Alien by Alan Dean Foster

They started toward the hull, the superfluous finder dangling from Lambert's belt.

  'At this point,' Dallas was saying as they neared the overhanging curse of the hull, 'there's only one thing I can . . .'

  Back aboard the Nostromo, Ash followed every word carefully. Without warning, Dallas's voice faded. It came back strong once more before disappearing completely. Simultaneously, Ash lost visual contact.

  'Dallas!' Frantically, he jabbed buttons on the console, threw switches, demanded better resolution from the already overstrained pickups. 'Dallas, do you read me? I've lost you. Repeat, I've lost you. . . .'

  Only the constant thermonuclear hiss of the local sun sounded plaintively over the multitude of speakers. . . .

  Up next to the hull, the colossal scale of the alien vessel was more evident than ever. It curved above them, rising into the dust-heavy air and looking more solid than the broken rock it rested upon.

  'Still no sign of life,' Dallas murmured half to himself as he surveyed the hull. 'No lights, no movement.' He gestured toward the imagined bow of the ship. 'And no way in. Let's try up that way.'

  As they strode carefully over shattered boulders and loose, shaly rock, Dallas was aware how small the alien ship made him feel. Not small physically, though the bulging, overbearing arc of the hull dwarfed the three humans, but insignificantly tiny on the cosmic scale. Humanity still knew very little of the universe, had explored a fraction of one corner.

  It was exciting and intellectually gratifying to speculate on what might lie waiting in the black gulfs when one was behind the business end of a telescope, quite another to do so isolated on an unpleasant little speck of a world such as this, confronted by a ship of nonhuman manufacture that uncomfortably resembled a growth instead of a familiar device for manipulating and overcoming the neat laws of physics.

  That, he admitted to himself, was what troubled him most about the derelict. Had it conformed to the familiar in its outlines and composition, then its nonhuman origin would not have seemed so threatening. He did not put his feelings down to simple xenophobia. Basically, he hadn't expected the alien to be so completely alien.

  'Something's coming up.' He saw that Kane was pointing to the hull ahead of them. Time to set aside idle speculation, he told himself firmly, and treat with reality. This odd horn-shape was a spacecraft, differing only in superficial ways from the Nostromo. There was nothing malignant about the material it was formed of or ominous about its design. One was the result of a different technology, the latter possibly of aesthetic ideals as much as anything else. When viewed in that manner, the ship assumed a kind of exotic beauty. No doubt Ash was already raving over the vessel's unique design, wishing he were here among them.

  Dallas noticed Lambert's unvaried expression and knew there was at least one member of the crew who'd trade places with the science officer without hesitation.

  Kane had indicated a trio of dark blotches on the hull's flank. As they climbed nearer and slightly higher in the rocks, the blotches turned into oval openings, showed depth in addition to height and width.

  They finally found themselves standing just below the three pockmarks in the metal (or plastic? or what?) hull. Narrower, still darker secondary gaps showed behind the exterior ovals. Wind whipped dust and pumice in and out of the openings, a sign that the gaps had remained open for some time.

  'Looks like an entrance,' Kane surmised, hands on hips as he studied the gaps. 'Maybe somebody else's idea of an airlock. You see the inner hatch openings behind these?'

  'If they're locks, why three of them so close to each other?' Lambert regarded the openings with suspicion. 'And why are they all standing open?'

  'Maybe the builders liked to do things in threes.' Kane shrugged. 'If we can find one, I'll let you ask him.'

  'Funny boy.' She didn't smile. 'I'll buy that, but what about leaving all three open?'

  'We don't know that they're open.' Dallas found himself fascinated by the smooth-lipped ovals, so different from the Nostromo's bulky, squarish lock entrances. These appeared moulded into the fabric of the hull instead of having been attached later in construction with awkward welds and seals.

  'As to why they might be open, if they indeed are,' Dallas continued, 'maybe the crew wanted to get out in a hurry.'

  'Why would they need three open locks to do that?'

  Dallas snapped at her, irritated. 'How the hell am I supposed to know?' He added immediately after, 'Sorry . . . that was uncalled for.'

  'No it wasn't.' This time she did grin, slightly. 'It was a dumb question.'

  'Time we got ourselves some answers.' Keeping his eyes on the ground and watching for loose rock, he started up the slight incline leading toward the openings. 'We've waited long enough. Let's move inside, if we can.'

  'Might be someone's idea of a lock.' Kane studied the interior of the opening they now were entering. 'Not mine.'

  Dallas was already inside. 'Surface is firm. Secondary door or hatch or whatever it was is open also.' A pause, then, 'There's a big chamber back here.'

  'What about light?' Lambert fingered her own lightbar, slung at her waist opposite her pistol.

  'Seems to be enough for now. Save power until we need it. Come on in.'

  Kane and Lambert followed him through, down a short corridor. They emerged into a high-ceiling room. If there were controls, gauges, or any kind of instrumentation in this section of the ship they were concealed behind grey walls. Looking remarkably like the inside of a human rib cage, rounded metal ribbings braced floor, roof, and walls. Ghost light from outside danced on dust particles suspended in the nearly motionless air of the eerie chamber.

  Dallas eyed his executive officer. 'What do you think?'

  'I dunno. Cargo chamber, maybe? Or part of a complicated lock system? Yeah, that's it. We just passed through a double door and this here is the real lock.'

  'Mighty big for just an airlock.' Lambert's voice sounded subdued in their helmets.

  'Just guessing. If the inhabitants of this ship were to its scale what we are to the Nostromo, they'd likely need a lock this size. But I admit the cargo-hold idea makes more sense. Might even explain the need for three entryways.' He turned, saw Dallas leaning over a black hole in the floor.

  'Hey, watch it, Dallas! No telling what might be down there, or how deep it goes.'

  'The ship is standing open to the outside and nothing's taken notice of our entry. I don't think there's anything alive in here.' Dallas unclipped his lightbar, flipped it on, and directed the brilliant beam downward.

  'See anything?' Lambert asked.

  'Yeah.' Kane smirked. 'Like a rabbit with a watch?' He sounded almost hopeful.

  'Can't see a damn thing.' Dallas moved the light slowly from one side to the other. It was a narrow beam, but powerful. It would show anything lying a modest distance below them.

  'What is it?' Lambert had walked over to stand alongside him, kept a careful distance from the abyss. 'Another cargo chamber?'

  'No way of telling from here. It just goes down. Smooth walls as far as my light will reach. No indication of handholds, an elevator, ladder, or any other means of descent. I can't see the bottom. Light won't reach. Must be an access shaft of some kind.' He turned off his light, moved a metre away from the hole, and began unclipping gear from his belt and backpack. He laid it out on the floor, rose, and glanced around the dimly illuminated, grey chamber.

  'Whatever's downstairs will wait. Let's have a look around here first. I want to make sure there aren't any surprises. We might even find an easier way down.' He flicked his light on once more, played it over nearby walls. Despite their resemblance to a whale's insides, they remained gratifyingly motionless.

  'Spread out . . . but not too far. Under no circumstances walk out of unlighted view of one another. This shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes.'

  Kane and Lambert activated their own lightbars. Travelling in a line, they started to explore the vast room.

  Fragments of some shattered gre
y material lay scattered about. Much of it was buried beneath the tiny dust dunes and finely ground pumice that had invaded the ship. Kane ignored the stuff. They were hunting for something intact.

  Dallas's light fell unexpectedly on a shape that was not part of wall or floor. Moving closer, he used the light to trace its outlines. It appeared to be a smallish urn or vase, tan in colour, glossy in aspect. Moving closer, he tilted his head over the jagged, broken top, shone the light inside.

  Empty.

  Disappointed, he walked away, wondering that something seemingly so fragile had remained relatively undisturbed while other more durable substances had apparently withered and cracked. Though for all he knew, the composition of the urn might test the melting ability of his pistol.

  He was almost ready to return to the shaft in the floor when his light fell on something complex and boldly mechanical. Within the semi-organic confines of the alien ship its reassuringly functional appearance was a great relief, though the design itself was utterly unfamiliar.

  'Over here!'

  'Something wrong?' That was Kane.

  'Not a thing. I've found a mechanism.'

  Lambert and Kane rushed to join him, their boots raising little puffs of animated dust. They added their own lights to Dallas's. All seemed quiet and dead, though Dallas had the impression of patient power functioning smoothly somewhere behind those strangely contoured panels. And evidence of mechanical life was provided by the sight of a single metal bar moving steadily back and forth on its grooved track, though it made, according to suit sensors, not a sound.

  'Looks like it's still functioning. Wonder how long its been running like this.' Kane examined the device, fascinated. 'Wonder what it does.'

  'I can tell you that.' They turned to Lambert. She confirmed what Dallas had already guessed. She was holding her finder, the same instrument that had led them here from the Nostromo. 'It's the transmitter. Automatic distress call, just like we imagined it might be. It looks clean enough to be brand new, though it's likely been putting out that signal for years.' She shrugged. 'Maybe decades. Or longer.'

  Dallas ran a small instrument over the surface of the alien device. 'Electrostatic repulsion. That explains the absence of dust. Too bad. There isn't much wind in here and the depth of the dust might give us a clue to how long the machine's been set up. It looks portable.' He turned the scanner off, slipped it back into its waist holder.

  'Anyone else find anything?' They both shook their heads.

  'Just ribbed walls and dust.' Kane sounded discouraged.

  'No indication of another opening leading to a different part of the ship? No other floor gaps?' Again the double negative responses. 'That leaves us with the first shaft, or trying to bore a hole through the nearest wall. We'll try the first before we go slicing things up.' He noticed Kane's expression. 'Giving up?'

  'Not yet. I will if we run through every centimetre of this big grey bastard and don't find anything besides blank walls and sealed machines.'

  'That wouldn't bother me a bit,' said Lambert with feeling.

  They retraced their steps, carefully positioned themselves close to the lip of the flush, circular opening in the deck. Dallas knelt, moving slowly in the suit, and felt as best he could of the shaft's rim.

  'Can't tell much with these damned gloves on, but it feels regular. The shaft must be a normal part of the ship. I thought it might've been caused by an explosion. That is a distress call we're picking up.'

  Lambert studied the hole. 'A shaped charge could make a smooth hole like that.'

  'You'll do anything to make a guy feel good, won't you?' Dallas felt disappointed. 'But I still think it's a normal part of this ship. The sides are too regular, even for a shaped charge, no matter how powerful.'

  'Just giving my opinion.'

  'Either way, it's look down below, blow a hole in a wall, or go back outside and hunt for another entrance.' He looked across the shaft at Kane. 'This is your big chance.'

  The exec looked indifferent. 'If you wish. Suits me. If I'm feeling generous, I'll even tell you about the diamonds.'

  'What diamonds?'

  'The ones I'm going to find spilling out of old alien crates down there.' He gestured at the blackness.

  Lambert helped him secure the chest climbing unit, made certain the harness was firmly affixed to his shoulders and back. He touched the check stud, was rewarded by a faint beep over his helmet speaker. A green light winked on, then off, on the front of the unit.

  'We've got power over here. I'm all set.' He eyed Dallas. 'You ready yet?'

  'Another minute.' The captain had assembled a metal tripod from short lengths of metal. The resulting construct looked flimsy, too thin to support a man's weight. In actuality it could hold the three of them without so much as bending.

  When it was locked, Dallas moved it so that its apex was positioned over the centre of the shaft. Braces secured the three legs to the deck. A small winch and spool arrangement attached to the apex held thin cable. Dallas manually unwound a metre or two of the gleaming lifeline, handed the end to Kane. The exec affixed the cable to the loop on his chest unit, double locked it tight, and had Lambert check by pulling on it with all her weight. It held easily.

  'Don't unhook yourself from the cable under any circumstances,' Dallas said sternly. 'Even if you see piles of diamonds sparkling just out of your reach.' He checked the cable unit for himself. Kane was a good officer. The gravity here was less than on Earth, but still more than adequate to make a mess of Kane if he fell. They had no idea how deep into the bowels of the ship the shaft went. Or the shaft might be a mining shaft, extending below the hull into the ground. That thought led to another, which made Dallas grin to himself. Maybe Kane would find his diamonds after all.

  'Be out in less than ten minutes.' He spoke in his best no-nonsense tone. 'Read me?'

  'Aye, aye.' Kane carefully sat down, swung his legs over the edge. Grasping the cable with both hands, he pushed off, hung by the cable in the middle of the opening. His lower body was cloaked in black air.

  'If you're not out in ten minutes, I'll pull you out with the override,' Dallas warned him.

  'Relax. I'll be a good boy. Besides, I can take care of myself.' He'd stopped swinging from side to side, now hung motionless in the gap.

  'Do that. Keep us informed as you descend.'

  'Check.' Kane activated the climbing unit. The cable unwound smoothly, lowering him into the shaft. He thrust out with his legs, contacted the smooth sides. Leaning back and bracing his feet against the vertical wall, he was able to walk downward.

  Holding himself motionless, he switched on his lightbar, pointed it down. It showed him ten metres of dull-coloured metal before dissolving into nothingness.

  'Hotter in here,' he reported, after a cursory inspection of his suit's sensory equipment. 'Must be warm air rising from below. Could be part of the engine complex, if that's still functioning. We know something's supplying power to that transmitter.'

  Kicking away from the wall and playing out cable, he started down in earnest. After several minutes of rappelling his way down the shaft, he stopped to catch his breath. It was warmer, and growing more so the farther he dropped. The sudden changes put a burden on his suit's cooling system and he began to sweat, though the helmet's own unit kept his faceplate clear. His breathing sounded loud to him within the helmet and he worried because he knew Dallas and Lambert could hear. He didn't want to be called back up.

  Leaning back, he glanced upward and saw the mouth of the shaft, a round circle of light set in a black frame. A dark blot appeared, obscured one round edge. Distant light glinted off something smooth and reflective.

  'You okay down there?'

  'Okay. Hot, though. I can still see you. Haven't hit bottom yet.' He sucked in a deep draught of air, then another, hyperventilating. The tank regulator whined in protest. 'This is real work. Can't talk anymore now.'

  Bending his knees, he kicked away from the wall again, let out more cable. B
y now he'd gained some confidence with regard to his surroundings. The shaft continued steadily downward. So far it had displayed no inclination to narrow, or change direction. Widening he wasn't as concerned about.

  He kicked off harder the next time, began taking longer and longer hops, falling steadily faster in the darkness. His lightbar continued to shine downward, continued to reveal nothing but the same monotonous, unvarying night beneath him.

  Out of breath again he paused in his descent to run a check of his suit instrumentation. 'Interesting,' he said into his pickup. 'I'm below ground level.'

  'Read you,' replied Dallas. Thinking of mine shafts, he asked, 'Any change in your surroundings? Still the same stuff walling the shaft?'

  'Far as I can see. How am I doing on line?'

  A brief pause while Dallas checked the cable remaining on the spool. 'Fine. Got over fifty metres left. If the shaft runs deeper than that we'll have to call this off until we can bring bigger stuff from the ship. I wouldn't think it'd go that far down, though.'