Because it was intended for work on a planetary surface, the vehicle’s components, while tough, were made of less robust materials than those that had been used in the lift. As a result, under the relentless assault, the window began to crack.
Looking up, she made a last check of her tethers.
“Tennessee, now, now!” she bellowed.
He hit the controls. A series of small explosions reverberated throughout the bay as emergency release charges blew the stays on the chains and clamps that held the truck in place. Having nearly smashed its way through the side window, the furious Alien was just a solid blow or two from freeing itself from the truck cab.
Standing below, solidly fastened to the deck, Daniels raised her weapon and prepared to fire, despite the possibility of receiving an acid shower as a result.
“Mother,” she said. “Open main terraforming bay doors.”
“I’m sorry,” the ship’s computer replied with a maddening lack of urgency. “That will result in immediate depressurization of the…”
Daniels didn’t wait for the rest.
“Command override Daniels nine-zero-two-six-five, code ‘sea.’ Execute now!”
For the briefest of instants she was afraid the computer was going to argue with her. Relief came as the huge portal at the far end of the bay began to open, the massive doors sliding apart as an unloading ramp was simultaneously deployed.
Chamber depressurization was sudden and incredibly violent. As clean as the storage area had been kept since departure from Earth orbit, there was still enough unseen detritus in the bay for depressurization to suck up a momentary blizzard of particulates. The storm was intense, sweeping over, around, and past her as every bit of dust and debris was vacuumed into space, wrenching her rifle out of her hands, as well.
Vehicles and equipment of all shapes and sizes pulled at their restraints in furious attempts to obey the laws of physics and follow the remnant atmosphere out the now open front door. Only one item managed to do so.
The skids on the truck exploded as it shot forward. Displaying inhuman strength, the single occupant of the vehicle’s cab thrashed wildly in its attempt to escape as the huge piece of heavy machinery sped toward the starfield now fully revealed at the far end of the chamber.
Released from the deck, restraint chains flailed at the escaping air and the floor, trailing the truck like braids of hair on a fleeing giant. Several of them wrapped around a bladed excavator. As the weight of the much larger truck wrenched the smaller machine loose from its own tie-downs, the latter was dragged along toward the now gaping portal.
Until it jammed against an emergency braking block, jerking both it and the bigger truck to a stop.
Sitting just at the edge of the ramp, the larger vehicle showed no sign of motion—until a silent splintering signaled the Alien’s emergence from the cab. Clambering out, it scrambled onto the top of the machine. With single-minded purpose it headed back along the top of the truck toward the storage bay—straight toward where Daniels was secured to the deck.
The storm of escaping air continued unabated as the ship struggled to continuously renew what had escaped. Rising and fighting against the winds, she fumbled clumsily with the restraints that now held her helplessly in place.
With no time for subtlety, Tennessee yanked a tool from its bracket and slammed it down on a line of emergency release controls, setting all of them off simultaneously. Thus freed, a number of braking blocks went flying down the bay as if shot from catapults. Atop the dangling truck, the Alien dodged them all.
But the released blocks included the one that had stalled the departure of the excavator. Finally freed from any restraint, the gargantuan vehicle went flying out into space even as the creature leaped from the back of it, and onto the ramp.
It headed for Daniels. Nothing would deter it now.
At the opposite end of the bay, Tennessee started to reach for the rifle he had clipped onto the control console, stopped, and yelled into his pickup.
“Danny! Down!”
Whirling, she saw a mass of metal flying in her direction. It was the now equally unrestrained excavator, its polished alloy blades pointed straight at her. Letting go of the tether release she dove to the deck. Despite being sealed inside her suit she could have sworn she heard the rush of air as the heavy vehicle shot past close overhead.
The extended blades slammed into the creature, skewering it all the way through its biomechanical body. Spinning and turning, the two vehicles and the impaled Alien went tumbling off into empty space.
Moments later Tennessee ordered the ship’s computer to shut down the flow of atmosphere to the wide-open terraforming bay. The artificial hurricane that had been blasting around Daniels rapidly subsided. In the silent, depressurized chamber she played out the tether behind her as she made her way to the edge of the deployment ramp. Growing smaller and smaller with every minute, the two vehicles and the impaled Alien spiraled off into emptiness.
As it continued fighting to try and free itself, its leaking blood began to dissolve the blades that pierced the tough body—but not fast enough. Then, unexpectedly, two new objects made their appearance in the distance. It took her a second to recognize them.
She started to laugh. Responding to ejection from the storage bay, both vehicles had deployed their emergency landing chutes. With no air to push against them they hung aimlessly in space, like a pair of lady’s handkerchiefs drooping on a hot, humid afternoon.
“You all right, Danny?” The concern in Tennessee’s voice was palpable. “Are we all right?”
It took another moment before vehicles, chutes, and Alien disappeared completely from sight. Rolling over on the deck, thankful for the ship’s artificial gravity, she took a deep breath. Then she raised herself partway into a sitting position and thrust a thumb upward, smiling.
It was over.
XXVI
Tennessee was already dreaming, deep in the comforting, protective throes of hypersleep. Standing beside her open pod as she prepared to climb in, Daniels reflected on all that had happened.
She didn’t blame Oram. He’d made what he believed to be the best decision for the colonists, based on the available evidence. That he had been wrong—monstrously wrong—was a consequence entirely out of his control. No one could have imagined, no one could have guessed, what had awaited them on the world of the Engineers.
Not Paradise, but Hell.
Well, they had escaped Hell. Not all of them, alas. Especially not Jacob. But she lived, and would live to fulfill his dream. She would build his log cabin, exactly according to his beloved blueprints, by the shore of an alien lake on a new world.
Walter stood nearby, watching, waiting, ever patient. Never one to waste time, he spoke up.
“Every moment you spend in full wakefulness here is a moment of life that will be lost to you on your new home. Better to dream in hypersleep than in real life.” He gestured at the open pod. “You’re next, Captain. You’re last.”
She nodded her understanding, turned and stepped into the pod. There was little room inside, but in hypersleep one only needed very little. Bracing her hands against the smooth sides she sat down, then stretched out, making sure the back of her head was correctly positioned against the molded support.
Once he was sure she was ready, he nodded down at her.
“When you wake up,” he assured her, “we’ll be at Origae-6.” He turned contemplative. “What do you think it’ll be like? I think… if we are kind to it, it will prove to be a kind world in return. A world that will provide everything that has been hoped for. Everything we might want.”