A C Crispin

by Alien Resurrection

  Ripley glanced at him on the floor. His hand was on his jaw, he was shaking his head. Christie leaned over him, as if afraid that while he was down, Ripley would finish the job.

  "Had it coming, Doc," Christie told him matter-of-factly.

  That almost made Ripley laugh. She took hold of her own gun again, and moved on after Call.

  Behind her, she could hear Johner, who'd been staring at the burning lab, ask Christie, "What's the big deal? Fucking waste of ammo."

  Christie only shrugged, as he helped Wren to his feet.

  Ahead of them, Call called back. "Let's get going before anything comes to check out the noise. "

  Johner was still talking to Christie. "I just don't get it. Must be a chick thing."

  With the lab complex behind them, they stood in the dark as Distephano opened a floor hatch. There was some emergency lighting down the shaft, Christie realized, but it wasn't bright enough to see all the way into the tube.

  "We go down from here," Distephano said unnecessarily.

  Christie turned to the wheelchair-bound man. "Vriess, we got to lose the chair."

  "I know," the man said tiredly, pulling coils of rope from some hiding place on the chair.

  As Call started down, following several of the others, Christie said to Vriess, "Kawlang maneuver, all right?"

  Vriess gave a short, bitter laugh. "Just like old times...."

  Christie smiled, too. They had thought that was the end of them then. They had thought that was the worst horror they could ever face....

  Now, standing in the corridor of the Auriga, Christie thought that Kawlang seemed like a day in the country.

  Dropping off the ladder at the bottom of the shaft, Call found herself inside the cooling tower. She was knee-deep in water and wondered why. Distephano and Johner had gone ahead of her and were standing back to back in the water, guns ready, checking things out. They motioned silently for Call to move on ahead as the others came down the ladder.

  Call waded down to the end of the room, where Ripley was standing. The tall woman was looking at her hands, which were still shaking badly from the incident in the lab. Her face was etched in pain. Her eyes were red. Seeing her like this upset Call. She'd kept telling herself Ripley wasn't human, that she didn't actually feel anything. And now she had to face the reality. Ripley was every bit as human as Call was. She could feel, entirely too much.

  Call stopped next to her, feeling awkward, yet needing to say something. "I ... I can't imagine how that must feel."

  Ripley looked at her somberly. "No. You can't."

  Call turned away, studying their surroundings. The dark, pipe-filled chamber was flooded, the water level rising. Water was cascading down from the ceiling, from the cooling pipes. The crew was all assembled again. At Christie's signal they moved on, walking in water up to their knees.

  Everyone was still on hyperalert. It was wearing them down: the need to be constantly ready, the lack of rest. Call could see the tension in Johner, Hillard, the twitchy Purvis. Christie's big body waded through the water strongly despite the fact that he was carrying Vriess on his back. They were back to back, the paralyzed man actually tied to Christie with the bonds that had been in Vriess's chair. Vriess was inspecting the ceiling, too.

  "Must be the cooling tanks," Vriess said. "Somebody must've opened the valve."

  "The nasties couldn't have done it," Johner said, then hesitated. "Could they?"

  Hillard looked confused. "What for...?"

  They kept going, wading their way through.

  Finding themselves at a wall, they halted. There was a short hatchway with a stairwell leading down to the last level. The hatchway was still open, but almost completely submerged.

  "We're at the bottom of the ship," Wren told them. "This sector has been sealed off. We have to go down that staircase through the galley, then come back up another short service shaft, maybe twenty-five meters." Call realized he meant twenty-five meters underwater.

  Christie leaned back and said to Vriess, "You ready to get wet, partner?"

  Vriess gave a short bark of a laugh. "Oh, yeah." Johner looked around. "This sucks."

  Hillard turned to Wren. "Are you sure about the distance?"

  The doctor nodded.

  Christie looked reluctant. "We should send out a scout. Ripley?"

  Call frowned at Christie. But Ripley approached the hatchway and looked it over.

  "I don't like it," she said softly.

  Christie agreed with her. "There's nothing to like." Then, fatalistically, Ripley shrugged her shoulders, a bemused look on her face. "Okay!" she announced, taking a gulp of air and diving smoothly underwater.

  The tanks must've finally gone dry, because the cascade of water died down to a dribble, then a drip.

  No one said anything or moved, just watched the hatch where Ripley had disappeared. How long could any one person hold their breath?

  Standing near Call, Distephano took a protective covering from his belt pouch and slipped it over the cylinder of his weapon. Christie was watching him. "You should do like me," he suggested helpfully to the big man and his Siamese twin.

  Christie showed him his weapon. "These are disposables. They can take it."

  Distephano looked interested. "Disposables. I heard about those. How many rounds?"

  "Twenty," Christie said. Suddenly the pirate and the soldier were just two guys talking about a common interest. "Split points, give you good hole even at the smaller caliber."

  Distephano nodded admiringly. "Cool."

  Christie went on, as if the chatter were helping him relax from the terrible tension. "They're big with hitters. 'Cause you throw 'em away after the job. Nobody likes throwing away a weapon they're attached to. You know?"

  That was when the big man must've realized that no, Distephano wouldn't know, that he'd gone too far. This was a career soldier. Might for right. All that patriotic stuff.

  An embarrassed silence set in. The men had nothing more to say. Vriess, from his perch on Christie's back, busied himself inspecting the ceiling.

  The only noise Call heard now was the last of the water trickling down. Nervous about Ripley's long absence, Call dipped her hand in the cool water and splashed some on her forehead.

  Suddenly, behind them, a rash of bubbles rose to the surface of the water. Everyone turned and tensed, weapons aimed at the spot. Seconds passed. The last bubble popped, but nothing more happened. Everyone turned back to the hatchway.

  Suddenly, Ripley emerged from the water in front of them. They all jumped. She was gulping air frantically.

  When she could find her voice, she gasped, "There was a door that was blocked about twenty meters ahead. It took me a while to get it open. I didn't go any farther, but I could tell the surface was really near. " Call looked around at the others. "Do I have to tell everyone to take a deep breath?" A few of the guys smiled at her.

  "Christie," Vriess said teasingly, "do me a favor. When we hit the surface on the other side—no backstroke, okay?"

  The big man chuckled, as the crew took in as much air as they could handle and one by one followed Ripley as she dived back under the water to lead the way.

  Hillard and Johner were the last two to submerge. The visibility underwater was bad. The water was clear, but there were few lights still functioning in the galley, so everything was dim. Hillard didn't like it, but she didn't know if she would've liked bright light any better. The galley was vast, which limited visibility even more. She watched Wren, who was ahead of her, swim off toward the other end of the room. She didn't trust him, and he had an advantage on them, since he evidently knew the layout of the ship.

  They rounded a corner. Still a long way to go. Hillard was starting to feel the pressure on her lungs to breathe. She resisted it. At her side, Johner swam doggedly on. Suddenly, he glanced behind them, then looked again. He slowed, falling behind, and Hillard looked to see what he was seeing.

  And nearly gasped. Two Aliens were swimming furious
ly after them, as agile as eels, their tails undulating effortlessly under the water.

  Johner's eyes went wide in panic. Quickly, he loaded his weapon and fired, the force of the recoil pushing him through the water.

  The projectile shot through the water toward the beasts, hitting one of them dead center, blowing it up. The sound was muffled underwater, sounding like a heavy thump. The second Alien just kept on coming.

  Johner was in a righteous terror now, and shot off through the water like a rocket, passing Hillard, passing Ripley. It made the cloned woman turn around, and she spied the monster. Some of the others turned also, and suddenly there was general panic in the group. Except for Ripley. She gestured strongly at Hillard, urging her on, as if the pilot needed any urging.

  She's not having any problem down here at all. It's like she doesn't even need to breathe! Hillard thought, kicking frantically, feeling that heavy-pressured hum in her head that kept screaming, Air! Air! Give me air!

  Hillard realized Purvis and Distephano were taking on water, choking in panic as the monster gained on all of them.

  Ripley was still gesturing at the swimmers, hurrying them. Hillard realized they were all drawing away from her—that she was lagging behind.

  I'm losing it! I need to breathe. This thing's gonna catch me!

  She struggled not to think about it, just put all her waning energy into kicking, swimming, hurrying. She made the mistake of glancing back.

  It was so close! Two arms' lengths and it would be on her. It bared its teeth and for Hillard, the dim light in this nightmare underwater world was all reflected back from those shiny fangs. She saw its tail lash faster.

  Panic set in, and suddenly she choked in a mouthful of water. NO! She kicked harder, more frantically.

  Powerful, inhuman fingers suddenly grabbed her ankle.

  She screamed involuntarily, releasing all the air from her lungs, then sucked in hard, desperately searching for air to fuel her shouts for help. But nothing entered her lungs except water. Huge, forceful hands gripped her legs, her waist, her torso, until she was trapped in death's embrace. She flailed and kicked to no avail, watching the others trail away from her in the murky water as she turned to face the terror of her underwater lover.

  Hillard's gone! She's gone! Call mourned as she passed through the door and saw the light from the elevator shaft beckoning her on. How many more would they lose to those bastards? Would they be picked off one by one until none of them were left? And with the ship still heading toward Earth, was there anything—anything—they could really do?

  She couldn't afford to give up hope now.

  Take it one step at a time. Get to air. We gotta have air.

  She kicked hard, rocketing up toward the looming surface of the water. But just before her head emerged into the air and the light she hit something hard, something flexible and transparent.

  What—?

  She pushed against it, felt it give a little but not enough. The air was still a tantalizing six inches away. It had to be something the Aliens had spread, some kind of transparent web. But why? Out of breath, Call struggled against the transparent stuff, kicking her legs.

  The others were beside her now, fighting the web, struggling to break through. Some of them were getting stuck to it, using up the last of their strength.

  Call peered up at the tantalizing air just out of reach. There was an elevator twenty meters overhead, the bottom of it as shiny as a mirror. And then Call saw them, reflected in the elevator's shiny bottom. At the edge of the pool, a collection of eggs laid out along the edge.

  Call couldn't think about what lay ahead, she only knew that every one of them would die if they didn't get to the air. She popped her damaged stiletto, still hidden up her sleeve. The melted blade still had a sharp edge. She stabbed at the web with the steel, poking a small hole into it, sawing at it wildly, widening it centimeter by painful centimeter. Johner and Christie shoved their huge hands in the hole, pulling, rending it, trying to force it to tear, but it barely budged.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the soldier, Distephano losing it, growing limp in the water. And somewhere behind them was that thing....

  Suddenly Ripley shoved her way through the group. Grabbing the web with two hands, she heaved, and ripped it apart. The crew bobbed to the surface, their mouths opened wide, gasping and gulping and coughing huge lung-fulls of the wonderful air. Beside her, Ripley, too, sucked in air, and Call was grateful that she finally showed that small bit of human need.

  As Call blinked the water out of her eyes, she glanced up at the bottom of the elevator. Her eyes opened wide as one of the eggs slowly, wetly, opened. In a sharp, explosive move, something multilegged and grotesque catapulted from it. Before anyone could react or try to get out of its way, it landed with a sickening plop right onto Ripley's face. Purvis screamed shrilly as Ripley disappeared under the water. Call tried to follow her descent, but could only see her for several minutes before she was lost in the gloom. Her last image of Ripley was of her struggling with the thing wrapped around her face.

  "Holy shit," Johner hissed, looking up at the elevator. In the mirror-bright bottom, they watched as other eggs opened with that same slurpy sound, and spiderlike legs could be seen emerging from inside.

  "It's a trap!" Johner shouted. "They set another goddamn ambush! Everybody dive! Dive! Dive!" And he disappeared beneath the water.

  Everybody followed him without a second thought.

  What kind of a trap drowns you—? Call thought, then realized. Either we broke through the web and came up sucking air, our mouths wide open, or we passed out under the web and they plucked us like flowers. Either way, we'd be theirs.

  Underwater once more, the crew looked around desperately, not knowing where to go. Call couldn't see Ripley anymore, but she could make out, in the distance, the Alien who had killed Hillard swimming toward them. Seeing them under the water, it speeded up.

  Christie spied it, too. Then he looked up at the freight elevator and the image of the eggs just sitting, waiting for them.

  Christie grabbed his grenade launcher. Everything was happening in silence, with only the burbled, muffled water sounds to accompany their actions. Christie adjusted the range of his weapon, pointed the gun upward, and aimed at the reflection of the eggs. He fired.

  The grenade shot through the water, ricocheted off a pipe near the ceiling, then fell back onto an egg with a slurpy splash. There was a beat, then an explosion that rocked them even underwater.

  Christie had already fired another, then another, then another. One after another the deadly grenades destroyed the waiting eggs, blowing spider-monsters and egg tissue everywhere. Then Christie gestured to them when it was over, letting them know it was safe to emerge.

  Call could still see the Alien approaching them. He seemed to be watching something, but what? And where was Ripley?

  Call found that the thought of losing Ripley, especially to one of those terrible face-huggers, was more than she could handle. As she hit the surface and helped Christie and Johner pull the unconscious Distephano out of the pool, she couldn't help but call Ripley's name, until Vriess told her to pipe down, before she called down all hell on them.

  She bit her lip and obeyed, turning her attention to pounding the water out of Distephano's lungs, her eyes blurring.

  "Everybody," Christie snapped, "quick. That thing's comin' up right behind us. We gotta get up that ladder."

  Call looked up the shaft, saw the ladder going straight up the side, past the elevator, all the way up through the center of the ship. She looked past Distephano as he coughed and gasped, conscious once more, and stared into the pool.

  Vriess, still riding Christie's back, touched her shoulder. She looked up at him, everything she was feeling about the cloned woman showing on her face.

  "Okay, Call," he said softly. "That's enough for now. The soldier's okay. We gotta go."

  She could only nod and follow them with one last look behin
d.

  Ripley tore at the creature on her face, even as it fought to shove its implantation tube into her mouth. It couldn't get past the barrier of her clenched teeth, but that didn't stop its single-minded effort. It had but one aim in life, one purpose, and even as she ripped its legs off, it struggled to achieve its end.

  Fighting with all her strength, she felt herself settle to the bottom of the pool, ripping and tearing at the monster. Its legs were destroyed, but its tail was still coiled tightly around her neck.

  Clamping her teeth around the fibrous, ridged tail, she bit down hard and ripped it off, tearing some of the skin on her throat in the process. Once it was free of her face, she tore the creature into pieces with unfettered fury. But just as she convinced herself that thing was finally and truly dead, she looked up and realized the Alien that had been stalking them underwater was after her with a rage as pure as her own.

  Without hesitation, she pushed off the bottom of the pool with a powerful thrust, rocketing through the water, shooting ahead of it as fast as she could.

  As soon as she broke the surface, strong hands grabbed her roughly, hauling her from the pool. Ripley gasped air roughly and stared, surprised, into Johner's wickedly scarred face.

  "It's right behind me!" she spat.

  He shoved her toward the ladder. "Then let's haul!"

  She turned back, saw the creature emerging, as she hit the ladder running. The iron rungs were a threesided affair wrapped around a pole, and she and Johner scrambled to catch up to the others.

  Glancing back, she was amazed to see the Alien dropping down below the water, submerging like a submarine, until it had disappeared. Under the circumstances, though, that was little comfort. Ripley scurried to catch up to the rest of the team. She wondered at her own urgency, then realized that she wanted to let Call know she was all right.

  Call wasn't surprised when Wren was the first one to hit the crawl space ledge. Distephano had told them which floor they needed to get access to, and Wren made sure he was there first. At this point, it hardly mattered to Call. They all needed to get as far from that Alien as possible, as fast as possible. If he knew how to get the door open, all the better.