A C Crispin

by Alien Resurrection

  A panel sparked suddenly, then a hose ruptured and steam hissed out near Johner.

  "SHIT!" the big man shouted, unbuckling quickly, and wrestling with the hose.

  "This thing is gonna fall apart!" Ripley hissed through clenched teeth.

  Vriess was doing a quick scan, and evidently didn't like what he saw. "Pressure's unstable!"

  Johner looked over at Distephano. "Go get Call back there, will ya? We need her up here now."

  As the soldier unbuckled from the chair and reached automatically for his rifle, he heard Johner mutter disgustedly, "What is wrong with that chick?"

  Good question, Distephano thought, as he headed out to help her.

  From beneath the stabilizer, Call could hear the tone chime that indicated they were free of the Auriga's docking bay. In the cockpit, Vreiss and Ripley would be totally preoccupied with getting the ship as far from the pull of the bigger vessel as they could. There was still too much risk that they could be dragged down in the crash trajectory with the massive military ship.

  She wondered if Vriess—if anyone—had seen the invading Alien in the camera, if they knew what she was dealing with back here.

  Call lay totally silent and motionless under the stabilizer, wondering where the Alien had gone. Was it lying in wait for someone to come rescue her?

  A sudden sharp scrabbling on top of the machine made her tense, but she never uttered a sound. It's on top of the machine! she realized. Then that small bit of noise stopped and there was nothing. Call froze in place, waiting. Worrying.

  All at once the creature slammed itself against the floor, trying to flatten itself into the small space under the stabilizer. Its arm and part of its hideous head squeezed under the machine as it clawed the floor in a desperate attempt to reach her.

  Terrified, Call pressed back against the wall, wanting to disappear into it, but she could go no further. The clawed hand gouged the thick, tough, shock-absorbing flooring of the cargo bay, pulling ribbons of it up in dense, black curls. The Alien roared its rage, reaching, groping, shredding whatever part of the floor it could reach. Call plastered herself against the back wall and sucked in her gut.

  Squirming, lashing its tale, scrabbling like a crab, the creature fought to reach her, squeezing itself further into the restricted space, until the long, deadly claws were flailing right in front of Call's face. The Alien was berserk with rage, but its head was simply too big, too inflexible to squeeze under the machinery. Still it fought against the physics of the space, convinced if it just tried harder it would finally reach its goal.

  On the next swipe, the claws nearly touched Call's nose.

  15

  The longest finger on the Alien's hand nearly touched Call's face. She couldn't breathe for fear of putting herself within reach of the thing, and didn't know how much longer she could evade it. It was growling at her, terrifying her with its threatening sounds. And worst of all, she could smell it, with its terrible human/animal stench.

  How long could she hold out, how long could she stay just out of reach? And how long would it take before someone in the cockpit missed her?

  Suddenly, Call's sole focus—the reaching hand of the Alien—became secondary as she saw a pair of booted feet enter her range of vision. She blinked. Military issue. Distephano!

  From where he'd entered the cargo bay, the bulk of the stabilizer would be hiding the Alien from him. Did he even know it was after her? Had he seen it on the monitor? It wasn't like the damned thing was staying put.

  Suddenly, the Alien was also aware of Distephano's presence. Call could tell because the claws groping for her suddenly stopped moving, and the entire body of the beast froze.

  Distephano moved cautiously into the room, searching, not assuming anything. It was dim in here. Spooky. Equipment hid most of the floor space and the chains hanging from the ceiling created a soft jangling sound that made it hard to think. So where was his favorite robot anyway?

  "Call?" he called softly. The weird ambiance of the cargo bay seemed to call for quiet. Caution. "Call? You in here?"

  And where else would she be? he asked himself. It wasn't like she could've slipped past him.

  Distephano moved on, sweeping the area carefully, methodically, like any good soldier.

  As Distephano moved around, the Alien slowly, silently began to withdraw its hand from under the stabilizer.

  Part of Call felt tremendous relief, but that was immediately overridden by her own internal imperative. It would go after Distephano. It was a hundred times faster, a thousand times more deadly.

  Beneath Distephano's feet, the Betty shook hard, as he imagined Vriess and Ripley fighting the controls, manually trying to force the ship to their will, because Call wasn't up there, plugged in.

  Finally, Distephano stopped in his tracks. He felt a chill race down his spine and found himself wondering—could one of those things be in here? Could it have gotten Call? What else might've stopped her from returning to the bridge? He stared disbelievingly around the cargo bay. There were hundreds of hiding places here. He felt an almost animal terror at the thought, but then got a grip on himself. He was a soldier. A member of General Perez's handpicked crew.

  Calmly, with an almost detached air, Distephano armed his rifle.

  Distephano took another step forward, stopping near a big piece of equipment that dominated the room. With that same detached air, Distephano lifted the rifle, sighting cleanly down the weapon.

  If one of those things, if one of them is here in this hold. ... He considered that for a moment. Those things killed every last man on my ship. If one of 'em is in here, I'm gonna blow it to hell and back. I owe them that much.

  Then he glanced at the big piece of equipment nearest him, the piece that largely blocked his view of the rest of the bay. This has gotta be the stabilizer! he realized. This isn't the Auriga—it's just a small ship. There's got to be a ton of stuff back here that's critical to our survival. And those things have acid for blood!

  As that sank in, Distephano paused. He couldn't shoot it. Not in here. But he might have to....

  As Distephano weighed his minimal options, he cautiously eased around the side of the stabilizer.

  Call had just come to the same conclusion. Acid for blood. If Distephano shoots that thing—

  She stared at the nightmare vision of the grotesque face. It was smiling again. The Alien's grinning maw suddenly dripped a glob of mucous. And then, before she could shout a warning, it struck. Desperate to do something, Call scrabbled out behind it.

  The creature lashed out, reaching with its impossibly long arm, as one of its hands grabbed Distephano's face even as the other knocked his gun aside almost casually. His scream was a short, hoarse, "NO!" as he fell back hard. The rifle flew out of his grip, clattering away uselessly.

  The Alien's big palm covered the soldier's face, but it didn't stop him from screaming now in rage, surprise, and sheer terror.

  As the gigantic creature pulled itself off the floor, dragging the flailing soldier with it, Call clearly heard the crack of Distephano's skull as the young man's cries rang with pain. The creature bit into his scalp, popping his head like a clamshell to devour his brain and drink his blood.

  That was deliberate! Call thought, aghast. Deliberate—and human!

  Then the Alien turned to her, the huge, lipless fangs looking more and more like a terrible death's head grin. Then the creature laughed—a breathy, staccato laugh, as Call stood rooted in place, stunned.

  Ripley was only dimly aware that behind her, Johner was still trying to splice together the damaged hoses.

  She didn't pay much attention either when Vriess yelled back at the big man, "Patch it through the servo!"

  "Hey," Johner yelled back, "this is supposed to be your job. I mostly just hurt guys!"

  Ripley paid much more attention when Vriess hit the intercom button and shouted, "Call! Get back up here!" There was no answer.

  That was what was distracting her. Call should
've been back long before this. She'd be able to feel the ship bucking back in the cargo bay. The robot would know she was needed in the cockpit. And Distephano had been gone way too long as well.

  Then Ripley felt it. The contact. The telepathic touch of her last living child.

  She shuddered, then unstrapped and bolted from the chair.

  Behind her, she heard Vriess and Johner both shout her name as Vriess grabbed the abandoned controls and fought the lurching ship.

  There was a part of Ripley that realized they were hurtling toward earth in a ship that was almost completely out of control, but she shut that part away. That wasn't important to her now.

  Theoretically, it wasn't possible, but at this specific moment Call's brain simply could not process. She stood in the shadow of the mutant Alien, having just watched it devour Distephano's brain, and couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do a single thing to save herself.

  The huge beast seemed to grow taller as it loomed

  over her, but all she could do was stare at its frightening face, at the brain matter speckled on its teeth, and smell the stench of blood on its breath.

  It snatched her up before she could react, before she could move, gripping her shoulders and pulling her up, up, toward its face. The huge mouth opened, the teeth moved closer.

  Can it do that? she wondered dazedly. Can it devour processors and microchips? Maybe not, but the destruction of those units would bring about her end as efficiently as if she had had an organic brain.

  Call closed her eyes, and mumbled one final prayer.

  As if in answer, there was a bang as the cockpit door shut with a slam, the loud retort deafening in the small space of the cargo hold.

  Call heard a voice shout, "Hey!"

  The creature holding Call tensed, then turned, growling in annoyance.

  Ripley stood with the cockpit door closed securely behind her. She stood tall, steady, her legs shoulder width apart, her stance as confident as Call remembered. But the robot's eyes were keen, and she could see the weariness etched on the woman's face. She'd been through so much. It was clear she was at her limit.

  The Alien's growls lessened as she stared at Ripley.

  Quietly, the woman said to the creature, "I can't let you do that. "

  The big animal's tail lashed in impatience, and suddenly it spun, still hanging securely onto Call. The small woman found herself held as a shield, her back pressed tight against the monster's front. Call blinked, trying to regain her sense of self-preservation. This was such a human thing for the beast to do.

  Ripley stood rock steady, her eyes meeting Call's.

  There's got to be something you can do to help her, Call thought frantically, even as the creature gripped her tightly. In the distance, she glanced at Distephano's abandoned gun, lying where it had fallen. Could Ripley get to it?

  We're far enough from the stabilizer, Call thought, still there's so much shit back here.... What would happen if Ripley spattered this thing to kingdom come? The trembling of the ship told her they were fighting atmosphere, approaching land. Could they make it with severe damage? Suddenly, she didn't know. She didn't know anything.

  The Alien's tail lashed wildly, and it hissed angrily, its hot breath rushing by Call's ear.

  Ripley's eyes quickly scanned the area, glanced over the military weapon, then returned to Call's face.

  She knows, the robot realized. Sure, she's flown ships before. She's remembering. Maybe she even recognizes some of the equipment.

  But then the taller woman only looked doubtful.

  That seemed to snap Call out of it. They were on their way to Earth with this monster in their hold. What did it matter if they were all destroyed, as long as the Alien was? But she knew, instinctively, that Ripley would have trouble shooting through Call even to kill this beast.

  Galvanized, Call strained forward, needing to convey everything to Ripley, to make her understand.

  "Shoot!" she shouted frantically. "Come on, shoot! I'm used to it!" She didn't care if the bullets ripped her to shreds, as long as they destroyed the nightmare holding her. This was, after all, her mission, wasn't it? To save humanity from the beast. Remembering that helped.

  But Ripley only looked anguished, and to Call's dismay, made no attempt to retrieve Distephano's gun.

  The ship rocked and the three of them, locked in their bizarre tableau, struggled to stay on their feet.

  In the cockpit, Vriess was frantically working switches, struggling to keep the Betty from shaking completely apart. His eyes were everywhere on the board, trying to keep track of too many things at once. He didn't dare even glance at the monitor that showed one of those things holding Call as a hostage. He couldn't let himself think about it.

  Beside him Johner was working just as furiously, gripping the controls, fighting to manually steady the crazed ship.

  They passed from nighttime into daylight, the sunlight stabbing its way into the cockpit.

  "We're shorting out...." Vriess warned his copilot.

  "I've got it," Johner reassured him.

  "Ten minutes until impact," the computer voice announced calmly. For the first time, Vriess realized the voice belonged to Call.

  As the Newborn hissed and screeched and clutched the terrified Call to its body, Ripley realized that the only way she could kill it now would be to do as Call had wanted, to snatch up Distephano's gun and shoot the monster repeatedly through the robot's body. But Ripley could no sooner do that than she could have done it to Newt. No, shooting the beast was clearly not the answer.

  But what was the answer?

  Ripley stared at the creature and struggled against her own creeping despondency. Everything hurt, everything. She was so spent, so exhausted, she just wanted to lie down and die. Oh, God, why couldn't she just lie down and die?

  Maybe I'm really a robot, she thought crazily. A robot with only one programming—no matter what, just keep going. God, I hate this.

  The Newborn screeched its fury, its teeth grazing the top of Call's head—but it didn't strike. Had it figured out that Call wasn't human, that Call had no organic brain, no hemoglobin in her blood? Had it finally smelled the Alienness of Call's robot body?

  Ripley had a sudden shocking memory of Bishop being torn in half by an enraged Queen and knew that the Newborn could just as easily damage Call. Ripley had not been able to save Bishop then, and—since Call was the only one of her kind in this time period—she would be unable to salvage Call, either.

  She had to do something—wasn't that always her fate? With a sigh of despair, Ripley held her hands out in a gesture of surrender, Ripley forced herself to once again search for the telepathic contact she'd felt back in the crèche.

  There's something ... tenuous ... guarded ... but something .... I feel it—

  It was inhuman, repellent, but somehow familiar. It was everything Ripley could do not to shudder. She made herself meet the creature's gaze, meet the eyes that were exactly her color.

  The contact was cold, but hungry. Enraged, yet achingly lonely.

  The crèche was destroyed. All the others gone. The Newborn was truly alone now. The only one left that had even some small spark of connection to it was the human woman standing before it.

  Ripley understood that suddenly, and realized it was the only card she had left to play.

  Well, baby, she thought ironically, I'm the only mother you've got!

  She held her hands out in supplication, and filled her mind with comforting thoughts, with the connectedness that had once existed between them. Mentally, she saw the image of herself holding Newt, small, blond, trusting Newt. She saw the child's arms and legs entwined around her, clinging, knowing Ripley wouldn't let her go, wouldn't release her. Newt, who understood with a child's unshakable trust that Ripley would come back for her. She held the image in her mind as she murmured, "Come on. Yes."

  Slowly, the Newborn grew calmer, stopped lashing its tail and began relaxing its grip.

  Ripley watch
ed Call watching her. She could clearly see the confusion on the smaller woman's face. Call didn't move. Couldn't move. When the Newborn finally released her, she was so unprepared, she collapsed on the floor. Ripley couldn't afford to meet Call's gaze, or try to answer the question in her eyes. Her eyes stayed locked on the Newborn, luring it, willing it to abandon the robot and come to her.

  As the huge creature shuffled toward Ripley, she saw, in her peripheral vision, Call silently creep away from them.

  Yes, Ripley thought, yes! She was nearly distracted by a memory of herself hissing at Newt, Run! Hide! If she dared, she would've shouted the same to Call, but she was still too close to the Newborn.

  Without looking at Call, Ripley said to her quietly, "Get out." Then Ripley moved toward the Newborn, meeting it halfway.

  "Come on," she bade the monster, holding out her arms.

  Two steps, three. The Newborn loomed over her now, close enough to touch, as Call crept farther and farther away. Ripley continued to stand with hands open, mind open, showing the monster the motherly image in her mind. She thought of the Alien Queen reaching out to touch her mutant child just before the Newborn ripped her head off. Could this thing even understand a concept like comfort? Trust? Forcing herself to maintain that one single image in her mind, Ripley held her place, offering a gesture of submissiveness with her posture, her stance. She held her breath as the creature drew closer.

  Then the Newborn made a small sound, as if it were in pain, in need. The childlike noise startled Ripley, made her look up. The death's head face left little room for emotion, but she thought she could sense the creature's aloneness. Remembering her own gesture to the Newborn in the crèche, and the tenderness Ripley had shown to Call—the robot who'd come to kill her—she reached up now, and slowly, gently, stroked the Newborn's elongated head.

  Behind her, still crawling toward the cockpit door, Call stared back, horrified and fascinated by the interactions of the two beings that were both Alien to each other, yet genetically bonded. As Ripley stroked the Newborn gently, the monster's long, serpentine tongue reached out and lapped the sweat trickling down the side of Ripley's face.