River of Pain

by Christopher Golden

  It troubled Dr. Reese that they had not yet found the alien hive. There had to be many of them now, and more gestating. Dozens of colonists had been taken away—far more than most of the people knew—and they hadn’t just vanished. The aliens would be taking them to a place where there were eggs. His research had shown conclusively that one of the earliest facehuggers had been slightly different from the others. Dr. Mori theorized that its egg must have been selected by the aliens on the derelict, and bathed in special nutrients secreted in similar fashion as the cocooning resin the aliens produced from their throats.

  But Dr. Reese did not concur. That meant one of those who’d gone inside the derelict would have had to encounter the one queen egg. The odds against it were overwhelming, and required far too much coincidence.

  Reese suspected some form of self-determination through biological imperative, where the facehugger itself underwent a metamorphosis in order to produce a queen, and perpetuate the species.

  Whatever the case, the number of aliens that had already appeared inside the complex was the only evidence he required. Somewhere in the colony, the aliens had a queen that had matured to adulthood and had begun producing eggs with astonishing speed—yet another dramatic display of biological imperative. From what little they had already learned, it was clear that these Xenomorphs were the most extraordinary creatures he had ever encountered. They lived to perpetuate their own species, and were single-mindedly savage in the process.

  A thump came from behind them, and they both swung around, Stamovich ready to shoot. Dr. Mori stood in the hallway with his arms up, his face almost as white as his hair.

  “No, no!” Dr. Mori cried. “It’s only me.”

  He seemed out of breath. Dr. Reese nearly barked at him for risking death, but then the stairwell door opened again and their lab assistant, Khati Fuqua, emerged along with a gun-bearing mechanic who had offered to defend them. The man thought he was doing a great service for the colony, since the science team was attempting to figure out a swifter way to kill the aliens.

  Which, of course, they were not.

  “Jeez, Doc,” Stam said to Mori. “That’s a good way to get a bullet to the head.”

  Dr. Mori exhaled loudly as he lowered his hands and hurried toward them.

  “Dr. Reese, we need to speak.”

  Reese gestured to Stam.

  “Lead the way, Mr. Stamovich. Give Dr. Mori and myself some privacy, please.”

  Mori gestured to Khati. She and the mechanic followed Stamovich toward the storage area.

  “What is so urgent that you raced after me?” Dr. Reese asked quietly, glancing forward and backward to make sure they would not be overheard.

  Dr. Mori knitted his brows. Reese might have been his superior, but he had never liked being spoken to in a tone that reminded him. Not that Reese much cared what Dr. Mori liked or disliked.

  “I’ve only just learned how many of the colonists have been killed or taken,” Mori said quietly. “It is time, Dr. Reese. I’ve done a computer model of the outcome here, but we didn’t really need that, did we? You must make the call now. It is time for us to leave Acheron. The specimens are ready to be crated up for transport, and I have saved all of the data. We have everything we need—”

  “Not everything we wanted, though,” Dr. Reese said with a sidelong glance, eyes narrowed in irritation. “The company will want a living Xenomorph—one of the ovomorphs at least.”

  “And how do you propose we bring one of those back?” Dr. Mori hissed.

  When Dr. Reese ignored him and kept walking, Mori grabbed his arm and forced Reese to face him.

  “The model is clear—”

  “I am in control of this situation, Dr. Mori,” Reese said, jaw tight with anger at the other scientist’s presumption.

  “What you call control is an illusion,” Dr. Mori whispered, both of them aware that Stam, Khati, and the mechanic had all paused to stare at them. “Time is running out. If we are going to save the data and ourselves, we must go.”

  “Soon,” Dr. Reese promised. “Trust me.”

  * * *

  DATE: 26 JUNE, 2179

  TIME: 1117

  Anne walked into the storage area carrying an enormous crate of fresh fruit from the greenhouse.

  She’d spent nearly two hours picking fruit and vegetables with the greenhouse supervisor, Genevieve Dione, and a handful of other volunteers, and it had been among the most frightening times of her life. Despite the fact that they’d had a marine and two armed wildcatters along to watch their asses while they did the work.

  She’d been proud to volunteer, glad to be able to help these people. Part of that, she knew, was guilt at the prospect of abandoning them. Some of them were her friends, and even those who weren’t were still a part of the family the colony had become.

  Now, though, she had done her duty. Her skin had crawled the whole time she’d been in the greenhouse and even on the walk back, waiting for the aliens to attack. She had expected the sensation to fade when she was back among her people, but no such luck. She set the produce basket down and glanced around, pulse quickening at each glimpse of a barricaded door or a dark vent where bars had been screwed in.

  The thought of the Onager was like a bright ember burning in her mind. She glanced around and wondered who else might have thought of it, as well. Derrick Russell, Nolan Cale, and Genevieve Dione were standing in a conspiratorial cluster, faces etched with determination. They were planning something, but she couldn’t be sure what.

  Most of the colonists would have discounted the excavator ship, even if they’d thought of it, knowing that it couldn’t get them far. Others, however, must have realized that it all might come down to time, that floating around in orbit would buy them the precious days or weeks needed for rescue to arrive.

  If it’s even there, she thought. If it wasn’t, there were always the crawlers. She could get her kids out of here in one of those metal beasts, should the need arise. But she didn’t want to leave without Demian, if she could help it.

  The clock was ticking.

  “Mom!”

  Anne turned to see Newt racing toward her, the Casey doll trailing from her left fist, clutched by its blond hair. She smiled and opened her arms, and Newt leaped into them.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Anne said, the shadows in her heart retreating for just a moment. “I’m glad you’re up.”

  Newt pushed off so that Anne had to put her down, then punched her mother in the hip.

  “Don’t leave me alone again!” she said angrily. “You promised!”

  “I was only…” Anne began, but she saw that her daughter was angry and afraid, and she cut herself off. “Okay. I’m sorry.” She looked around. “Want an apple?”

  Newt didn’t want to be distracted or appeased, but after a moment’s consideration she relented.

  “I might like an apple,” she admitted.

  “Where’s Tim?” Anne asked.

  “Playing with Aaron,” her daughter said, with obvious disapproval.

  Anne’s breath caught. “Not near the—”

  “No, Mom,” Newt said. “Not Monster Maze. Boys are dumb, but not that dumb. Besides, Private Chenovski has been watching them. I was playing with Luisa for a little while, but then her mom wanted her to eat something, so I’ve just been waiting.”

  Anne nodded as she bent to fetch an apple from the basket. As she handed the fruit to her daughter, she glanced over and saw Dr. Reese and Dr. Mori come in with several others, including Pvt. Stamovich. Her eyes narrowed. As Newt bit into the fruit, Anne fought the urge to confront Reese, to try to force him to tell her what he knew about the aliens. What had they learned?

  Perhaps more importantly, what did Weyland-Yutani know about the creatures? Had the company known in advance what she and Russ would be walking into when they were ordered to investigate the coordinates where they’d found the derelict?

  At the very thought, anger blossomed in her.

  “Newt, do you
see Dr. Reese right over there?”

  “Sure.”

  “I need to talk to him for a minute. So I’m not leaving. I’ll just be right over there—”

  “I’ll come.”

  “No, honey,” Anne said. “It needs to be in private.”

  Newt looked suspicious for a second, then glanced over to gauge the distance between herself and the doctors.

  “All right. But don’t leave without me.”

  “Never,” Anne said, kissing the top of her head. “Jordens forever.”

  Newt nodded once, firmly.

  “Jordens forever,” she said, with a mouthful of apple.

  Anne strode across the storage area, moving around piles of goods and supplies that had been stacked up to make room for the colonists. Dr. Reese and Dr. Mori were talking to Al Simpson. She was so focused on Reese that when Demian Brackett came through the guarded door just beyond the scientists, also headed for Reese, she didn’t immediately register his presence.

  When she did spot him, she quickened her pace. It would be a mistake to reveal her plans in front of the scientists, so she would have to be wary. But she couldn’t allow Brackett to leave before they’d spoken.

  “Demian,” she said, intercepting him. “We need to talk.”

  He must have seen the urgency in her expression, for his eyes filled with concern.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Are the kids all right?”

  The strength and kindness in him caused a wave of regret to wash over her. She knew she had made the right choice in marrying Russ—otherwise Newt and Tim would never have been born—but a pang of sadness filled her as she allowed herself to wonder where a life with Demian would have led.

  “They’re okay. I just…” She faltered as Simpson, Reese, and Mori approached them. The cacophony of voices in the storage area seemed to swell, and any hope of having a private conversation seemed like foolishness. “When you’re done here, I need a word before you run off again.”

  Brackett gave her a solemn nod.

  “Absolutely. Can you give me a minute?”

  Anne started to reply, but then Simpson was there, looking aggrieved.

  “Captain, what are you doing?” the administrator asked. “Have you found the nest?” His mustache quivered as he spoke.

  “Not yet—” Brackett began.

  “Then why are you here?” Simpson said angrily. “More than a few people are blaming the overnight losses on your refusal to dedicate your entire squad to the protection of this shelter. You told me those were unavoidable—that the most important thing was to track and kill the aliens—but you haven’t accomplished that yet.”

  “Simpson,” Brackett said, his voice low but dangerous. “I didn’t come to talk to you. I’m here for Dr. Reese.”

  The administrator muttered something under his breath, preparing a retort, but Brackett silenced him with a glare.

  “What can I do for you, Captain?” Dr. Reese asked.

  “I received a communiqué from my superiors—one that I wanted to share with you,” Brackett said.

  Dr. Reese smiled thinly. “Please, go on.”

  “I asked about my squad being used as security detail on colonial surveying missions, making my objections clear. The reply came from Marine Space Force, Eridani command, on Helene 215,” he continued, “informing me that my orders are to provide security for the colony itself—and that the safety of individuals traveling beyond the boundaries of the colony would not be the responsibility of the USCMC.”

  Dr. Mori sputtered. “That’s absurd. We’ve always—”

  “Hush,” Dr. Reese said, holding up a hand. He looked grimly confident, and Anne didn’t understand why. “Continue, Captain Brackett.”

  Anne looked at Demian’s face, and she saw the anger there.

  “Two hours after I received those initial orders, they were overridden by an eyes-only communiqué issued jointly by the command staff at O’Neil Station—”

  “From the highest authority in the Marine Corps,”

  Reese interrupted.

  “Yes,” Brackett acknowledged. “Jointly with the Chief of Operations for Gateway,” he said, glancing at Anne to make sure she understood. He turned back to Reese and Mori, still ignoring Simpson. “I’m now instructed to put myself and my squad at your personal disposal, Dr. Reese. Whatever plan you devise to deal with the Xenomorphs, I am to support it in every way possible. And I will follow those orders, because I am a marine.

  “But,” he added, “I will continue to voice my opinions, and first among those is that the government and the company are far too cozy.

  “I don’t trust you, Doctor.”

  Anne watched Al Simpson deflate. The normally blustery administrator had just lost the last vestiges of whatever leadership he’d ever exerted over the people of Hadley’s Hope. Blunt and snappish as he could be, she had always respected Simpson for his hard work and determination, but any control he’d had over the colony had always been an illusion. Everyone knew that Weyland-Yutani called the shots, and that meant that Dr. Reese had always been in charge. Brackett’s new orders had only formalized the truth.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked.

  All four men turned to stare at her, the scientists blinking as if she had been invisible to them before. Several colonists had gathered around, spectators to the strange little power struggle going on.

  “People are dying.” Anne glared at them. “My friends and I… my kids… we don’t care which of you is in charge. In fact, I’d venture to say that at this point, none of us gives a shit which of you thinks he’s in charge. This place is falling apart. My husband is dead, along with a lot of my friends, and dozens are missing. The aliens are hard to kill and their number is growing. If you don’t figure out a way to eliminate them, nobody will be left alive for any of you to order around.

  “So stop standing around measuring your dicks.”

  A cheer went up around her, and a round of applause began.

  “Mommy?” she heard Newt say, and she blushed, realizing her daughter had heard what she’d said. Anne glanced back and saw that Tim had his hands over his little sister’s ears, and she smiled at both children.

  “Mrs. Jorden is right,” Simpson said, looking around at the gathered colonists. “We’re already doing everything we can to protect you all, to track down the aliens, and retrieve our missing friends.”

  Retrieve? Did any of them really believe that? Anne heard grumbling voices around her and knew the colonists would not let Simpson go unchallenged. They were all afraid, and grieving, and there were no words that would soothe them. Only results would calm their nerves.

  She glanced at Brackett, but he only stood stiffly beside the scientists as Dr. Reese muttered something to him.

  “Are we all gonna die?” Luisa piped up, her red hair a messy tangle around her face.

  Brackett’s expression melted and he stepped forward.

  “No, honey. I’m not going to let that—”

  A commotion at the doors startled them all. People recoiled in surprise and fear, some calling out in alarm, but then Lydecker came bustling in with several other members of the administration staff. He saw that he’d frightened them, and apologized before hurrying over to Simpson, taking his boss by the arm and walking him into an isolated corner.

  One of the people who’d come in with Lydecker was a young, clean-cut man named Bill Andrews who had often been responsible for assigning survey teams. Anne and Russ had gotten to know him well, and now she approached him.

  “Bill… what’s going on?”

  He glanced around, clearly uncertain as to how much he could share. But then he blinked, as if remembering something he should never have forgotten.

  “Annie, how are you holding up?”

  She glanced over at her children. Newt and Dr. Hidalgo were seated on plastic crates, engaged in an animated conversation, but Tim sat alone on the floor, an air of sadness around him. When he was looking out fo
r his sister he seemed all right, but when his thoughts weren’t otherwise engaged, they naturally drifted back to the horror of his father’s death.

  “I’m doing okay,” she said, exhaling slowly. “But I’m scared for the kids. I keep wondering when the nightmare will end, y’know?”

  Bill cast a quick glance at Lydecker and Simpson, and lowered his voice.

  “Maybe soon,” he said, and she looked at him curiously. “We were stupid before, just not thinking properly. All of us have our PDT implants, and we finally realized we could track the missing folks that way.”

  Anne clapped a hand to her forehead. Every colonist had a subdermal implant—a personal data transmitter. In the years she’d been at Hadley’s Hope, she’d only seen them used twice—when wildcatters had gone out of radio range and run into mechanical trouble—but still, someone ought to have thought of it earlier.

  She should have thought of it.

  “We think we’ve located the creatures’ nest, underneath Processor One,” Bill said. “Mr. Lydecker figures the marines will send an armed party over there now.”

  He smiled. “It won’t be long.”

  Anne nodded, not daring to hope.

  “One way or another.”

  * * *

  DATE: 26 JUNE, 2179

  TIME: 1221

  “I don’t think you understand me,” Dr. Hidalgo said, tucking her hair behind her ears and fixing her colleagues with a grim stare. “I’m going with them.”

  Dr. Mori bared his teeth in a sneer of disapproval, but Dr. Reese seemed genuinely shocked. Dr. Hidalgo liked that—liked being able to shock him.

  “That’s not acceptable, Theresa,” Reese said.

  She laughed softly.

  “Do you think I care what you find acceptable?”

  When she had seen the clutch of conversation between Lydecker and Simpson, and then watched those two men approach her colleagues on the science team, she’d known that some sort of breakthrough had taken place. Then Anne had come back to collect her children, and told her that the alien nest had been found.

  Dr. Hidalgo had known then that she couldn’t stay here with the colonists. Not when she knew they were soon to be abandoned. So she had drawn her fellow scientists away from Simpson, Brackett, and the others for this conversation. It had gone about as well as she had expected.