Tim Lebbon - Alien - Out of the Shadows

“Poor things,” Ripley said, echoing his thoughts. “It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”

There were three dead creatures lying in front of them—two that must have been adults, and one child. They cradled the child between them, protecting it with their bodies, and that’s how they had died and decayed. The mummified infant’s corpse was nestled between its parents’ torsos, an expression of love that had lasted for countless years. Their clothing had remained relatively whole, a metallic material that still lay draped across prominent bones and between their long, thick limbs.

From what Hoop could make out, they each had four legs and two shorter, thinner arms. The leg bones were thick and stocky, the arms much more slender and delicate, hands protruding from narrow sleeves. The hands were skin and bones, digits long and fine, and he saw what might have been jewelry on one adult’s fingers. Their torsos were heavy, contained within suits that were reinforced with a network of metallic ribs and struts.

It was difficult to see how much of the bodies remained whole. The skin or flesh that Hoop could see was mummified, grown dusty and pale over time.

Their heads were the most uncertain part about them, because each had been smashed and holed by an impact. Hoop thought he knew what the impacts had been. Lying beside one adult’s outstretched hand was a weapon of some kind.

“They killed themselves?” Sneddon asked.

“One of them did,” Hoop said. “Killed their partner, child, then themselves. Rather that than be fodder for those things, I reckon.”

The skulls still retained shreds of skin and waves of fine hair. It looked as if they’d had a small snout, two eyes, a wide mouth containing several rows of small teeth. Not the teeth of a carnivore. Not the bodies or the appearance of monsters.

“They look like dog-people,” Lachance said. “Only… big.”

“I wonder what happened here,” Ripley said. “How did the aliens get on their ship? What took the ship down?”

“We might figure it out one day, but not today,” Hoop said. “We need to keep moving.”

“Yeah,” Baxter said. “Keep moving.” He was starting to sound weak, and Hoop was concerned that he’d start slowing them down. There was nothing to do about it if he did—nothing but reduce speed for him to keep up.

Kasyanov threw him a brief frown. She was also exhausted.

“Let me,” Hoop said, but she shook her head.

“No way,” she said. “I’ve got him.”

Past the bodies, the passageway started to grow wider and taller. Their flashlights gradually lost effectiveness, and the further they went the darker their surroundings. Footsteps began to echo. Baxter coughed and the sound carried, reverberating back to them, rumbling on and on.

“What is this?” Hoop asked as Sneddon walked beside him.

“No idea,” she whispered. “Hoop, we’re getting lost in here. I think we should go back the way we came.”

“And run straight into those things?”

“If they’re still looking for us, I’m sure they’ve found another way past that gallery by now.”

“What do you mean, if they’re still looking?”

Sneddon shrugged. “Just can’t help thinking they’ve stopped following because we’re doing exactly what they want.”

“Or because I killed one of them as it was coming for us, maybe they’re holding back. More cautious, now that they know we can kill them.”

“Maybe,” Sneddon said, but he knew better. She didn’t think that at all. And really, neither did he.

“So, what?” he asked. “I’m doing my best here, Sneddon.”

“We all are.” She shrugged again. “Dunno. Let’s just move on, stay sharp.”

“Yeah,” Hoop said. “Sharp.” He swung the spray gun left and right, the attached flashlight doing little to pierce the darkness. There seemed to be nothing but wide space around them, and he wondered whether they were in a hold of some sort. If so, then this ship had taken off without cargo.

Or without large cargo, at least.

It was as the walls and ceilings started to close in again that they found what might have been the way out.

Lachance saw it first, a break in the wall to their left with a hint of those large steps rising into shadow. They went to investigate, and with their combined flashlight power they could see the top of the staircase, maybe forty yards up. What lay beyond was unclear, but it was heading in the right direction.

Hoop started climbing, and the others followed.

After a few stairs they started taking turns pulling Baxter up behind them. It gave Kasyanov a rest, but then halfway up even she needed some help. She had exhausted herself, and Hoop only wished she had something in her medical bag that could help. Pain inhibitor, energy booster, anything.

By the time they reached the head of the large staircase, they were all panting with exhaustion. They were met with what appeared to be a blank wall, and Hoop turned quickly, looking back down the way they’d come and expecting an ambush. We have the high ground, he thought, but then realized that wouldn’t matter. If there were enough of them, no fight would last very long.

“Hey, look,” Sneddon said. She’d gone to one side of the wall and touched a series of projections. Without warning, a heavy curtain of some undefinable material was slowly sliding open. It jerked, grinding as it moved, and parted in the middle. Beyond lay more shadows.

“Enter freely,” Lachance drawled. “You’re velcome to stay the night.”

“I’ll go first,” Hoop said. But Ripley was already through.

He heard her sharp intake of breath even as he stepped through the ancient doorway into what lay beyond.

“It’s a birthing ground,” Ripley said, echoing Sneddon’s comment from earlier. But this was much, much different.

There was no telling what the room had once been intended for, but it had been turned into a vision of hell. All along one side and the far end, at least fifteen of those long-limbed dog-aliens were cocooned against the walls, trapped there by clumps and swathes of alien extrusion. Most were adults, but there were two smaller shapes that might once have been children. Their exposed chests were burst, thick ribs broken and protruding, heads thrown back in endless agony. They might have been there a hundred years or ten thousand, bodies dried and mummified in the dry air. It was awful to behold.

Even more awful were the things scattered around the middle of the room. Most stood upright, the height of an adult’s waist. More eggs, one for each victim fixed against the wall. They all appeared to have hatched.

“Don’t get too close!” Sneddon said as Lachance edged forward.

“They’re ancient,” Hoop said. “And they’re all open. Look.” He kicked at a petal-like flap on the egg nearest to him and it crumbled and fell away. “Fossilized.”

“Fucking gross,” Baxter said. “This just gets worse and worse.”

“We’re going that way?” Ripley asked. She was aiming her flashlight across the wide room toward a shadowy doorway in the far wall.

“Yeah,” Hoop said. “This is all ancient history. Just don’t look.” He started across the room, aiming his flashlight and spray gun at the ground ahead so that he didn’t trip.

He saw movement inside an open egg close by, and froze, readied to spray it with acid. But it had only been a shadow. Shit, he was on edge.

As he started to move again, he felt almost like an intruder in this ancient tableau. Whatever had happened here was between those dog-aliens and the monsters that still infested the ship—a confrontation that had apparently occurred long before Earth had discovered technology, and while its people were still farming the land and looking to the stars with superstition and fear. Even then, these things existed.