The Complete Aliens Omnibus

by Michael Jan Friedman

  But before he could get very far, someone careened into him—knocking him backwards into a tree trunk, where he realized he had lost his grip on his daughter. And as he tried to get her back, the other creature came between them.

  This one wasn’t injured or dazed. It was quick, alert, coiled to strike—and Angie was the fleeing piece of meat that seemed to have caught its attention.

  No, Philipakos thought, already feeling his world hollowed out by his daughter’s loss.

  But before the thing could reach her, it was skewered on a bolt of seething, pale-blue energy. Twitching in its grasp, the alien was forced back.

  “The hatch!” roared Ripley, who was responsible for the barrage. She was standing up in the shotgun seat of the second flivver, her face bent over her rifle. “Get to the hatch!”

  Philipakos wanted very much to follow her advice. However, his daughter was running in the opposite direction.

  “Angie!” he yelled after her, hoping to stop her in her tracks.

  But she didn’t seem to hear him. She kept running, no doubt in the belief that an alien was right behind her. And a moment later she vanished into the embrace of the forest.

  Philipakos cursed to himself as he lowered his head and plunged in after her.

  * * *

  Ripley’s decision was made for her when she saw the colonists scatter into the depths of the jungle.

  “Go!” she growled at Cody. Then she leaped from the flivver, rolled, and came up running with her burner in her hands.

  Call and Johner would know what she wanted—for them to deposit Cody and Gogolac in the backup bay, if they could. Only then, when those two were safe, would Ripley approve of her comrades’ coming back.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t confident there would be anything left for them to find.

  The aliens had an uncanny instinct for knowing where the meat was—and as soon as they realized how much of it was in that dome, they would converge on the place. In minutes, all twelve of them would be stalking human prey, ravening for human flesh.

  As big as they were—for reasons Ripley didn’t have time to think about—it would be difficult to deny them what they wanted. Some might say impossible.

  But Ripley was damned well going to try.

  * * *

  “Angie!” Philipakos bellowed, aware that he might be attracting the attention of the aliens. “Angie, stop!”

  Just then, he caught a glimpse of her. She wasn’t that far ahead but there was a lot of dense, dark jungle between them.

  “Angie!” he roared, determined that she hear him.

  And she did. He could see her turn and peer through a thicket of branches at him, wide-eyed with fear.

  “Angie,” he said, tearing through the intervening foliage, “it’s all right. I’m coming.”

  Then Philipakos was there with her, his arms around her, whispering reassurances in which he hadn’t the least bit of confidence. He could feel his daughter trembling, her tiny frame feeling smaller than ever before.

  “I thought it was going to get me,” she said, a catch in her voice though it was clear she was trying to regain control of herself. “Ripley was right. They’re monsters.”

  “Hush,” said Philipakos. “We’ll be all right. All we’ve got to do is find the—”

  Before he could finish, something emerged from the jungle behind Angie. It was big, black, and vaguely insectoid in its posture. As it moved, it used its claws like forepaws, enabling it to pick its way more efficiently.

  It had no eyes that Philipakos could see. But it had a maw full of razor-sharp teeth.

  “Dad … ?” said Angie, looking into his eyes.

  Then she whirled and saw the alien. A gasp escaped her, but she didn’t run this time. She just stood there, her hand finding its way into her father’s.

  He enclosed it in his own, letting her know he was with her. But really, it was a futile gesture and he knew it.

  The alien advanced on them slowly, slaver dripping from its jaws, as if it didn’t want to reach them too quickly. As if it wanted to savor its kill to the fullest extent possible.

  And truthfully, there was no need for it to hurry. It was a killing machine and it was facing the two most helpless victims it could have found anywhere in the Domes.

  It wasn’t that Philipakos minded dying so much. He had lived the life he wanted. He had no complaints to speak of, no regrets.

  But he couldn’t contemplate the idea of the monster taking Angie. She was his little girl, his baby. If she died, it would be as if the universe had shut down.

  Philipakos had to keep that from happening, no matter what it took. But he didn’t know if he had it in him. He was just an old man, and a fat old man at that.

  And that was what made his heart pound so hard.

  “Go,” he told his daughter.

  “Dad!” she moaned.

  “Run!” he bellowed.

  And Angie ran.

  Philipakos wished he could be assured of her safety. He could rest easy knowing she had survived, no matter what else happened.

  But he doubted he would live long enough to find out.

  16

  Shepherd hadn’t panicked like the others.

  He hadn’t expected the aliens to overturn their flivver, or to be so damned big, or to send him flying into a tree trunk that would knock the wind out of him. But battered as he was, he had kept his cool. He found a spot that offered him concealment from all directions and waited until he could breathe again, then went looking for the others.

  After all, he was the safety officer. He had to help them if he could.

  The first one he found was Hendricks. The way she was crashing through the jungle, she wasn’t hard to spot. Putting himself on an intercept course, he quickly and quietly took her down.

  She only struggled for a moment. Then she realized who and what he was, and she went limp.

  “Oh god,” she moaned, tears streaming as she covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my god … ”

  “Quiet,” he whispered in her ear. “Now.”

  Hendricks drew one long, tremulous breath and fell silent. Satisfied that she wouldn’t give them away, he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

  “All right,” Shepherd said softly, looking around for signs of the aliens. “We’re going to be fine. We just have to keep our wits about us. Ripley and her people have survived encounters with these life-forms. We can too.”

  Hendricks sniffed back a thread of snot. “We’re not them. We’re just flower farmers.”

  “But we’ve got the benefit of their experience. All we have to do is get back to the control center. Then we can regroup and go at this another way.”

  “Whatever you say.” But she couldn’t stop the fear from welling in her eyes.

  Shepherd hunkered down in front of her. “I swear to God, we’re going to make it. You believe me?”

  Hendricks knuckled away a tear.

  “Do you believe me?” he demanded.

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said. He extended his hand. “Now get to your feet. We’ve got some walking to do.”

  * * *

  Seigo had run as hard as he could. He had done so blindly, uncaring as to direction, unable to stop lest the aliens grab him and rip his limbs off.

  Because that was what he pictured them doing. And regardless of how he tried to put the image from his mind, it lingered with him, eating him from the inside.

  But now Seigo found he couldn’t run anymore. His chest felt as if there were a weight pressing against it, and the muscles in his legs burned as if they were on fire.

  Finally, he dared to stop and look behind him. And what he saw made his heart leap with hope.

  Apparently, he had traveled in a big bloody circle, because there was the overturned flivver. And from what he could tell, it was still in drivable condition.

  All the botanist had to do was flip the thing right side up again. Forcing himself to run to it,
he put his shoulder against its side panel and pushed.

  The flivver rocked as if it would turn over, but at the last second it fell back into its original position. It’s too heavy, he thought, gasping for breath.

  But the alternative was to remain on foot, and he knew that could only end badly. So he placed his shoulder against the flivver and heaved a second time.

  Again, it teetered on the edge of turning over. But Seigo was determined not to let it stop there. With a groan from deep within, he dug hard with his tired, trembling legs— and just got the flivver over the hump.

  Squealing in protest, it hit the ground and bounced once, its shock absorbers doing their job. Then it sat there, inviting him to get inside.

  But it still had to start. If not, Seigo had spent the last of his strength for nothing. Dragging himself into the driver’s seat, he pressed the start button.

  The engine whined, clearly compromised by the punishment it had taken. In the distance, there was another sound—equally high-pitched. But it wasn’t an echo.

  Come on, Seigo thought, his insides turning to jelly. I’ve got no goddamned time for this.

  Suddenly, the engine turned over. With a deep-seated sigh of relief, Seigo put the flivver into gear, turned the wheel, and headed for the hatch, which—now that he looked at it—was even closer than he remembered.

  I’ve got a chance, he thought. All he had to do was get to the backup bay and let the cargo haulers lift him out, and then he could put this nightmare behind him.

  But before he could get to the hatch, he saw something dark and lizard-like move to intercept him. And at the rate it was going, it would reach him before he got to the exit.

  Shit! he thought.

  With no other choice, he hauled the wheel to the left, spin-ning the flivver around. Then he gunned the engine and headed in the opposite direction.

  His mind racing, he thought, I’ll lose it in the jungle. Then I’ll double back and go for the hatch again.

  It seemed like a reasonable plan. But when he looked back, he saw the alien wasn’t giving up on him. It was still on his tail, loping after him through the brush.

  Not even running. Just loping, like it had all the time in the world. Like it was only a matter of time before it got what it wanted.

  Damn, Seigo thought, his heart racing so fast he thought it would burst, I don’t want to die.

  Out of panic, he pressed down on the power pedal to coax more speed out of the flivver—knowing it would also cut down on its running time. But if the alien caught up to him, it wouldn’t matter how long the damned thing kept running.

  Its engine whining, the vehicle accelerated—and gradually, the gap between hunter and prey began to widen. The alien was losing the race. Fast as it was, it couldn’t keep up.

  My god, Seigo thought, I’m going to make it.

  Then he turned to look forward again and saw the tree trunk looming in front of him, hurtling at him much too fast for him to miss. He ripped the steering wheel to the right, but it was too late. With a jolt, the flivver hit the tree and sent Seigo flying through the air.

  Clenched like a fist, he braced himself for the bone-cracking impact that seemed sure to follow. But it never happened. Instead, he hit the ground a glancing blow and rolled a few times, ending up in a patch of bright yellow flowers.

  I’m alive, he thought, hardly able to believe it.

  Then he remembered the alien. Had it given up? Or was it still coming after him, eating ground with each stride, ravening for the meat he had thus far denied it?

  Too frightened to look back, he started running through the jungle. But he couldn’t make his legs pump the way he wanted them to, the way he needed them to. They were shaking too badly, his fear and his rough landing taking their toll.

  I’ve got to move, he thought.

  At the same time, he heard something—a rustling in the jungle behind him. It could have been the wind caressing the leaves. But in his heart, Seigo knew it was more than that.

  His insides liquefied. No, he thought. Please God, no …

  Then his legs gave out altogether, spilling him onto the dark, wet ground. He tried to get up, to gather his feet beneath him, but it was no use. All the fight had gone out of him.

  For what seemed like a long time, Seigo sat there whimpering. Tears rolled down his cheeks, stinging his flesh, as he waited for the end like a mouse beneath a cat’s paw.

  But nothing happened. And the longer he went on breathing, the more he began to wonder why.

  Finally, the botanist found the strength to look back, to try to catch a glimpse of what was behind him. But it wasn’t the alien he saw there, standing half in shadow. It was Rex, his tongue hanging out, his breath coming hard as if he had been doing some running.

  The dog, Seigo thought giddily. Just the goddamned dog.

  Then he realized there was something looming behind it …

  * * *

  Hendricks stopped alongside Shepherd, beside a spreading, blue-blossomed jacaranda, and eyed the hatch that led to the control center.

  It was less than fifty meters away, framed by stands of bamboo. Barely a sprint, she thought. But it would take a few seconds for the hatch to open for them, and while it did, she and Shepherd would be out in the open.

  Unfortunately, they had no alternative.

  Shepherd turned to her, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the hatch. Hendricks nodded, indicating she was as ready as she would ever be.

  But before they could make their dash, her companion’s brow furrowed and he scanned the jungle around them. “Did you hear something?” he whispered.

  Hendricks listened. Nothing. Not even the hiss of leaves moving in the breeze. “I don’t think so.”

  Then she did hear it—a rustling somewhere above them, too distinct to be denied. Her heart leaped into her mouth, threatening to choke her.

  As Shepherd slowly tilted his head back and looked up, she thought, Maybe I’m wrong. Please let me be wrong.

  Shepherd grimaced. “Shit.”

  Somehow finding the mettle to follow his gaze, Hendricks saw a silhouette stretched across the branches above them—something angular and vaguely insectoidlooking—and her insides turned to icewater.

  Shepherd’s Adam’s apple climbed his throat and descended again, and his weapon shifted subtly in his hands. “Get out of here,” he told her.

  Hendricks felt her throat start to close, cutting off her breath. “I can’t,” she mewled.

  Because if she just stood there, there was a chance the thing would go away. But if she ran, the nightmare would start all over again.

  Shepherd turned to her, his eyes round with single-minded intensity. “Do it!” he rasped.

  With a little cry of fear, Hendricks ran.

  * * *

  Moving through the gathering twilight, Angie wished like hell she hadn’t left her father’s side. The knowledge that she had abandoned him, leaving him to face the alien alone, hurt worse than the fire in her throat.

  But she could find it in herself to ignore the pain because she knew it wouldn’t last long. Without a plan or a direction, she would soon be food for the aliens herself.

  As she thought that, she heard something—a movement among the leaves. But she couldn’t tell what direction it was coming from.

  Turning around slowly, she peered into darkness and thicker darkness, alert for even the slightest sign of trouble. Just as she was starting to doubt there had been anything in the first place, something grabbed her arm.

  Angie looked up at it, her heart sinking in her chest— knowing with full certainty that she was looking at her death.

  But it wasn’t an alien she found herself gaping at. It was Ripley.

  “Christ,” she sighed, her heart hammering so hard it seemed it would break a rib.

  “Let’s go,” Ripley whispered.

  “Go where?”

  “To Dome Seven—where the Betty is. We don�
��t have the luxury of using the backup bay anymore.”

  Angie had to concede it was their best option, though she didn’t know if she could climb the chain. But as she looked into her savior’s hard, dark eyes, she had something more urgent on her mind.

  “I left my father back near the flivver. He may still be—”

  “Alive?” said Ripley, making it sound absurd. “Not any more.”

  “Why not?”

  Ripley looked around warily. “Too much time’s gone by. Forget him.”

  “He’s my father, goddamnit.”

  “Was your father. Unless you want to wind up the way he has, I suggest we move on.”

  For a moment, Angie was on the verge of insisting. But in the end, she stopped himself.

  “Good,” said Ripley. “Now let’s go.”

  She started through the jungle, leaving it to Angie to follow. Her strides were such that the botanist found it difficult to keep up, but she managed.

  Until she heard another sound—something halfway between a song and a sigh. The murmur of a stream, maybe? She didn’t think so.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked her companion.

  Ripley didn’t say anything in response. However, she stopped and began looking around again.

  Angie too searched her surroundings, hoping not to see the gleam of dying light on alien flesh. As it turned out, she couldn’t discern anything. And for a moment, she couldn’t hear anything either—except, of course, the wind rustling the trees. Then the wind died down for a moment.

  And she heard someone say, “Help me … ”

  The plea was faint, but there was no mistaking the words or the desperation behind them. Someone’s out there.

  She couldn’t tell who it was. Or where they were. Turning to Ripley, she said, “Someone’s calling for help.”

  “Yes,” said Ripley, her nostrils flaring. Then she pointed with her shock rifle. “That way.”

  Angie didn’t see anything in that direction, but she trusted her companion’s senses. “What are we waiting for?”

  Ripley glanced at her. Then, silent and powerful as a hunting lioness, she moved forward.

  As before, Angie stayed close to her—and not just for safety. She wanted to find the person who had called for help.