Alan Dean Foster - Aliens

Burke spoke to Ripley without taking his eyes off the specimens. 'Are these the same as the one you described in your report?' She nodded without speaking.

Fascinated, the Company rep moved toward one cylinder leaning forward until his face was almost touching the special glass.

'Watch it, Burke,' Ripley warned him.

As she concluded the warning the creature imprisoned in the tube lunged sharply, slamming against the inner lining of the cylinder. Burke jumped back, startled. From the ventra portion of the flattened hand-like body a thin, fleshy projection had emerged. It looked like a tapered section of intestine as it slithered tongue-like over the tube's interior. Eventually it retracted, curling up inside a protective sheath between the gill-like structures. Legs and tail contracted into a resting position.

Hicks glanced emotionlessly at Burke. 'It likes you.'

The Company rep didn't reply as he moved down the line inspecting each of the cylinders in turn. As he passed a tube he would press his hand against the smooth exterior. Only one of the remaining six specimens reacted to his presence. The others drifted aimlessly in the suspension fluid, their fingers and tails floating freely.

'These are dead,' he said when he'd finished with the last tube. 'There's just two alive. Unless there's a different state they go into, but I doubt it. See, the dead ones have a completely different colour. Faded, like.'

A file folder rested atop each cylinder. By exerting every ounce of self-control she possessed, Ripley was able to remove the file from the top of a tube containing a live face-hugger Retreating quickly, she opened the folder and began reading with the aid of her suit light. In addition to the printed material the file was overflowing with charts and sonographs. There were a couple of nuclear magnetic resonance image plates which attempted to show something of the creatures' internal structure. They were badly blurred. All of the lengthy computer printouts had copious notes scribbled freehand in the margins. A physician's handwriting, she decided. They were mostly illegible.

'Anything interesting?' Burke was leaning around the stasis cylinder whose file she was perusing, studying the creature it contained from every possible angle.

'Probably a great deal, but most of it's too technical for me. She tapped the file. 'Report of the examining physician. Doctor named Ling.'

'Chester O. Ling.' Burke tapped the tube with a fingernail This time the creature inside failed to respond. 'There were three doctors stationed at Hadley. Ling was a surgeon, I believe. What's he have to say about this little prize here?'

'Removed surgically before embryo implantation could be completed. Standard surgical procedures useless.'

'Wonder why?' Gorman was as interested in the specimen as the rest of them but not to the point of taking his eyes off the rest of the room.

'Body fluids dissolved the instruments as they were applied They had to use surgical lasers to both remove and cauterize the specimen. It was attached to somebody named Marachuk John L.' She glanced up at Burke, who shook his head.

'Doesn't ring a bell. Not an administrator or one of the higher-ups. Must've been a tractor driver or roustabout.'

She looked back down at the report. 'He died during the procedure. They killed him getting it off.'

Hicks walked over to have a look at the report, peering over Ripley's shoulder. He didn't have the chance to read it. His motion tracker emitted an unexpected and startlingly loud beep.

The four soldiers spun, checking first the entrance to the lab, moving on to squint at dark corners. Hicks aimed the tracker back toward the barricade.

'Behind us.' He gestured toward the corridor they'd just left.

'One of us?' Without thinking, Ripley moved closer to the corporal.

'No way of telling. This baby isn't a precision instrument She's made to take a lot of abuse from dumb grunts like me and still keep on working, but she doesn't render judgments.'

Gorman addressed his headset pickup. 'Apone, we're up in medical and we've got something. Where are your people?' He gave his visor map a quick scan. 'Anybody in D-Block?'

'Negative.' All of them could hear the sergeant's filtered reply. 'We're all over in Operations, as ordered. You want some company?'

'Not yet. We'll keep you posted.' He nudged the aural pickup away from his mouth. 'Let's go, Vasquez.'

She nodded tersely and swung the smartgun into the ready position on its support arm. It locked in place with an authoritative click. She and Hicks started off in the direction o the signal source while Frost and Wierzbowski brought up the rear.

The corporal led them back out into the main corridor and turned right, into a stainless-steel labyrinth. 'Getting stronger Definitely not mechanical.' He held the tracker firmly in one hand, cradled his rifle with the other. 'Irregular movement Where the heck are we, anyway?'

Burke surveyed their surroundings. 'Kitchen. We'll be in among the food-processing equipment if we keep going this way.'

Ripley had slowed until she fell behind Wierzbowski and Frost. Realizing suddenly that there was nothing behind her but darkness, she hurried to catch up to her companions.

Burke's appraisal was confirmed as they advanced and their lights began to bounce off the shiny surfaces of bulky machinery: freezers, cookers, defrosters, and sterilizers. Hicks ignored it all, intent on his tracker.

'It's moving again.'

Vasquez's gaze was cold as she scanned her environment Plenty of cover in here. Her fingers caressed the smartgun's controls. A long preparation table loomed in their path.

'Which way?'

Hicks hesitated briefly, then nodded toward a complicated array of machinery designed to process freeze-dried meats and vegetables. The soldiers advanced on it, their tread a deliberate, solemn march. Wierzbowski stumbled over a metal canister and angrily booted it aside, sending it clanging off into the shadows. He kept his balance and his aplomb, but Ripley half climbed the nearest wall.

The corporal's tracker was beeping steadily now, almost humming. The hum rose to a sharp whine. A pile of stockpots suddenly came crashing down off to their right, and a dim shape was faintly glimpsed moving through the shadows behind the preparation counters.

Vasquez pivoted smoothly, her finger already contracting on the trigger. At the same instant Hick's rifle slammed the heavier barrel upward. Tracer fire ripped into the ceiling sending droplets of molten metal flying. She whirled and screamed at him.

Ignoring her, he hurried forward into her line of fire and aimed his bright-light under a row of metal cabinets. He stayed like that for what seemed a short eternity before beckoning for Ripley to join him. Her legs wouldn't work, and her feet seemed frozen to the floor. Hicks gestured again, more urgently this time, and she found herself moving forward in a daze.

He was bending over, trying to work his light beneath a high storage locker. She crouched down next to him.

Pinned against the wall by his light like a butterfly on a mounting pin was a tiny, terrified figure. Filthy and staring, the little girl cowered away from the intruders. In one hand she held a plastic food packet that had been half gnawed. The other clutched tight the head of a large doll, holding it by its hair. Of the remainder of the plastic body there was no sign. The child was as emaciated as she was dirty, the skin taut around her smal face. She looked far more fragile than the doll's head she carried. Her blond hair was tangled and matted, a garland of steel wool framing her face.

Ripley tried but couldn't hear her breathing.

The girl blinked against the light, the brief gesture sufficient to jump-start Ripley's mind. She extended a hand toward the waif slowly, fingers closed, and smiled at her.