A C Crispin

by Alien Resurrection

  As the creature cleaned her, Ripley's eyes scanned past it, searching the cargo bay, even as she kept her mind firmly on the image of loving motherhood that had pulled the beast to her. Directly behind the Newborn, she spied a moderately sized porthole that showed the dark, Australian night sky now brightened to dawn as they moved farther and farther away from the impact site and closer to land.

  Ripley continued stroking the Newborn's head, running her hand tenderly over the wide eye ridges, down over the jaw, forward toward the chin. The lips drew back automatically in the death's head rictus she was so terribly familiar with. Her fingers found the massive teeth, touched them cautiously. Still lapping at her face, the Newborn opened its mouth, permitting Ripley's curious examination of its human/Alien teeth.

  Slowly, Ripley ran her palm along the edge of the monster's teeth, then pressed down sharply, not even allowing herself to wince.

  When she pulled her hand away and looked at it, her palm filled quickly with thick, red blood. Her blood. Human blood. Mostly.

  Her eyes met the Newborn's, her face still calm, her mind still controlled. With a sudden gesture, she waved her arm, flinging the palm full of blood directly at the porthole.

  The glob of blood hit the center of the port with a splat. At first there was no reaction, but then, seconds later, the porthole began to sizzle where the blood touched it. Then it began to smoke. Then melt.

  In her mind, along the fragile link, Ripley sensed a change in the creature's attitude. The sense of childlike trust, the chilling aloneness was suddenly gone. In its place was one emotion: betrayal!

  Immediately, the creature drew itself up tall, hissing as if in warning.

  The Newborn watched the Ripley's defiant gesture with surprise. The only thing it had any interest in right now was the slow, painful death of this one frail being who was standing before it. Even though this place they were in trembled and shook, even though the Newborn suspected they were in grave danger, it did not care. The Newborn would not be distracted.

  It loomed over its victim and contemplated the joy it would feel when its teeth broke through this skull. The Newborn would devour this brain slowly, savoring it, and wondered if it would be able to absorb the Ripley's memories by doing so. It would be wonderful that the Ripley's blood would feed its burning, eternal hunger.

  Slowly, so as to enjoy the moment, the Newborn unfurled its tongue.

  Ripley froze, keeping the sudden flood of fear off her face.

  The Newborn opened its huge maw, and its slithery tongue—the same tongue that had so gently cleaned Ripley, the tongue that made this creature so different from the Queen who bore her—slithered out obscenely. Ripley watched in sickening dread as it stiffened, grew rigid, just like its forebears. As the tongue metamorphosed, small, sharp teeth appeared at its tip, opening and closing as if trying out their new abilities.

  Ripley groaned. The Newborn leaned over her, ready to drive its rigid tongue right through her forehead. The woman couldn't even make herself shut her eyes as she stared in horrified fascination at the creature's change.

  Oh, God help me! Ripley thought, realizing that this was the first prayer she had ever uttered in this lifetime.

  Tiny, white teeth gnashed at the end of the tongue as silvery mucus dripped off it. The tongue advanced, approached her face—

  The woman shuddered uncontrollably, but wouldn't allow herself to retreat, knowing that would cause the predator to pounce.

  Distantly, past the Newborn's shoulder, Ripley spied Call creeping along the floor, reaching finally for Distephano's lost gun. Then her gaze moved up—

  To see the viewport directly behind the Newborn. In its center, the blood she'd spilled bubbled and melted away, filling the air with that unique burning plastic scent. They were in the stratosphere, she guessed. Almost home.

  Ripley stared in fascination at the port, knowing the view of the disintegrating window would keep her from seeing the gnashing teeth in the tongue edging toward her face.

  Suddenly, in her mind, the image of herself holding Newt safely in her arms changed—

  There were memories. Of unexpected chaos. Warriors screaming and dying. And fire. And herself, Ripley, standing firm, holding her own young in her arms. Causing death and destruction to the crèche.

  The Newborn leaned closer for the final kiss—and was suddenly startled by the change in the mental contact. There was no submissiveness in the Ripley now, no fear, no remorse. Only defiance! The memory of her destruction of the crèche rang through the link, enraging the Newborn. Mocking it.

  The Newborn growled before striking, then—

  There was a loud sound and a powerful, lurching pull, as if the Newborn had been grabbed by some invisible force. The pull grew stronger, until the Newborn was drawn inexorably back, back, away from its prey. The creature didn't understand! How could this be happening?

  The Newborn screamed in rage, as the Ripley moved farther out of reach. The beast flew backward, faster, faster, then slammed into something hard, sticking to it. Roaring in fury, it reached wildly for the Ripley with its claws. The Newborn could not believe that it was trapped, not when its prey was still so close.

  There was a sudden BANG as the security of the window was breached by the acid eating away at the port, and smoke and small objects began hurtling around the hold in the instant windstorm.

  Ripley saw Call react quickly, grabbing hold of the ends of some hanging chains and straps, which she unclasped from where they were tethered and secured around her own chest.

  Dozens of small objects were being sucked through the hole in the port, while Ripley's acid blood kept eating away at the edges. The hole grew bigger and the power of the decompression was greater. Even as its arms reached for Ripley, the Newborn was drawn back, sucked away from Ripley and yanked toward the port at the same time that Call latched onto Ripley's jumpsuit to keep her from being pulled forward.

  The Newborn hit the window with a crash, and screamed in rage and pain as its body was held in place by the force of the rushing atmosphere.

  The sudden cessation of the decompression caused Ripley to fall to the floor, out of Call's grip. The robot held out her hand and yelled at the woman, "COME ON!" as Ripley clambered to reach her.

  The Newborn fought the pull of space, its great strength actually allowing it to push away slightly from the drawing window, and the resulting rush of decompression pulled Ripley back toward it.

  The deafening screech of the Newborn grew louder as it fought to capture its ancestor. But all its rage was futile against the power of the rushing atmosphere. Ripley could sense the beast's growing fatigue, its confusion, and realized that for the first time in its short, horrific life, the Newborn was actually afraid.

  Afraid to die? Ripley thought at it. Well, get used to the idea!

  She started to laugh and wondered when she would stop finding humor in such strange things.

  Then, finally, the Newborn lost its futile struggle against the force of the decompression, and it was pulled against the still-widening hole with a loud THUMP! The impact ruptured the creature's skin, and Ripley could see its acid blood explode into the upper atmosphere.

  The insectile shriek of the monster rattled through Ripley's bones, and she screamed a cry of pain of her own, as she scrambled on the floor to reach Call, as if attaching herself to the robot was the only way she could cling to her own humanity.

  It was true; Call was only a robot. But the whole purpose of the original robot program was to use the androids in places where it was too dangerous for human beings. The only reason they existed was to save the lives of real people.

  Through the years, came the whispered memory....

  I prefer the term 'artificial person.'

  I can't lie to you about your chances ... but you have my sympathy.

  Bishop and Ash—only robots. One nearly sacrificed his own life to save her and her child. The other would've happily killed her for interfering with his plans....


  Ripley closed her eyes as the crowded, conflicted memories chattered so loudly in her mind she couldn't think.

  At first the Newborn was aware of nothing but the inexorable, terrible vacuum, pulling it away from the Ripley, the creature it was determined to destroy. But then it hit the porthole hard and felt the burning, freezing cold. The skin over its back and kidneys began to solidify, then suddenly burst outward in an abrupt, terrible explosion of tissue and blood. It screamed shrilly, grimacing in hideous agony as acidlike blood, organs, and entrails blew out into space, freezing almost instantly while still connected to the creature.

  It was dead, really, but its brain would not accept that. In a desperate fight for survival, the Newborn plastered its palm against the glass, struggling to pull away. But the port was partially dissolved there, too, and the original hole grew bigger still as the Ripley's acid blood—and now the Newborn's, too—continued to eat away at it. As the Newborn pushed frantically, the original hole melted into this weakened place, and the whole area dissolved. Its arm was immediately sucked out into space, freezing solid and breaking its shoulder almost at the same time.

  The Newborn opened its eyes wide in horror, the pain more excruciating than anything it could ever have imagined, and stared helplessly at the Ripley. It could not speak, could only scream, but surely this being would understand what it wanted. How could the Newborn's own mother watch it die like this and not help?

  So, with eyes that matched Ripley's, it pleaded with her.

  KILL ME! KILL ME! FOR GOD'S SAKE, MOTHER, KILL ME!

  In the cockpit, Vriess watched the earth loom nearer and nearer as he fought the ship's controls. The countdown continued in Call's voice, reminding him with every second that she still wasn't there, that Ripley hadn't returned, that he was alone in his futile battle with the ship's aging systems. Alone. Inadequate. Crippled. He'd never be able to control the Betty now as she plunged wildly toward the planet.

  Suddenly, Johner threw himself in the seat Ripley had vacated and wrapped his hands around Vriess's own, lending the mechanic his own brute strength. Together, they wrestled with the bucking ship.

  When the terrible suction stopped as the Newborn hit the window, Ripley sagged, exhausted, against the floor. She heard Call screaming her name, but could barely think, barely react, even to save herself. Call was reaching for her with one arm even as the robot clung to the apparatus of the ship with the other. Slowly, Ripley forced herself to crawl toward the smaller woman.

  The Newborn's screams grew louder, shriller— scaling up into panicked hysteria. The creature clawed the air desperately, its face, its eyes riddled with terrible pain. Ripley looked back, even though she didn't want to, but she was unable to hear the sounds of fear without feeling something.

  The Newborn looked straight at her, hissing, mewling painfully.

  She shook her head. Her last terrible child. It was appropriate that she be here to mark its passing. She needed to witness. Just to be sure.

  She felt Call's fingers latch onto her clothing, haul her closer, then tie some kind of strap around her waist, then her chest, but she was unable now to pull her gaze away from the flailing, crying creature that was still tied to her genetically. Ripley sobbed as the Newborn stretched its arm toward her, pleading with its eyes for her help.

  It ends here, Ripley thought at the creature. All of it. Forever. No more incarnations.

  The Newborn writhed in torment, whimpering.

  Okay, Ripley thought, as if trying to ease its pain. It won't be long. Easy now.

  With a sudden jerk, the outstretched arm was sucked into the creature's body, the bones flying through the hole into the air. The Newborn bellowed in agony, writhing against the hole that held it as fast as a glue trap pinned a fly. Then its belly hollowed, as its entrails erupted out of the window.

  Its piercing scream ripped right through Ripley's brain, hitting her like electricity. She sagged, grabbing her ears, trying to block the terrible sound of her offspring's death rattle. She screamed with the Newborn as the sound tore through her like razors. Ripley felt the warm stickiness of her own blood seeping through her hands as her ears bled. She huddled on the floor, crying out, as Call pulled her nearer, clinging to her, holding onto her with all the strength the robot had, as if to save Ripley from this last attack.

  As the women watched in shocked terror, one of the Newborn's legs retracted sharply into its body, disappearing into its torso, as huge bones and muscles were sucked out into the void.

  Then the Newborn's other leg contracted into its body so fast, Ripley feared the port wouldn't last much longer. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from the horror of the melting Newborn. The creature looked back at her as the second arm retracted. The Newborn's head sank into its grotesquely misshapen body.

  Oh, God, tell me you're dead by now. You've got to be dead! Ripley begged for it to be true, but then the living eyes of her terrible child said no. Its lungs had to be gone, and its terrible screams had finally stopped, but its mouth kept moving, the frightening teeth opening and closing. Ripley knew the Newborn was still connected to her.

  And silently begging, Help me. Help me.

  Then suddenly, with a final, terrible rush, the creature's skin tore, wadding around the remnants of its body like so much clothing, then slipped out the port bit by bit as the Newborn's living flesh was sucked into space. Ripley could see fingers of one hand still wiggling near the being's eyes.

  I've got to get out of here, she thought, fearing she'd lose her mind if she didn't. I've just got to get out—But those eyes, those damned eyes that were just like hers were still alive and Ripley felt trapped by them.

  Even as the ship shook and rattled around them, the inexorable destruction of the monster, piece by piece, continued. Everything happened much faster now, as the last of the Alien's skin peeled off its body and flew out into the stratosphere. Ripley let go of her bleeding ears, and found herself hugging Call's head, as if trying to keep a young child from seeing something horrible. But they were both watching it, unable to pull their eyes away.

  Ripley felt the tenuous telepathic link try one last desperate time to capture her. She shuddered under that inhuman contact, and mourned it at the same time. It was part of her, after all, and it was dying. But she could not allow it to take her with it.

  The Newborn's head jerked suddenly, and finally, mercifully, Ripley realized the back of its skull had exploded outward, taking its brain.

  As the head erupted and extinguished the Newborn's life, Ripley felt the grasping mental touch evaporate like a sigh and found herself weeping, half in relief, half in grief.

  Oh, thank God, it's dead, finally dead! Ripley thought, wanting to just break down and sob. But there wasn't time as the decompression continued, pulling everything not nailed down toward the grisly remains of the Newborn.

  More sucking noises, and suddenly the skin on the Newborn's face ripped completely away, pulled out through the eye sockets. There was a momentary pause, as if they'd reached the calm center of the hurricane, as the Newborn's eye sockets got plugged with its last mass of skin, but then one socket blew free, once again acting as a suction hole. And suddenly, the women were back in the wind tunnel, as the vacuum pulled them toward the hideous, grinning skull.

  It was too horrible to consider, that they might get yanked out into space through the Newborn's head.

  The two women clung together desperately, fighting the terrible pull.

  "We're not gonna make it!" Johner swore, even as he battled the controls. The ground was coming up fast. The decompression in the cargo hold was tossing them around like a paper airplane.

  "Oh, yes we are!" Vriess barked back at him, waging his own war.

  Call's voice maintained a bizarrely calm level, as it counted down the seconds until impact.

  As the ship trembled violently around them, and cargo and machinery were flung about the hold, Ripley and Call clung to each other for safety. But as Ripley wrapped her arms t
ightly around the robot's torso, Call kept attaching more safety webbing to them, snapping the end clasps to metal handholds bolted into the cargo bay walls. The straps bit into Ripley's body as they fought the pull of space, but she hardly noticed.

  Inside her, in spite of the terrible jarring, in spite of the fact that they were probably plunging to their deaths, Ripley found herself amazingly placid. She remembered the drop ship from the Sulaco and the violent ride down to Hadley's Hope. She remembered Hicks sleeping as if it were just a pleasure cruise, and that made her smile. She held Call against her, wishing she could convey the image, convey her tranquillity. Nothing mattered now. Earth would be safe. They were all dead. All of them. And she had outlived them, if only for this little while.

  At last, the leering skull of the Newborn shattered into a thousand pieces and disappeared through the breached port.

  "This is it, man, this is it!" Johner yelled.

  "We're gonna make it, I said," Vriess argued, as both men still wrestled with the helm.

  Without warning, the ship gave a final shudder, then suddenly calmed. Ripley felt the cool rush of natural air as it blew wildly around the hold, whipping papers and debris around like a whirlwind, only now it was blowing into the hold, not sucking everything out of it.

  She blinked as she drew in the cool, crisp air and looked out the now empty port. The melted hole showed no lingering evidence of its grisly victim. All she could see was blue sky, and fleecy clouds.

  There was an unnatural stillness, and Ripley suddenly felt like she was dissolving. The death of the Newborn had taken the very last remnants of her tattered strength. There was nothing left. She tottered on the verge of collapse.