Alan Dean Foster - Alien

'His shirt. .' Ripley murmured, as thoroughly paralyzed as Kane, though from different cause. She was pointing at the slumping officer's chest.

A red stain had appeared on Kane's tunic. It spread rapidly, became a broad, uneven bloody smear across his lower chest. There followed the sound of fabric tearing, ugly and intimate in the cramped room. His shirt split like the skin of a melon, peeled back on both sides as a small head the size of a man's fist punched outward. It writhed and twisted like a snake's. The tiny skull was mostly all teeth, sharp and red-stained. Its skin was a pale, sickly white, darkened now by a crimson slime. It displayed no external organs, not even eyes. A nauseating odour, fetid and rank, reached the nostrils of the crew.

There were screams from others besides Kane now, shouts of panic and terror as the crew reflexively stumbled away from the table. They were preceded in instinctive retreat by the cat. Tail bottled, hair standing on end, it spat ferociously and cleared the table and the room in two muscle-straining leaps.

Convulsively, the toothed skull lunged outward. All of a sudden it seemed to fairly spurt from Kane's torso. The head and neck were attached to a thick, compact body covered in the same white flesh. Clawed arms and legs propelled it outward with unexpected speed. It landed messily among the dishes and food on the table, trailing pieces of Kane's insides. Fluid and blood formed an unclean wake behind it. It reminded Dallas of a butchered turkey with teeth protruding from the stump of a neck.

Before anyone could regain their senses and act, the alien had wriggled off the table with the speed of a lizard and vanished down the open corridor.

Much heavy breathing but little movement filled the mess. Kane remained slumped in his chair, his head thrown back, mouth agape. Dallas was grateful for that. It meant that neither he nor anyone else had to look at Kane's open eyes.

There was a huge, ragged hole in the executive officer's exploded chest. Even from a distance Dallas could see how internal organs had been pushed aside without being damaged, to provide a cavity large enough for the creature. Dishes lay scattered on table and floor. Much of the uneaten food was covered with a slick layer of blood.

'No, no, no, no. .' Lambert was repeating, over and over, staring blankly at the table.

'What was that?' Brett murmured, gazing fixedly at Kane's corpse. 'What the Christ was that?'

Parker felt sick, did not even think of taunting Ripley when she turned away from them all to retch. 'It was growing in him the whole time and he didn't even know it.'

'It used him for an incubator,' Ash theorized softly. 'Like certain wasps do with spiders on Earth. They paralyze the spider first, then lay their eggs on the body. When the larvae hatch, they begin to feed on. .'

'For God's sake!' yelled Lambert, snapping out of her trance. 'Shut up, can't you?'

Ash looked hurt. 'I was only. .' Then he caught a look from Dallas, nodded almost imperceptibly, and changed the subject. 'It's self-evident what happened.'

'That dark stain on the medical monitors.' Dallas didn't feel too good himself. He wondered if he looked as shaky as his companions. 'It wasn't on the lens after all. It was inside him. Why didn't the scanners tell us that?'

'There was no reason, no reason at all, to suspect anything like this,' Ash was quick to point out. 'When we were monitoring him internally the stain was too small to take seriously. And it looked like it was a lens defect. In fact, it could have been a matching blot on the lens.'

'I don't follow you.'

'It's possible this stage of the creature generates a natural field capable of intercepting and blocking the scanning radiation. Unlike the first form, the "hand" shape, which we were easily able to see into. Other creatures have been known to produce similar fields. It suggests biological requirements we can't begin to guess at, or else a deliberately produced defence evolved to meet requirements so advanced I prefer not to guess at it.'

'What it boils down to,' observed Ripley, wiping her mouth with an unstained napkin, 'is that we've got another alien. Probably equally hostile and twice as dangerous.' She glared challengingly at Ash, but this time the science officer couldn't or wouldn't dispute her.

'Yeah. And it's loose on the ship.' Dallas moved unwillingly over to stand by Kane's body. The others slowly joined him. The inspection was necessary, no matter how unpleasant they found it. Eloquent glances passed from Parker to Lambert, Lambert to Ash, and around the little circle. Outside, the universe, vast and threatening, pressed tight around the Nostromo, while the thick, ripe smell of death filled the corridors leading into the crowded mess. .

Parker and Brett descended the companionway leading from the service deck above, joined the rest of a tired, discouraged group of hunters.

'Any signs?' Dallas asked the assemblage. 'Any strange smells, blood,' he hesitated momentarily, finished, 'pieces of Kane?'

'Nothing,' Lambert told him.

'Nothing,' echoed Ash, with obvious disappointment.

Parker brushed dust from his arms. 'Didn't see a goddamn thing. It knows how to hide.'

'Didn't see anything,' Brett confirmed. 'Can't imagine where it's got to. Though there's parts of the ship it could reach that we can't. I wouldn't think anything could survive in some of those heated ducts, though.'

'Don't forget the kind of environment its, uh. .,' Dallas looked at Ash, 'what would you call its first stage?'

'Prelarval. Just giving it a name. I can't imagine its stages of development.'

'Yeah. Well, let's not forget what it was living in through its first incarnation. We know it's plenty tough, and adaptable as hell. Wouldn't surprise me if we found it nesting on top of the reaction chambers.'

'If that's where it's got to, we won't be able to get near it,' Parker pointed out.

'Then let's hope it's travelled in a different direction. Somewhere we can go after it.'

'We've got to find it.' Ripley's expression reflected a universal concern.

'Why not just go into hypersleep?' Brett suggested. 'Pump the air back into the tanks and suffocate it?'

'In the first place, we don't know how long this form can survive without air,' the warrant officer argued heatedly. 'It may not even need air. We only saw a mouth, not nostrils.'

'Nothing can exist without some kind of atmosphere.' Brett still sounded positive, though less so.

She cocked an eye at him. 'Want to bet your life on it?' He didn't respond. 'Besides, it only has to live without air for a little while. Maybe it can take up whatever gases it requires from its. . food. We'd be sitting. . no, we'd be sleeping ducks in the freezers. Remember how easily the first form melted through the faceplate of Kane's helmet? Who's to promise that this version can't do the same to our freezers?'

She shook her head resignedly. 'No way I'm going under until we've found the thing and killed it.'

'But we can't kill it.' Lambert kicked at the deck in frustration. 'As far as its internal composition, it's probably identical to the first version. If it is and we try to laser it, it's liable to spill or squirt acidic body fluids all over the place. It's a lot bigger than that "hand" was. If it leaks the same stuff, it might eat a hole larger than we could patch. You all know how critical hull integrity is during faster-than-light, not to mention how delicate the circuitry running through the primary hull is.'

'Son-of-a-bitch,' muttered Brett. 'If we can't kill it, what do we do with it when we find it?'

'Somehow,' Ripley said, 'we have to track it down, catch it, and eject it from the ship.' She looked to Dallas for confirmation of the proposal.

He thought a moment. 'I don't see anything else but to try it.'