Alien: Out the Shadows

The lights were still on in the tunnel that stretched between dome and landing pad. They moved quickly, passing the place where the floor was bubbled from an acid spill, and when they were close to the external pad Hoop called a halt.

“Nearly there,” he said. “Let’s not get hasty. We’ve got plenty of time, it’s been less than an hour since I fired up the cell. Slow and careful from here.”

Ripley knew he was right. The aliens had chased miners this far and further, so they certainly couldn’t lower their guard just yet. But there was a small part of her, filled with dread, that whispered that they should never leave.

She ignored it.

She had to, because Amanda was still in her dreams, and haunting those occasional, shocking waking visions that seemed so real.

Her stomach hurt more and more, but she didn’t want another shot of painkiller. Once they were on board the Samson, launched, flying safely up toward the Marion in low orbit, perhaps then. But for these last moments on this wretched planet’s surface, she wanted all her wits about her.

Sneddon walked with them, carrying something that might kill them all. Didn’t they realize that? Didn’t they see what was happening here? Hoop had described to her the fate of their shuttle Delilah, and they knew it had been the hatching monsters that did that.

What if Sneddon’s beast hatched on their way up?

Ripley’s finger stroked the torch’s trigger. One slight squeeze and Sneddon would be gone. A moment of shock, another instant of awful pain as the burning plasma melted through her flesh and bone and turned her heart and lungs to cinder…

“Wait,” Ripley said. The word had a weight of finality to it, and when Hoop sighed and turned to look at her, she thought he knew.

Sneddon did not even turn around. She looked down at her feet, shoulders dropping.

“We can’t…” Ripley said. She was crying now, finally unable to hold back the tears that fell for everyone—her old, dead crew; the survivors with her now; Amanda. Most of all, for Sneddon.

“What, Ripley?” Lachance asked. He sounded tired.

Ripley lifted the plasma torch and aimed it at Sneddon’s back.

“We can’t take her,” she breathed.

No one moved. None of them stepped back, away from the area where the flames would spout. But none of them went to help, either. Maybe shock froze them all.

“You know what happened before,” Ripley said. “Same thing might happen to the Samson, when we’re partway there. If she hatches… if the thing bursts from her chest… how do we kill it on the shuttle? Can’t use this.” She lifted the plasma torch slightly, nozzle now aimed at the back of Sneddon’s head. “Can’t use the acid gun Hoop’s carrying, either. We’d fry everyone, burn a hole in the dropship. We’d be an easy target for it. So…” She sniffed hard, blinking to clear her vision.

“So?” Hoop asked.

Ripley didn’t answer. Sneddon still hadn’t turned around.

“Move, say something, damn it!” Ripley shouted. “Fall down! Start to shake, to scream, try to stop me—give me a reason!”

“I feel fine,” Sneddon said. “But Ripley… I know I’m going to die. I’ve known that since I woke, knowing what had happened to me. I’m a science officer, remember.” She turned around. “I know I’m going to die. But not down here. Not like this.”

Ripley’s finger tightened on the trigger. Hoop only watched, his face seemingly impassive. She wished he’d give her some sort of signal—a nod, a shake of the head.

Help me, Hoop!

“I’ll stay in the airlock,” Sneddon said. “The moment I feel something happening, I’ll blast myself out. But please, take me, and I’ll do anything I can to help. There’s still an alien on the Marion, remember? Maybe I can tackle it. Maybe it won’t do anything to me if it knows what’s inside me.”

Ripley blinked and saw Amanda, arms wide, face distorted with agony as a monster burrowed out from her chest.

“Oh, no,” she gasped. She lowered the plasma torch and went to her knees. Hoop came but she waved him away, punching out at his stomach. He hadn’t helped her before, she didn’t want him now. They watched her, and then they turned away when she stood again, wiping at her eyes.

“Okay. Come on,” Hoop said. “Let’s see if the storm’s still blowing.”

* * *

Ripley was last to leave the tunnel. And she was angry at herself. She hadn’t held off from firing because of anything Sneddon had said about traveling in the airlock, or helping them on the Marion. She had relented simply because she couldn’t kill another human being.

Maybe that made her good. But it also made her weak.

Outside, the storm had dissipated to a gentle breeze. Wafts of sand still drifted across the landscape, and there were small mounds piled against the Samson’s landing feet. In the distance, electrical storms played jagged across the horizon, so far away that the thunder never reached them. The system’s star was a vague smudge against the dusty atmosphere in the west, bleeding oranges and yellows in a permanently spectacular sunset.