by Steve Perry
“EMP capabilities in a freighter?” said Brewster. “Dream on. This ship isn’t designed for combat of any kind. No shields, no weapons—basically, we’re screwed.”
But what about Amy? Billie wanted to shout. They couldn’t just quit.
Moto sighed. “They won’t kill us back on Gateway. I mean, once we get there, we could explain things. We do have the queen. The military could take her and finish the job for us—probably badly, but at least it’d get done.”
No one replied and Billie watched acceptance start to settle on their faces. They might not like it, but what choice did they have?
It’s not fair, she thought, and wiped at her brow again, frustrated. That after all of this, after people had died to make this work, they were just going to roll over and—
Suddenly, there was a grin on her face. Something Tully had said triggered it. “Wait. There’s a way,” she said. “I have an idea.”
They all stared at her.
* * *
Engines idle, the Kurtz coasted toward Earth through the blackness, falling into the gravity well in a spiral that, if not interrupted, would end with whatever charred remains survived the reentry burn splashing down in the Indian Ocean.
“Everything is powered down,” said Tully, “except lights and communications.” Her voice sounded tinny over the headset, even though engineering was directly below them.
“Moto? Got your set on?” said Wilks.
“Yeah. Ready.”
Wilks and McQuade waited for the call in the control room. The others would be strapped in behind them, in the crew area. Wilks hadn’t spoken to Ripley, but had explained the plan over the shipwide; he hoped she had listened.
“Kurtz crew please acknowledge. This is Commander Hsu of the Adams.”
“This is McQuade,” the captain growled. “What the fuck do you want? I’m busy here.”
“Sir,” said Hsu politely, “we’re here to escort you back to Gateway. There is no need to be unreasonable. Open your modem and we can avoid any unpleasantness—”
McQuade cut in. “No way. We’re going to Earth and there’s nothing you can do about it, Hsu. Your weapons won’t work on us—we’re blessed! You can’t stop us! We’re invulnerable!”
On his last words, the lights flickered and went out.
A few seconds passed and the mechanical emergency backups switched on.
They’d been EMPed. If their systems had been running, half of the electronics would have probably been fried.
Wilks turned to McQuade. “Well, my guess is that you are now more or less officially crazy, Captain. Hsu probably has the med team on Gateway standing by with a full case of Trinomine patches by now; you’ll get doubles.”
Wilks tapped his headset back to life. “Moto, Tully. Let’s get going.”
It didn’t take long. Twenty minutes or so. Then, a dull thunk echoed through the ship and the Kurtz slowed, finally stopped. After a moment, the ship began to move in a new direction, toward Gateway, though they couldn’t see that from inside with all the systems off-line.
“They got their magnetic tow cable in place,” Wilks said almost under his breath, as if those in the other ship might somehow hear him.
McQuade nodded. “Fish on a line.”
If this doesn’t work, thought Wilks, we’re going to be in really deep shit.
* * *
Billie sat in the crew area with Jones, Falk, and Brewster. Falk had laughed quietly at McQuade’s speech, which had carried to them through the partition. They all waited silently now, tense.
Brewster unbuckled his strap and moved to the chair next to Billie’s.
“Okay if I sit here?” he said.
She nodded and watched as he strapped back in and then turned to her. He seemed unsure of himself.
“How are you doing?” he said.
“I’m okay. I had a rough time for a while, but it’s gotten better.” She was glad that she meant what she said.
“Good to hear,” he said. “I’ve been coming to terms with some of my own shit.” He paused, obviously wanting to say more.
Billie smiled gently at him. “Dylan. We both have had a lot to deal with on this trip, and there’s still a ways to go. But I consider us friends and I want you to know that no matter what happens, I wish you well.”
“I don’t regret it,” he said quietly. Even in the dimly lit room, she could see that he had reddened slightly. He touched her hand.
“Neither do I.” Their night together had been nice. She held his fingers in her own for a moment and squeezed lightly before letting go.
There were bigger things to be dealing with than a sexual encounter between them, and she felt like this was his acknowledgment of that; Dylan was okay. And so was she. More or less.
“Get ready,” Wilks called back to them.
Billie leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
* * *
“Ready.” Tully’s voice crackled in Wilks’s ears. He nodded at McQuade and held up his hand. The captain leaned to the controls and watched for the signal.
Billie’s plan was almost embarrassingly simple. Play dead until they were being towed and then scoot forward and tap the other ship’s drive control surfaces hard enough to damage them. By the time Gateway sent another ship, the Kurtz would be well on its way to Earth. What the hell, it was just goofy enough to have a chance.
“Stand by,” Wilks called over his shoulder.
He pointed at McQuade. “Go!”
The Kurtz hummed back to life. McQuade hit the controls and the ship rocketed forward and to one side.
For an impossibly long time they hurtled through space. Wilks gritted his teeth.
The body of the ship shuddered with the impact, a loud crash. Even braced as he was, it jarred Wilks, hard. Then they were moving again, aslant to the ship they’d just hit.
The magnetic line snapped taut and the coupler was peeled off as the smaller ship was knocked away by the collision.
There goes the insurance, Wilks thought. He remembered an old joke about whiplash. No time to dick around, now, Wilks. “Shut it down fast!” he ordered.
The Adams could still trigger another pulse—
The system went dead; Tully and Moto had pulled everything off-line again. He hoped.
Wilks mentally counted to ten and then spoke into the set.
“Did they get us?”
“Nope,” said Tully. She sounded out of breath.
“Hook up perimeter sensors,” said Wilks. A few of the console lights blinked on. McQuade scanned the small screen and then laughed.
They were coasting, but moving at a good clip. Time passed, seemed to Wilks like a long chunk of it.
“Out of effective range,” McQuade said. “And it looks like they’re flying in circles.”
Wilks grinned. “Good work down there,” he said to engineering. “Get us back online.”
“You know what to do, Captain,” he said to McQuade.
As the Kurtz relit her systems, coming back to life, Wilks tapped the shipwide ’com. “Congratulations, Billie. Looks like we’re going to Earth.”
* * *
Ripley sat in her room alone. She wasn’t particularly surprised that they were still on their way; the people onboard weren’t stupid. Wilks had apparently turned into quite the leader—
Someone knocked at her door.
“Ripley? You home? It’s Billie.”
She considered not answering and then sighed. The Kurtz wasn’t that big; where else could she be?
“Come back later,” she said.
“No. I need to talk to you now.”
Ripley sighed again. May as well get it over with. “Come in.”
Billie walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. “How’s it going?”
She looked different to Ripley somehow. Not as shy, perhaps, more self-assured. She had always thought of Billie as nervous in confrontative situations, but the young woman sitting on her bed looked anything but.
> “How’s it going? Why, everything’s great. Wonderful. Couldn’t be better.”
“Really? I’ve gotten the impression that you don’t like us much anymore.”
Ripley raised her eyebrows. “Don’t play games, Billie.”
The younger woman shrugged. “Why not? You are.”
Ripley was irritated. “This is what you needed to discuss with me? This is my business, you know, and—”
“—and you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. By all means, Ripley, don’t worry about rationalizing on my account. But this excursion was your idea, and now you’re leaving us hanging.”
Ripley didn’t respond. So what? she thought angrily. You had your reasons for coming along. Obviously she just wanted to bitch; fine. And she was right—Ripley didn’t have to explain it.
“We need you, Ripley. I need you. You’re important to me.” She took a deep breath.
Here it comes, thought Ripley.
“I admire you,” said Billie. “I guess that’s what I needed to say. I wish that I had your strength in a lot of ways.”
“Don’t you mean that past tense?” said Ripley. She realized she sounded bitter, but who the fuck was Billie to come in and dump this on her? “It’s not me, Billie! You admire a program, a machine.”
Billie looked at her unwaveringly. “I was in love with a machine once,” she said. Her voice softened. “His name was Mitch. Are you telling me that my love had no value because of what he was? That his love for me was some kind of trick, a—a glitch?”
Ripley turned away from Billie’s gaze. This was not the pity she had expected.
“I’m not Mitch,” she said.
“No,” said Billie. “You’re Ripley. I saw your broadcasts long before we ever met; I heard the stories. You act just like that Ellen did, far as I can tell. So what if you’re an artificial person? My guess is that whoever made you used who you were to do it. So, you’re a copy of yourself. So maybe you aren’t perfect. So, who the fuck is? If you want to sit there and feel sorry for yourself because you aren’t the woman you thought you were, go ahead. It won’t change anything. And if we fuck this up because you won’t help, you can blame that on yourself, too.”
Billie stood, stared at her for a moment, then walked out without speaking again.
Ripley stared after her. Jesus.
Jesus.
24
They made it to Earth with no more trouble from Gateway.
That’s something, at least, thought Wilks. They had achieved atmosphere without a hitch and now flew high over an ocean toward the North American continent. Brewster was at the controls; he was a better pilot in air than McQuade.
“ETA approximately ninety minutes,” he said.
“Okay,” said Wilks. He unstrapped from the co-pilot’s chair and walked toward the dining hall. The others would be there in a few minutes. He moved slowly, lost in thought.
What next? They had made it to Earth with a psychic alien queen to—they hoped—obliterate the infestation there; they had lost three people, and their leader had developed an aversion to leading. Every bug on the planet would be after their asses once they set down. Aside from the fact that even if they succeeded at this point, going back to Gateway probably meant brainwipes and locktime as a reward.
Wilks grinned as he stepped out of the corridor. All of that and the food’s great, too, he thought.
“What’s so funny, Wilks?”
Ripley stood at a dispenser, a cup of coffee in hand. The room was empty except for the two of them.
“I was just thinking of all the fun we’ve been having so far,” he said. “Hello, Ripley.” He acted casual, but it was good to see her. He went to another dispenser and ordered a steak. Well, what passed for steak. The joy of soy.
Something that looked like a steaming, squashed-flat turd arrived. Wilks shook his head and picked up the tray.
Ripley walked with him to a table and sat across from him.
“Wilks,” she began, “I want to thank you for stepping in to run this operation. And now that we’re here, I’d like to offer my help—unless you’ve got everything under control…” The last was almost a question.
He poked at the cutlet on his tray. “Actually, I was hoping you’d say something like that,” he said. “Welcome back. I’m a crappy leader.”
“Sounds like you’ve been doing fine,” she said.
He shrugged. “What changed your mind?”
“Something Billie said. It pissed me off enough to start thinking about how I’ve been dealing with things.” She stared at her hands for a minute and then looked up at him.
“Whatever my circumstances are, we still have a job to do, right?” She smiled, but there was no humor in the expression.
Falk and Moto walked into the room together, chatting. They stopped when they saw who was there.
“Hey, good to see you, Ripley,” Moto said.
Falk grinned at her. “Yeah, you gonna stop Wilks from looking like an asshole?”
“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Miracles are difficult, you know?”
Wilks laughed. He felt better than he had since deepsleep.
Billie arrived. She waved to them and went to a dispenser for coffee. Wilks watched her smile brighten at the sight of Ripley, and felt a rush of warmth for her. She had changed so much since he’d broken her out of the hospital on Earth; she was stronger, braver, more beautiful—
Instead of immediately stifling the thought as he had in the past, he let it sit for a moment. Billie didn’t need him to protect her anymore. She had demonstrated many times that she was more than capable of standing on her own. He felt comfortable working with her, he trusted her—she was really the closest thing he had to a friend. But a lover?
Why the fuck not? You’re only old enough to be her father and you’ve got enough emotional trouble for two—bet she’d jump at the chance!
“You awake, Wilks?”
Billie waved a hand in front of him before she sat down. He blinked. Everyone was there now except the pilot.
…good time to daydream, Sarge, maybe you’d like to recite some fucking poetry to yourself while the crew takes care of things—
“Sorry,” he said, and smiled at her. “Just thinking.”
He suddenly recalled one of the sayings from boot camp that he hadn’t thought of in decades: Don’t be a fool for your tool.
He shook his head and put all those thoughts aside. Later.
* * *
“So how are we going to unload our cargo without getting eaten by it?” said Moto.
“Or getting our butts kicked by her unhappy children?” said McQuade.
Although the questions weren’t necessarily directed at her, Ripley felt that they were waiting for her response.
“I’ve got a pretty good idea of the layout on where we’re headed,” she said. “We’re going to have to do this quick; she’ll be calling the creatures to her before we even land.”
Billie broke in. “She’s calling them already, I think. I watched some of the ’casts that Leslie sent over from about six weeks ago—the people on Earth said that the aliens have been gathering together and not attacking as often.”
“Perhaps corresponding with when we abducted the mother,” finished Moto. “Sounds like they’re getting ready.”
The crew watched Ripley, waited for her to speak. She was vaguely surprised that she had been accepted back with no confrontations, but didn’t want to dwell on it. Her own problems were not a priority right now.
“This is going to be tight,” she said. “The arsenal is set into the side of a mountain—we drop the queen on the other side and work fast enough to be done before the majority of her brood shows up. They might know about where she’s landing, but not exactly.”
“Not that if s important or anything, but does anyone know how to set up the bombs?” said Falk.
Ripley sighed. Sooner or later it was going to come up. “It’s in my program,” she said. She felt r
esigned as she looked at each of their faces and wondered what she would see. No one spoke for a moment.
Tully smiled. “Well, thank-fucking-Buddha,” she said brightly. “That’s something.”
“Do you think the bunker will have been raided?” That from Jones.
Wilks shrugged. “Maybe. I’d say definitely, but it’s an isolated area.”
The whole topic had been glossed over as quickly as it had come up. Ripley suddenly realized that she wasn’t going to get the response she had expected. For however the crew members felt about it, they seemed to have come to terms with her as a synthetic—at least on a working level.
Great, she thought, if I don’t glitch it and kill them all.
Brewster’s voice came over the ’com. “Hey, ya’ll might want to come check this out—we’re over land now. Looks like someone had a pretty wild party last night and wrecked the place.” His attempt to sound casual was strained.
Several of them looked at Ripley. She nodded.
“We have as much of a plan as we’re going to get,” she said. “Let’s go see what there is.”
As Ripley followed the others into the corridor, Billie lagged back and put her hand on Ripley’s arm. They walked slowly behind the others.
“Listen, what about Amy?” said Billie.
Ripley frowned. “The girl from the ’casts?”
Billie nodded. “We have to help her. She’s not far from the site, an hour or two maybe, and I could take a flier to go get her.”
“How do you know she’s alive?”
“She is. I know.” Billie looked anxious, her face tight.
Ripley remembered how important the girl had been to Billie back on the station. She stopped walking and faced the young woman. On the one hand, she knew exactly how she felt; on the other hand, there were bigger goals here.
“Billie,” she said gently, “we can look at the situation when we get there, but we’re not going to have much time. Whether she’s alive or not, I don’t know if we can afford to do it. I’m sorry.”
For a second, a look of panic and frustration flashed across Billie’s face, so intense that Ripley thought the girl would scream. Then she relaxed and dropped her gaze to the floor.
“I hear you,” she said. She ran one hand through her long hair. “But I won’t give it up without trying.” She looked up at Ripley, expression set.
