Alien: Out the Shadows

She was held so tightly that Hoop only knew she was struggling because of the flexing and tensing of her muscles, the bulging of her eyes. But those soon died down, and as the blue light faded, Kasyanov grew still.

Hoop turned away, breathing hard, and even when the ship juddered so hard that it clacked his teeth together, he did not move.

You bastard, he thought. You utter bastard, Ash.

Somehow he held back his rage.

* * *

Ripley groaned and rolled onto her side.

“I’ve got you,” Hoop said, moving to her side. Dropping the plasma torch, he slipped his hands beneath her and heaved her up onto his shoulder.

The shuttle awaited them, and now he was the last survivor of the Marion.

It was time to leave.

24

REVENGE

PROGRESS REPORT:

To: Weyland-Yutani Corporation, Science Division

(Ref: code 937)

Date (unspecified)

Transmission (pending)

Ripley lives. He will bring her, and then discover the final surprise.

Time to leave.

I cannot pretend I am not disappointed that things went wrong. I cannot deny that I am frustrated. But I have time on my side.

I am immortal, after all.

Hoop left med bay with Ripley over his shoulder. The ship juddered so hard that he fell into a wall, jarring his whole body. The Marion groaned and creaked. It struck him what an irony it would be if the ship broke her back there and then, venting to space, killing him and Ripley and ending their long, terrible journey.

He thought of Lachance, who might have prayed to help him reach his destination. But Hoop knew that he was on his own. The universe was indifferent. Whether he and Ripley escaped, or died here and now, it all came down to chance.

A rhythmic booming commenced from somewhere deep below. It sounded like a giant hammer, smashing at the ship’s spine, pulsing explosions working outward from the engine core, thudding heartbeats of a dying ship. But still the vessel did not break up.

“Well, let’s go, then,” he muttered, moving on.

He tried to move quickly. His legs were as shaky as the ship now, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. His stomach rumbled, and he was suddenly, sickeningly hungry. He snorted a laugh at how ridiculous that was. But he also vowed to enjoy a feast, once they were in the Narcissus and away from the ship.

Just the two of us now, he thought. One asleep, one awake, sharing the stasis pod and maybe being together for a while in between. We might even do this. We might survive and get home.

And what story would he tell Ripley, when his newfound loneliness became too great and he woke her, ready to spend some of his own time in hypersleep? How would she react to being roused by someone she didn’t know? If the memory wipe had been thorough, the last thing she’d remember would be putting herself into stasis after destroying the Nostromo

.

But that was for the future. If they survived, he would be able to tell her everything, or perhaps nothing at all. All he could concentrate on now was staying alive.

He moved as quickly and safely as he could. Reaching the stairs that led down into the docking area, he decided he’d have to take the elevator. Ripley was becoming heavier by the moment. He glanced at the trolley of food and realized he would have to return for it.

As he entered the elevator, though, he already mourned the feast left behind.

The car descended smoothly, and the doors opened onto a corridor lit by flickering lights. Something exploded. It was far away, but it punched through the whole superstructure, knocking him from his feet again. Ripley rolled against the wall, groaning, waving her hands.

“Don’t wake up yet,” he muttered. She’d panic. He had enough to contend with.

She opened her eyes and looked right at him, motionless, holding her breath. There was no expression on her face, and nothing like recognition in her eyes. Hoop began to speak, to make sure she was still Ripley, still there. But then she closed her eyes again and slumped down. He had no idea what she had seen, but it hadn’t been him.

A deep groan rumbled through everything, and he felt a sickly movement in his stomach and head. The Marion was starting to turn in a roll, and if that happened she would quickly come apart. From somewhere behind him he saw flashing yellow and orange bursts, illuminating the walls before fading again. Fire! But then he realized there were viewing ports back on the deck from which he’d just descended. The flames were filtering in from outside.