Alan Dean Foster - Alien - 3

‘That’s right,’ Aaron told him. ‘I’m a Company man and not some fucking criminal. You keep telling me how dumb I am, but I’m smart enough not to have a life sentence on this rock, and I’m smart enough to wait for some firepower to show up before we get out and fight this thing.’

‘Right. Okay. You just sit here on your ass. It’s fine.’

Morse’s head jerked. ‘How about if I sit here on my ass?’

‘No problem,’ Dillon assured him. ‘I forgot. You’re the guy that’s got a deal with God to live forever. And the rest of you pussies can sit out too. Me and her’—he indicated Ripley—

’we’ll do all the fighting.’

Morse hesitated, found some of the others gazing at him. He licked his lower lip. ‘Okay. I’m with you. I want it to die. I hate the fucker. It killed my friends, too. But why can’t we wait a few hours and have the fuckin’ company techs with guns on our side? Why the shit do we have to make some fucking suicide run?’

‘Because they won’t kill it,’ Ripley informed him. ‘They may kill you just for having seen it, but they won’t kill it.’

‘That’s crazy.’ Aaron was shaking his head again. ‘Just horseshit. They won’t kill us.’

‘Think not?’ She grinned wolfishly. ‘The first time they heard about this thing it was crew expendable. The second time they sent some marines: they were expendable. What makes you think they’re gonna care about a bunch of double-Y

chromos at the back end of space? Do you really think they’re gonna let you interfere with advanced Company weapons research? They think you’re crud, all of you. They don’t give a damn about one friend of yours that died. Not one.’ There was silence when she’d finished. Then someone in the back spoke up.

‘You got some kind of plan?’

Dillon studied his companions, his colleagues in hell. ‘This is a refinery as well as a mine, isn’t it? The thing’s afraid of fire, ain’t it? All we have to do is get the fuckin’ beast into the big mould, pour hot metal on it.’

He kicked a stool across the floor. ‘You’re all gonna die. Only question is when. This is as good a place to take your first step to heaven as any. It’s ours. It ain’t much, but it’s ours. Only question in life is how you check out. Now, you want it on your feet, or on your knees beggin’? I ain’t much for beggin’.

Nobody never gave me nothin’. So I say, fuck it. Let’s fight.’

The men looked at one another, each waiting for someone else to break the silence that ensued. When it finally happened, the responses came fast and confident.

‘Yeah, okay. I’m in.’

‘Why not? We ain’t got nothin’ to lose.’

‘Yeah. . okay. . right. . I’m in.’

A voice rose higher. ‘Let’s kick its fuckin’ ass.’

Someone else smiled. ‘You hold it, I’ll kick it.’

’Fuck it,’ snapped Morse finally. ‘Let’s go for it.’

Somehow they got some of the lights on in the corridors. It wasn’t a question of power; the central fusion plant provided plenty of that. But there were terminals and switches and controls that hadn’t been maintained for years in the damp climate of Fiorina. So some corridors and access ways had light while others continued to dwell in darkness.

Ripley surveyed the moulding chamber thoughtfully as Dillon and prisoner Troy crowded close. Troy was the most technically oriented of the survivors, having enjoyed a brief career as a successful engineer before having the misfortune to find his wife and superior in the sack together. He’d murdered both of them, with all the technical skill he’d been able to muster. Faint howls of temporary insanity had bought him a ticket to Fiorina.

Now he demonstrated how the controls worked, which instruments were critical to the chamber’s operation. Ripley watched and listened, uncertain.

‘When was the last time you used this thing?’

‘We fired it up five, six years ago. Routine maintenance check. That was the last time.’

She pursed her lips. ‘Are you sure the piston’s working?’

It was Dillon who replied. ‘Nothin’s for sure. Includin’ you.’

‘All I can say is that the indicators are all positive.’ Troy shrugged helplessly. ‘It’s the best we’ve got.’

‘Remember,’ Dillon reminded them both, ‘we trap it here first. We hit the release, start the piston, then the piston will shove the motherfucker right into the mould. This is a high-tech cold-stamp facility. End of his ass. End of story.’

Ripley eyed him. ‘What if someone screws up?’

‘Then we’re fucked,’ Dillon informed her calmly. ‘We’ve got one chance. One shot at this, that’s all. You’ll never have time to reset. Remember, when you hit the release, for a few seconds you’re gonna be trapped in here with that fucking thing.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll do it. You guys don’t drop the ball, I won’t.’

Dillon studied her closely. ‘Sister, you’d better be right about that thing not wanting you. Because if it wants out, that’s how it’s gonna go. Right through you.’

She just stared back. ‘Save you some work, wouldn’t it?’ Troy blinked at her, but there was no time for questions.

‘Where you gonna be?’ she asked the big man.

‘I’ll be around.’

‘What about the others? Where are they?’

‘Praying.’

The survivors spread out, working their way through the corridors, head-butting the walls to pump themselves up, cursing and whooping. They no longer cared if the monster heard them. Indeed, they wanted it to hear them.

Torchlight gleamed off access ways and tunnels, throwing nervous but excited faces into sharp relief. Prisoner Gregor peered out of an alcove to see his buddy William deep in prayer.

‘Hey Willie? You believe in this heaven shit?’

The other man looked up. ‘I dunno.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Fuck it. What else we gonna believe in? Bit late, now we’re stuck here.’

‘Yeah, ain’t that the truth? Well, hey, what the fuck, right?’

He laughed heartily and they both listened to the echoes as they boomed back and forth down the corridor, amplified and distorted.

Morse heard them all: distant reverberations of nervous laughter, of terror and near hysteria. He pressed the switch that would activate the door he’d been assigned to monitor. It whined. . and jammed partway open. Swallowing nervously, he leaned through the gap.

‘Hey, guys? Hold it, hold it. I don’t know about this shit.

Maybe we should rethink this. I mean, my fuckin’ door ain’t workin’ right. Guys?’

There was no response from down the corridor.

Farther up, Gregor turned to face his companion. ‘What the fuck’s he saying?’

‘Shit, I dunno,’ said William with a shrug.

Prisoner Kevin held the long-burning flare out in front of him as he felt his way along the corridor wall. There was another man behind him, and behind him another, and so on for a substantial length of the tunnel. None were in sight now, though, and his nerves were jumping like bowstrings.

‘Hey, you hear something?’ he murmured to anyone who might happen to be within earshot. ‘I heard Morse. Sounded kinda—’

The scream silenced him. It was so near it was painful. His legs kept moving him forward, as though momentary mental paralysis had yet to reach the lower half of his body.

Ahead, the alien was dismembering a friend of his named Vincent, who no longer had anything to scream with. He hesitated only briefly.

‘Come and get me, you fucker!’

Obligingly, the monster dropped the piece of Vincent it was holding and charged.

Kevin had been something of an athlete in his day. Those memories returned with a rush as he tore back up the corridor.