"The mistake is thinking that there can be an antidote to the uncertainty."
Someone left me an anonymous review, asking if they could throw in an OC, and I am saying, absolutely. So he will be introduced in this chapter. This was the form that was given to me. He will be referred to as Prisoner Frank Cain, because, there is already a prisoner named Frank.
Name: Frank Cain.
Gender: Male.
Reason For Being Jailed: Armed Robbery.
Age: 39.
Prisoner Number: 65.
Good Or Bad: Good.
The next morning, Ripley lay under the sheets on a small cot. Across the way, was Clemens, as he lit a cigarette, and he poured himself a small whisky.
"Sorry I can't offer you a drink, but you are on medication."
Clemens said, apologetically.
His back was turned to her now, and without his cowl for the first time, and that was when Ripley could see that etched into the back of his head, was a barcode.
"I really do have to ask you some questions I'm afraid..."
Clemens said, as he turned back around, and he handed her glass.
"You're spoiling the mood?"
Ripley asked.
"One does have a, job to do. I'd like to know why you were so insistent on having the bodies cremated."
"I get it - now that I'm in your cot, you think I owe you an answer."
Ripley said, with a hint of sarcasm as it laced her voice.
"No, you owe me an answer and being in my bed has nothing to do with it."
"In hyper-sleep I had a bad dream...I don't want to discuss it. I just had to be sure what killed her - I made a mistake..."
Ripley lied, smoothly.
"Yes, possibly."
Clemens replied, in compliance.
"Maybe I made another mistake."
Ripley added.
"How's that?"
Clemens asked.
"Fraternizing with the prisoners. Physical contact. That's against the rules isn't it?"
Ripley answered.
"Definitely. Who was the lucky fellow?"
Clemens asked.
"You, dummy."
Ripley answered.
"I'm not a prisoner."
Clemens eyed her uncertainly.
"Then what about the bar code on the back of your head?"
She gestured.
His hand went reflexively to the back of his skull.
"I suppose that does demand an explanation. But I don't think this is the moment. Sorry - we are rather spoiling things, aren't we?"
Clemens answered, before there was a buzz, that had elicited from the intercom in his room.
"Clemens."
Aaron's voice came through the speaker.
Upon hearing his name, Clemens moved close to the speaker, and he pressed a button on the intercom.
"Yes, Mr. Aaron."
"Andrews wants you to report to Ventshaft Seventeen on the Second Quadrant. A.S.A.P. We've had an accident."
Aaron reported to him.
Upon hearing that there was an accident in the ventilation shaft, Clemens raised one of his eyebrows.
"Something serious?"
"Yeah. You could call it that. One of the prisoners got diced."
Aaron answered, before the intercom clicked off.
After hearing the 'click'of the intercom, Clemens turned back to Ripley.
"I'm sorry...I have to go. Official duties."
Clemens apologized.
"Maybe I should come."
Ripley suggested, as she started to lift herself up off of her bed.
"Best not to - I don't think your presence will be appreciated by Superintendent Andrews. I'll be back."
Clemens answered, as he turned away, and he walked away.
Ripley watched him go, and her facial expression was twisted up, obviously not very unhappy.
A few minutes later, as he knelt on the floor of the ventilation shaft, Clemens examined the remains of Murphy. Who was he kidding. There wasn't much to examine in the first place. As he surveyed the scene, he glanced around at the many stains that littered the motionless fans, as there were on the walls. Prisoner Frank Cain, had started to mop up. There was precious little to look at, and the fans had been shut down. Meanwhile, Andrews and Aaron looked on grimly.
"He was a nutter...I gave him the assignment."
Aaron said, with a faint hint of apology laced into his voice.
"No apologies, Mr. Aaron. It wasn't your fault."
Andrews said, as he waved off his apology.
Clemens glanced up at Andrews, after he finished inspecting what was left of Murphy.
"Who was it?"
Andrews asked.
"Murphy."
Clemens answered, in a heartbeat.
"How do you know?"
Clemens pointed to something, strewn about in the shaft.
"That's his boot."
"Not really much to say, is there? Death was instantaneous."
Clemens added.
"No shit."
Aaron surveyed the widely scattered human debris with obvious distaste.
"I take it he was pulled into the fan?"
Andrews asked.
"A sudden rush of air I would imagine, except..."
Clemens started to say.
"Right...almost happened to me once...four years ago...I always tell people...keep an eye out for the fans. Nobody listens."
Aaron commented, as he cut off Clemens in mid thought.
"Except the fan was blowing."
Clemens finished.
Clemens strolled up the duct tunnel, studying the walls. The bloodstains diminished gradually. There was a large recess in the left side of the tunnel and he knelt to peer inside. It was a typical ancillary storage chamber, long since cleaned out. As he started to rise and move on, something caught his eye and caused him to hesitate. It looked like a spill. Not blood. Some kind of chemical discoloration. The normally smooth metal surface was badly pitted. Noticing that Clemens had stopped, both Andrews and Aaron silently moved up behind him to see what he was inspecting.
"What's that?"
Aaron asked.
"I really don't know..."
Clemens answered, as he straightened up, and Andrews pinned his medic with his gaze, who looked away, upon feeling it.
Instantly, Andrews grew suspicious.
"I want to see you in my quarters in say...thirty minutes. If you please, Mr. Clemens."
Andrews commanded, as he turned around, and he shepherded Aaron towards the exit.
Clemens lingered for a bit, as soon as he was 100% certain that Andrews was completely engrossed with the conclusion of the grisly cleanup, and the medic, returned to his examination of the corrosive burn.
Hello all. Your author here. I have found the pdf versions of the novelizations, and I am going to do another version of these stories, only using dialogue and ideas from the novelization. I will get to that, after I have finished this movie, and the first one.