Alien

III

It might have been better for everyone's peace of mind if the emergency had continued. With lights and power back and nothing to do save stare emptily at each other, the five people on the bridge grew increasingly restless. There was no room to stretch out and relax. A single floor pacer would have used all the available deck. So they moped at their stations, downed inordinate quantities of coffee spewed out by the autochef, and tried to think of something to do that would keep their damnably busy brains from concentrating on the present unpleasant situation. As to what lay outside the ship, possibly close by, they elected not to speculate aloud.

Of them all, only Ash seemed relatively content. His only concern at the moment was for the mental condition of his shipmates. There were no true recreation facilities on the ship for them to turn to. The Nostromo was a tug, a working vessel, not a pleasure craft. When not performing necessary tasks her crew was supposed to be spending its blank time in the comforting womb of hypersleep. It was only natural that unoccupied wake time would make them nervous under the best of circumstances, and the present circumstances were something less than the best.

Ash could run problems in theory through the computer over and over, without ever becoming bored. He found the awake time stimulating.

'Any response yet to our outcalls?' Dallas leaned out from his chair to eye the science officer.

'I've tried every type of response in the manual, plus free association. I've also let Mother try a strictly mechanalog code approach.' Ash shook his head and looked disappointed. 'Nothing but the same distress call, repeated at the usual intervals. All the other channels are blank, except for a faint, steady crackle on oh-point-three-three.' He jabbed upward with a thumb.

'Mother says that's the characteristic discharge of this world's central star. If anything, or anyone, is alive out there, it's unable to do more than call for help.'

Dallas made a rude noise. 'We've got full power back. Let's see where we are. Kick on the floods.'

Ripley threw a switch. A chain of powerful lights, bright pearls on the dark setting on the Nostromo, came to life outside the ports. Wind and dust were more evident now, sometimes forming small whirlpools in the air, sometimes blowing straight and with considerable force across their line of sight. Isolated rocks, rises and falls, were the only protrusions on the blasted landscape. There was no sign of anything living, not a patch of lichen, a bush, nothing. Only wind and dust swirling in an alien night.

'No oasis,' Kane whispered to himself. Blank and featureless, inhospitable.

Dallas rose, walked to a port, and stared out at the continuing storm, watched splinters of rock scud past the glass. He wondered if the air was ever still on this little world. For all they knew of local conditions, the Nostromo might have set down in the midst of a quiet summer's day. That was unlikely. This globe wasn't big enough to produce really violent weather, like on Jupiter, say. He drew some consolation from that, realizing that the weather outside probably couldn't get much worse.

The vagaries of the local climate formed the principal topic for discussion. 'We can't go anywhere in this,' Kane pointed out. 'Not in the dark, anyway.'

Ash looked up from his console. He hadn't moved, evidently content physically as well as mentally. Kane couldn't understand how the science officer could do it. If he hadn't left his own station occasionally to walk around, he'd be going crazy by now.

Ash noticed his stare, offered some hopeful information. 'Mother says the local sun's coming up in twenty minutes. Wherever we decide to go, it won't be in the dark.'

'That's something,' admitted Dallas, grasping at the least bit of encouragement. 'If our callers won't or can't talk further, we'll have to go looking for them. Or for it, if the signal's being produced by an automatic beacon. How far are we from the source of the transmission?'

Ash studied readouts, activated a ground-level plotter for confirmation. 'About three thousand metres, over mostly level terrain as near as the scanners can tell, roughly northeast of our present position.'

'Composition of terrain?'

'Seems to be the same as we determined on descent. Same hard stuff we're sitting on now. Solid basalt with minor variations, though I wouldn't rule out the possibility of encountering some large amygdaloidal pockets here and there.'

'We'll watch our step, then.'

Kane was comparing distance with suit time in his head. 'At least it's close enough to walk to.'

'Yeah.' Lambert looked pleased. 'I didn't fancy having to move the ship. A straight drop from orbit's easier to plot than a surface-to-surface shift in this kind of weather.'

'Okay. We know what we're going to be walking on. Let's find out what we're going to be walking through. Ash, give us a preliminary atmospheric.'

The science officer punched buttons. A tiny port opened on the skin of the Nostromo. It shoved a metal flask out into the wind, sucked in a minute portion of this world's air, and sank back into the ship.

The sample was ejected into a vacuum chamber. Sophisticated instruments proceeded to pick it to pieces. Very shortly these pieces of air appeared in the form of numbers and symbols on Ash's console.

He studied them briefly, requested a double check on one, then reported to his companions.

'It's almost a primordial mix. Plenty of inert nitrogen, some oxygen, a high concentration of free carbon dioxide. There's methane and ammonia, some of the latter existing in the frozen state. . it's cold outside. I'm working on the trace constituents now, but I don't expect any surprises. It all looks pretty standard, and unbreathable.'

'Pressure?'

'Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimetre. Won't hold us back unless the wind really picks up.'

'What about moisture content?' Kane wanted to know. Images of an imaginary off-Earth oasis rapidly fading from his mind.

'Ninety-eight double P. It may not smell good, but it's humid. Lot of water vapor. Weird mixture, that. Wouldn't think to find that much vapor coexisting with the methane. Oh well. I wouldn't advise drinking from any local water holes, if they exist. Probably not water.'

'Anything else we should know?' Dallas asked.

'Just the basalt surface, plenty of cold, hard lava. And cold air, well below the line,' Ash informed them. 'We'd need suits to handle the temperature even if the air were breathable. If there's anything alive out there, it's tough.'

Dallas looked resigned. 'I suppose it was unreasonable to expect anything else. Hope springs eternal. There's just enough of an atmosphere to make vision bad. I'd have preferred no air at all, but we didn't design this rock.'

'You never know.' Kane was being philosophical again. 'Might be something else's idea of paradise.'

'There's no point in cursing it,' Lambert advised them. 'It could've been a helluva lot worse.' She studied the storm outside. It was gradually growing lighter as dawn approached.

'I sure prefer this to trying to set down on some gas giant, where we'd have three-hundred kph winds in a calm period and ten or twenty gravities to cope with. At least we can walk around on this without generator support and stabilizers. You people don't know when you're well off.'

'Funny that I don't feel well off,' Ripley countered, 'I'd rather be back in hypersleep.' Something moved against her ankles and she reached down to stroke Jones' rump. The cat purred gratefully.

'Oasis or not,' Kane said brightly, 'I volunteer for first out. I'd like a chance for a close look at our mysterious caller. Never know what you might find.'

'Jewels and money?' Dallas couldn't repress a grin. Kane was a notorious rainbow chaser.

The exec shrugged. 'Why not?'

'I hear you. Okay.' It was accepted that Dallas would be a member of the little expedition. He glanced around the bridge for a candidate to complete the party. 'Lambert. You too.'

She didn't look happy. 'Swell. Why me?'

'Why not you? You're our designated direction finder. Let's see how good you are outside your seat.' He started for the corridor, paused, and said matter-of-factly, 'One more thing. We're probably faced with a dead derelict and a repeating beacon or we'd likely have heard from any survivors by now. But we still can't be sure what we'll run into. This world doesn't appear to be teeming with life, inimical or otherwise, but we won't take unnecessary risks. Let's get out some weapons.' He hesitated as Ripley moved to join them.

'Three is the maximum I can let off ship, Ripley. You'll have to wait your turn out.'

'I'm not going out,' she told him. 'I like it here. It's just that I've done everything I can here. Parker and Brett are going to need help with the fine work while they're trying to fix those ducts. . '

It was entirely too hot back in the engine room, despite the best efforts of the tug's cooling unit. The trouble stemmed from the amount of welding Parker and Brett had to do and the cramped quarters they were forced to work in. The air near the thermostats would remain comparatively cool, while that around the weld itself could overheat rapidly.

The laser welder itself wasn't at fault. It generated a relatively cool beam. But where metal melted and flowed together to form a fresh seal, heat was generated as a by-product. Both men were working with shirts off and the sweat streamed down their naked torsos.

Nearby, Ripley leaned against a wall and used a peculiar tool to pop out a protective panel. Complex aggregations of coloured wire and tiny geometric shapes were exposed to the light. Two small sections were charred black. Using another tool, she dug the damaged components out, searched in the loaded satchel slung over one shoulder for the proper replacements.

As she was snapping the first of them into place, Parker was shutting off the laser. He examined the current weld critically. 'Not bad, if I do say so.' He turned to look back at Ripley. Sweat was making her tunic stick to her chest.

'Hey Ripley. . I got a question.'

She didn't glance back from her work. A second new module snapped neatly into place beside the first, like a tooth being replanted in its socket.

'Yeah? I'm listening.'

'Do we get to go out on the expedition or are we stuck in here until everything's fixed? We've already restored power. The rest of this stuff,' and he indicated the battered engine room with a sharp wave of one hand, 'is cosmetic. Nothing that can't wait for a few days.'

'You both know the answer to that.' She sat back, rubbed her hands as she looked over at him. 'The captain picked his pair, and that's that. Nobody else can go out until they come back and report. Three out, four on, That's the rules.' She paused at a sudden thought, eyed him knowingly.

'That's not what's bothering you, is it? You're worried about what they might find. Or have we all misjudged you and you're really a high-minded seeker after knowledge, a true devotee of pushing back the frontiers of the known universe?'

'Hell, no.' Parker didn't seem the least offended by Ripley's casual sarcasm. 'I'm a true devotee of pushing back the frontiers of my bank account. So. . what about shares in case they find anything valuable?'

Ripley looked bored. 'Don't worry. You'll both get what's coming to you.' She started to hunt through the parts satchel for a certain solid-state module to fill the last remaining damaged section in the open square of wall.

'I'm not doing any more work,' Brett suddenly announced, 'unless we're guaranteed full shares.'

Ripley found the necessary part, moved to place it within the wall. 'You're each guaranteed by contract that you'll receive a share in anything we find. Both of you know that. Now knock it off and get back to work.' She turned away, began to check to make certain the newly installed modules were operating properly.

Parker stared hard at her, opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it. She was the ship's warrant officer. Antagonizing her would do them no good at all. He'd made his point and been rebuffed. Better to leave it at that, no matter how he felt inside. He could be logical when the situation demanded it.

Angrily, he snapped the laser back on, started to seal another section of ruptured duct.

Brett, handling the power and train for the welder, said to no one in particular, 'Right.'

Dallas, Kane, and Lambert made their way down a narrow corridor. They now wore boots, jackets, and gloves in addition to their insulated work pants. They carried laser pistols, miniature versions of the welder currently being used by Parker and Brett.

They stopped outside a massive door well marked with warning symbols and words.

MAIN AIRLOCK: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Dallas always found the admonition amusingly redundant, since there could be no such thing as an unauthorized person aboard the ship, and anyone authorized to be aboard was authorized to use the airlock.

Kane touched a switch. A protective shield popped back, revealed three buttons hidden beneath. He depressed them in proper sequence. There was a whine and the door moved out of their way. They entered.

Seven vacuum suits were arranged on the walls. They were bulky, awkward, and absolutely necessary for this hike if Ash's evaluations of the outside were even half accurate. They helped one another into the life-supporting artificial skins, checked out each other's suit functions.

Then it was time to don helmets. This was done with proper solemnity and care, everyone taking turns making certain his neighbour's seal was tight.

Dallas checked out Kane's helmet, Kane checked Lambert, and she performed the same service for the captain. They executed this tripartite play with utmost seriousness, the spacefarers' equivalent of three apes grooming one another. Automatic regulators were engaged. Soon all three were breathing the slightly stale but healthy air from their respective tanks.

Dallas used a gloved hand, activated the helmet's internal communicator. 'I'm sending. Do you hear me?'

'Receiving,' announced Kane, pausing, to boost the power on his own pickup. 'You read me back?' Dallas nodded, turned to the still sullen Lambert.

'Come on, Lambert,' Dallas said, trying to cheer her. 'I chose you for your abilities, not your sunny disposition.'

'Thanks for the flattery,' she replied dryly, 'and thanks for nothing. Why couldn't you have taken Ash or Parker? They'd probably have loved the chance to go.'

'Ash has to remain on board. You know that. Parker has work to do back in the engine room and couldn't navigate his way out of a paper bag without instruments. I don't care if you curse me every metre of the way. Just make sure we find the source of that damned signal.'

'Yeah. Wonderful.'

'All right, we're set, then. Keep away from the weapons unless I say otherwise.'

'You expecting friendly company?' Kane looked dubious.

'Hope for the best rather than the worst.' He thumbed the communicator's exterior suit controls, opened another channel. 'Ash, you there?'

It was Ripley who responded. 'He's on his way down to the science blister. Give him a couple of minutes.'

'Check.' He turned to Kane. 'Close inner hatch.' The exec hit the necessary controls and the door slid shut behind them. 'Now open the outer.'

Kane repeated the procedure that had admitted them to the lock. After the last button had been depressed, he stood back with the others and waited. Unconsciously, Lambert pressed her suit back against the inner lock door, an instinctive reaction to the approaching unknown.

The outer hatch slid aside. Clouds of dust and steam drifted before the three humans. The predawn light was the colour of burnt orange. It wasn't the familiar, comforting yellow of Sol, but Dallas had hopes it might improve as the sun continued to rise. It gave them enough light to see by, though there was little enough to see in that dense, particle-thick air.

They stepped out onto the lift platform that ran between support struts. Kane touched another switch. The platform descended, sensors located on its underside telling it where the ground was. It computed distance, halted as its base kissed the highest point of dark stone.

With Dallas leading, more from habit than formal procedure, they made their careful way onto the surface itself. The lava was hard and unyielding under their suit boots. Gale-force winds buffeted them as they surveyed the windswept landscape. At the moment they could see nothing save what ran off beneath their boots into the orange-andbrown mist.

What an unrelievedly depressing place, Lambert thought. Not necessarily frightening, though the inability to see very far was disconcerting enough. It reminded her of a night dive in shark-infested waters. You could never tell what might suddenly come at you out of the darkness.

Maybe she was rendering a harsh decision too soon, but she didn't think so. In all that shrouded land there was not a single warm colour. Not a blue, not a green; only a steady seepage of yellow, sad orange, tired browns and greys. Nothing to warm the mind's eye, which in turn might ease one's thoughts. The atmosphere was the colour of a failed chemistry experiment, the ground that of compact ship excreta. She pitied-anything that might have lived here. Despite lack of evidence either way, she had a gut feeling that nothing lived on this world now.

Perhaps Kane was right. Perhaps this was some unknown creature's concept of paradise. If that proved to be the case, she didn't think she cared for such a creature's company.

'Which way?'

'What?' The fog and clouds had misted over her thoughts. She shook them away.

'Which way, Lambert?' Dallas was staring at her.

'I'm okay. Too much thinking.' In her mind she was visualizing her station on board the Nostromo. That seat and its navigation instrumentation, so confining and stifling under normal conditions, now seemed like a small slice of heaven.

She checked a line on the screen of a small device attached to her belt. 'Over here. That way.' She pointed.

'You lead.' Dallas stepped in behind her.

Followed by the captain and Kane, she started off into the storm. As soon as they left the protective bulk of the Nostromo, the storm was able to surround them on all sides.

She stopped, disgusted, and operated suit instrumentation. 'Now I can't see a goddamn thing.'

Ash's voice sounded unexpectedly in her helmet. 'Turn on the finder. It's tuned to the distress transmission. Let it lead you and don't mess with it I've already set it myself.'

'It's on and tuned,' she shot back. 'You think I don't know my own job?'

'No offence,' the science officer responded. She grunted, stalked off into the mists.

Dallas spoke toward his own helmet pickup. 'Finder's working okay. You sure you're receiving us clear, Ash?'

Within the science blister on the lower skin of the ship, Ash switched his gaze from the dust-obscured figures moving slowly away to the brightly lit console in front of him. Three stylized images stood out sharp and clear on the screen. He touched a control and there was a slight whine as the science chair slid a notch on its rails, aligning him precisely with the glowing screen.

'See you right now out the bubble. Read you clear and loud. Good imaging on my board here. I don't think I'll lose you. Mist isn't thick enough and there doesn't seem to be as much interference down here on the surface. Distress signal is on a different frequency so there's no danger of overlap.'

'Sounds good.' Dallas's voice sounded unnatural over the blister speaker. 'We're all receiving you clearly. Let's make sure we keep the channel open. We don't want to get lost out here, not in this stuff.'

'Check. I'll be monitoring your every step. Won't bother you unless something comes up.'

'Check here. Dallas out.' He left the ship channel open, noticed Lambert watching him from behind her suit's dome. 'We're wasting suit time. Let's move.'

She turned wordlessly, her attention going back to the finder, and started off again into the dancing muck. The slightly lower gravity eliminated the burden of suits and tanks, though all still wondered at the composition of a world so small that could generate this much pull. Mentally, Dallas reserved time for a geological check in depth. Maybe that was Parker's influence, but the possibility of this world holding large deposits of valuable heavy metals couldn't be ignored.

The Company would of course claim any such discovery, since it was being made with Company equipment and on Company time. But it could mean some generous bonuses. Their unintentional stop here might turn out to be profitable after all.

Wind drove at them, hammering them with dirt and dust, a solid rain.

'Can't see more than three metres in any direction,' Lambert muttered.

'Quit griping.' That was Kane.

'I like griping.'

'Come on. Quit acting like a couple of kids. This isn't the place for it.'

'Wonderful little place, though.' Lambert wasn't intimidated. 'Totally unspoiled by man or nature. Great place to be. . if you're a rock.'

'I said, that's enough.' She went quiet at that, but continued to complain under her breath. Dallas could order her to stop talking, but he couldn't keep her from grumbling.

Abruptly, her eyes brought information that momentarily took her thoughts away from their steady condemnation of this place. Something had disappeared from the screen of the finder.

'What's wrong?' Dallas asked.

'Hang on.' She made a slight adjustment to the device, made difficult because of the bulky gloves. The line that had vanished from the face of the finder reappeared.

'Lost it. I've got it again.'

'Any problems?' A distant voice sounded in their helmets. Ash was voicing concern.

'Nothing major,' Dallas informed him. He turned a slow circle, trying to locate something solid within the storm. 'Still a lot of dust and wind. Starting to get some fade on the finder beam. We lost the transmission for a second.'

'It's still strong back here.' Ash checked his own readouts. 'I don't think it's the storm. You might be entering some hilly terrain. That could block out the signal. Watch yourselves. If you lose it and can't regain, switch the finder to trace my channel back toward the ship until you can pick up the transmission again. Then I'll try to direct you from here.'

'We'll keep it in mind, but so far that's not necessary. We'll let you know if we run into that much trouble.'

'Check. Ash out.'

It was quiet again. They moved without talking through the dust-laden, orange limbo. After a while, Lambert stopped.

'Lose it again?' Kane asked.

'Nope. Change of direction.' She gestured off to their left. 'That way now.'

They continued on the new course, Lambert keeping all her attention on the finder's screen, Dallas and Kane keeping theirs on Lambert. Around them the storm grew momentarily wilder. Dust particles made insistent ticking noises as the wind drove them against the faceplates of their helmets, forming speech patterns within their brains.

Tick, tick. . let us in. . flick, pock. . let us in, let us in. .

Dallas shook himself. The silence, the cloud-enveloped desolation, the orange haze; all were beginning to get to him.

'It's close,' Lambert said. Suit monitors simultaneously informed the distant Ash of their suddenly increased pulse rate. 'Very close.'

They continued on. Something loomed ahead, high above them. Dallas's breath came in short gasps now, from excitement as much as exertion.

Disappointment. . it was only a large rock formation, twisted and grotesque. Ash's guess about the possibility of them entering higher country was proven correct. They took temporary shelter beneath the stone monolith. At the same time, the line vanished from Lambert's finder.

'Lost it again,' she told them.

'Did we pass it?' Kane studied the rocks, tried to see over them, and could not.

'Not unless it's underground.' Dallas leaned back against the rock wall. 'Might be behind this stuff.' He tapped the stone with a suited fist. 'Or it might be just a fade due to the storm. Let's take a break and see.'

They waited there, resting with their backs to the scoured wall. Dust and mist howled around them.

'Now we're really blind,' said Kane.

'Should be dawn soon.' He adjusted his pickup. 'Ash, if you hear me. How long until daylight?'

The science officer's voice was faint, distorted with static. 'Sun's coming up in about ten minutes.'

'We should be able to see something then.'

'Or the other way around,' Lambert put in. She didn't try to hide her lack of enthusiasm. She was damn tired and they had yet to reach the source of the signal. Nor was it physical weakness. The desolation and eerie colouring were tiring her mind. She longed for the clean, bright familiarity of her console.

The increasing brightness didn't help. Instead of raising their spirits, the rising sun chilled them by turning the air from orange to blood. Maybe it would be less intimidating when the feeble star was completely up. .

Ripley wiped a hand across her brow, let out a tired breath. She closed the last wall panel she'd been working behind after making certain the new components were functioning properly, put her tools back in the satchel's compartments.

'You ought to be able to handle the rest. I've finished the delicate stuff.'

'Don't worry. We'll manage,' Parker assured her, keeping his tone carefully neutral. He didn't look in her direction, continued to concentrate on his own job. He was still upset over the chance he and Brett might be left out of whatever find the expedition might make.

She started for the nearest up companionway. 'If you run into trouble and need help, I'll be on the bridge.'

'Right,' said Brett softly.

Parker watched her go now, saw her lithe form disappear upward. 'Bitch.'

Ash touched a control. A trio of moving shapes became sharp and regular, losing their fuzzy halos, as the enhancer did its job. He checked his other monitors. The three suit signals continued to come in strong.

'How's it going?' a voice wanted to know over the intercom.

Quickly he shut off the screen, hit his respond. 'All right so far.'

'Where are they?' Ripley asked.

'Getting close to the source. They've moved into some rocky terrain and the signal keeps fading on them, but they're so close I don't see how they can miss it. We ought to hear from them pretty soon.'

'Speaking of that signal, haven't we got anything fresh on it by this time?'

'Not yet.'

'Have you tried putting the transmission through ECIU for detailed analysis?' She sounded a touch impatient.

'Look, I want to know the details as badly as you do. But Mother hasn't identified it yet, so what's the point in my fooling with it?'

'Mind if I give it a shot?'

'Be my guest,' he told her. 'Can't do any harm, and it's something to do. Just let me know the instant you hit on anything, if you happen to get lucky.'

'Yeah. If I happen to get lucky.' She switched off.

She settled a little deeper into her chair on the bridge. It felt oddly spacious now, what with the rest of the bridge crew outside and Ash down in his blister. In fact, it was the first time she could recall being alone on the bridge. It felt strange and not altogether comfortable.

Well, if she was going to take the trouble to work her way through ECIU analysis, she ought to get started. A touch of a switch filled the bridge with that tormented alien wail. She hurriedly turned down the volume. It was disquieting enough to listen to when subdued.

She could easily conceive of it being a voice, as Lambert had suggested. That was a concept more fanciful than scientific, however. Get a grip on yourself, woman. See what the machine has to say and leave your emotional reactions out of it.

Aware of the unlikelihood of having any success where Mother had failed, she activated a little-used panel. But as Ash had said, it was something to do. She couldn't bear to sit and do nothing on the empty bridge. It gave her too much time to think. Better make-work than none at all. .