Alan Dean Foster - Alien

'There might be substances other than metal it couldn't eat through so quickly,' Brett thought aloud, showing that his ideas were travelling along the same lines as Ripley's. 'Trylon cord, for example. If we had a net made out of the stuff, we might bag it without damaging it. It might not feel terribly threatened by a thin net the way it would by, say a solid metal crate.' He looked around the circle.

'I could put something together, weld it real quick.'

'He thinks we're going butterfly hunting,' Lambert sneered.

'How would we get it into the net?' Dallas asked quietly.

Brett considered. 'Have to use something that wouldn't make it bleed, of course. Knives and sharp probes of any kind are out. Same goes for pistols. I could make up a batch of long metal tubes with batteries in them. We've plenty of both somewhere back in stores. Only take a few hours.'

'For the rods and the net?'

'Sure. Nothing fancy involved.'

Lambert couldn't stand it. 'First butterflies, now cattle prods. Why do we listen to this meathead?'

Dallas turned the idea over in his head, visualizing it from the optimum. The alien cornered, threatening with teeth and claws. Electric jolts from one side, strong enough to irritate but not injure. Two of them driving it into the net, then keeping it occupied while the rest of them dragged it toward the main lock. Maybe the alien burning its way through the net, maybe not. Second and third nets standing by in case it did.

Tossing the sacked monster into the lock, sealing the hatch, and blowing the emergency. Good-bye, alien, off to Arcturus. Goodbye, nightmare. Hello, Earth and sanity.

He recalled Lambert's last disparaging comment, said to no one in particular. 'We listen to him because this time he just might be right. . '

The Nostromo, oblivious to the frantic activity of some of its passengers, equally indifferent to the resigned waiting of its others, continued racing toward Earth at a multiple of the speed of light. Brett had requested several hours to complete the net and shock tubes, but he and Parker worked as if they had only minutes. Parker found himself wishing the work at hand was actually more complex. It might have kept him from having so much time to glance nervously at ledges, cabinets, and dark corridors.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew could only focus their attention elsewhere and wait for the completion of their hunting gear. In several minds, the initial thought of 'Where has the alien gone?' was beginning to be replaced by ticking little thoughts like 'What is the alien doing?'

Only one member of the crew was otherwise mentally occupied, He'd held onto the thought for some time now, until it had swollen to the bursting point. Now he had two choices. He could discuss it with the entire crew, or discuss it alone with its cause. If he chose to do the first and found himself proven wrong, as he desperately wished to be, he might do irreparable damage to crew morale. Not to mention exposing himself to an eventual crew-member-captain lawsuit.

If he was right in his thinking, the others would find out about it soon enough.

Ash was seated at the central readout console of the infirmary, asking questions of the medical computer and occasionally getting an answer or two. He glanced up and smiled amiably at Dallas's entrance, then turned back to his work.

Dallas stood quietly alongside, his eyes switching from the sometimes incomprehensible readouts back to his science officer. The numbers and words and diagrams that flashed on the screens were easier to read than the man.

'Working or playing?'

'No time for play,' Ash replied with a straight face. He touched a button, was shown a long list of molecular chains for a particular hypothetical amino acid. A touch on another button caused two of the selected chains to commence a slow rotation in three dimensions.

'I scraped some samples from the sides of the first hole the hand alien ate through the deck.' He gestured back toward the tiny crater on the right side of the medical platform where the creature had bled.

'I think there was enough acid residue left to get a grip on, chemically speaking. If I can break down the structure, Mother might be able to suggest a formula for a nullifying reagent. Then our new visitor can bleed all over the place if we chose to blast him, and we can neutralize any acid it might leak.'

'Sounds great,' Dallas admitted, watching Ash closely. 'If anyone aboard can do it, you can.'

Ash shrugged indifferently. 'It's my job.'

Several minutes of silence passed. Ash saw no reason to resume the conversation. Dallas continued to study the readouts, finally said evenly, 'I want to talk.'

'I'll let you know the minute I find anything,' Ash assured him.

'That's not what I want to talk about.'

Ash looked up at him curiously, then turned back to his instrumentation as new information lit up two small screens. 'I think breaking down the structure of this acid is critical. I should think you would, too. Let's talk later. I'm pretty busy right now.'

Dallas paused before replying, said softly but firmly, 'I don't care. I want to talk now.'

Ash flipped several switches, watched gauges go dead, and looked up at the captain. 'It's your neck I'm trying to save, too. But if it's that important, go ahead.'

'Why did you let the alien survive inside Kane?'

The science officer scowled. 'I'm not sure you're getting through to me. Nobody "let" anything survive inside anybody. It just happened.'

'Bullshit.'

Ash said dryly, unimpressed, That's hardly a rational evaluation of the situation, one way or the other.'

'You know what I'm talking about. Mother was monitoring his body. You were monitoring Mother. That was proper, since you're the best-qualified to do so. You must've had some idea of what was going on.'

'Look, you saw the black stain on the monitor screen same time as I did.'

'You expect me to believe the autodoc didn't have enough power to penetrate that?'

'It's not a question of power but of wavelength. The alien was able to screen out those utilized by the autodoc's scanners. We've already discussed how and why that might be done.'

'Assuming I buy that business about the alien being able to generate a defensive field that would prevent scanning. . and I'm not saying I do. . Mother would find other indications of what was happening. Before he was killed, Kane complained of being ravenous. He proved it at the mess table. Isn't the reason for his fantastic appetite obvious?'

'Is it?'

'The new alien was drawing on Kane's supply of protein, nutrients, and body fat to build its own body. It didn't grow to that size by metabolizing air.'

'I agree. That is obvious.'

'That kind of metabolic activity would generate proportionate readings on the autodoc's gauges, from simple reduction of Kane's body weight to other things.'

'As for a possible reduction of weight,' Ash replied calmly, 'no such reading would appear. Kane's weight was simply transferred into the alien. The autodoc scanner would register it all as Kane's. What "other things" are you referring to?'

Dallas tried to keep his frustration from showing, succeeded only partly. 'I don't know, I can't give you specifics. I'm only a pilot. Medical analysis isn't my department.'

'No,' said Ash significantly, 'it's mine.'

'I'm not a total idiot, either,' Dallas snapped back. 'Maybe I don't know the right words to say what I mean, but I'm not blind. I can see what's going on.'

Ash crossed his arms, kicked away from the console, and stared hard at Dallas. 'What exactly are you trying to say?'

Dallas plunged ahead. 'You want the alien to stay alive. Badly enough to let it kill Kane. I figure you must have a reason. I've only known you a short time, Ash, but so far you've never done anything without a reason. I don't see you starting now.'