Aliens

  She looked over at the frail figure of the girl sitting nearby Newt hugged her knees to her chest and watched the proceedings with sombre eyes. She was all but lost in the adult jacket someone had scrounged for her, scrunched down inside the copious padding and high collar. Her still-damp hair was plastered to her forehead and cheeks.

  Hicks stopped pacing to stare at Ripley. 'Wait a minute. We'd know about it. Maybe we wouldn't be sure, but we'd sure have it checked out the instant we arrived at the Station. No way would we let anybody ship you Earthside without a complete medical scan.'

  Ripley considered this, then nodded. 'The only way it would work is if he sabotaged the sleep capsules for the trip back With Dietrich gone, each of us would have to put ourselves into hypersleep. He could set his timer to wake him a few days down the road, climb out of his capsule, shut down everybody else's bio-support systems, and jettison the bodies. Then he could make up any story he liked. With most of your squad already killed by the aliens, and the details of the fight over on C-level recorded by your suit scanners and stored in the Sulaco's records, it would be an easy matter to attribute your deaths to the aliens as well.'

  'He's dead.' Hudson switched his attention from Ripley back to the Company rep. 'You hear that? You're dog meat, pal.'

  'This is a totally paranoid delusion.' Burke saw no harm in finally speaking out, convinced that he couldn't hurt himself any more than he already had. 'You saw how strong those things are. I had nothing to do with their escaping.'

  'Bullcrap. Nothing's strong enough to force its way out of a stasis tube,' Hicks said evenly.

  'I suppose after they climbed out they locked the operating room from the outside, shut down the emergency power to the overhead lights, hid my rifle, and killed the videoscan too. Ripley looked tired. 'You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them killing each other for a percentage.'

  'Let's waste him.' Hicks's expression was unreadable as he gazed down at the Company rep. 'No offence.'

  Ripley shook her head. Inside, the initial rage was giving way to a sickened emptiness. 'Just find someplace to lock him up until it's time to leave.'

  'Why?' Hudson was shaking with suppressed anger, his finger taut on the trigger of his rifle.

  Ripley glanced at the comtech. 'Because I'd like to take him back. I want people to know what he's done. They need to know what happened to the colony here, and why. I want—'

  The lights went out. Hicks turned immediately to the tactica console. The screen still glowed on battery power, but no images flashed across it because the power to the colony's computer had been cut. A quick check of Operations revealed that everything was out: power doors, videoscreens, sensor cameras, the works.

  'They cut the power.' Ripley stood motionless in the near blackness.

  'What do you mean, they cut the power?' Hudson turned a slow circle and started backing toward a wall. 'How could they cut the power, man? They're dumb animals.'

  'Who knows what they really are? We don't know enough about them to say that for sure yet.' She picked up the pulse-rifle that Burke had taken and thumbed off the safety 'Maybe they act like that individually, but they could also have some kind of collective intelligence. Like ants or termites Bishop talked about that, before he left. Termites build mounds three metres high. Leaf-cutter ants have agriculture Is that just instinct? What is intelligence, anyway?' She glanced left.

  'Stay close, Newt. The rest of you, let's get some trackers going. Come on, get moving. Gorman, keep an eye on Burke.'

  Hudson and Vasquez switched on their scanners. The glow of the motion-tracker sensors was comforting in the darkness Modern technology hadn't failed them completely yet. With the two troopers leading the way, they headed for the corridor With all power out to Operations, Vasquez had to slide the barrier aside manually.

  Ripley's voice sounded behind the smartgun operator 'Anything?'

  'Nothing here.' Vasquez was a shadow against one wall.

  She didn't have to put the same question to Hudson because everyone heard the comtech's tracker beep loudly. All eyes turned in his direction.

  'There's something. I've got something.' He panned the tracker around. It beeped again, louder this time. 'It's moving It's inside the complex.'

  'I don't see anything.' Vasquez's tracker remained silent 'You're just reading me.'

  Hudson's voice cracked slightly. 'No. No! It ain't you They're inside. Inside the perimetre. They're in here.'

  'Stay cool, Hudson.' Ripley tried to see to the far end of the corridor. 'Vasquez, you ought to be able to confirm.'

  The smartgun operator swung her tracker and her rifle in a wide arc. The last place she pointed both of them was directly behind her. The portable sensor let out a sharp beep.

  'Hudson may be right.'

  Ripley and Hicks exchanged a glance. At least they wouldn't have to stand around anymore waiting for something to happen.

  'It's game time,' the corporal said tightly.

  Ripley called to the pair of troopers. 'Get back here, both of you. Fall back to Operations.'

  Hudson and Vasquez started to backtrack. The comtech's eyes nervously watched the dark tunnel they were abandoning The tracker said one thing, his eyes another. Something was wrong.

  'This signal's weird. Must be some interference or something. Maybe power arcing unevenly somewhere. There's movement all over the place, but I don't see a thing.'

  'Just get back here!' Ripley felt the sweat starting on her forehead, under her arms. Cold, like the pit of her stomach Hudson turned and broke into a run, reaching the door a moment before Vasquez. Together they pulled it closed and locked the seal-tight.

  Once inside, they began sharing out the remnants of their pitifully small armoury. Flamethrowers, grenades, and lastly, a fair distribution of the loaded pulse-rifle magazines. Hudson's tracker continued to beep regularly, rising in a gradua crescendo.

  'Movement!' He looked around wildly, saw only the silhouettes of his companions in the shadowed room. 'Signal's clean. Can't be an error.' Picking up the scanner, he panned the business end around the room. 'I've got full range of movement at twenty metres.'

  Ripley whispered to Vasquez. 'Seal the door.'

  'If I seal the door, how do we get to the dropship?'

  'Same way Bishop did. Unless you want to try to walk out.'

  'Seventeen metres,' Hudson muttered. Vasquez picked up her handwelder and moved to the door.

  Hicks handed one of the flamethrowers to Ripley and began priming the other for himself. 'Let's get these things lit.' A moment later his sprang to life, a small, steady blue flame hissing from the weapon's muzzle like an oversize lighter Ripley's flared brilliantly as she nudged the button marked IGNITE, which was set in the side of the handgrip.

  Sparks showered around Vasquez as she began welding the door to the floor, ceiling, and walls. Hudson's tracker was going like mad now, though still not as fast as Ripley's heart.

  'They learned,' she said, unable to stand silence. 'Call it instinct or intelligence or group analysis, but they learned They cut the power and they've avoided the guns. They must have found another way into the complex, something we missed.'

  'We didn't miss anything,' Hicks growled.

  'Fifteen metres.' Hudson took a step away from the door.

  'I don't know how they did it. An acid hole in a duct Something under the floors that was supposed to be sealed but wasn't. Something the colonists added or modified and didn't bother to insert into the official schematics. We don't know how up-to-date those plans are or when they were last revised to include all structural additions. I don't know, but there has to be something!' She picked up Vasquez's tracker and aimed it in the same direction as Hudson's.

  'Twelve metres,' the comtech informed them. 'Man, this is one big signal. Ten metres.'

  'They're right on us.' Ripley stared at the door. 'Vasquez how you coming?'

  The smartgun operator didn't reply. Molten droplets singed her skin an
d landed, smoking, on her suit. She gritted her teeth and tried to hurry the welder along with some choice imprecations.

  'Nine metres. Eight.' Hudson announced the last number on a rising inflection and looked around wildly.

  'Can't be.' Ripley was insistent, despite the fact that the tracker she was holding offered the same impossible readout 'That's inside the room.'

  'It's right, it's right.' He turned his instrument sideways so she could see the tiny screen and its accompanying telltales 'Look!'

  Ripley fiddled with her own tracker, rolling the fine-tuning controls as Hicks crossed to Hudson's position in a single stride.

  'Well, you're not reading it right.'

  'I'm not!' The comtech's voice bordered on hysteria. 'I know these little babies, and they don't lie, man. They're too simple to screw up.' He was staring bug-eyed at the flickering readouts. 'Six metres. Five. What the fu—?'

  His eyes met Ripley's, and the same realization hit them simultaneously. Both bent their heads back, and they angled the trackers in the same direction. The beeping from both instruments became a numbing buzz.

  Hicks climbed onto a file cabinet. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder and clutching the flamethrower tightly, he raised one of the acoustical ceiling panels and shined his flashlight inside.

  It illuminated a vision Dante could not have imagined in his wildest nightmares, nor Poe in the grasp of an uncontrollable delirium.

  XIII

  The serviceway between the suspended acoustical ceiling and the metal roof was full of aliens. More aliens than he could quickly count. They clung upside down to pipes and beams crawling like bats toward his light, glistening metallically. They covered the serviceway as far back as his light could shine.

  He didn't need a motion tracker to sense movement behind him. As he snapped light and body around, the beam picked out an alien less than a metre away. It lunged at his face Ducking wildly, the corporal felt claws capable of rending metal rake across the back of his armour.

  As he tumbled back into Operations the army of infiltrating creatures detached en masse from their grips and claw holds The flimsy suspended ceiling exploded, raining debris and nightmare shapes into the room below. Newt screamed Hudson opened fire, and Vasquez gave Hicks a hand up as she let go with her flamethrower. Ripley scooped up Newt and stumbled backward. Gorman was at her side in an instant pumping away with his own rifle. No one had time to notice Burke as the Company rep bolted for the only unblocked corridor, the one that connected Operations to Medical.

  Flamethrowers brightened the chaos as they incinerated one attacker after another. Sometimes the burning aliens would stumble into one another, screeching insanely and adding to the confusion and conflagration. They sounded much more like screams of anger than of pain. Acid poured from seared bodies, chewing gaping holes in the floor and adding to the danger.

  'Medical!' Ripley was backing up slowly, keeping Newt close to her. 'Get to Medical!' She turned and dashed for the connecting corridor.

  The walls blurred around her, but at least the ceiling overhead stayed intact. She was able to concentrate on the corridor ahead. She caught a glimpse of Burke just as the Company rep cleared the heavy door into the lab area and slid it shut behind him. Ripley slammed into it and wrenched at the outside latch, just as it clicked home on the other side.

  'Burke! Open the door! Burke, open the door!'

  Newt tugged on Ripley's pants as she slipped behind her pointing down the corridor. 'Look!'

  An Alien was striding up the passageway toward them. A big alien. A shaking Ripley raised her rifle, trying to recall in an instant everything Hicks had taught her about the powerfu weapon. She aimed the barrel straight at the middle of the glistening, skeletal chest and squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  A hiss came from the advancing abomination. The outer jaws parted, slime splattering on the floor. Calm, calm, don't lose it, Ripley told herself. She checked the safety. It was off. A glance revealed a full magazine. Newt clung desperately to her leg and began to wail. Ripley's hands were trembling so violently, she nearly dropped the gun.

  It was almost on top of them when she remembered that the first high-powered round had to be injected into the breech manually. She did so, jerked convulsively on the trigger. The rifle went off in the thing's face, hurling it backward. She turned away and covered her face as best she could in what had by now become an instinctive defensive gesture. But the energy of the shell impacting on the alien's body at point-blank range had thrown it back with such force that the spraying acid missed them completely.

  The dampened recoil was still strong enough to send her off-balance body stumbling into the locked door. Her sight had been temporarily wiped by the nearness of the explosion, and she blinked furiously, trying to bring her eyes back into focus Her ears rang with the concussion.

  In Operations, Hicks looked up just in time to fire at a leaping outline, the force of the pulse shell hurling his assailant backward into a blazing cabinet. By this time the combined efforts of the flamethrowers had activated the fire-contro system, and the overhead sprinkler jets deluged the room Water cascaded around the corporal, drenched the other soldiers. Some of it penetrated the central colony computer ruining it for future use. But at least it didn't pool up around their legs. By now there were enough acid holes to drain it off The fire siren wailed mindlessly, making it difficult for the combatants to hear each other and rendering any thought of unified tactics impossible.

  Hudson was screaming at the top of his lungs, his shrill tone audible over the siren's moan. 'Let's go, let's go!'

  'Medical!' Hicks yelled to him. He gestured frantically as he retreated toward the corridor. 'Come on!'

  As the comtech turned toward him the floor panels erupted under his feet. Clawed arms seized him, powerful triple fingers locking around his ankles and dragging him down. Another towering shape fell on him from behind, and he was gone in seconds, swallowed by the subfloor crawl way. Hicks let loose a rapid-fire burst in the direction of the cavity, hoping he got the comtech as well as his abductors, then turned and ran. Vasquez and Gorman were right behind him, the smartgun operator laying down a murderous arc of fire as she covered their retreat.

  Ripley was fumbling with the door handle when Newt pulled on her arm to attract her attention. The girl pointed silently to where the bleeding, half-blown-away alien was trying to rise to advance on them again. Flinching away from the blast and glare Ripley drilled it a second time. The pulse-rifle's muzzle jerked ceilingward, and Newt covered her ears against the roar. This time the nightmare stayed down.

  A voice sounded behind them. 'Hold your fire!' Hicks and the others materialized out of the smoke and dust. They were grime-streaked and soaking wet. She stepped aside, gestured at the door.

  'Locked.' It wasn't necessary to explain how. Hicks just nodded.

  'Stand clear.' From his belt he removed a cutting torch that was a miniature of the one Vasquez had used earlier to sea first the fire-tunnel door and then the one leading into Operations. It made short work of the lock.

  Inhuman shapes appeared at the far end of the corridor Ripley wondered how they could track their prey so efficiently They had no visible eyes or ears, no nostrils. Some unknown special, alien sensing organ? Someday maybe some scientist would dissect one of the monstrosities and produce an answer Someday after she was long dead, because she had no intention of being around when it was attempted.

  Vasquez passed her flamethrower to Gorman and unslung her rifle. From a pouch she extracted several small egg-shaped objects and dumped them into the underslung barrel of the M-41A.

  Gorman's eyes widened as he watched her load the grenades 'Hey, you can't use those in here!' He backed away from her.

  'Right. I'm in violation of close-quarter combat regulations ninety-five through ninety-eight. Put me on report.' She aimed the muzzle of the gun at the oncoming horde. 'Fire in the hole! She pumped up a round and let fly, turning her head slightly as
she did so.

  The blast from the grenade staggered Ripley and almost knocked Vasquez off her feet. Ripley was sure that she could see the smartgun operator smiling as the light from the explosion illuminated her battle-streaked face. Hicks wavered the blue-hot flame of his torch shooting wildly upward for a moment. Then he straightened and resumed cutting.

  The lock fell away from the door a moment later, clattering inside Medical. He reholstered the torch, stood up, and kicked the door open. Molten droplets went flying. Hicks and his companions ignored them. They were used to dodging spraying acid.

  He turned just long enough to shout back at Vasquez 'Thanks a lot! Now I can't hear at all!'

  She affected a look of bewilderment that was as genuine and heartfelt as her gentle nature, cupping a hand to one ear. 'Say what?'

  They stumbled into the ruined Med lab. Vasquez was the last one through. She turned, slid the heavy door halfway closed behind her, and in rapid succession fired three grenades through the resultant gap. An instant before they went off, she shut the door the rest of the way and ran. The triple boom sounded like a giant gong going off. The heavy metal security door was bent inward off its track.