Alien: Out the Shadows

“Just coming online now,” Baxter said. In the copilot’s seat, he had a pull-out keyboard on his lap, hands stroking keys as a series of symbols flashed across the display suspended before him. “Just calling up the nav computer… Ah, there we are.” The windscreen misted for a moment, and when it cleared again it was criss-crossed with a fine grid display.

“Leave it off for now,” Lachance said. “I want to get away from the Marion first. I’m worried there’s still wreckage from the crash matching our orbit.”

“After so long?” Kasyanov asked.

“It’s possible,” Lachance replied. “Okay, everyone strapped in?”

Hoop leaned across Ripley and checked her straps. His sudden closeness surprised her, and she felt his arm brushing her hip and shoulder as he tightened the safety straps.

“Bumpy ride,” he said, smiling. “The atmosphere of this rock can be nasty.”

“Great,” she said. “Thanks.” Hoop nodded, caught her eye, looked away again.

What was that? she thought. Come on, Ripley, you’re dodging monsters at the edge of space, and you can still get horny? She chuckled soundlessly, and knew that he heard her exhalation.

“How’s it looking?” Hoop asked.

“All systems online,” Lachance said. “Inertial dampers are a bit glitchy, so the ride might be bumpier than usual.”

“Oh, super,” Sneddon said.

“How often have you guys been down?” Ripley asked.

“We’ve all been planetside a few times,” Hoop said. “Kasyanov for medical emergencies, the rest of us for various other reasons. But it’s mainly the miners who made this trip.”

“Soon you’ll know why,” Kasyanov said quietly. “This planet’s a regular shit-hole.”

“Okay, everyone,” Lachance said. “Thank you for flying Lachance Spaceways. Dinner will be served half an hour after take-off—today we have lobster ravioli and champagne. There’s a selection of in-flight entertainment, and your vomit bags are under your seats.” He chuckled. “You’ll be needing them. Dock disconnect in ten seconds.” He switched on an automatic countdown, and Ripley soundlessly ticked off the seconds.

Nine… eight…

“Electro-locks off, magnetic grab disabled.”

…six… five…

“Retros primed, fire on my mark.”

…three…

“Passengers might feel a slight bump.”

What the hell is a slight bump? Ripley thought. Hoop grasped her hand and squeezed. Sneddon and Kasyanov looked terrified.

“… one… mark.”

There was a moment of nothing. And then Ripley’s stomach rolled, her brain bounced against her skull, her senses swam, her breath was punched from her lungs, and a shattering roar filled the cabin.

She managed to turn her head and look past Hoop through the windscreen and onto the flight deck. As they dropped quickly away from the Marion, the extensive damage from the other dropship’s crash became even more apparent. She also saw the Narcissus docked at the other edge of the ship’s belly, and felt a curious anxiety at being away from her. Perhaps because that ship had been her home for so long, whether she’d been aware or not.

But the shuttle was locked up safe, and Jonesy would spend most of his time asleep. She’d made sure he had plenty of food.

A siren wailed, buzzers cut through the cabin, and the ship’s attitude changed. Lachance seemed to be calm and in control, stroking buttons and waving his hand across projected controls between him and the windscreen. The Marion moved out of sight to port, and LV178 came into view. With the vibration of the ship’s descent it was difficult to make out any real features—to Ripley it was little more than a yellowish-gray smudge beyond the windows.

A few moments later Lachance hit a button and heat shields rose to block out the view.

“Just about to start skimming the atmosphere now,” he said.

Artificial gravity flickered as it adjusted to the planet’s real pull. Sneddon puked. She leaned forward and aimed most of it between her legs. Kasyanov glanced sideways then ahead again, closing her eyes, gripping her seat arms so tightly that her knuckles were pearls of white on her dark skin.

Hoop’s grip almost hurt, but Ripley didn’t mind.

The Samson started to shake even more. Each impact seemed hard enough to tear the ship apart, and Ripley couldn’t hold back the gasps and grunts that came with each thud. It brought back memories of descending down to LV426 in Nostromo, but this was much worse.

She looked back at that strange swathe of material the aliens had left behind. It must have been quite solid to survive the decompression and remain intact, yet from here it looked almost soft, like huge spider webbing covered with dust and ash. The creatures must have hibernated in there. She wondered just how much longer the beasts could have slept, waiting, if they hadn’t decided to open up the Samson.