Alien: Out the Shadows

“I’ve only ever heard about it,” Kasyanov said. “It can repair brain damage, to an extent, and at the same time there’s an associated protocol that allows for memory alteration. I think it was designed primarily for military use. Get soldiers back into the fight that much quicker, after battlefield trauma.” She paused. “It’s really pretty inhumane, when you think about it.”

Hoop thought about it, remembering the sheer terror he had seen in Ripley’s eyes.

“I don’t think I have any choice,” he said. “How much memory will it affect?”

“I have no idea. I don’t think it was developed for fine tuning.”

He nodded, tapping his leg.

“Do it.”

“You’re sure?”

If we go too far back, she won’t even remember me. But that was a selfish thought, far more about him than it was about her. If he had a shred of feeling for her, his own desires shouldn’t enter into it.

When they were finally on Narcissus and away from here, they could meet again.

“She’s sure,” he said, “and that’s as sure as I need to be.”

Kasyanov nodded and started accessing a different series of programs.

While the doctor worked, Hoop moved around the med bay, seeing what he could find. He packed a small pouch with painkillers, multi-vitamin shots, antibiotics, and viral inhibitors. He also found a small surgery kit including dressings and sterilization pads. He took a handheld scanner that could diagnose any number of ailments, and a multi-vaccinator.

Just him, Kasyanov, and Ripley, for however many years it took for them to be found.

“You’ll see Amanda again,” he said—mostly to himself, because he was thinking of his own children, as well. They were all going home.

“Hoop,” Kasyanov said. “I’m about to initiate. The pod calculates that it’ll take just under twenty minutes for the physical repairs, and five more for the limited memory wipe.”

Hoop nodded. Kasyanov stroked a pad on the unit and it began to hum.

Inside, Ripley twitched.

PROGRESS REPORT:

To: Weyland-Yutani Corporation, Science Division (Ref: code 937)

Date (unspecified)

Transmission (pending)

I will save Ripley. Together, she and I can continue our mission into the darkness. I am convinced there are many more aliens out there. One location is a freak accident, two means countless more.

I would like to know their history.

With a new fuel cell we can drift forever as we seek signs of another colony.

And Ripley can sleep, ready to bear our inevitable prize back home.

I only need her. The others cannot come. I will allow what she has requested. In truth, it’s perfect. She will not remember how determined I remain to fulfill the mission. She will not remember the things I have done.

On waking, she will not even know I am still here.

She will be weak, disorientated, and I will guide her back to the Narcissus.

Hoop moved quickly through the ship toward the bridge. More than ever it felt like a haunted ship. He’d always known the Marion busy, the crew going about their tasks, the off-duty miners drinking or talking or working out. It had never been a silent place. There was always music emanating from the accommodations hub or rec room, a rumble of conversation from the galley and bar.

He felt a pang as he missed his friends, and Lucy Jordan, his one-time lover. She had become more than a friend, and after their romance had dwindled—sucked away, she’d joked without really joking, by the cold depths of space—their friendship had deepened to something he’d rarely felt before. They had trusted each other completely.

And she had been one of the first to die.

Hoop had never given way to loneliness. As a child he’d enjoyed his own company, preferring to spend time in his room making models or reading his parents’ old books, and when he was a teenager he’d kept a small circle of friends. Never one for team sports, his social life had revolved around nights at their houses, watching movies or drinking cheap booze. Sometimes a girl would come onto the scene and take him or a friend away for a time, but they’d always returned to the familiarity of that small, closed circle.