Simpson rushed up beside Hicks and fired his own pulse rifle at the warrior drone. Again it was driven back, but this time the alien retreated away into the darkness. Fortunately, nothing of the acidic blood had spilled on them.
Simpson looked at Hicks: "Just because I just saved your ass doesn't change anything between us. I realize that you saved my life when you pushed me away from the hole, so I just returned the favor. That doesn't mean that I like you!"
"I don't expect you to. But we're even and I'm fine with that. Just lend me that rifle!" Hicks snatched the rifle from Simpson and completely perforated the egg with bullets, destroying both it and its content.
"What'd you do that for?" Simpson asked as the rifle was returned to him.
"To make sure that 'Ugly' doesn't double back and release the pest within it behind our backs. Besides, it felt damn good."
Suddenly more weapons fire rang in the vast space of the derelict's 'bridge' and Hicks spun around. Fear gripped him as he saw the soldiers firing at the space jockey's chair. "What are you doing?!" he called over the noise.
"We saw it! It was crawling on top of the big cannon or whatever it is!" Cracken called back.
"Hold your fire! Newt is hiding under that consol!"
"That's her tough luck!"
"Anyone who harms her in any way will get the same treatment from me!" Hicks roared - unfortunately to deaf ears. The marines only had their attention on the strange machine that was the alien ship's helm control.
"It's still there! Behind the big barrel!" one other shouted.
"Get it! Shoot it!" was the reply and another salvo was released. Hicks could see that it was all wasted as the alien was shielded behind the elongated bulk of the telescope or whatever that machine was. And Hicks was suddenly hit with the strange sensation of thinking that it was the alien's plan! Could it be that the creature simply was drawing their fire to empty the guns? Hicks knew that the monsters were capable of learning, but to that level? Deliberate or not, the outcome would be in the alien's favor. If the soldiers continued their assault, the weapons would quickly deplete and render them defenseless. And sure enough…
"Crap! My weapon's dry!" Corporal Dixon stated.
"I'm out too!" cried Morgan.
"You're all going to end up dry if you don't cease fire now!" Hicks called out. "We must conserve what we have left if we are to survive!"
Reluctantly they all ceased their attack – all but one. Dagger was still mindlessly trying to shoot through the obstacle to hit the alien.
"Aaaaaaahh! You bastard! Die! Die!" he screamed.
"Dagger! Cease fire!" Hicks called out frustrated, but to no avail. For a moment he was reminded of Hudson from his old team. The comtech had been a cocky man who saw the military life as a game and who had enjoyed every mission they went on. But then he had come face to face with the alien monsters and he had lost it - all confidence he'd had was snuffed out like a candle and replaced with mortal fear. Like Hudson, Dagger had also become hysterical and out of control as terror overwhelmed him completely. His weapon was the only shield he had and he was not prepared to let it go. In the end he was left with no choice though as the ammo-clip pumped the last shell into the barrel to be expelled and then the weapon went dead. "No-no-no-nooo!" Dagger whined as he kept squeezing the trigger as if trying to force his rifle to spit out at least another round. All went quiet in the chamber except for the rapid intake of breaths from each of the personnel present. The alien emerged from behind the barrel where it had taken shelter – it looked like it grinned maliciously at them. And now Hicks saw that this wasn't even the warrior – it was the worker drone that had shot out from the shaft. It was healed and back to torment them.
"It planned this... made us waste our ammo," Hicks stated as he watched the drone.
"How could it?" Dobermann asked nervously. "It's just a dumb animal, isn't it?"
"They're more intelligent than we like to think they are! What's our remaining ammo?" A quick check revealed that the two smartguns still held a small amount of ammunition due to their larger forms, but almost all of the pulse rifles were dry. Only Simpson and Cracken had a few shots left in theirs. Maybe Hicks shouldn't have been so quick about shooting the egg.
It was down to a game of wits. The drone still watched them from atop of the pilot's device while the humans were watching it in return, each waiting for the other to make the next move.
Hicks carefully stepped in beside Cracken and addressed him with a low voice. "Don't make any sudden moves or you might alert it. Do you think you can discreetly track that bug-head through your rifle's external targeting screen?"
"I can. Why?"
"If the rest of us can divert his gaze away from you, then maybe you can put a round through its head."
"I'm game." Cracken whispered as he carefully flipped out a screen from the side of his rifle. He slowly directed his muzzle to the center of the alien's mass which filled out the whole display. "Care to make a wager whether I can do this or not?" the Afro-American asked the corporal.
"Never gamble with a dead man. They got nothing to lose."
"Too true," Cracken admitted. "I'm almost ready. Keep it busy."
Hicks moved slowly away from Cracken. He didn't like the idea of having to rely on a man who under any other circumstances would not cooperate with him, but right now they were in the same boat. Besides, Hicks had a backup plan in mind. There was one gun that everybody had forgotten about: Private Shawn's pulse rifle. Since the young Vietnamese had been rendered unconscious early in the battle, his weapon had not been used. It should still had a full mag. If he could just get close enough to it to capture it…
As Hicks had counted on, the alien followed him with his gaze, or with whatever method it used for visual sense. It was discouraging to try to attract the attention of a creature that had no visible eyes. The featureless face followed him though and the drooling jaws clenched in anticipation.
Cracken was sweating, but other than that he kept the façade of his poker face up to uphold the impression that nothing was going on. Not that the alien could read a facial expression - that was an unlikely concept. He carefully adjusted his aim from his hip, staring intensively at the targeting screen – he now had the center of the alien's forehead filling his display, right in the bullseye of the target grid. "The house got the winning hand now, you ugly sucker." he whispered to himself.
Dagger was losing his patience together with the last of his own wits. He had overheard the plan Hicks had made and he wanted nothing else but to see the monster dead. So why wasn't Cracken pulling the trigger?
"What are you waiting for? Shoot it!"
"Quiet! You're breaking my concentration." Cracken snapped at him with a low voice.
"You got it in your sights! Take it out!"
"Shut up."
"It's going to get away if you wait much longer!"
"Shut up!"
"Shoot it!"
"Shut up!"
"Shoot it!"
"Shut your trap, damn you!" Cracken now yelled. It made the alien turn its head back towards them, attracted by the commotion.
"It's seeing us! Shoot! Shoot!" Panicked now, Dagger dove for the trigger that Cracken was about to squeeze. The pulse rifle went off and the projectile went way off target. The alien hissed.
"You idiot! You ruined my shot!" Cracken bellowed. Dagger's impatience caused calamity to begin once more as the alien drone leaped from the giant machine and landed on top of Private Morgan, knocking him heavily to the floor. Morgan's teammates didn't stick around to help him. Since most of their weapons were empty, they all fled out of the way and managed to run over the ones who still had ammo left in the process, in turn knocking them to the floor of the platform as well. Morgan screamed in panic as the alien hunched over the soldier, holding him in an iron-grip and prevented his attempt to escape. The monster's lips curled back and the teeth began to part. Hicks witnessed how his plan crumbled because of Dagger's cowardice and in a last desperate move, he threw himself towards the abandoned rifle that lay beside Private Shawn's unconscious body.
But the drone saw what Hicks was up to. It grabbed the harness of Morgan's armor, lifted him up and then hurled the screaming man in Hicks' direction. The impact of the heavy body slamming into his blew all air out of Hicks's lungs, and as a result he was knocked away from the rifle. Both men lay on the floor completely stunned and in a world of hurt, while the alien moved in for the kill.
"Hey! Over here, you bugger!" It was Corporal Dixon who decided to take action of his own. It appeared that he too had taken some extra arsenal with him besides those Colonel Decker only had allowed them to bring. In his hand Dixon held a strange package which Hicks realized was an explosive device. Dixon was fascinated with bombs – he could fashion together many variants that was far from approved by any regulations written, and his favorite designs were the bombs he could make inconspicuous and hide on his armor in plain sight. That's how he'd managed to bring explosives with him without the superior officers knowing about it. With all his might, Dixon threw the package he'd previously concealed on his person at the alien with the words: "Catch."
It was almost comical, even close to hilarious. The alien did catch the package in one hand and now it examined the object curiously.
"Oh, shit," Hicks muttered before shouting in a louder voice: "Fire in the hole!" He then wriggled around to protect the front of his body.
The alien drone quickly lost interest in the object it had caught and was about to throw it away when it detonated. The explosion caught it square in the face, its torso was blown open and the arm that held the bomb was vaporized. Bits and pieces of the alien flew in every direction, some of it splattered on the back of Morgan's armor which began to sizzle as the acid ate through the material. There were now two types of howls resonating in the cavernous area: one was of a cheerful character as Dixon let out a victory whoop for destroying the drone – the other was Morgan who screamed in agony as he felt the skin on his back beginning to burn and he thrashed around in panic on the floor. Hicks could understand him; he had been through the same thing back in Hadley's Hope three years earlier when he'd blown the last alien away and the acid blood had gotten on his armor.
Just as Ripley had aided him three years ago, Hicks now tore at Morgan's quick-release straps to help him discard the combat plates before the acid began to dissolve too much of the other's skin. They got it off, but Morgan was now writhing on the floor in pain.
"Medic!" Hicks shouted. "C'mon, who's the acting field medic in this unit?" Everybody looked around amongst themselves. Hicks couldn't believe it: was there just a bunch of trigger-happy morons in the Rawhides? All were killers, but none of them were medically trained? "Do none of you know anything about first-aid?!"
Simpson took a small step forward. "Well, I had a crash-course when I was temporarily stationed at…"
"Then bring the med-kit and get over here!"
"But I don't know how to treat acid-burns!"
"Just stabilize him and then we'll get him up to the doctors on the Hercules! They can treat him more properly up there. Just put pressure to the wound, apply some anti-toxic salve and dress it to stop the bleeding and then give him some injections for the pain. That's what I did when I was burned with it."
"Then why don't you do this if you know what to do?"
"Have you forgotten that there's still one more creature around here? Somebody has to deal with it!"
Meanwhile Dixon was overjoyed. He ran around the platform swinging his arms over his head while he continued to whoop. "Did you see that, guys? I got it! I got it!"
Hicks ignored the over-excited maniac. Instead he saw to get hold on Private Shawn's pulse rifle that still lay forgotten on the floor. He picked it up and checked it for malfunctions – there was none, it was in good condition. Good thing about the pulse-rifle was that it could withstand a lot of abuse. He felt a wave of confidence and relief wash over him - it was good to be armed again.
Dixon stood beside the still smoking carcass of the alien and taunted it. It was easy to be cocky in front of it now as it was dead.
"Don't get too close to it. The acid could still burn through your shoes," Hicks cautioned the other while he consulted his motion tracker again, looking for the last alien.
"Hah! Your monsters aren't so tough after all, Hicks."
Hicks looked at Dixon with an embittered expression. "You blasted fool! The only reason we're still alive is because they want to use us as hosts! They could have killed all of us easily if they wanted to."
"You're just sour because we survived and your team didn't."
Hicks had a hard time resisting the urge to strike Dixon on the jaw. "We were fifteen people coming here last time and we were up against over a hundred of those things! Only three of us plus one survivor of the colony made it out, but not without severe injuries! And afterwards they managed to kill us anyway!"
"Yeah, your team always were a little bit delusional of their capabilities, weren't they?" The rest of the soldiers joined in laughter at Dixon's taunting of Sgt. Apone's team. Hicks gritted his teeth and turned his back to him. Dixon continued his ranting.
"Just a bunch of pansies who couldn't hold their own against a couple of bugs. Maybe they should have thought of bringing a flyswatter with them. Not like us. We beat them! We're invincible!" Dixon swung his arms outwards in his ecstasy. "We're the Rawhides! We're invinc… URRGH!"
Dixon's time of glory was as short-lived as the rest of his life was from the moment when he'd become euphoric in it. Hicks spun back around and saw Dixon's chest explode in red as a barbed spiked tail plunged straight through his body and he was raised in the air, limbs flailing. The last alien, the warrior, emerged from the shadows in the depths of the lower level below the pilot's platform, looking more ferocious than ever. Impaled on the black obscenity's tail, Dixon twitched, let out a final breath and died, arms going limb.
All thoughts thinking that Sgt. Apone's team had been too incompetent to handle the creatures were instantly banished from every remaining standing member of the Rawhides' minds as the presence of the corporeal nightmare again filled them with primal fear. It was so monstrous, so unreal and unnatural – the only course of action that dominated their analytic senses was to send the thing to an immediate death.
The few who still had ammunition left aimed the muzzles of their weapons at the black nightmare and fired, but the alien proved once again that it was smarter than what anyone would like to believe. It grabbed the carcass of its dead sibling and shoved it up in front of itself, using it as a shield – the still dripping acid from the body didn't affect the living beast the least. The rounds slammed into the 'shield' – many of them went straight through, but the dead body cushioned the projectiles and degraded the velocity of them considerably. Also the bullets were immersed in acid as they passed through which softened them up, so they did little or no damage to the living alien's chitinous hide when they finally hit the exoskeleton that was the intended target.
The only thing the soldiers could do was to continue to hack away the tissue of the makeshift shield with armor-piercing bullets until so little remained that they could hit the living alien straight on – but they had nowhere near enough ammunition to do so. Cracken and Simpson's last rounds were quickly spent and shortly thereafter Crabbe and Dobermann's smartguns went out. The only pulse-rifle that still had ammo left in it now was the one in Hicks' possession. Everything else was gone. Hicks wasn't sure though that his amount of ammunition would be enough to save them, he had just spent a third of his magazine. And the alien was formidable and a tough creature to kill: if Hicks didn't hit something vital with what ammo he had left, they'd all be doomed. But there may be one chance…
The alien had still not dislodged Dixon's corpse from its tail. It displayed its kill as a trophy in front of the soldiers; one might think it was because the alien did this to discourage them. Hicks thought about a possibility when it came to Dixon's character: why would he settle with just one concealed bomb on his person? For a psycho who loved explosives, surely he would have more of them hidden somewhere?
The warrior hurled the remains of dead alien drone at the soldiers who scattered out of the way so they wouldn't get hit by corrosive meat. The warrior hissed and crouched down for a leap. And Hicks fired – not at the alien directly, but at Dixon's body. An unethical move, but during the circumstances a necessary one if his theory was correct. The warrior actually looked confused of this action and that worked in Hicks' favor. While the aliens apparently were tactically smart, they clearly lacked imagination. How could it even comprehend the idea that Corporal Dixon might have been a walking arsenal?
Dixon's body convulsed as multiple hits from the rifle sent ripples through decomposing nerves and the corpse danced in death rows where it hung suspended in the air pinned on the alien's tail. But it wasn't all the bullets hit. As Hicks had hoped, his projectiles perforated several concealed packages, and sparks from where bullets were deflected from Dixon's armor ignited something combustible. It was Hicks' adrenaline-heighted reflexes that warned him of the danger and he ran away. He shouted a warning before he dived:
"Hit the deck!"
Both alien and corpse disappeared in a large fireball as every concealed chemical went up and the concussion from the explosion threw all the soldiers off their feet. Superheated air rushed over them and singed the outer layer of composite fibers, exposed cloth and skin. The blast was so loud that everybody's ears were ringing long after the explosion had dispersed. Hicks raised his head from the floor and looked towards the smoking edge of the pilot's platform. There was no sign of the alien warrior or of Dixon's body. Since they had been in the center of the blast, they had been completely vaporized. Hicks felt a grim satisfaction, despite the fact that he had committed a crime of disrespect for the deceased when he blew Dixon's body up. But he felt that it was worth it. The three aliens were dead! It was over.
Hicks rolled over to his back – he felt exhaustion sweep over his body and he was wheezing. His replaced lung was still unable to deliver the necessary oxygen his blood required, and his cheeks hurt like hell. Yet he almost felt like laughing as he exhaled in relief and spoke into the mouthpiece of his communicator: "Bishop? Do you read?"
"- I hear you, Hicks. What is happening? It sounds like a war going on up there."
"We beat them, Bishop. Decker and Dixon bought it, Hurst, Morgan and Shawn are down, but those bugs are dead."
"- I can't say if congratulations is in order, considering the nature of our mission. The Company won't be happy when they hear about this."
"Screw the Company, Bishop!"
"- Are you all right?"
"Exhausted and battered, but alive."
"- What about the girl?"
Hicks instantly got up on his feet. How could he have forgotten about her? She must be terrified in her hiding-place having heard all the shooting, the screams and explosions. Hicks rushed over to the pilot's chair and shined his light inside the cavity where the pilot's feet were positioned. He was reminded of the first time he saw her back in Hadley's Hope. Newt sat pinned against the wall making herself as small as she possibly could. She cowered away from the bright light, trembling all over. But thank heavens Hicks thought, she appeared to be unharmed. He extended his hand towards her.
"It's okay, honey. It's over, we beat them," he told her soothingly. Newt wasn't as withdrawn now as she had been when they first met. She accepted Hicks' outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled out of her hiding. When she was clear from the pilot's helm, she threw her arms around the adult's neck and sobbed quietly. It had been quite traumatic, having to face her worst nightmare and hearing the screams of death yet again.
"I have her, Bishop," Hicks reported into his communicator. "She's quite shaken, but she's all right." Newt mumbled something Hicks didn't quite catch, so he asked her to repeat her words. What she said diminished some of Hicks' assurance of her safety. "My chest hurts."
Since Newt was so close to the mouthpiece of Hicks's radio, Bishop had heard what she said. "- Her wounds are probably strained because of stress-related factors. We should get her back to the ship."
Hicks was not going to argue against that. "Not just her, we should get everybody back up. We're all quite banged up after this and some are in a critical condition. Let's get you out of that hole and then we all leave. There's nothing left for us here now."
"No one is going anywhere!"
Hicks turned on his heels – he could not believe either his ears or eyes. Colonel Decker had just climbed back upon the pilot's platform. The military officer clutched a hand tightly to the chest-area of his leather-uniform which was dark-stained from leaking bodily fluids, but he was quite alive.
"Colonel?! You… you survived?!" Hicks gasped in disbelief.
"Don't sound so disappointed, Corporal," Decker snapped at him.
"But it's impossible! I saw you take in the chest, and those creatures' teeth can punch through almost anything!"
"Good thing that 'almost' doesn't apply to everything then!" Decker stated in a dismissive tone, despite the fact that he was gripping his torn leather-uniform over the spot where the alien had bitten him as if to stop the bleeding. "Surely you didn't think I was stupid enough to go on a mission without wearing a Kevlar-west?"
"It's a relief to see you alive, Sir!" Simpson said as he approached Decker with the med-kit. "Let me check that wound…"
The colonel showed Simpson roughly away with a snarl. "Keep your hands off! I don't need any help!" Ignoring the shocked expressions from his troopers, Decker made a general view over the situation. He was most displeased. "You killed them! I told you I wanted them alive!"
"It was either them or us, Colonel," Hicks said.
"I'm holding you responsible for this, Corporal!"
"With all due respect, Colonel…!" Hicks replied, not trying to hide his resentment. "In case you didn't notice, Dixon is dead and three others are in critical condition! You yourself barely escaped alive! And that is lucky; it could've gone much worse! Now, surely I don't need to tell you of your responsibility for your men? Shawn, Morgan and Hurst are in immediate need of medical attention - and so are you, although you won't admit it! Sir!"
"It is the mission that comes first within this unit!" Decker persisted. "It is the men's duty to die to accomplish it if required!"
Hicks was not swayed. "However, their deaths were not anticipated in this assignment. As it looks right now, the timetable of this mission will be seriously delayed if you lose too many hands that are required to accomplish it!"
That hit home. As the colonel was so obsessed with time, Hicks knew that Decker would have to let his men be treated for their injuries first if he wanted the collecting of the alien specimens to go as efficient as he wanted. All hands were required to bring as many eggs as possible up to the Hercules with each trip with the dropship… and now with four casualties, one of them fatal, the colonel was faced with a different schedule that was more prolonged and that was unacceptable as it would be a waste of resources. Decker grimaced – he had no choice but to postpone the first load.
"I'm still holding you responsible for this, Corporal!" the colonel said. Hicks held back a remark, although he felt quite annoyed with having to carry the blame. It would be a later concern though – Decker was now watching up the ceiling towards where the cocoon containing the immobilized sergeant Hurst still hung.
"Simpson. Take some men and fetch some stretchers and a tarpaulin from the APC. We're going to have to shoot Hurst down from there – we'll have to catch him with the tarp. And you, Dagger…" The colonel looked with distaste at the soiled pants the sorry excuse for a soldier was wearing. "Go clean yourself up!" Dagger turned red in his face from embarrassment and humiliation. Fortunately for him, no one was laughing at him, since everybody was still shaken up after the encounter with the aliens.