Alan Dean Foster - Aliens

Behind her and Newt, Hicks was addressing his headset pickup as they scuttled along. 'Bishop, this is Hicks, do you read? Do you read, Bishop? Over.' Silence greeted his initial query, but eventually his persistence was rewarded by a static-distorted but still recognizable voice.

'Yes, I read you. Not very well.'

'Well enough,' Hicks told him. 'It'll get better the closer we come. We're on our way. Taking a route through the colony ductwork. That's why the bad connection. How are things at your end?'

'Good and bad,' the synthetic replied. 'Wind's picked up a lot But the dropship's on its way. Just reconfirmed drop and release with the Sulaco. Estimated time of arrival: sixteen minutes plus. I've got my hands full trying to remote-fly in this wind.' An electronic roar distorted the end of his sentence.

'What was that?' Hicks fiddled with his headset controls. 'Say again, Bishop. Wind?'

'No. The atmosphere-processing station. Emergency venting system is approaching overload. It'll be close, Corporal Hicks Don't stop for lunch.'

In the darkness the soldier grinned. Not all synthetics were programmed for a sense of humour, and not all those that were knew how to make use of it. Bishop was something else.

'Don't worry. None of us are real hungry right now. We'll make it in time. Stand by out there. Over.'

Preoccupied with his communication, he almost ran over Newt. The girl had halted in the duct. Looking beyond the girl he saw that Ripley had stopped in front of her.

'What is it, what's wrong?'

'I'm not sure.' Ripley's voice was ghostly in the darkness. 'I could swear I saw—there!'

At the extreme limit of her flashlight Hicks made out a moving, obscene shape. Like a ferret, the alien had somehow managed to flatten its body just enough for it to fit inside the duct. There was additional movement visible beyond the invader.

'Back, go back!' Ripley yelled.

Everyone tried to comply, jamming into each other in the confined tunnel. Behind them the sound of a grating being torn apart echoed through the duct. The grating collapsed with a sharp spanggg, and a deadly silhouette flowed through the resultant opening. Vasquez unlimbered her flamethrower and bathed the tunnel behind them in fire. Everyone knew it was a temporary victory. They were trapped.

Vasquez leaned to one side and stared upward. 'Vertical shaft right here. Slick, no handholds.' Her tone was clipped, matterof-fact. 'Too smooth to try a chimney ascent.'

Hicks broke out his cutting torch, snapped it alight, and began slicing through the wall of the duct. Molten metal spattered his armour as sparks filled the confined tunnel with lurid light Vasquez's flamethrower roared again, then sputtered out.

'Losing fuel.' From the other direction the column of aliens continued to close on them, their advance slowed by their need to squeeze through the narrow walls.

Hicks had three-quarters of an exit cut in the side of the tunnel when the portable torch flickered and went out Cursing, he braced his back against the opposite wall of the duct and kicked hard. The metal bent. He kicked again and it gave way. Without pausing to see what lay on the other side, he grabbed his rifle and dove through the opening.

. to emerge into a narrow serviceway thick with pipes and exposed conduits. Ignoring the still-hot edges of the cavity, he reached back inside to pull Newt to safety. Ripley followed turned to aid Gorman. He hesitated at the opening long enough to see Vasquez's flamethrower run dry. The smartgun operator dumped it aside and drew her service revolver.

There was movement above her as a grotesque shape dropped down the vertical overhead duct. As the alien landed in the tunnel she rolled clear and let fly with the automatic pistol. The alien tumbled toward her as the small projectiles ripped into its skeletal body. Vasquez snapped her head to one side just in time to avoid the stinger. It buried itself into the metal wall next to her cheek. She kept firing, emptying the pistol into the thrashing form as she kicked at the powerful legs and quivering tail.

A gush of acid finally cut through her armour to sear her thigh. She let out a soft moan of pain.

Gorman froze in the tunnel. He glanced at Ripley. 'They're right behind me. Get going.' Their eyes met for as long as either of them dared spare. Then she turned and raced up the serviceway with Newt in tow. Hicks followed reluctantly staring back at the opening he'd cut in the ventilation duct Hoping. Knowing better.

Gorman crawled toward the immobilized smartgun operator. When he reached her, he saw the smoke pouring from the hole in her armour, shut out the gruesome smell of scarred flesh. His fingers locked around her battle harness, and he started dragging her toward the opening.

Too late. The first alien coming from the other direction had already reached and passed the hole Hicks had made. Gorman stopped pulling, leaned forward to look at Vasquez's leg Where armour, harness, and flesh had been eaten away by the acid, bone gleamed whitely.

Her eyes were glazed when she looked up at him. Her voice was a harsh whisper. 'You always were stupid, Gorman.'

Her fingers seized his in a death grip. A special grip shared by a select few. Gorman returned it as best he was able. Then he handed her a pair of grenades and armed another couple for himself as the aliens closed in on them from both ends of the tunnel. He grinned and raised one of the humming explosives. She barely had enough strength to mimic the gesture.

'Cheers,' he whispered. He couldn't tell if she was grinning back at him because he had closed his eyes, but he had a feeling she was. Something sharp and unyielding stroked his back. He didn't turn to see what it was.

'Cheers,' he whispered feebly. He clicked one of his grenades against one of Vasquez's in the final toast.

Behind them, the serviceway lit up like the sun as Ripley, Newt and Hicks pounded along full tilt. They were a long way from the opening the corporal had cut in the wall of the duct, but the shock wave from the quadruple explosion was still powerful enough to rock the whole level. Newt kept her balance best and broke out in front of the two adults. It was all Ripley and Hicks could do to keep up with her.

'This way, this way!' she was shouting excitedly. 'Come on we're almost there!'

'Newt, wait!' Ripley tried to lengthen her stride to catch up to the girl. The sound of her heart was loud in her ears, and her lungs screamed in protest with every step she took. The walls blurred around her. She was dimly aware of Hicks pounding along like a steam engine just behind her. Despite his armour he probably could have outdistanced her, but he didn't try Instead he laid back so he could protect against an attack from behind.

Ahead the corridor forked. At the end of the left-hand fork a narrow, angled ventilation chute led upward at a steep forty-five degrees. Newt was standing at its base, gesturing frantically.

'Here! This is where we go up.'

Her body grateful for a respite no matter how temporary Ripley slowed to a halt as she examined the shaft. It was a steep climb but not a long one. Dim light marked the end of the ascent. From above she could hear the wind booming like air blowing across the lip of a bottle. Narrow climbing ribs dimpled the smooth sides of the shaft.

She looked down to where the chute punched a hole in the floor and disappeared into unknown depths lost in darkness Nothing stirred down there. Nothing came climbing toward them. They were going to make it.

She put her foot onto the first climbing rib and started up Newt followed as Hicks emerged from the main corridor behind them.

The girl turned to wave. 'Just up here, Mr. Hicks. It's not as far as it looks. I've done it lots of tim—?'

Rusted out by seeping water, worn through by the corrosive elements contained in Acheron's undomesticated atmosphere the rib collapsed beneath her feet. She slipped, managed to catch another rib with one hand. Ripley braced herself against the dangerously slick surface of the chute, turned, and reached back for her. As she did so, she dropped her flashlight watched it go skittering and bumping down the opening unti its comforting glow faded from sight.