Alan Dean Foster - Aliens

'Because you'll be gone soon, like the others. Like everybody.' She gazed down at the doll head. 'Casey's okay She'll stay with me. But you'll go away. You'll be dead and you'll leave me alone.'

There was no anger in that childish declamation, no sense of accusation or betrayal. It was delivered coolly and with complete assurance, as though the event had already occurred It was not a prediction, but rather a statement of fact soon to take place. It chilled Ripley's blood and frightened her more than anything that had happened since the dropship had departed the safety of the orbiting Sulaco.

'Oh, Newt. Your mom and dad went away like that, didn't they? You just don't want to talk about it.' The girl nodded, eyes downcast, staring at her knees. Her fingers were white around the doll head. 'They'd be here if they could, honey,' Ripley told her solemnly. 'I know they would.'

'They're dead. That's why they can't come see me anymore They're dead like everybody else.' This delivered with a cold certainty that was terrifying to see in so small a child.

'Maybe not. How can you be sure?'

Newt raised her eyes and stared straight at Ripley. Smal children do not look adults in the eye like that, but Newt was a child in stature only. 'I'm sure. They're dead! They're dead, and soon you'll be dead, and then Casey and I'll be alone again.'

Ripley didn't look away and she didn't smile. She knew this girl could see straight through anything remotely phony 'Newt. Look at me, Newt. I'm not going away. I'm not going to leave you and I'm not going to be dead. I promise. I'm going to stay around. I'll be with you as long as you want me to.'

The girl's eyes remained downcast. Ripley could see her struggling with herself, wanting to believe what she'd just heard trying to believe. After a while she looked up again.

'You promise?'

'Cross my heart.' Ripley performed the childish gesture.

'And hope to die?'

Now Ripley did smile, grimly. 'And hope to die.'

Girl and woman regarded one another. Newt's eyes began to brim, and her lower lip to tremble. Slowly the tension fled from her small body, and the indifferent mask she'd pulled across her face was replaced by something much more natural: the look of a frightened child. She threw both arms around Ripley's neck and began to sob. Ripley could feel the tears streaming down the newly washed cheeks, soaking her own neck. She ignored them rocking the girl back and forth in her arms, whispering soothing nothings to her.

She closed her own eyes against the tears and the fear and lingering sensation of death that permeated Hadley Operations Central and hoped that the promise she'd just made could be kept.

The breakthrough with the girl was matched by another in Operations as Hudson let out a triumphant whoop. 'Hah! Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen! Found 'em. Give old Hudson a decent machine and he'll turn up your money, your secrets, and your long-lost cousin Jed.' He rewarded the control console with an affectionate whack. 'This baby's been battered, but she can still play ball.'

Gorman leaned over the comtech's shoulder. 'What kind of shape are they in?'

'Unknown. These colonial PDTs are long on signal and short on details. But it looks like all of them.'

'Where?'

'Over at the atmosphere processing station.' Hudson studied the schematic. 'Sublevel C under the south part of the complex.' He tapped the screen. 'This charmer's a sweetheart when it comes to location.'

Everyone in Operations had clustered around the comtech for a look at the monitor. Hudson froze the colony scan and enlarged one portion. In the centre of the processing station's schematic a cluster of glowing blue dots pulsed like deep-sea crustaceans.

Hicks grunted as he stared at the screen. 'Looks like a town meeting.'

'Wonder why they all went over there?' Dietrich mused aloud. 'I thought we'd decided that this was where they made their last stand?'

'Maybe they were able to make a break for it and secure themselves in a better place.' Gorman turned away, brisk and professional. 'Remember, the processing station still has ful power. That'd be worth a lot. Let's saddle up and find out.'

'Awright, let's go, girls.' Apone was slipping his pack over his shoulders. Operations became a hive of activity. 'They ain't payin' us by the hour.' He glanced at Hudson. 'How do we get over there?'

The comtech adjusted the screen, reducing the magnification. An overview of the colony appeared on the monitor 'There's one small service corridor. It's a pretty good hike Sarge.'

Apone looked to Gorman, waiting for orders. 'I don't know about you, Sergeant,' the lieutenant told him, 'but I'm not fond of long, narrow corridors. And I'd like for everyone to be fresh when we arrive. I'd also like to have the APC's armament backing us up when we go in there.'

'My thoughts exactly, sir.' The sergeant looked relieved He'd been ready to suggest and argue and was glad that neither was going to be necessary. A couple of the troops nodded and looked satisfied. Gorman might be inexperienced in the field, but at least he wasn't a fool.

Hicks yelled back toward the small ready room. 'Hey Ripley, we're going for a ride in the country. You coming?'

'We're both coming.' A few looks of surprise greeted her as she led the girl out of the back room. 'This is Newt. Newt, these are my friends. They're your friends too.'

The girl simply nodded, unwilling to extend that privilege beyond Ripley as yet. A couple of the soldiers nodded to the child as they shouldered their equipment. Burke smiled encouragingly at her. Gorman looked surprised.

Newt looked up at her live friend, still clutching the disembodied doll head tightly in her right hand. 'Where are we going?'

'To a safe place. Soon.'

Newt almost smiled.

The atmosphere in the APC during the ride from colony Operations to the processing station was more subdued than it had been when they'd first roared out of the dropship. The universal devastation; the hollow, wounded buildings; and the unmistakable evidence of hard fighting had put a damper on the Marines' initial high spirits.

It was clear that the cause of the colony's interrupted communications with Earth had nothing to do with its relay satellite or base instrumentation. It had to do with Ripley's critter. The colonists had ceased communicating because something had compelled them to do so. If Ripley was to be believed, that something was still hanging around Undoubtedly the little girl was a storehouse of information on the subject, but no one tried to press questions on her Dietrich's orders. The child's recovery was still too fragile to jeopardize with traumatizing inquiries. So as they rode along in the APC they had to fill in the gaps in Ripley's library disks with their imaginations. Soldiers have active imaginations.

Wierzbowski drove the personnel carrier across the twilight landscape, traversing a causeway that connected the rest of the colony complex to the atmosphere-processing station a kilometre away. Wind tore at the massive vehicle but could not sway it. The APC was designed for comfortable travel in winds up to three hundred kph. A typical Acheronian gale didn't bother it. Behind it, the dropship had settled to ground at the landing field, awaiting the soldiers' return. Ahead, the conical tower of the massive processing unit glowed with a spectra light as it continued with its business of terraforming Acheron's inhospitable atmosphere.

Ripley and Newt sat side by side just aft of the driver's cab Wierzbowski kept his attention on his driving. Within the comparative safety of the heavily armoured vehicle the girl gradually grew more voluble. Though there were at least a dozen questions Ripley badly wanted to ask her, she just sat patiently and listened, letting her charge ramble on Occasionally Newt would offer the answer to an unasked question, anyway. Like now.