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.
Things were heating up.
He closed a blast door behind him, but it immediately re-opened. He didn’t bother trying again. Maybe it was Ash still playing his games. Or it might just be the Marion, getting cranky in her final moments.
“Come on, come on!” he implored, urging himself on, Ripley slung across both of his shoulders now. He staggered along the corridor, bouncing from wall to wall as the ship shook and rumbled. Another explosion came from far away and he felt the pressure blast smack him in the back, pushing him onward so hard that he lost his footing and went to his knees. He kept hold of Ripley this time. She grunted.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. He stood again and passed by the Samson’s docking arm, moving quickly on to Bay Four and the Narcissus. He opened the vestibule doors and hurried through. In minutes they’d be away. He would look back and see the distant flare as the massive ship met its end.
Or maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t look at all. He’d seen enough destruction, and he couldn’t help feeling sad at the Marion’s demise.
Ash would die with the ship. Hoop had never met an android that he’d liked, but he’d never disliked any of them, either. He’d regarded them as expensive, fancy tools. Sometimes they were useful, but more often they were rich playthings that did the jobs that any man or woman could do, given the right equipment and training.
But he hated Ash.
And they were about to beat him.
He opened the Narcissus’s door and entered the shuttle, keeping his eyes on the vestibule as the airlock slid closed again, followed by the shuttle doors.
Then Hoop heard something behind him. A soft, gentle hiss. The scraping of claws on leather. Something alive.
He turned around slowly, and Jonesy sat crouched on the arm of the pilot’s chair, teeth bared at him, hackles spiked.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Hoop relaxed, lowering Ripley to the floor. He went to the pilot’s seat and sat down.
Jonesy hissed again and jumped away when Hoop went to stroke him.
He switched on the ship’s computer and it powered up instantly. All good. He sat back and waited for the system statuses to load onto the control screens, looking around at the shuttle’s interior. Ash was here. He couldn’t be seen or sensed, but here more than anywhere Hoop had that distinct sense of being watched.
Hello Ash, he typed.
Good afternoon, Chief Engineer Hooper.
Good? he typed. No. Pretty fucking shitty, really.
Ash did not respond.
Initiate launch sequence, Hoop typed.
No.
I thought you’d say that. Hoop took the memory stick from his inner pocket, and slipped it into one of the panel’s interface points.
The computer screen before him flashed, then faded to blank. When it fired up again the previous lines of text had vanished, and the cursor sat ready to create some more.
I’m more than just a program.
No, Hoop typed, that is exactly what you are. Thinking you’re more than that is why this is going to work.
But I’m everywhere, Chief Engineer Hooper. I’m in the Narcissus, deeper and more entrenched than any of its former programs. I’m in the Samson and the Marion. Do you really think a third rate virus program can affect me?
Probably not, Hoop typed. This isn’t third rate. It’s the best that money can buy… from your old friends at Weyland-Yutani.
No.
That was Ash’s total response. Whether it was a plea or a denial, Hoop didn’t wait to find out. He pressed a button on the virus purger, then hit the initiate button on the control panel. A splash of code lit up three screens. It started to scroll quickly, and every few seconds a particular line of code was highlighted red, isolated, and placed in a boxed area on the left of the central display.