But fairness had no place in the endless dark depths of the universe. Nature was indifferent, and space was inimical to man. Sometimes, Hoop thought they’d made a mistake crawling from the swamp.
“We’re going to do this,” Hoop said. “We’ve got to. Get away from this pit, get back home.”
Lachance looked across in surprise.
“Never thought you had anything to go back to.”
“Things change,” he said. Hopefully. Hopefully things can change.
“We’ve left them all behind,” Lachance said, relaxing into his seat. He scanned the instrument panel as they went, hands on steering stick, but Hoop heard such a sense of relief in his voice. “Who’d have thought we would? I didn’t. Those things… they’re almost unnatural. How can God allow something like that?”
“God?” Hoop scoffed. But then he saw something like hurt in Lachance’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m no believer, but if that’s your choice, then…” He shrugged.
“Whatever. But those things, I mean… how do they survive? Where’s their home planet, how do they travel, what are they for?”
“What’s anything for?” Hoop asked. “What are humans for? Everything’s an accident.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“And I can’t believe otherwise. If your God made everything, then what was his purpose for them?”
The question hung between them, and neither could offer an answer.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hoop went on. “We survive, we get out of here, head for home.”
“Five of us, now,” Lachance said.
“Four,” Hoop said softly. “Sneddon’s with us now, but…”
“But,” Lachance said. “Four of us on Ripley’s shuttle. Two men, two women.”
“We’ll start a whole new human race,” Hoop quipped.
“With respect, Hoop, I believe Ripley would eat you alive.”
He laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed properly in a long while, perhaps even since before the disaster, more than seventy days before. It felt strange, and somehow wrong, as if to laugh was to forget all his friends and colleagues who had died. But Lachance was laughing, too, in that silent shoulder-shaking way of his.
Though it felt wrong, it also felt good. Another step toward survival.
Leaving the atmosphere brought a sense of peace. The rattling and shaking ended, and the shuttle’s partial gravity gave them all a sense of lightness that helped lift their moods. Glancing back into the cabin, Hoop noticed Ripley looking in on Sneddon. He stood to go to her, but she turned and nodded, half-smiling. Whatever Sneddon’s fate, it had yet to happen.
Her predicament was difficult to comprehend. She knew she was going to die. She had seen it happening to others, and as science officer she knew more than most what it entailed. Surely she’d want to ease her own suffering? Maybe she’d already spoken with Kasyanov. But if she hadn’t, Hoop would make sure the doctor prepared something to send her quietly to sleep, when the time came.
He only hoped that Sneddon would see or feel the signs.
Something chimed softly on the control panel.
“Marion,” Lachance said. “Six hundred miles away. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Something flashed on the panel, and a screen lit up with a series of code.
“What’s that?”
“Samson’s computer communicating with Marion,” Lachance said. “The nav computer will give us the best approach vector, given comparative speeds and orbits.”
“Ash,” Ripley said. She’d appeared behind Hoop, leaning on the back of his seat and resting one hand on his shoulder.
“Can you disconnect?” Hoop asked.
“Disconnect what?”
“The Samson’s computer from the Marion’s.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Lachance looked at them both as if they’d suddenly grown extra heads.
“Because of Ash. It might be better for us if he doesn’t know what we’re doing. What Sneddon’s carrying.”
“And how the hell would he know that?”
“We have to assume he’s infiltrated the Marion’s computer,” Ripley said. “That would be his aim. Maybe he can’t, but just in case he has…”
“No,” Lachance said. “That’s paranoia, and leaving us blind to fly in manually is just stupid.”
“But you could do it?” Hoop asked.
“Of course,” Lachance said. “Yes. Probably. Under normal conditions, but these are far from normal.”
“That’s right,” Ripley said. “Far from normal. Ash, the AI, his orders were very particular. Crew expendable. My old crew, and now this one. Lachance, we just can’t take the risk.”
The pilot was silent for a while, turning things over in his mind. Then he accessed the shuttle’s computer and started scrolling through commands. He pressed several buttons.
“It’s done,” he said.
“You’re sure?” Hoop asked.
“It’s done! Now shut up and let me fly.”
Hoop glanced up and back at Ripley and she nodded.
“How’s Sneddon?”
“Okay when I last looked.”
Hoop unbuckled himself and headed back into the cabin. Kasyanov seemed to be dozing, but she opened her eyes as they passed, watching them without expression. At the airlock he looked through the small viewing window into the narrow space. Ripley came up next to him.
Sneddon sat with her back against the airlock’s external door, eyes closed, her face pale and sheened with sweat. Hoop tapped on the door. Her eyes rolled beneath their eyelids, and her frown deepened. He knocked again.
She opened her eyes. She looked lost, fighting her way out of nightmares into real, waking horror. Then she saw Hoop and Ripley looking in at her and gave them a thumbs-up.
“It can’t be long now,” Ripley said as they turned away from the door.
“You think we should have supported you down there,” he said. “Stepped back, let you burn her.”
“Perhaps.” She looked wretched, and he reached for her. At first he thought she would resist, pull back, throw a punch as she had down on the planet. But though she was initially tense, she soon relaxed into his embrace. There was nothing sensuous about it. It was about comfort and friendship, and the sharing of terrible things.
“When the time comes,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair tickled his mouth.
“Heads up!” Lachance called. “Marion’s up ahead. Let’s buckle in, get ready for approach. Hoop, could do with you up here to do all the crappy little jobs while I’m flying this thing.”
Hoop gave Ripley one last squeeze then went back to the cockpit seat.
“One step closer to home,” he said.
“Okay, I’m flying by sight here,” Lachance said. “Proximity and attitude alerts are on, but I can’t use autopilot this close without linking to the Marion.”
“So what do you need from me?”
“See those screens there? Keep an eye on them. Once we’re a mile out, if speed of approach goes into the red, shout. If anything goes red, scream your head off.”
“You’ve done this before, right?”
“Sure. A hundred times.” Lachance grinned at him. “On the simulator.”
“Oh.”
“First time for everything.” He raised his voice. “Hold onto your panties, ladies, we’re going in!”
Despite his brief display of gung-ho attitude, Hoop knew that Lachance was as careful and as serious as they came. He watched the screens as the Frenchman had instructed, but he also watched the pilot—his concentration, determination, and care.