travel, what are they for?”
“What’s anything for?” Hoop asked. “What are humans for? Everything’s an accident.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“And I can’t believe otherwise. If your God made everything, then what was his purpose for them?”
The question hung between them, and neither could offer an answer.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hoop went on. “We survive, we get out of here, head for home.”
“Five of us, now,” Lachance said.
“Four,” Hoop said softly. “Sneddon’s with us now, but...”
“But,” Lachance said. “Four of us on Ripley’s shuttle. Two men, two women.”
“We’ll start a whole new human race,” Hoop quipped.
“With respect, Hoop, I believe Ripley would eat you alive.”
He laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed properly in a long while, perhaps even since before the disaster, more than seventy days before. It felt strange, and somehow wrong, as if to laugh was to forget all his friends and colleagues who had died. But Lachance was laughing, too, in that silent shoulder-shaking way of his.
Though it felt wrong, it also felt good. Another step toward survival.
Leaving the atmosphere brought a sense of peace. The rattling and shaking ended, and the shuttle’s partial gravity gave them all a sense of lightness that helped lift their moods. Glancing back into the cabin, Hoop noticed Ripley looking in on Sneddon. He stood to go to her, but she turned and nodded, half-smiling. Whatever Sneddon’s fate, it had yet to happen.
Her predicament was difficult to comprehend. She knew she was going to die. She had seen it happening to others, and as science officer she knew more than most what it entailed. Surely she’d want to ease her own suffering? Maybe she’d already spoken with Kasyanov. But if she hadn’t, Hoop would make sure the doctor prepared something to send her quietly to sleep, when the time came.
He only hoped that Sneddon would see or feel the signs.
Something chimed softly on the control panel.
“Marion,” Lachance said. “Six hundred miles away. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Something flashed on the panel, and a screen lit up with a series of code.
“What’s that?”
“Samson’s computer communicating with Marion,” Lachance said. “The nav computer will give us the best approach vector, given comparative speeds and orbits.”
“Ash,” Ripley said. She’d appeared behind Hoop, leaning on the back of his seat and resting one hand on his shoulder.
“Can you disconnect?” Hoop asked.
“Disconnect what?”
“The Samson’s computer from the Marion’s.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Lachance looked at them both as if they’d suddenly grown extra heads.
“Because of Ash. It might be better for us if he doesn’t know what we’re doing. What Sneddon’s carrying.”
“And how the hell would he know that?”
“We have to assume he’s infiltrated the Marion’s computer,” Ripley said. “That would be his aim. Maybe he can’t, but just in case he has...”
“No,” Lachance said. “That’s paranoia, and leaving us blind to fly in manually is just stupid.”
“But you could do it?” Hoop asked.
“Of course,” Lachance said. “Yes. Probably. Under normal conditions, but these are far from normal.”
“That’s right,” Ripley said. “Far from normal. Ash, the AI, his orders were very particular. Crew expendable. My old crew, and now this one. Lachance, we just can’t take the risk.”
The pilot was silent for a while, turning things over in his mind. Then he accessed the shuttle’s computer and started scrolling through commands. He pressed several buttons.
“It’s done,” he said.
“You’re sure?” Hoop asked.
“It’s done! Now shut up and let me fly.”
Hoop glanced up and back at Ripley and she nodded.
“How’s Sneddon?”
“Okay when I last looked.”
Hoop unbuckled himself and headed back into the cabin. Kasyanov seemed to be dozing, but she opened her eyes as they passed, watching them without expression. At the airlock he looked through the small viewing window into the narrow space. Ripley came up next to him.
Sneddon sat with her back against the airlock’s external door, eyes closed, her face pale and sheened with sweat. Hoop tapped on the door. Her eyes rolled beneath their eyelids, and her frown deepened. He knocked again.
She opened her eyes. She looked lost, fighting her way out of nightmares into real, waking horror. Then she saw Hoop and Ripley looking in at her and gave them a thumbs-up.
“It can’t be long now,” Ripley said as they turned away from the door.
“You think we should have supported you down there,” he said. “Stepped back, let you burn her.”
“Perhaps.” She looked wretched, and he reached for her. At first he thought she would resist, pull back, throw a punch as she had down on the planet. But though she was initially tense, she soon relaxed into his embrace. There was nothing sensuous about it. It was about comfort and friendship, and the sharing of terrible things.
“When the time comes,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair tickled his mouth.
“Heads up!” Lachance called. “Marion’s up ahead. Let’s buckle in, get ready for approach. Hoop, could do with you up here to do all the crappy little jobs while I’m flying this thing.”
Hoop gave Ripley one last squeeze then went back to the cockpit seat.
“One step closer to home,” he said.
“Okay, I’m flying by sight here,” Lachance said. “Proximity and attitude alerts are on, but I can’t use autopilot this close without linking to the Marion.”
“So what do you need from me?”
“See those screens there? Keep an eye on them. Once we’re a mile out, if speed of approach goes into the red, shout. If anything goes red, scream your head off.”
“You’ve done this before, right?”
“Sure. A hundred times.” Lachance grinned at him. “On the simulator.”
“Oh.”
“First time for everything.” He raised his voice. “Hold onto your panties, ladies, we’re going in!”
Despite his brief display of gung-ho attitude, Hoop knew that Lachance was as careful and as serious as they came. He watched the screens as the Frenchman had instructed, but he also watched the pilot—his concentration, determination, and care.
The Marion appeared first as a shining speck ahead of them, visible just above the plane of the planet. It quickly grew, its features becoming more obvious and familiar, until they were close enough to see the damage to its docking-bay belly.
“Eyes on the screens,” Lachance said.
The docking was smooth and textbook perfect. Lachance muttered to himself all the way through, going through procedures, whispering encouraging words to the dropship, and occasionally singing a line or two from songs Hoop mostly didn’t know. The ships kissed with barely a jolt, and Lachance performed a
frantic series of button-presses and screen swipes that secured them together.
“We’re docked,” he said, slumping in his chair. “Sneddon?”
Ripley unbuckled and jumped to the door.
“She’s fine.”
“And she’s with us until the end, now,” Kasyanov said. “I’ve been thinking about something I can put together to...” She trailed off, but Hoop nodded at her.
“I was going to ask.”
“So what’s the plan now?” Ripley asked.
Hoop blinked and took a deep breath.
“Now we get the cell to your shuttle,” he said. “Everything else is secondary.”
“What about the other alien?” Kasyanov asked.
“Let’s just hope it’s hiding somewhere.”
“And if it isn’t? Say it attacks us, we have to fight it off, and the cell is damaged.”
“What do you suggest?” Ripley asked.
“Hunt it down,” Kasyanov said. “Make sure it’s dead and gone, and only then transfer the fuel cell.”
“My shuttle is on the next docking arm,” Ripley said. “A hundred yards, if that.”
“So we recce the route now,” Hoop said. “When we know it’s clear, we lock all the doors leading back into the rest of the ship, transfer the cell. Then two of us guard the shuttle while the others gather food and supplies for the journey.”
“Outstanding,” Ripley said. “But what about Sneddon?”
They all looked to the airlock. Sneddon was watching them through the small window, that same sad smile on her face. Hoop opened the inner door and she entered slowly, looking around at them all.
“I felt it move,” she said. “Not too long ago. So I think... maybe I should go first?”
Ripley held out her plasma torch, and Sneddon took it with a nod.
They slid on their suits’ helmets again, all comm links open, and prepared to cross the vacuum of the vented airlock and vestibule.
“I’ll start bleeding the air now,” Lachance said from the pilot’s seat.
Hoop swallowed as his ears popped. The last of the air bled away. The Samson’s outer door opened, and Sneddon walked through back onto the Marion.
He didn’t think he’d ever known anyone so brave.
21
PAIN
PROGRESS REPORT:
To: Weyland-Yutani Corporation, Science Division
(Ref: code 937)
Date (unspecified)
Transmission (pending)
Samson has docked with the Marion. Contact between ship and dropship computers has been cut. This intimates to me that Ripley is still on board.
I have no idea who else is on board or what has happened.
But I persist in hope.
All cctv and communication systems within Marion are patched into central computer. I have eyes and ears everywhere.
As soon as they dock I can assess the situation. Only after that can I decide upon future actions.
I have located the loose alien on the Marion. I have full remote access to blast doors... for now I have trapped the alien in Hold #3. It remains there, still and quiet.
There, if I need it.
* * *
Sneddon stepped out into the vacuum of the docking vestibule and approached the doors leading into the corridor beyond. They would have to lock those doors and seal the hole again before pressurizing the corridor, and only then could they access the rest of the Marion, including Narcissus’s docking arm.
She disappeared through the door. The others waited nervously in the vestibule, Ripley swaying back and forth. Her stomach and shoulder wounds were hurting more and more, but she embraced the pain, using it to fuel her resolve. There would be time for medicine, and sleep, later.
Sneddon soon returned.
“All clear,” she reported. “Doors are still closed and sealed.” Her voice was fuzzy and crackly through the suit’s communicator.
“Okay,” Hoop said. “Change of plan. We’ll bring the fuel cell through before we seal the door up again. Otherwise we’ll be going back and forth by opening and closing the damaged door, and that’s asking for trouble.”
“But if the thing appears and—” Lachance said.
“It’s a risk,” Hoop said, acknowledging the danger. “Everything’s a risk. But the more time we spend fucking around here, the worse things may become. There’s an alien somewhere on board, the Marion’s going to crash, and Ripley’s AI might be keen on giving us a very bad day.”
“Ash isn’t my AI,” Ripley said. “He’s Weyland’s.”
“Whatever. Let’s get the cell out of the Samson and into the corridor. Then we can go about sealing that door.”
“I’ll stand guard,” Sneddon said.
“You okay?” Ripley asked.
Sneddon only nodded, then turned and disappeared back through the door with her spray gun.
“Ripley, you go too,” Hoop said. “Don’t use that plasma torch unless you absolutely have to.”
She nodded and followed Sneddon, wondering exactly what he’d meant. Use it on what? Or on whom? She heard Hoop talking to Lachance and Kasyanov about bringing the fuel cell through, and she was happy leaving them to it. It gave her a chance to talk.
The science officer was just outside the door, leaning against the wall. Ripley nodded to her, then walked a few steps in the opposite direction. There was no sign of anything having been here since they’d left. If the alien had broken back through to this area, it would have depressurized the entire ship.
It was further in, hiding. Perhaps they would never see it again.
“Your AI,” Sneddon said. “It wants what I have?”
Ripley noticed that Sneddon had switched channels so that contact was only between their suits. She did the same before replying.
“Yes. He did his best back on Nostromo to get a sample, and now he’s doing it again.”
“You talk as if it’s a person.”
“He was,” Ripley said. “He was Ash. None of us even knew he was an android. You know how they are, how advanced. He was... odd, I guess. Private. But there was never any cause to suspect his intentions. Not until he let an alien onto the ship.”
“Is he watching us now?”
“I’m not sure.” She didn’t know how far Ash had gone, how far he could infiltrate. But if the aliens were her nightmares, he was her nemesis. “We have to assume so, yes.”
“He won’t want the rest of you,” Sneddon said. “Only me, if he knows what I have inside me.”
“Yes. He’ll want to get you put into hypersleep as quickly as possible, then take you back to the Company. The rest of us are just liabilities.”
“And then?”
Ripley wasn’t sure how to answer, because she didn’t know. Weyland-Yutani had already shown themselves as being brutal and single-minded in their pursuit of any useful alien artefacts or species.
“And then they’ll have what they want,” she said finally.
“I’m not going,” Sneddon said.
“I know.” Ripley couldn’t look at her.
“It’s... strange, knowing I’m going to die. I’m only afraid of how it’ll happen, not death itself.”
“I won’t let it happen like that,” Ripley said. “Kasyanov will give you something, as soon as the time comes. To ease your way.”
“Yeah,” Sneddon said, but she sounded doubtful. “I’m not sure things are going to be quite that easy.”
Ripley wasn’t sure either, and she couldn’t lie. So she simply said nothing.
“It’s only pain,” Sneddon said. “When it happens, it’ll hurt, but it doesn’t matter. A brief moment of pain and horror, and then nothing forever. So it doesn’t really matter.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ripley whispered, blinking away tears. They came far too easily, now that she’d let them in.
At first Sneddon didn’t reply. But Ripley heard her breathing, long and slow, as if relishing every last taste of compressed, contained ai
r. Then the science officer spoke again.
“Strange. I can’t help still being fascinated by them. They’re almost beautiful.”
They stood silently for a while, and Hoop emerged from the doorway that led to the docking arm. He tapped at his ear, and Ripley switched her communicator back to all-channels.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Sneddon and I were talking.” He just nodded.
“We’ve got the cell. Ripley, you go along to the door to Bay Four.” He pointed, then turned. “Sneddon, back there to the corridor blast doors to the other docking bays. I’m going to seal this door, then we’ll repressurize.”
“How?” Ripley asked.
“Honestly? I haven’t figured that yet. If we just open the blast doors, the pressurization will be explosive, and we’ll be smashed around. Got to let air bleed in somehow.”
“Don’t suppose you have another drill?”
Hoop shook his head, then looked down at the spray gun that was hanging from his shoulder. He smiled.
Kasyanov and Lachance appeared with the fuel cell. They wheeled it through the doorway, then set the trolley against the far wall.
“Strap that against the wall, tight,” Hoop said. Then he closed the doors and pulled a small square of thick metal out of a pocket, pressing it against the hole he’d drilled on their exit from the Marion. He removed his hand and the metal remained where it was.
“Bonding agent,” he said when he saw Ripley watching. “Air pressure will press it tight. It’ll give us enough time.”
Ripley walked along the corridor until it curved toward Bay Four. She paused where she could see the door, beyond which lay the docking arm with her shuttle, waiting for them all. Walking made her wounds hurt, but standing still was barely a relief. It’s only pain, Sneddon had said. It doesn’t matter. She felt warm dampness dripping down her side from her shoulder. She’d opened the wound there again.
It’s only pain.
She could see back along the curving corridor, and she watched Lachance and Kasyanov securing the trolley and fuel cell to the wall with cargo straps from the Samson. She did the same, tying herself tight with her belt against a heavy fixing point.
