Tim Lebbon: Alien: Out of the Shadows

A deep groan rumbled through everything, and he felt a sickly movement in his stomach and head. The Marion was starting to turn in a roll, and if that happened she would quickly come apart. From somewhere behind him he saw flashing yellow and orange bursts, illuminating the walls before fading again. Fire! But then he realized there were viewing ports back on the deck from which he’d just descended. The flames were filtering in from outside.

Things were heating up.

He closed a blast door behind him, but it immediately re-opened. He didn’t bother trying again. Maybe it was Ash still playing his games. Or it might just be the Marion , getting cranky in her final moments.

“Come on, come on!” he implored, urging himself on, Ripley slung across both of his shoulders now. He staggered along the corridor, bouncing from wall to wall as the ship shook and rumbled. Another explosion came from far away and he felt the pressure blast smack him in the back, pushing him onward so hard that he lost his footing and went to his knees. He kept hold of Ripley this time. She grunted.

“Yeah, me too,” he said. He stood again and passed by the Samson’s docking arm, moving quickly on to Bay Four and the Narcissus . He opened the vestibule doors and hurried through. In minutes they’d be away. He would look back and see the distant flare as the massive ship met its end.

Or maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t look at all. He’d seen enough destruction, and he couldn’t help feeling sad at the Marion ’s demise.

Ash would die with the ship. Hoop had never met an android that he’d liked, but he’d never disliked any of them, either. He’d regarded them as expensive, fancy tools. Sometimes they were useful, but more often they were rich playthings that did the jobs that any man or woman could do, given the right equipment and training.

But he hated Ash.

And they were about to beat him.

He opened the Narcissus ’s door and entered the shuttle, keeping his eyes on the vestibule as the airlock slid closed again, followed by the shuttle doors.

Then Hoop heard something behind him. A soft, gentle hiss. The scraping of claws on leather. Something alive.

He turned around slowly, and Jonesy sat crouched on the arm of the pilot’s chair, teeth bared at him, hackles spiked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Hoop relaxed, lowering Ripley to the floor. He went to the pilot’s seat and sat down.

Jonesy hissed again and jumped away when Hoop went to stroke him.

He switched on the ship’s computer and it powered up instantly. All good. He sat back and waited for the system statuses to load onto the control screens, looking around at the shuttle’s interior. Ash was here. He couldn’t be seen or sensed, but here more than anywhere Hoop had that distinct sense of being watched.

Hello Ash, he typed.

Good afternoon, Chief Engineer Hooper.

Good? he typed. No. Pretty fucking shitty, really.

Ash did not respond.

Initiate launch sequence, Hoop typed.

No.

I thought you’d say that. Hoop took the memory stick from his inner pocket, and slipped it into one of the panel’s interface points.

The computer screen before him flashed, then faded to blank. When it fired up again the previous lines of text had vanished, and the cursor sat ready to create some more.

I’m more than just a program.

No, Hoop typed, that is exactly what you are. Thinking you’re more than that is why this is going to work.

But I’m everywhere, Chief Engineer Hooper. I’m in the Narcissus , deeper and more entrenched than any of its former programs. I’m in the Samson and the Marion. Do you really think a third rate virus program can affect me?

Probably not, Hoop typed. This isn’t third rate. It’s the best that money can buy… from your old friends at Weyland-Yutani.

No.

That was Ash’s total response. Whether it was a plea or a denial, Hoop didn’t wait to find out. He pressed a button on the virus purger, then hit the initiate button on the control panel. A splash of code lit up three screens. It started to scroll quickly, and every few seconds a particular line of code was highlighted red, isolated, and placed in a boxed area on the left of the central display.

Hoop left the purger to do its work. and went to where he’d propped Ripley by the door.

She was still unconscious, and for that he was glad. He carefully took the sheet from her and dressed her in some underwear he found in the small clothing locker. Jonesy the cat sat beside her and purred as he did so, eager to maintain contact with his mistress as much as he could.

Hoop struggled with her vest, laying her flat and stretching her arms over her head to pull it down. Just before he smoothed it over her stomach, he paused and looked closely at the fixed wounds there. They were visible as pale pink lines in her waxen skin. When she woke up, if she looked closely enough, she would find them. And he would be there to tell her all about it.

“You can sleep without nightmares, Ripley,” he said, holding her close. “And when we wake up, I’ll only tell you as much as you need to know.” She seemed lighter when he lifted her this time, and her face was almost serene as he laid her in the stasis pod where she had slept for so long.

Jonesy jumped in with her and snuggled down by her feet, as if eager to go back to sleep. Hoop could hardly blame him.

Something buzzed on the control panel, and he sat back in the pilot’s chair.

The screens were blank once again, and a red light glowed softly on the purger. He plucked it from the interface and held it up between two fingers, filled with distaste even though he knew Ash wasn’t really in there. That was a simplistic notion, but somehow that naive idea made Hoop feel better. Especially when he dropped the purger to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot.

Hello Narcissus, he typed.

Narcissus online.

This is Chief Engineer Hooper of the Deep Space Mining Orbital Marion. I have Warrant Officer Ripley with me. Please initiate all pre-launch checks .

With pleasure, Chief Engineer Hooper.

A series of images and menus flashed across the screens, flickering as each launch and flight system was checked. It all looked good. He didn’t see anything to worry him.

“We’re not home yet,” he said. The shuttle shook as something happened on the Marion, another explosion or a closer impact with LV178’s atmosphere. They didn’t have very long.

Hoop went to the stasis pod and fired it up. Its small screen was already flashing as the Narcissus ’s computer ran through its own series of diagnostics. It looked like a comfortable place to spend some time. A long time.

As the shuttle’s computer went through its pre-flight diagnostics, Hoop accessed the navigation computer and created a new program. It was simple enough—he input the destination as “origin,” made certain that was listed as Sol system, then clicked the auto panel so that the ship’s computer would work out the complex flight charts.

“Earth,” he whispered, thinking of that long-ago place and everything that it meant to him. He hoped he would get back in time to see his family again.

He hoped they would welcome his return.

The computer still wasn’t done calculating, so he squeezed back through the hatch and into the engine room to complete work on the replacement fuel cell. It was connected into the ship and fixed on its damper pads, but he still had to finish refixing its shell. It took a few moments, then he sat back and regarded his work. It all looked good. He’d always been a neat engineer, and tidying up after himself was part of his work ethic. So he grabbed the old, denuded fuel cell by the handle on the end and tugged it back through the hatch after him.