Alan Dean Foster: Alien

Though far from comfortable, the mess was just large enough to hold the entire crew. Since they rarely ate their meals simultaneously (the always functional autochef indirectly encouraging individuality in eating habits), it hadn't been designed with comfortable seating for seven in mind. They shuffled from foot to foot, bumping and jostling each other and trying not to get on each other's nerves.

Parker and Brett weren't happy and took no pains to hide their displeasure. Their sole consolation was the knowledge that nothing was wrong with engineering and that whatever they'd been revived to deal with was the responsibility of persons other than themselves. Ripley had already filled them in on the disconcerting absence of their intended destination.

Parker considered that they would all have to re-enter hypersleep, a messy and uncomfortable process at its best, and cursed under his breath. He resented anything that kept him separated from his end-of-voyage paycheck.

'We know we haven't arrived at Sol, Captain.' Kane spoke for the others, who were all eying Dallas expectantly. 'We're nowhere near home and the ship has still seen fit to hustle us all out of hypersleep. Time we found out why.'

'Time you did.' Dallas agreed readily. 'As you all know,' he began importantly, 'Mother is programmed to interrupt our journey and bring us out of hyperdrive and sleep if certain specified conditions arise.' He paused for effect, said, 'They have.'

'It would have to be pretty serious.' Lambert was watching Jones the cat play with a blinking telltale. 'You know that. Bringing a full crew out of hypersleep isn't lightly done. There's always some risk involved.'

'Tell me about it.' Parker muttered it so softly only Brett could overhear.

'You'll all be happy to learn,' Dallas continued, 'that the emergency we've been awakened to deal with does not involve the Nostromo. Mother says we're in perfect shape.' A couple of heartfelt 'amens' sounded in the cramped mess.

'The emergency lies elsewhere — specifically, in the unlisted system we've recently entered. We should be closing on the particular planet concerned right now.' He glanced at Ash, who rewarded him with a confirming nod. 'We've picked up a transmission from another source. It's garbled and apparently took Mother some time to puzzle out, but it's definitely a distress signal.'

'Whoa, that doesn't make sense.' Lambert looked puzzled herself. 'Of all standard transmissions, emergency calls are the most straightforward and the least complex. Why would Mother have the slightest trouble interpreting one?'

'Mother speculates that this is anything but a 'standard' transmission. It's an acoustic beacon signal, which repeats at intervals of twelve seconds. That much isn't unusual. However, she believes the signal is not of human origin.'

That provoked some startled muttering. When the first excitement had faded, he explained further, 'Mother's not positive. That's what I don't understand. I've never seen a computer show confusion before. Ignorance yes, but not confusion. This may be a first.'

'What is important is that she's certain enough it's a distress signal to pull us out of hypersleep.'

'So what?' Brett appeared sublimely unconcerned.

Kane replied with just a hint of irritation. 'Come on, man. You know your manual. We're obliged under section B2 of Company in-transit directives to render whatever aid and assistance we can in such situations. Whether the call is human or otherwise.'

Parker kicked at the deck in disgust. 'Christ. I hate to say this, but we're a commercial tug with a big, hard-to-handle cargo. Not a damn rescue unit. This kind of duty's not in our contract.' He brightened slightly. 'Of course, if there's some extra money involved for such work. .'

'You better read your contract.' Ash recited as neatly as the main computer he was so proud of. ' 'Any systematic transmission indicating possible intelligent origin must be investigated.' At penalty of full forfeiture of all pay and bonuses due on journey's completion. Not a word about bonus money for helping someone in distress.'

Parker gave the deck another kick, kept his mouth shut. Neither he nor Brett considered himself the hero type. Anything that could force a ship down on a strange world might treat them in an equally inconsiderate manner. Not that they had any evidence that this unknown caller had been forced down, but being a realist in a harsh universe, he was inclined to be pessimistic.

Brett simply saw the detour in terms of his delayed paycheck.

'We're going in. That's all there is to it.? Dallas eyed them each in turn. He was about fed up with the two of them. He no more enjoyed this kind of detour than they did, and was as anxious to be home and offloading their cargo as they were, but there were times when letting off steam crossed over into disobedience.

'Right,' said Brett sardonically.

'Right, what?'

The engineering tech was no fool. The combination of Dallas'ss tone combined with the expression on his face told Brett it was time to ease up.

'Right. . we're going in.' Dallas continued to stare at him and he added with a smile, 'Sir.'

The captain turned a jaundiced eye on Parker, but that worthy was now subdued.

'Can we land on it?' he asked Ash.

'Somebody did.'

'That's what I mean,' he said significantly. ' "Land" is a benign term. It implies a sequence of events successfully carried out, resulting in the gentle and safe touchdown of a ship on a hard surface. We're faced with a distress call. That implies events other than benign. Let's go find out what's going on. . but let's go quietly, with boots in hand.'

There was an illuminated cartographic table on the bridge. Dallas, Kane, Ripley, and Ash stood at opposite points of its compass, while Lambert sat at her station.

'There it is.' Dallas fingered a glowing point on the table. He looked around the table. 'Something I want everyone to hear.'

They resumed their seats as he nodded to Lambert. Her fingers were poised over a particular switch. 'Okay, let's hear it. Watch the volume.'

The navigator flipped the switch. Static and hissing sounds filled the bridge. These cleared suddenly, were replaced by a sound that sent shivers up Kane's back and unholy crawling things down Ripley's. It lasted for twelve seconds, then was replaced by the static.

'Good God.' Kane's expression was drawn.

Lambert switched off the speakers. It was human on the bridge again.

'What the hell is it?' Ripley looked as though she'd just seen something dead on her lunch plate. 'It doesn't sound like any distress signal I ever heard.'

'That's what Mother calls it,' Dallas told them. 'Calling it 'alien' turns out to have been something of an understatement.'

'Maybe it's a voice.' Lambert paused, considered her just-uttered words, found the implications they raised unpleasant, and tried to pretend she hadn't said them.

'We'll know soon. Have you homed in on it?'

'I've found the section of planet.' Lambert turned gratefully to her console, relieved to be able to deal with mathematics instead of disquieting thoughts.

'We're close enough.'

'Mother wouldn't have pulled us out of hypersleep unless we were,' Ripley murmured.

'It's coming from ascension six minutes, twenty seconds; declination minus thirty-nine degrees, two seconds.'

'Show me the whole thing on a screen.'

The navigator hit a succession of buttons. One of the bridge viewscreens flickered, gifted them with a bright dot.

'High albedo. Can you get it a little closer?'

'No. You have to look at it from this distance. That's what I'm going to do.' Immediately the screen zoomed in tighter on the point of light, revealing an unspectacular, slightly oblate shape sitting in emptiness.