Alan Dean Foster - Alien

'Right,' snapped Brett. A hand extended outward from inside the tube where the screen was secured. 'Number three sealer ought to do it.'

Parker fished around in a neatly labeled but filthy plastic case, handed up a tiny grey square stenciled over in green and red, and glared at the inoffensive intercom. .

The rhythm was primitive, unsophisticated, and the recording had lost brilliance with age and much use, but Dallas lay back and absorbed the music as though he were present at the ancient recording session. One foot tapped silently, in unthinking podal counterpoint to the melody.

The communicator beeped for attention. It did so three times before catching the captain's notice. Letting out a resigned sigh, he reached out and shut off the music, then flipped the acknowledge switch for the 'com.

'Dallas here.'

'Ash. I think you should have a look at Kane. Something's happened.'

Dallas swung his legs off the lounge, sat up quickly. Ash didn't sound worried, which was encouraging. He did sound confused, which was not.

'Serious?'

'Interesting.'

'I'll be right there.'

He stood and threw the final cutoff on the tape machine, reluctantly saw the green light on its flank wink out. Ash had said 'interesting.' That could mean a host of things, not necessarily good, had occurred. He found some relief in the knowledge that Ash would have said something very different if Kane had already expired.

Which meant that the exec was still alive. . but in an 'interesting' condition.

As it turned out, Ash wasn't even referring to Kane. His call had been prompted by the condition of something else.

Dallas found the science officer in the corridor outside the infirmary, his nose pressed to the glass. He was staring in, looking around as the captain approached.

'What's going on?' Ripley had suddenly appeared at the other end of the corridor. Her gaze switched rapidly from Ash to Dallas, back again. 'I heard over an open monitor.'

'Listening in?' Dallas eyed her curiously.

She made a face. 'Nothing else to do on this boat. Why? You object?'

'No. Just curious.' He looked through the thick glass into the infirmary, spoke to Ash when no great revelation manifested itself.

'Well?'

'Kane.' The science officer pointed. 'Look closely at him. All of him.'

Dallas stared, squinted, then noticed what Ash was talking about. Or rather, he didn't notice it.

'It's gone.' A fast inspection of the infirmary showed no sign of the alien. Kane remained motionless on the medical platform. His chest rose and fell steadily. He seemed to be breathing normally and without effort despite the absence of the alien. Lingering inspection showed what looked to be tiny black dots scattered around the rim of his face.

'Has it planted something on him?' Dallas tried to shy away from the repulsive thought.

'No.' Ash spoke positively, and Dallas was willing to believe him. He had to believe him. Anyway, the personnel dossiers said that the science officer's vision was the sharpest on board.

'They're indentations, not rises. I'd guess they're sucker marks.' Ash paused, added, 'Those aside, Kane appears undamaged by the experience.'

'Which may not be over yet,' Ripley put in. 'The door is seal-tight. It must still be in there.' She sounded confident, but it was a cover for her real feelings. The thought of the spidery hand-shape with its glazed, unblinking eye scrabbling about underfoot frightened her more than she dared show.

'We can't open the door,' Ash said thoughtfully. 'We don't want to let it out. The last thing we want to do is give it the run of the ship.'

'I couldn't agree more.' Ripley was scanning the infirmary floor, saw only bright metal and paint. 'We can't grab it or kill it from a distance. So where does that leave us?'

'When we tried to remove it from Kane's face,' Dallas said, 'we cut it, injured it. Maybe if we didn't threaten it too overtly, it wouldn't offer resistance. Maybe we can just pick it up.' Visions of spectacular Company commendations, perhaps a promotion, certainly a bonus, swirled through his head. Then he again noticed the unconscious form of Kane and felt guilty.

Ripley was still shuddering at the thought. 'You can try picking it up. I'll watch the door.'

'I think it's a worthwhile idea.' Ash was moving away from the glass. 'It's an invaluable specimen. We should certainly make an attempt to capture it alive and intact.'

He touched the switch controlling the door. The infirmary was a good place to try to hunt down the intruder. It was double-walled, and save for the airlocks, it was the tightest compartment on the Nostromo.

The door slid back slightly. Ash looked to Dallas, who nodded. Again the control was touched and the door moved another few centimetres. Now it was open enough for a man to slip through. Dallas went in first, followed cautiously by Ripley. Ash entered last, quickly hit the stud, shutting the door behind them.

They stood close together in front of the door, scanning the room. Still no sign of the alien. Dallas pursed his lips, blew a sharp whistle. That failed to stir the creature, but it did make Ripley giggle a bit unsteadily.

Keeping his eyes on the hidden places, Dallas started toward an open cabinet. It would make an excellent hiding place. But close inspection of the interior showed only medical supplies, neatly arranged and undisturbed.

If they were going to try to trap the creature with something other than their hands, they needed something solid. Dallas chose the first suitably sized object he saw, a stainless-steel alloy tray. As he turned to continue the stalk, he was quite aware that if the creature felt sufficiently threatened, it could melt its way through the tray as easily and effortlessly as it could Dallas's hands. But the weight was comforting.

Ash was inspecting the far corner of the infirmary. Ripley grew bored standing next to the door. She closed it, walked in, and looked beneath the platform holding Kane, thinking the creature might have attached itself to the underside. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to throw her clear at the first sight of the tiny invader. She wasn't disappointed when the underside of the platform proved to be unoccupied.

Straightening, she considered where to search next. She brushed against a bulkhead. Something solid and unyielding landed on her shoulder. Her head jerked around and she found herself staring at long skeletal fingers and a dull grey cabochon of an eye.

Somehow she got out a single scream. Her muscles spasmed and she twisted awkwardly. As she did so, the creature tumbled heavily to the deck. It lay motionless.

Dallas and Ash had come running at her scream. Now the three of them stood gazing at the motionless shape lying among them. The fingers were clenched tight, uncannily like the hand of a dead man, which it still resembled more closely than anything else. Only the extra fingers, the tail, and the dull, lidless eye broke the illusion.

Ripley's right hand rested on the shoulder where the thing had landed. She was gulping air rather than inhaling it, the adrenalin slowly leaking from her system. She could still feel the alien weight on her.

She extended a booted foot, prodded the hand-shape. It didn't move or resist. In addition to the dullness of the single eye, its leathery skin looked shrunken and dry. She nudged it with her foot again, turning it over. The tube lay limply against the palm, almost completely retracted.

'I think it's dead.' Dallas studied the unanticipated corpse a moment longer, then glanced at Ripley. 'You okay?'

Tongue and larynx were forced into action. 'Yeah. It didn't do anything. I think it was long dead before it fell on me.'

She walked to the open cabinet and selected a long metal forceps. A touch on the curled fingers failed to elicit any reaction, as did a poke at the eye. Dallas held out the tray. Using the forceps, she maneuvered the petrified alien into it, quickly nipped shut the gleaming lid.