Microsoft word the com.., p.72
Microsoft Word - THE COMPLETE ALIEN OMNIBUS, page 72
unusual woman perfectly, and then she’d throw him a complete
curve.
Well, it wasn’t his business to understand her; only to keep her
alive. That was what Weyland-Yutani wanted. With Andrews
gone and the alien safely contained, he was beginning to see
some possibilities in the situation. Not only was he now the one
in charge, it would be up to him to greet and explain things to
the Company representative. He could render himself, as well
as recent events, memorable in the eyes of his superiors. There
might be a bonus in it for him or, even better, early retirement
from Fiorina. It was not too much to hope for.
Besides, after years of toadying to Andrews and after what
he’d been through the past couple of days, he’d earned
whatever came his way.
‘Hey, you’re really concerned about this, aren’t you? Why?
What’s there to be worried about? The damn thing’s locked up
where it can’t get at us.’
‘It’s not the alien. It’s the Company. I’ve gone around with
them on this twice before.’ She turned to him. ‘They’ve coveted
one of these things ever since my original crewmates
discovered them. For bioweapons research. They don’t
understand what they’re dealing with, and I don’t care how
much data they’ve accumulated on it. I’m concerned that they
might want to try and take this one back.’
He gaped at her, and she found his honest disbelief
reassuring. For the moment, at least, she was not without allies.
‘Take it back? You mean alive? To Earth?’
She nodded.
‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘Look into my eyes, Aaron. This isn’t a real humourous subject
with me.’
‘Shit, you mean it. That’s insane. They gotta kill it.’
Ripley smiled tightly. ‘Right. So I take it that we’re agreed on
this point?’
‘You’re damn right,’ he said fervently.
He was with her, then, she mused. For now. The Company
had a way of swaying people, inducing them to reassess their
positions. Not to mention their values.
The infirmary was quiet. Peace had returned to the
installation, if not to some of its inhabitants. Concerned that in
Clemens’s absence certain of the prisoners whose presence on
Fiorina stemmed at least in part from their personal
misapplication of certain proscribed Pharmaceuticals might
attempt to liberate them or their chemical cousins from their
designated repository, Aaron sent Morse to keep an eye on
them, as well as on the infirmary’s sole occupant.
Morse sat on one of the cots, perusing a viewer. He was not
one of those despondent over the dearth of entertainment
material available on Fiorina, since he’d never been much of
one for casual diversions. He was a man of action, or had been
in his younger, more active days. Now he was a spieler, dealing
in reminiscences.
Despite the fact that they’d known each other and had
worked side by side for years, Golic had offered no greeting at
his arrival, nor a single word since. Now the hulking prisoner
finally turned his face away from the wall, his arms still buried
inside the archaic restraining jacket.
‘Hey, Morse.’
The older man looked up from his viewer. ‘So you can still
talk. Big deal. You never had nothin’ to say anyhow.’
‘C’mon, brother. Let me out of this thing.’
Morse grinned unpleasantly. ‘Oh, so now that you’re all
wrapped up like a holiday roast suddenly I’m a “brother”?
Don’t give me any shit.’
‘C’mon, man, it hurts.’
‘Sorry.’ Morse turned back to his viewer. ‘Aaron says to let
you go, I’ll let you go. Until then you stay tied up. I don’t
wanna get in no trouble. Not with a Company ship coming.’
‘I didn’t do nothing. I mean, I understand I was a little crazy
for a while. Shit, who wouldn’t be after what I saw? But I’m
okay now. The doc fixed me. Just ask him.?
‘Can’t do that. The doc bought it. You heard.’
‘Oh, yeah. That’s right. I remember now. Too bad. He was a
good guy, even if he did slap me in this.’
‘Don’t talk to me.’ Morse made a disgusted face.
Golic continued to plead. ‘What’d I do? Just tell me, what’d I
do?’
Morse sighed and set the viewer aside, eying his fellow
prisoner. ‘I dunno, but I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m
gonna guard your ass just like I was ordered.’
Golic sniffed derisively. ‘You afraid of that pissant Aaron?’
‘No, I ain’t, even if he is the unofficial superintendent now. I
just don’t want no trouble with Dillon, and if you’re smart,
which I doubt, neither do you.’
The bigger man sniffed glumly. ‘All I did was tell about the
dragon. About what it did to Boggs and Rains. Nobody
believed me, but I wasn’t lying. I should be the last one to be
tied up. It ain’t fair. You know what I’m sayin’ is true. You saw
it.’
Morse remembered. ‘Fuckin’ A I saw it! It was big. And fast.
Man, it was fast. And ugly.’ He shuddered slightly. ‘There’s
cleaner ways to die.’
‘Hey, that’s right.’ Golic struggled futilely against his
restraints. ‘Let me loose, man. You got to let me loose. What if
it gets in here? I couldn’t even run. I’d be dead meat.’
‘You’d be dead meat anyway. I saw enough to know that. But
it doesn’t matter because it ain’t gonna get in here.’ He smiled
proudly. ‘We got it trapped. Me and the others. Locked up
tight. I’ll bet it’s good and mad. The Company’ll deal with it
when the ship gets here.’
‘That’s right,’ Golic agreed readily. ‘And the way I hear it,
they’ll be here soon. So what’s the big deal? Why should I have
to hang around like this? By the time the ship shows orbit my
arms’ll be dead. I’ll need surgery, and all for nothin’. Come on,
man. You know they ain’t gonna take me offworld for no
surgery, and we may not get a new medic for months. I’ll have
to suffer all that time, and it’ll all be your fault.’
‘Hey, lay off. I didn’t put you in that.’
‘No, but you’re keepin’ me in it, and the guy that gave the
order’s dead now. Aaron doesn’t give a shit. He’s too busy
trying to make that lady lieutenant. Has he even asked about
me?’
‘Well, no,’ Morse admitted guardedly.
‘See?’ Golic’s face was full of pathetic eagerness. ‘I won’t
cause you no trouble, Morse. I’ll lay low until the ship gets
here. Aaron won’t even know I’m around. Come on, lemme
loose. I’m hungry. What’s the big deal? Didn’t I always give you
free ciggies before anybody else?’
‘Well . . . yeah.’
‘You’re my friend. I love you.’
‘Yeah, I love you too.’ Morse hesitated, then cursed softly.
‘Fuck it, why not? Nobody deserves to be tied up like an animal
all day. Not even a big dumb schmuck like you. But you’re
gonna behave yourself. No fuckin’ around or I’ll get nothin’
but shit.’
‘Sure, Morse. Anything you say.’ He turned to present his
back and Morse began undoing the seals on the straps. ‘No
problem. Trust me, buddy. I’d do it for you.’
‘Yeah, but I ain’t crazy enough to get myself in a sack like
this. They know I’m sane,’ the other man said.
‘C’mon, don’t make fun of me. Do I sound like I’m crazy?
Course not. It’s just that everybody likes to make fun of me
because I like to eat all the time.’
‘It’s not that you like to eat, it’s your table manners, man.’
Morse guffawed at his own humour as he undid the strap.
‘That’s got it.’
‘Gimme a hand, willya? My arms are so numb I can’t move
‘em.’
‘Shit. Bad enough they ask me to keep an eye on you, now I
gotta play nursemaid too.’ He reached up and pulled the jacket
off Golic. The bigger man helped as best he could.
‘Where they got it?’
‘Up in the nearest waste tank on Level Five. Man, did we get
that sucker nailed down! I mean tight.’ He fairly preened.
‘Fuckin’ marines couldn’t do it, but we did.’
Golic was swinging his arms. Back and forth across his
expansive chest, then up and around in ever-widening circles,
getting the circulation back.
‘But it’s still alive?’
‘Yeah. Too bad. You oughta see the dents it put in the door.
Ceramocarbide door, man!’ He shook his head wonderingly.
‘One tough-ass organism. But we got it.’
‘I gotta see it again.’ The big man’s gaze was focused on a
point beyond Morse, on something visible only to Golic. His
expression was impassive, unwavering. ‘Got to see it again. He’s
my friend.’
Morse took a sudden, wary step backward. ‘What the fuck
you talkin’ about?’ His gaze whipped to the infirmary entrance.
Golic calmly ripped a small fire extinguisher off the nearby
wall and the other man’s eyes widened. He made a leap for the
door . . . too slow. The extinguisher came down once, a second
time, and Morse crumpled like a misplaced intention.
Golic looked down at him thoughtfully, his face full of idiot
sadness, his tone apologetic. ‘Sorry, brother, but I had a feeling
you wouldn’t understand. No more ciggies for you, mate.’
Silently he stepped over the unconscious form and exited the
room.
XII
Aaron fussed with the deep-space communicator. He was
checked out on the equipment—it was a requirement of his
rating—but he hadn’t had occasion to make use of it since his
assignment to Fiorina. Andrews had always handled things on
the
rare
occasions
when
expensive
near
instantaneous
communication between the installation and headquarters had
been required. He was both pleased and relieved when the
readouts cleared for use, indicating that contact with the
necessary relays had been established.
Ripley hovered over him as he worked the keyboard. She
offered no suggestions, for which he felt an obscure but
nonetheless real gratitude. The message appeared on the main
screen as he transmitted, each letter representing an
impressive amount of sending power. Fortunately, with the
fusion plant operating as efficiently as ever, there was no
dearth of the necessary energy. As to the cost, another matter
entirely, he opted to ignore that until and unless the Company
should indicate otherwise.
FURY 361—CLASS C PRISON UNIT, FIORINA
REPORT DEATH OF SUPT. ANDREWS, MEDICAL
OFFICER CLEMENS, EIGHT PRISONERS. NAMES TO
FOLLOW . . .
When he’d finished the list he glanced back up at her. ‘Okay,
we got the first part. All nice and formal, the way the Company
likes it. Now what do I say?’
‘Tell them what happened. That the alien arrived on the
EEV and escaped into the complex, that it was hunting down
the local population one man at a time until we devised a plan
of action, and that we’ve trapped it.’
‘Right.’ He turned back to the keyboard, hesitated. ‘What do
we call it? Just “the alien”?’
‘That’d probably do for the Company. They’d know what
you were referring to. Technically it’s a xenomorph.?
‘Right.’ He hesitated. ‘How do you spell it?’
‘Here.’ She elbowed him aside impatiently and leaned over
the keyboard. ‘With your permission?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said expansively. Impressed, he watched as
her fingers flew over the keys.
HAVE TRAPPED XENOMORPH. REQUEST PERMIS-
SION TO TERMINATE.
Aaron frowned up at her as she stood back from the board.
’That was a waste. We can’t kill it. We don’t have any weapons
here, remember?’
Ripley ignored him, concentrating on the lambent screen.
‘We don’t have to tell them that.’
‘Then why ask?’ He was obviously confused, and she was in
no hurry to enlighten him. Just then there were more
important things on her mind.
Sure enough, letters began to appear on the readout. She
smiled humourlessly. They weren’t wasting any time replying,
no doubt for fear that in the absence of a ready response she
might simply proceed.
TO FURY 361—CLASS C PRISON UNIT
FROM NETWORK COMCON WEYLAND-YUTANI
MESSAGE RECEIVED
Aaron leaned back in the chair and rubbed his forehead
tiredly. ‘See? That’s all they ever tell us. Treat us like shit, like
we’re not worth the expense of sending a few extra words.’
‘Wait,’ she told him.
He blinked. Subsequent to the expected official acknowledg-
ment, letters continued to appear on the screen.
RESCUE UNIT TO ARRIVE YOUR ORBIT 1200
HOURS. STAND BY TO RECEIVE. PERMISSION DENIED
TO
TERMINATE
XENOMORPH.
AVOID
CONTACT
UNTIL RESCUE TEAM ARRIVES. REPEAT IMPERA-
TIVE—PERMISSION DENIED.
There was more, in the same vein, but Ripley had seen
enough. ‘Shit.’ She turned away, chewing her lower lip
thoughtfully. ‘I knew it.’
Aaron’s gaze narrowed as he tried to divide his attention
between Ripley and the screen. ‘What do you mean, you knew
it? It doesn’t mean anything. They know we don’t have any
weapons.’
‘Then why the “imperative”? Why the anxious insistence that
we don’t do something they must realize we’re not capable of
doing?’
He shrugged uncomprehendingly. ‘I guess they don’t want to
take any chances.’
‘That’s right,’ she murmured tightly. ‘They don’t want to
take any chances.’
‘Hey,’ he said, suddenly alarmed, ‘you’re not thinking of
countermanding Company policy, are you?’
Now she did smile. ‘Who me? Perish the thought.’
The vestibule outside the toxic storage chamber was dimly
illuminated, but he inadequate light did not trouble the three
prisoners on duty. There was nothing in the shafts and tunnels
that could harm them, and no noise from within. The three
dents stood out clearly in the heavy door. They had not been
expanded, nor had they been joined by a fourth.
One man leaned casually against the wall, cleaning the dirt
from under his nails with a thin sliver of plastic. His companion
sat on the hard, cold floor, conversing softly.
‘And I say the thing’s gotta be dead by now.’ The speaker
had sandy hair flecked with grey at the temples and a large,
curving nose that in another age and time would have given
him the aspect of a Lebanese merchant.
‘How you figure that?’ the other man asked.
‘You heard the boss. Nothin’ can get in or out of that box.’
He jerked a thumb in the direction of the storage chamber.
‘Not even gases.’
‘Yeah. So?’
The first man tapped the side of his head with a finger.
‘Think, stupid. If gas can’t get out, that means air can’t get in.
That sucker’s been in there long enough already to use up all
the air twice over.’
The other glanced at the dented door. ‘Well, maybe.’
‘What d’you mean, maybe? It’s big. That means it uses a lot
of air. A lot more than a human.’
‘We don’t know that.’ His companion wore the sombre air of
the unconvinced. ‘It ain’t human. Maybe it uses less air. Or
maybe it can hibernate or something’
‘Maybe you oughta go in and check on how it’s doin’.’ The
nail-cleaner looked up from his work with a bored expression.
‘Hey, did you hear something?’
The other man suddenly looked to his right, into the dim
light of the main tunnel.
‘What’s the matter?’ His companion was grinning. ‘The
boogeyman out there?’
‘No, dammit, I heard something.’ Footsteps then, clear and
coming closer.
‘Shit.’ The nail-cleaner moved away from the wall, staring.
A figure moved into view, hands clasped behind its back. The
two men relaxed. There was some uneasy laughter.
‘Dammit, Golic.’ The man resumed his seat on the floor.
‘You might’ve let us know it was you. Whistled or something.’
‘Yeah,’ said his companion. He waved at the chamber. ‘I
