Alien, page 14
“Von,” he said quietly, “it’s above you.”
“Alec?” Her voice was a terrified whisper. She lifted her head slowly.
“Don’t look. When I say, I want you to get behind the desk, okay? As quickly as you can.”
“Okay.”
“If it comes near you, shoot it.”
“You can believe I will,” she replied.
“Ready…? Now!”
Siobhan leaped sideways toward the desk as the creature dropped onto the spot where she’d been just an instant before. She’d known it was there, but seeing it—that long tail uncurling and whipping around behind it—she panicked. Her back hit the edge of the desk hard and she stumbled, sliding the length of the surface and falling backward onto the carpet. Her hand caught the smear of blood, which had gone cold. The red oozed up from the fibers around her fingers.
For a moment, she couldn’t move. Then it was on top of her. All that existed was the bony jaws of the smaller mouth inside the Xenomorph’s larger one, chattering and salivating.
Alec shouted at her to get behind the desk, and she flinched, the paralyzing moment broken. She scrambled backward to get out from under it as Alec fired off a couple of rounds into the thing’s back.
The Xenomorph’s inner jaws receded and it turned on him, advancing slowly. He raised his weapon again and the thing stopped, squealing a threat in his direction. Alec grunted back at it, two alphas squaring off.
Siobhan stood on shaky legs, using the desk for support. She raised Hank’s gun and was surprised to find that her hand was steady. Aiming it at the creature’s head, she exhaled slowly. Then she fired.
The round found its mark, opening up a wound in the shiny curve of its skull. A firework of acidic blood exploded from the wound, and the Xenomorph screeched in anger. Its tail lashed out at her. Before Siobhan could move, it connected with her hip, flinging her against the wall. Her head struck something hard and the world swam in a blur of muted colors that rose above her. She thought she might have sunk to the ground, because the dark shape moved from somewhere above her, over the silhouette she thought was Alec, and out the open door.
There were flashes of light and she heard Alec’s gun going off. Above that, the high, keening squeal of the monster from somewhere outside.
Then, everything went silent.
It could have been seconds or minutes in which blackness threatened to wipe out her consciousness. A screaming pain in her head made it hard to concentrate on Alec’s voice. It was somewhere above her, too, then closer. She felt his arms around her, lifting her up, and that brought some of the world back into focus. Her hip hurt where the Xenomorph’s tail had hit her.
“Talk to me, Von. I need you to tell me if you’re okay.”
“I—I’m okay,” she said, wincing at how her voice made her head feel. “I hit my…” She touched the spot at the back of her head from which the pain seemed to be coming and felt something wet there. She looked at her fingers and saw blood. Slowly, she turned—the movement sent bolts of pain from her head down through her neck—and saw a small smear of blood on the wall behind her.
“You knocked your head pretty good,” Alec said, his voice shaky but light. He was forcing that lightness, she was sure, so he wouldn’t scare her. He looked into each of her eyes, shining his flashlight into them, and then asked, “Can I see?” Without waiting for an answer, he moved behind her. She could feel his fingers parting her hair. “Yeah,” he added, “the skin is split and you’ll probably have a lump, but it’s superficial. You’ll live.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
He helped her up, slipping an arm around her waist to lift her.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I am. Really. I’m fine,” she said, and she smiled at him.
“Good. I’m not leaving this moon without you, Siobhan.” He looked into her eyes. She saw concern there, and something else. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“Siobhan, I…” His voice trailed off.
“I know,” she said again, kissed him on the mouth, a soft, quick peck, and then slid past him toward the doorway.
* * *
The Xenomorph’s body lay on its side in the dirt outside the residential lobby doors. Alec’s weapon, a higher-powered model than the one Hank had carried, had blasted a hole in its chest. The yellow-green color of its blood looked bright against the gray of the dirt beneath and the darker gray of the creature’s exoskeleton. It sizzled as it dripped onto the ground. Its lipless mouth hung open, the rigid inner jaw protruding outward. The tail snaked behind it, and the massive claws had left long furrows where the thing had evidently tried to stand.
Siobhan slipped from Alec’s grasp and sank to her knees next to the thing. She wanted to see it up close—needed to, and not just out of scientific curiosity. She had to face the thing that had done so much damage.
She reached out and touched its bony hip. It felt cool, smooth but sharp, and she thought she felt a faint buzz beneath her fingertips—like an electrical charge—that quickly faded to stillness. She pulled her hand away and looked at her fingertips. This thing, this terrifying killing machine, was still just an animal. It had weaknesses. It was not a nightmare beast, not supernatural in its abilities. It was a narrowly evolved, efficient predator, but it could die, the same as any other species. It could be killed.
Siobhan looked up at Alec. His eyes watched her with concern. She nodded to him and he helped her up again.
“You killed it,” she said.
“I did,” he replied.
“I’m glad,” she said.
* * *
About halfway back to the lab, Siobhan remembered the medkit painkillers she had put in her pockets; she injected one into her arm. By the time they reached the front doors, the sharp jab in her hip and most of the throbbing in her head had subsided.
Alec had been quiet for most of the walk back, hovering close. She thought maybe he was thinking about Hank and the marines he’d lost. He didn’t talk about it often, but she knew he had encountered the Xenomorphs before, and had managed to survive. What little he’d told her about those experiences was more than he’d told anyone else, and she understood in everything from his tone of voice to his body language that he had buried even more of it.
Those scars, the ones inside him, were worse than any of the ones on his body.
She didn’t ask what he was thinking, not because she wouldn’t have shared the burden of those thoughts with him—she would have—but because she knew that Alec needed to patch up these new wounds inside, let them scar over as well. That was how Alec survived such things, and she accepted that about him.
Roots and Elkins were waiting for them in the lobby. Both marines looked grave. As they crossed the threshold, Elkins stepped forward.
“Sarge,” he said, “we’ve got a problem.”
“Breach?” Alec asked, raising his gun. For now, he buried whatever he’d been thinking, and was back to business.
Elkins glanced at Roots, then back again. “Bigger than that.” He handed Alec a printout. To Siobhan, it looked like a comms message. Alec scanned it, then thrust it in her direction.
…not be feasible to send a UA ship to evacuate.
Likelihood of Xenomorph infestation and
subsequent devastation…
She read the message from this Rachel Mueller twice before crumpling it into a little ball and throwing it on the floor.
Too great a risk.
Not feasible to send a ship.
“Son of a bitch!” She ran a hand through her hair and glanced toward the quarantine area, thinking of Kira. “How could… they can’t… for God’s sake, they’re just abandoning us!” She paced back and forth, pushing through her panic, devising and rejecting courses of action. She stopped and looked at Rutiani.
“What did Camilla say about this?”
“Nothing,” Roots replied. “She’s missing.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in.
“Missing? What do you mean, missing?”
“We can’t find her anywhere,” Elkins said. “She said she was going to make me something to eat, she went into the kitchen, and then she vanished.” Elkins shrugged. “I did a little poking around her comms, though, and intercepted that message from her terminal. She… it sounds like she told them about the aliens.”
“She’s a fucking synthetic, right?” Roots cut in. “That’s the problem with them. Unpredictable, prone to… to do just…” Roots made a whistle and a gesture like a bird flying off.
“Maybe she was programmed to spy on us,” Elkins said. “I don’t know. Or maybe Fowler fiddled with her when we weren’t looking. Sabotaging our evac would be a good way to make sure we never told anyone what Weyland-Yutani was up to here.”
Siobhan shook her head in disgust. “I need to check on Kira,” she said, heading toward the quarantine area. “Figure out a way to tell her that her grandparents are dead and that we’re stuck on this fucking moon.”
The men followed, close behind her.
* * *
In the quarantine area, Dr. Fowler was pacing back and forth in front of the pod where Kira slept. He acknowledged them with a minimal nod. Siobhan watched the girl. How much tragedy was one child expected to endure? How much of a burden was going to be put on her little shoulders? She noticed that the stuffed dog Kira usually carried wasn’t with her, and wished she’d thought to look for it in Hank’s apartment.
Behind her, she heard low voices. Alec was talking to Elkins and Roots. He told them to guard the doors—no one in or out—while they figured out what to do next. As they moved off to guard the entrance to the quarantine area, Siobhan’s gaze shifted from Kira to Dr. Fowler, and she knew what she had to do.
“Dr. Fowler,” she began, realizing then how tightly she was holding on to Hank’s gun. “You said Weyland-Yutani was picking you up tomorrow, right?”
Dr. Fowler nodded. “Around one p.m., I believe.”
Alec sidled up to her. Likely, he recognized something in her tone that suggested she was devising a plan. She wasn’t sure she could have called it that, just then—it was more like acting on an instinct.
“You’ll call them from here and confirm that,” she continued. “Make sure they don’t suspect that anything is wrong… beyond what they already know, I suppose. Whatever you’ve told them.”
“I told them there were two survivors. One incubator.”
Incubator. That was a terrible way to refer to Cora. Siobhan bit down on her disgust, though. “You’re going to report business as usual,” she said. “Problem contained. Sample ready. And you’re going to be on that ship—we all are.”
Dr. Fowler cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”
“Yes. Our ship isn’t coming. They don’t want to risk a Xenomorph outbreak in UA territory. And since that’s your fault, we’re commandeering your ship. Once we get to LV-846, you can have it back and go on your merry way.”
“Are you really suggesting the hijacking of a multi-billion-dollar corporate ship? Just taking it for a joyride across the galaxy?”
“It’s not a joyride, Doctor. It’s a detour, and yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Siobhan said. She tapped the gun lightly against her thigh, just to make sure Dr. Fowler saw it and knew she meant business.
He looked from her to Alec, whose mouth turned into a small, satisfied smile, and then back to Siobhan.
“You’re crazy,” he said. “I can’t authorize—”
“I’m not asking,” Siobhan interrupted. “If you want off this moon, you’re going to go with this plan, or so help me, I’ll drop you here and now, right in this lab.” She raised the gun until it was leveled at his forehead.
Dr. Fowler never took his eyes off her. They carried a look of alarm, but the rest of his face remained calm.
“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “Okay. Take it easy. We’ll all leave together.”
“And there will be no samples coming with us,” she added. “Agree to it.”
Dr. Fowler hesitated, and Siobhan turned the safety off with a loud click.
“I agree,” Dr. Fowler said, holding his hands up. “I agree. Have it your way.”
“I intend to,” she said, and slowly she lowered the gun. To Alec she said, “We should all try to get some sleep. In shifts, if we have to. We’ll leave in the morning.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alec said, that small smile growing a little broader.
16
Siobhan stayed awake while Alec slept. Despite how exhausted he must have been, he tossed and turned in one of the medpods, mumbling to himself. Siobhan wondered if he was dreaming of the things he didn’t speak about when he was awake.
She had chosen to wait for Kira to wake. Fowler had wandered off, claiming he wanted to talk to Elkins and Roots, and that would leave the girl alone. Siobhan expected her to be looking for her grandfather, too, and felt that in Camilla’s absence, she ought to be the one to break the news to Kira.
About thirty minutes after Alec fell asleep, the girl stirred. Her little eyelids fluttered open and she sat up, looking around. Siobhan sat beside her. Kira’s expression was at first hopeful, but in noting Hank’s absence, that hope quickly faded to dismay. When she looked into Siobhan’s eyes, they both teared up instantly.
“He didn’t come back with you, did he?” Kira asked in a soft voice.
“Honey, I’m sorry.” The girl began to cry, and Siobhan pulled her into a hug. “I’m so, so sorry. We tried to save him.”
“It was the monsters, wasn’t it?” Kira asked, her voice muffled by the embrace. “The ones that killed my grandma.”
“Yes, baby,” Siobhan whispered.
Kira cried hard then, and in her sobs Siobhan felt the heartbreak and the sorrow, the loss of her grandparents and parents, her home, her sense of security. Everything. The universe had put too much on the little girl, pulling apart her innocence before she’d had the time to heal or experience enough to replace it with wisdom. Siobhan fought hard not to cry herself. Instead, she whispered soothing sounds into the little girl’s hair and held her until the sobbing subsided.
When Kira finally pulled away, she sniffled and looked up.
“When we get off this moon, can I live with you and Camilla?”
Siobhan’s heart broke a little, but she smiled.
“Yes, baby,” she said. “Of course you can. Of course you can.”
“Will the ship be here, soon?”
“Soon,” Siobhan said. “I promise. We’re getting out of here.”
“And we’ll go someplace without monsters?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Siobhan whispered. “Absolutely.”
This seemed to satisfy the girl. With a final sniffle, she nodded, then lay back down again.
* * *
Alec dreamed of a jungle world with oppressive heat, humidity, and the stench of blood. In the dream he was both a child—as he had been when he’d first encountered the Xenomorphs—and an adult, seeing the world around him with the knowledge of both past and present.
He was crouching in the rotted-out hollow of a massive tree trunk, its insides crawling with spider-like creatures the size of hands. Thick moss coated the outside of the tree and heavy foliage, leaves the size of small children, hung overhead. He was soaked with sweat, so the dirt and the moss he’d shaken loose stuck to his skin. His eyes burned. His throat was parched. He had blood under his fingernails and calluses on his hands from the rough, makeshift spear he was holding. He could feel his own heartbeat in his ears and the heaviness of the planet’s air in his chest.
From somewhere outside the tree and above him, he heard the screeching of the monsters that had killed the other colonists. He thought they might be calling to each other, somehow communicating where he wasn’t and where he might be. Their footfalls were surprisingly light, but he knew they were getting nearer. A segmented tail snapped in and out of view, and suddenly that sound they made—that half-chitter, half-purr of wariness—was very close to his ear.
Alec held as still as possible, trying not to move as one of the spider-things crawled across his hand. He tried not to breathe and stir the giant jungle fern leaf that obscured him from view. Could they smell him? Could they hear his heartbeat?
It pounded now in his chest.
Alec clutched the spear tightly.
A light thump just outside of the tree made him jump, but he stifled a cry. That chitter-purr was right there, right on the other side of the leaf. He huddled farther back into the dark of the tree’s interior.
I’m going to die here.
In the next instant a gray, clawed hand shot out under the leaf and grabbed his ankle. It pulled him off his feet and out into the blazing sun that shone overhead, bright as his scream was loud. It was so bright that at first, he could only make out the silhouette of the creature above him. Then the glare faded some, and Alec could see a narrow, bony jaw jutting from a much larger mouth. It darted toward him and then there was wetness, though whether it was from the creature’s saliva, his own tears, or his own blood, he couldn’t tell.
Not until the little jaw retracted, dripping liquid red, and the dark of dream-death blotted out the world.
* * *
Alec awoke with a jerk, rubbing a hand quickly over his forehead. There was some sweat there from the nightmare’s exertions, but no blood. He was okay… for now.
Turning, he saw Siobhan curled up with Kira in another medpod, both fast asleep. Dr. Fowler stood near—though not quite with—Roots and Elkins over by the quarantine entrance. These sights brought reality crashing back down on him, and he fought the guilt that arose from sleeping so hard for… how long had it been?
He had a job to do, a promise to keep, and he wasn’t about to fail Siobhan.
Shaking off the remnants of the dream, he stood, picked up his gun, and headed toward Roots and Elkins. It looked as if Elkins had been up all night, and Alec intended to relieve him of his post and let him get some sleep before they headed back to the Weyland-Yutani facility. They were all hungry and tired, not at their sharpest, and Alec worried about that, too. People could only be pushed so hard before they started slipping, making mistakes, and in a situation like this, mistakes meant that people died.
