1 Futile Escape
Colonial Marine Lieutenant Michael P. Hudson stood under the slow spray of the shower, gathering from the inadequate trickle what little comfort and cleanliness could be found. He cramped, as the cubicle was barely large enough to fit his well-built frame - his elbows touched the walls and he had to crouch under the low ceiling.
Water used by the ship was constantly recycled, so the two-minute automatic shut-off was unnecessary, although Hudson restricted his washing to the bare minimum, through habit. He was preparing to turn off the flow when the lights of his cabin were extinguished, and he blinked, disorientated, in the sudden darkness. After a fruitless wait for the emergency back-up power to kick in, he called out to the ship's central AI.
"Mother, I've got a central power failure on C deck, level three. Requesting auxiliary stand-by."
His request was met with silence.
"Mother, how 'bout those arc sodium lamps?"
No response. He swore, hit the cut-off on the shower, then hit it again when the flow failed to cease. After a third strike, the water increased in volume, battering Hudson's startled face. He began beating the button repeatedly to no avail, when a noise met his ears.
The distant rising and falling of a wailing emergency siren echoed throughout the ship. Haunting, mournful, it was accompanied by Mother's coolly impersonal, vaguely feminine tone:
"Intruder alert. Attention all personnel. Xenomorph life forms have been detected. Full-scale evacuation is now in effect. Attention all personnel..."
Hudson froze. The message repeated itself, and dull, overpowering orange emergency lights suddenly flooded his cabin. They faded in and out, at their worst leaving the cabin in darkness, and at their best immersing it totally, blinding him. His vision was filled with its corona's after-image, like after having a photo taken.
Fade out. Hudson was left in darkness again, and he searched for the button to open the shower cubicle. Hit it. The door opened an inch, then jammed stuck.
Fade in. He was locked inside the cubicle. The water continued to pelt onto his head, his shoulders. He was considering trying to climb the shower's slippery plasti-steel walls, when the lights faded out, and Mother's message continued:
"Critical hull damage sustained on E deck, floors two and three. Hull exterior has been breached. Warning, depressurization of these areas is imminent. Emergency airlocks are being set in place. Evacuation is imperative. Attention all person- Warning. Xenomorph life forms have been detected. Movement of unauthorized life forms has been detected on decks C and E. All personnel are ordered to evacuate immediately..."
Fade in, the orange light changed to red but not diminished in power. Hudson was still, listening for signs of life underneath the wailing of the siren, as it rose and fell. Nothing. He continued to listen. A tense minute passed...
"Critical hull damage sustained on C deck, floors three and four. Hull exterior has been breached. Warning, depressurization of this area is imminent. Emergency airlocks are being..."
His quadrant! Hudson was reeling from the shock of this last announcement, not thinking clearly, when it happened. The sinister, barely audible tinkling of many legs crawling across metal. Scuttle - scuttle! Hudson peered through the space in the shower door.
Fade out. Pitch darkness. Silence. Water streamed down his back, in his eyes. He strained to see. As his eyes swept over the claustrophobic confines of his cabin, he suddenly spied a small form - a darker black on black. He watched intently as it throbbed...
Fade in! He thrust himself away from the space so as not to be seen, hiding, panting. The siren's wail rose.
"Warning. Emergency airlocks on decks E and C, floors one, two, three and four are now in place. Emergency over-ride available for T minus fifteen minutes. Depressurization on these sections is imminent. Warning..."
Desperate, Hudson searched the cubicle for a chance to escape. The showerhead looked sturdy enough to smash the plasti-steel shower screen. He pulled at the spray fixture, tested its strength, but there was no way he could remove it from the wall. If he wanted out, there was only one option left. With a deep breath, he braced himself, leg raised in an attempt to smash down the door...
Fade out...
Some intense, perceptive instinct sensed it before it happened. Some flicker of movement on the periphery of his vision, that sinister blacker shade of black on black, in that split second triggering some primal survival mechanism. Halting his resolve to smash the screen, pushing him against the wet walls of the cubicle.
The dark shape hit the screen, holding onto the wall, tail; a coiled line of tension and vicious strength, whip-lashing at a ferocious rate, searching through the gap in the shower screen for purchase on human flesh. In its thrashing fury it slashed Hudson's chest, cutting through muscle like hot steel through butter.
Hudson's reactions, initially hampered by fear at the suddenness of the attack, finally kicked into gear. He slammed the screen back into place to close the aperture, and for an instant he felt a sculptured, alien pressure between the door and the wall, and was sure he would squash the bastard.
But in a movement too fast for human eye to register, it propelled itself into the cubicle, impossibly scuttling across walls slick with water, towards Hudson's face.
Adrenaline fueled his actions, and he rammed the screen with his shoulder, fell, tumbling, naked, out of the recess, the buckled plasti-steel screen clanging onto the floor, the siren wailing, the light fading out, the alien springing off the far wall in a trajectory for the back of his skull. Hudson clambered to his feet and ran.
The screen came to a spinning halt on the floor before his shins, and his legs clipped it, he sprawled onto the floor, the wind knocked out of him.
The action had just saved his life.
The face-hugger flew over his head, missing its target, and Hudson rolled right, slamming into the metal desk, his hand automatically groping for his handgun. Found it.
Fade in, and in a breathtakingly powerful snapshot in time he saw it, illuminated by the strobe lighting, as if in a moment frozen, airborne, before his bewildered gaze. And fired.
It flew back, shattered, propelled, by the 45ACP FMJ round, spewing geysers of yellow death, corroding the room, giving off the odd stench of burning flesh...?
He looked down, startled, and could see his collarbone...
Diving into the cubicle, dousing the liquid fire entering his body, screaming in shock and beginning to feel the pain. His shallowly cut chest and dissolving skin screamed at his nerve endings, pain receptors, brain, as the water hammered away at the multiple wounds.
Fade out.
"Warning. Emergency airlocks on decks E and C, floors one, two, three and four are now in place. Emergency over-ride available for T minus fourteen minutes. Depressurization on these sections is imminent. Warning..."
Hudson lay, unable to think, react, feeling only pain, pain, pain. His body shook as adrenaline wore off and shock fell neatly into place. In fourteen minutes, he told himself.
In fourteen minutes this section of the ship will be deadlocked by ten meters of solid titanium steel. A few minutes after that, and depressurization will kick in. That gives me fourteen minutes-
"Warning. Emergency airlocks on decks E and C, floors one, two, three and four are now in place. Emergency over-ride available for T minus thirteen minutes, forty-five seconds. Depressurization on these sections is imminent. Warning..."
-fourteen minutes and counting... to get from here to the escape pods. Christ.
From the floor, slouched, he could still see his weapon rack. A small red light blinked. His pulse rifle was not yet charged. And yet out there, more of those... bugs.
Bigger. Smarter. Stronger...
Colonial Marine Lieutenant Michael P. Hudson stood under the slow spray of the shower, gathering from the inadequate trickle what little comfort and cleanliness could be found. He cramped, as the cubicle was barely large enough to fit his well-built frame - his elbows touched the walls and he had to crouch under the low ceiling.
Water used by the ship was constantly recycled, so the two-minute automatic shut-off was unnecessary, although Hudson restricted his washing to the bare minimum, through habit. He was preparing to turn off the flow when the lights of his cabin were extinguished, and he blinked, disorientated, in the sudden darkness. After a fruitless wait for the emergency back-up power to kick in, he called out to the ship's central AI.
"Mother, I've got a central power failure on C deck, level three. Requesting auxiliary stand-by."
His request was met with silence.
"Mother, how 'bout those arc sodium lamps?"
No response. He swore, hit the cut-off on the shower, then hit it again when the flow failed to cease. After a third strike, the water increased in volume, battering Hudson's startled face. He began beating the button repeatedly to no avail, when a noise met his ears.
The distant rising and falling of a wailing emergency siren echoed throughout the ship. Haunting, mournful, it was accompanied by Mother's coolly impersonal, vaguely feminine tone:
"Intruder alert. Attention all personnel. Xenomorph life forms have been detected. Full-scale evacuation is now in effect. Attention all personnel..."
Hudson froze. The message repeated itself, and dull, overpowering orange emergency lights suddenly flooded his cabin. They faded in and out, at their worst leaving the cabin in darkness, and at their best immersing it totally, blinding him. His vision was filled with its corona's after-image, like after having a photo taken.
Fade out. Hudson was left in darkness again, and he searched for the button to open the shower cubicle. Hit it. The door opened an inch, then jammed stuck.
Fade in. He was locked inside the cubicle. The water continued to pelt onto his head, his shoulders. He was considering trying to climb the shower's slippery plasti-steel walls, when the lights faded out, and Mother's message continued:
"Critical hull damage sustained on E deck, floors two and three. Hull exterior has been breached. Warning, depressurization of these areas is imminent. Emergency airlocks are being set in place. Evacuation is imperative. Attention all person- Warning. Xenomorph life forms have been detected. Movement of unauthorized life forms has been detected on decks C and E. All personnel are ordered to evacuate immediately..."
Fade in, the orange light changed to red but not diminished in power. Hudson was still, listening for signs of life underneath the wailing of the siren, as it rose and fell. Nothing. He continued to listen. A tense minute passed...
"Critical hull damage sustained on C deck, floors three and four. Hull exterior has been breached. Warning, depressurization of this area is imminent. Emergency airlocks are being..."
His quadrant! Hudson was reeling from the shock of this last announcement, not thinking clearly, when it happened. The sinister, barely audible tinkling of many legs crawling across metal. Scuttle - scuttle! Hudson peered through the space in the shower door.
Fade out. Pitch darkness. Silence. Water streamed down his back, in his eyes. He strained to see. As his eyes swept over the claustrophobic confines of his cabin, he suddenly spied a small form - a darker black on black. He watched intently as it throbbed...
Fade in! He thrust himself away from the space so as not to be seen, hiding, panting. The siren's wail rose.
"Warning. Emergency airlocks on decks E and C, floors one, two, three and four are now in place. Emergency over-ride available for T minus fifteen minutes. Depressurization on these sections is imminent. Warning..."
Desperate, Hudson searched the cubicle for a chance to escape. The showerhead looked sturdy enough to smash the plasti-steel shower screen. He pulled at the spray fixture, tested its strength, but there was no way he could remove it from the wall. If he wanted out, there was only one option left. With a deep breath, he braced himself, leg raised in an attempt to smash down the door...
Fade out...
Some intense, perceptive instinct sensed it before it happened. Some flicker of movement on the periphery of his vision, that sinister blacker shade of black on black, in that split second triggering some primal survival mechanism. Halting his resolve to smash the screen, pushing him against the wet walls of the cubicle.
The dark shape hit the screen, holding onto the wall, tail; a coiled line of tension and vicious strength, whip-lashing at a ferocious rate, searching through the gap in the shower screen for purchase on human flesh. In its thrashing fury it slashed Hudson's chest, cutting through muscle like hot steel through butter.
Hudson's reactions, initially hampered by fear at the suddenness of the attack, finally kicked into gear. He slammed the screen back into place to close the aperture, and for an instant he felt a sculptured, alien pressure between the door and the wall, and was sure he would squash the bastard.
But in a movement too fast for human eye to register, it propelled itself into the cubicle, impossibly scuttling across walls slick with water, towards Hudson's face.
Adrenaline fueled his actions, and he rammed the screen with his shoulder, fell, tumbling, naked, out of the recess, the buckled plasti-steel screen clanging onto the floor, the siren wailing, the light fading out, the alien springing off the far wall in a trajectory for the back of his skull. Hudson clambered to his feet and ran.
The screen came to a spinning halt on the floor before his shins, and his legs clipped it, he sprawled onto the floor, the wind knocked out of him.
The action had just saved his life.
The face-hugger flew over his head, missing its target, and Hudson rolled right, slamming into the metal desk, his hand automatically groping for his handgun. Found it.
Fade in, and in a breathtakingly powerful snapshot in time he saw it, illuminated by the strobe lighting, as if in a moment frozen, airborne, before his bewildered gaze. And fired.
It flew back, shattered, propelled, by the 45ACP FMJ round, spewing geysers of yellow death, corroding the room, giving off the odd stench of burning flesh...?
He looked down, startled, and could see his collarbone...
Diving into the cubicle, dousing the liquid fire entering his body, screaming in shock and beginning to feel the pain. His shallowly cut chest and dissolving skin screamed at his nerve endings, pain receptors, brain, as the water hammered away at the multiple wounds.
Fade out.
"Warning. Emergency airlocks on decks E and C, floors one, two, three and four are now in place. Emergency over-ride available for T minus fourteen minutes. Depressurization on these sections is imminent. Warning..."
Hudson lay, unable to think, react, feeling only pain, pain, pain. His body shook as adrenaline wore off and shock fell neatly into place. In fourteen minutes, he told himself.
In fourteen minutes this section of the ship will be deadlocked by ten meters of solid titanium steel. A few minutes after that, and depressurization will kick in. That gives me fourteen minutes-
"Warning. Emergency airlocks on decks E and C, floors one, two, three and four are now in place. Emergency over-ride available for T minus thirteen minutes, forty-five seconds. Depressurization on these sections is imminent. Warning..."
-fourteen minutes and counting... to get from here to the escape pods. Christ.
From the floor, slouched, he could still see his weapon rack. A small red light blinked. His pulse rifle was not yet charged. And yet out there, more of those... bugs.
Bigger. Smarter. Stronger...