Alien 3 (24 page)

‘Right. Okay. You just sit here on your ass. It’s fine.’

Morse’s head jerked. ‘How about if I sit here on my ass?’

‘No problem,’ Dillon assured him. ‘I forgot. You’re the guy that’s got a deal with God to live forever. And the rest of you pussies can sit out too. Me and her’—he indicated Ripley—

’we’ll do all the fighting.’

Morse hesitated, found some of the others gazing at him. He licked his lower lip. ‘Okay. I’m with you. I want it to die. I hate the fucker. It killed my friends, too. But why can’t we wait a few hours and have the fuckin’ company techs with guns on our side? Why the shit do we have to make some fucking suicide run?’

‘Because they won’t kill it,’ Ripley informed him. ‘They may kill you just for having seen it, but they won’t kill it.’

‘That’s crazy.’ Aaron was shaking his head again. ‘Just horseshit. They won’t kill us.’

‘Think not?’ She grinned wolfishly. ‘The first time they heard about this thing it was crew expendable. The second time they sent some marines: they were expendable. What makes you think they’re gonna care about a bunch of double-Y

chromos at the back end of space? Do you really think they’re gonna let you interfere with advanced Company weapons research? They think you’re crud, all of you. They don’t give a damn about one friend of yours that died. Not one.’ There was silence when she’d finished. Then someone in the back spoke up.

‘You got some kind of plan?’

Dillon studied his companions, his colleagues in hell. ‘This is a refinery as well as a mine, isn’t it? The thing’s afraid of fire, ain’t it? All we have to do is get the fuckin’ beast into the big mould, pour hot metal on it.’

He kicked a stool across the floor. ‘You’re all gonna die. Only question is when. This is as good a place to take your first step to heaven as any. It’s ours. It ain’t much, but it’s ours. Only question in life is how you check out. Now, you want it on your feet, or on your knees beggin’? I ain’t much for beggin’.

Nobody never gave me nothin’. So I say, fuck it. Let’s fight.’

The men looked at one another, each waiting for someone else to break the silence that ensued. When it finally happened, the responses came fast and confident.

‘Yeah, okay. I’m in.’

‘Why not? We ain’t got nothin’ to lose.’

‘Yeah . . . okay . . . right . . . I’m in.’

A voice rose higher. ‘Let’s kick its fuckin’ ass.’

Someone else smiled. ‘You hold it, I’ll kick it.’

’Fuck it,’ snapped Morse finally. ‘Let’s go for it.’

Somehow they got some of the lights on in the corridors. It wasn’t a question of power; the central fusion plant provided plenty of that. But there were terminals and switches and controls that hadn’t been maintained for years in the damp climate of Fiorina. So some corridors and access ways had light while others continued to dwell in darkness.

Ripley surveyed the moulding chamber thoughtfully as Dillon and prisoner Troy crowded close. Troy was the most technically oriented of the survivors, having enjoyed a brief career as a successful engineer before having the misfortune to find his wife and superior in the sack together. He’d murdered both of them, with all the technical skill he’d been able to muster. Faint howls of temporary insanity had bought him a ticket to Fiorina.

Now he demonstrated how the controls worked, which instruments were critical to the chamber’s operation. Ripley watched and listened, uncertain.

‘When was the last time you used this thing?’

‘We fired it up five, six years ago. Routine maintenance check. That was the last time.’

She pursed her lips. ‘Are you sure the piston’s working?’

It was Dillon who replied. ‘Nothin’s for sure. Includin’ you.’

‘All I can say is that the indicators are all positive.’ Troy shrugged helplessly. ‘It’s the best we’ve got.’

‘Remember,’ Dillon reminded them both, ‘we trap it here first. We hit the release, start the piston, then the piston will shove the motherfucker right into the mould. This is a high-tech cold-stamp facility. End of his ass. End of story.’

Ripley eyed him. ‘What if someone screws up?’

‘Then we’re fucked,’ Dillon informed her calmly. ‘We’ve got one chance. One shot at this, that’s all. You’ll never have time to reset. Remember, when you hit the release, for a few seconds you’re gonna be trapped in here with that fucking thing.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll do it. You guys don’t drop the ball, I won’t.’

Dillon studied her closely. ‘Sister, you’d better be right about that thing not wanting you. Because if it wants out, that’s how it’s gonna go. Right through you.’

She just stared back. ‘Save you some work, wouldn’t it?’ Troy blinked at her, but there was no time for questions.

‘Where you gonna be?’ she asked the big man.

‘I’ll be around.’

‘What about the others? Where are they?’

‘Praying.’

The survivors spread out, working their way through the corridors, head-butting the walls to pump themselves up, cursing and whooping. They no longer cared if the monster heard them. Indeed, they wanted it to hear them.

Torchlight gleamed off access ways and tunnels, throwing nervous but excited faces into sharp relief. Prisoner Gregor peered out of an alcove to see his buddy William deep in prayer.

‘Hey Willie? You believe in this heaven shit?’

The other man looked up. ‘I dunno.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Fuck it. What else we gonna believe in? Bit late, now we’re stuck here.’

‘Yeah, ain’t that the truth? Well, hey, what the fuck, right?’

He laughed heartily and they both listened to the echoes as they boomed back and forth down the corridor, amplified and distorted.

Morse heard them all: distant reverberations of nervous laughter, of terror and near hysteria. He pressed the switch that would activate the door he’d been assigned to monitor. It whined . . . and jammed partway open. Swallowing nervously, he leaned through the gap.

‘Hey, guys? Hold it, hold it. I don’t know about this shit.

Maybe we should rethink this. I mean, my fuckin’ door ain’t workin’ right. Guys?’

There was no response from down the corridor.

Farther up, Gregor turned to face his companion. ‘What the fuck’s he saying?’

‘Shit, I dunno,’ said William with a shrug.

Prisoner Kevin held the long-burning flare out in front of him as he felt his way along the corridor wall. There was another man behind him, and behind him another, and so on for a substantial length of the tunnel. None were in sight now, though, and his nerves were jumping like bowstrings.

‘Hey, you hear something?’ he murmured to anyone who might happen to be within earshot. ‘I heard Morse. Sounded kinda—’

The scream silenced him. It was so near it was painful. His legs kept moving him forward, as though momentary mental paralysis had yet to reach the lower half of his body.

Ahead, the alien was dismembering a friend of his named Vincent, who no longer had anything to scream with. He hesitated only briefly.

‘Come and get me, you fucker!’

Obligingly, the monster dropped the piece of Vincent it was holding and charged.

Kevin had been something of an athlete in his day. Those memories returned with a rush as he tore back up the corridor.

Couple years back there wasn’t a man he’d met he couldn’t outrun. But he wasn’t racing a man now. The inhuman apparition was closing fast, even as he accelerated to a sprint.

The slower he became, the faster his hellacious pursuer closed.

He all but threw himself at the switch, whirling as he did so, his back slamming into the corridor wall, his chest heaving like a bellows. The steel door it controlled slammed shut.

Something crashed into it a bare second after it sealed, making a huge dent in the middle. He slumped slightly and somehow found the wind to gasp aloud, ‘Door C9 . . . closed!’

At the other end of the recently traversed passageway prisoner Jude appeared, no mop in hand now. Instead he held his own flare aloft, illuminating the corridor.

‘Yoo-hoo. Hey, fuckface, come and get me. Take your best shot.’

Confounded by the unyielding door, the alien pivoted at the sound and rushed in its direction. Jude took off running, not as fast as Kevin but with a bigger head start. The alien closed fast. Once again, seconds were the difference. The closing doorway separated it from its prey.

On the other side of the barrier Jude struggled to regain his wind. ‘Over in the east wing: door B7. Safe.’

An instant later an alien foreleg smashed through the small glass window set in the steel. Screaming, Jude scrabbled backward along the wall, away from the clutching, frantic claws.

Dillon stood alone in the corridor he’d chosen to patrol and muttered to himself, ‘It’s started.’

‘It’s in tunnel B,’ Morse was yelling as he ran down his own private passageway. ‘Must be heading over to channel A!’

At an intersection, William nearly ran over Gregor as the two men joined up. ‘I heard it,’ Gregor muttered. ‘Channel E, dammit.’

‘Did you say B?’

‘No, E.’

William frowned as he ran. ‘We’re supposed to stay—’

‘Move your fucking ass!’ In no mood to debate what their theoretical relative positions ought to have been, Gregor accelerated wordlessly. William trailed in his wake.

In a side corridor Jude linked up with Kevin, and they glanced knowingly at the other. ‘You too?’

‘Yeah.’ Kevin was fighting for air.

‘Okay. Over to E. Everybody.’

Kevin made a face, trying to remember. ‘Where the fuck’s E?’

His companion gestured impatiently. ‘This way. Get a fuckin’ move-on.’

David was still alone, and he didn’t relish the continuing solitude. According to plan, he should have linked up with someone else by now. He did, however, find what remained of Vincent. It slowed but did not halt him.

‘Kevin? Gregor? Morse? I found Vincent.’ There was no response. He kept moving, unwilling to stop for anyone or anything. ‘Let’s shut this fucker down.’ The section of tunnel directly ahead was darker than the one he’d just vacated, but at least it was empty.

In the main corridor Dillon glanced at Troy. ‘Help them.’

The other prisoner nodded and headed into the maze of corridors, hefting his map.

Prisoner Eric stood nearby, his gaze shifting constantly from Dillon to Ripley. He chewed his lower lip, then his fingernails.

She studied the monitor panel. It showed Gregor going one way, Morse the other. Her expression twisted.

‘Where the fuck is he going? Why don’t they stick to the plan?’

‘You’re immune,’ Dillon reminded her. ‘They’re not.’

‘Well, what the hell are they doin’?’

Dillon’s attention was focused on the dimly lit far end of the corridor. ‘Improvising.’

She rested her hand on the main piston control, saw Eric staring at her. He was sweating profusely.

David stumbled through the darkened corridor, holding his flare aloft and trying to penetrate the blackness ahead.

‘Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Here—’ He broke off. The alien was clearly visible at the far end, pounding ineffectually on the door through which Jude had recently vanished.

He cocked his arm as the alien turned. ‘Here, pussycat.

Playtime!’ He heaved the hissing flare. The alien was already coming toward him before the flare struck the floor.

Turning, he raced at high speed back the way he’d come.

The distance to the next barrier was relatively short and he felt confident he’d make it. Sure enough, he was through in plenty of time. His hand came down hard on the close button. The door slipped downward . . . and stopped.

His eyes widened and he made a soft mewling noise as he stumbled backward, one faltering step at a time.

As he stared, the door continued to descend in halting jerks.

He quivered as the alien slammed full speed into the door.

Metal buckled but continued to descend in its uneven, herky-jerky fashion.

An alien paw punched through the gap and made a grab at David’s leg. Screaming, he leapt onto a ledge in the corridor wall. The hand continued to flail around, hunting for him, as the door jerked down, down. At the last instant the foreleg withdrew.

There was silence in the corridor.

It took him a long moment to find his voice and when he did, what emerged was little more than a terrified whimper.

‘Door 3, channel F. Shut . . .I hope.’

Morse didn’t hear him as he continued to stumble blindly down his own corridor. ‘Kevin? Gregor? Where the fuck are you?

Where is everybody? K, L, M, all locked and secured.’ He glanced at a plate set into the wall. ‘I’m back in A.’

In a side passageway Gregor was likewise counting panels.

‘Channel V secure. Channel P holding.’

Behind him William struggled to keep pace. ‘Did you say P