Aliens

Something very strange happened while they worked. They were too busy to notice, and it was left to Newt to point it out.

The wind had died. Stopped utterly. In the unAcheronic stillness outside the colony, a diffuse mist swirled and roiled uncertainly. In two visits to Acheron this was the first time Ripley hadn't heard the wind. It was disquieting.

The absence of wind reduced outside visibility from poor to nonexistent. Fog swirled around Operations, giving the world beyond the triple-paned windows the look of being under water. Nothing moved.

In the service tunnel that connected the buildings of the colony to the processing station and each other, a pair of robot guns sat silently, their motion scanners alert and humming. C gun surveyed the empty corridor, its ARMED light flashing green. Through a hole in the ceiling at the far end of the passageway, fog swirled in. Water condensed on bare metal walls and dripped to the floor. The gun did not fire on the falling drops. It was smarter, more selective than that, able to distinguish between harmless natural phenomena and inimical movement. The water made no attempt to advance, and so the weapon held its fire, waiting patiently for something to kill.

Newt had carried boxes until she'd worn herself out. Ripley carried her from Operations into the medical wing, the small head resting wearily on the woman's shoulder. Occasionally she would try to say something, and Ripley would reply as though she understood. She was hunting for a place where the child could rest quietly and in comparative safety.

The operating theatre was located at the far end of the medical section. Much of its complex equipment sat in recesses in the walls while the rest hung from the ceiling at the tips of extensible arms. A large globe containing lights and additional surgical instrumentation dominated the ceiling. Cabinets and equipment not fastened down had been shoved into a corner to provide room for several folding metal cots.

This was where they would sleep. This was where they would retreat to if the aliens breached the outer defences. The inner redoubt. The keep. The operating room was sealed tighter and had thicker walls than any other part of the colony complex, or so the schematics Hudson had called forth insisted. It looked a lot like an oversize, high-tech vault. If they had to shoot themselves in order to keep from falling alive into the alien's hands, this was where any future rescuers would find the bodies.

But for now it was a safe haven, snug and quiet. Gently Ripley lowered the girl to the nearest cot, smiling down at the upturned face.

'Now you just lie there and have a nap. I have to go help the others, but I'll come in every chance I get to check on you. You deserve a rest. You're exhausted.'

Newt stared up at her. 'I don't want to sleep.'

'You have to, Newt. Everybody has to sometime. You'll feel better after you've had a rest.'

'But I have scary dreams.'

It struck a familiar chord in Ripley, but she managed to feign cheerfulness. 'Everybody has bad dreams, Newt.'

The girl snuggled deeper into the padded cot. 'Not like mine.'

Don't bet on it, child, she thought. Aloud she said, 'I'll bet Casey doesn't have bad dreams.' She disengaged the doll head from the girl's small fingers and made a show of peering inside. 'Just as I thought: Nothing bad in there. Maybe you could try to be like Casey. Pretend there's nothing in here.' She tapped the girl's forehead, and Newt smiled back.

'You mean, try to make it all empty-like?'

'Yes, empty-like. Like Casey.' She caressed the delicate face brushing hair back from Newt's forehead. 'If you do that, I'l bet you'll be able to sleep without having any bad dreams.'

She closed the doll head's unblinking eyes and handed it back to its owner. Newt took it, rolling her own eyes as if to say 'Don't pull that five-year-old stuff on me, lady. I'm six.'

'Ripley, she doesn't have bad dreams, because she's just a piece of plastic.'

'Oh. Sorry, Newt. Well, then, maybe you could pretend you're like her that way. Just made of plastic.'

The girl almost smiled. Almost. 'I'll try.'

'Good girl. Maybe I'll try it myself.'

Newt pulled Casey close up to her neck, looking thoughtful 'My mommy always said there were no such things as monsters No real ones. But there are.'

Ripley continued to brush isolated strands of blond hair back from the pale forehead. 'Yes, there are, aren't there?'

'They're as real as you and me. They're not make-believe and they didn't come out of a book. They're really real, not fake-real like the ones I used to watch on the video. Why do they tell little kids things like that, things that aren't true? There was a faint tinge of betrayal in her voice.

No lying to this child, Ripley knew. Not that she had the slightest intention of doing so. Newt had experienced too much reality to be fooled by a simple fib. Ripley instinctively sensed that to lie to this girl would be to lose her trust forever.

'Well, some kids can't handle it like you can. The truth, I mean. They're too scared, or their grown-ups think they'll be too scared. Grown-ups have a way of always underestimating little kids' ability to handle the truth. So they try to make things easier for them by making things up.'

'About the monsters. Did one of those things grow inside mommy?'

Ripley found some blankets and began pulling them up around the small body, tucking them tightly around narrow ribs. 'I don't know, Newt. Neither does anybody else. That's the truth. I don't think anybody will ever know.'

The girl considered. 'Isn't that how babies come? I mean people babies. They grow inside you?'

A chill went down Ripley's spine. 'No, not like that, not like that at all. It's different with people, honey. The way it gets started is different, and the way the baby comes is different With people the baby and the mother work together. With these aliens the—'

'I understand,' Newt said, interrupting. 'Did you ever have a baby?'

'Yes.' She pushed the blanket up under the child's chin. 'Just once. A little girl.'

'Where is she? Back on Earth?'

'No. She's gone.'

'You mean, dead.'

It wasn't a question. Ripley nodded slowly, trying to remember a small female thing not unlike Newt running and playing, a miracle with dark curls bouncing around her face Trying to reconcile that memory with the picture of an older woman briefly glimpsed, child and mature lady linked together through time overspent in the stasis of hypersleep. The child's father was a more distant memory still. So much of a life lost and forgotten. Youthful love marred by a lack of common sense, a brief flare of happiness smothered by reality. Divorce Hypersleep. Time.

She turned away from the bed and reached for a portable space heater. While it wasn't uncomfortable in the operating theatre, it would be more comfortable with the heater on. It looked like a slab of plastic, but when she thumbed the 'on switch, it emitted a whirr and a faint glow as its integral warming elements came to life. As the heat spread, the operating room became a little less sterile, a shade cozier. Newt blinked sleepily.

'Ripley, I was thinking. Maybe I could do you a favour and fill in for her. Your little girl, I mean. Nothing permanent. Just for a while. You can try it, and if you don't like it, it's okay. I'll understand. No big deal. Whattaya think?'

It took what little remained of Ripley's determination and self-control not to break down in front of the child. She settled for hugging her tightly. She also knew that neither of them might see the light of another dawn. That she might have to turn Newt's face away during a very possible apocalyptic last moment and put the muzzle of a pulse-rifle to those blond tresses.

'I think it's not the worst idea I've heard all day. Let's talk about it later, okay?'

'Okay.' A shy, hopeful smile.