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chunk of volcanic rock out of his path.
?How about 'big weird thing'?"
Russ Jorden turned to face her, surprise showing on his face behind the
visor. ?Hey, what's the matter, honey? Nervous?"
?We're preparing to enter a derelict alien vessel of unknown type. You
bet I'm nervous.?
He clapped her on the back. ?Just think of all that beautiful money. The
ship alone's worth a fortune, even if it's empty. It's a priceless
relic. Wonder who built it, where they came from, and why it ended up
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crashed on this godforsaken lump of gravel?"His voice and expression
were full of enthusiasm as he pointed to a dark gash in the ship's side.
?There's a place that's been torn open. Let's check her out.?
They turned toward the opening. As they drew near, Anne Jorden regarded
it uneasily. ?I don't think this is the result of damage, Russ. It looks
integral with the hull to me. Whoever designed this thing didn't like
right angles.?
?I don't care what they liked. We're going in?
A single tear wound its way down Newt Jorden's cheek. She'd been staring
out the fore windshield for a long time now. Finally she stepped down
and moved to the driver's chair to shake her sleeping brother. She
sniffed and wiped away the tear, not wanting Tim to see her cry.
?Timmy-wake up, Timmy. They've been gone a long time.?
Her brother blinked, removed his feet from the console, and sat up. He
glanced unconcernedly at the chronometer set in the control dash, then
peered out at the dim, blasted landscape. Despite the tractor's
heavy-duty insulation, one could still hear the wind blowing outside
when the engine was shut down. Tim sucked on his lower lip.
38 3£ALAN DEAN FOSTER
?It'll be okay, Newt. Dad knows what he's doing.?
At that instant the outside door slammed open, admitting wind, dust, and
a tall dark shape. Newt screamed, and Tim scrambled out of the seat as
their mother ripped off her visor and threw it aside, heedless of the
damage it might do to the delicate instrumentation. Her eyes were wild,
and the tendons stood out in her neck as she shoved past her children.
She snatched up the dash mike and yelled into the condenser.
?Mayday! Mayday! This is Alpha Kilo Two Four Niner calling Hadley
Control. Repeat. This is Alpha Kil...?
Newt barely heard her mother. She had both hands pressed over her mouth
as she sucked on stale atmosphere. Behind her, the tractor's filters
whined as they fought to strain the particulate-laden air. She was
staring out the open door at the ground. Her father lay there, sprawled
on his back on the rocks. Somehow her mother had dragged him all the way
back from the alien ship.
There was something on his face.
It was flat, heavily ribbed, and had lots of spider-like chitinous legs.
The long, muscular tail was tightly wrapped around the neck of her
father's environment suit. More than anything else, the creature
resembled a mutated horseshoe crab with a soft exterior. It was pulsing
in and out, in and out, like a pump. Like a machine. Except that it was
not a machine. It was clearly, obviously, obscenely alive.
Newt began screaming again, and this time she didn't stop.
39 III
It was quiet in the apartment except for the blare of the wallscreen.
Ripley ignored the simpcom and concentrated instead on the smoke rising
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from her denicotined cigarette. It formed lazy, hazy patterns in the
stagnant air.
Even though it was late in the day, she'd managed to avoid confronting a
mirror. Just as well, since her haggard, unkempt appearance could only
depress her further. The apartment was in better shape than she was.
There were just enough decorative touches to keep it from appearing
spartan. None of the touches were what another might call personal. That
was understandable. She'd outlived everything that once might have been
considered personal. The sink was full of dirty dishes even though the
dishwasher sat empty beneath it.
She wore a bathrobe that was aging as rapidly as its owner. In the
adjoining bedroom, sheets and blankets lay in a heap at the base of the
mattress. Jones prowled the kitchen, hunting overlooked morsels. He
would find none. The kitchen kept itself reasonably antiseptic despite a
deliberate lack of cooperation from its owner. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]