Chapter 19 - Alien: Colony War

Between the blankets, several lengths of plastic ducting, and a coil of flexible steel cable, they’d managed to assemble a serviceable rope that, once secured to the main comms desk, fell only about two meters short of the distance between the tower and the landing platform—though it was difficult to estimate as the wind whipped it around.

Moran leaned forward through the window and looked down.

“I’ll go first,” he said. “I can probably hold it taut at the bottom so it’s easier for everyone else.”

“I’d have thought a leading man would have been wanting to go last, make sure everyone was safe,” Chad said mildly.

Moran straightened and squared up with him. “Well, we’re the biggest fellas here, so it’ll have to be one of us first. Be my guest if you want to test the strength of the rope.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cher said. “Can we all get our dicks off the table and start getting ourselves out of here?”

Moran and Chad stared each other down for a moment, then the Brit shrugged and gave the rope a tug. He swung himself over the lip of the window. The wind buffeted him and the rain soaked him, and he gripped the length of cable with both hands.

“See you on the ground floor.”

They all leaned over to watch his careful descent, feet against the slick surface of the tower, letting himself down gradually, hand over hand. It was a hell of a drop, Cher thought. The blankets seemed to stretch and tighten as he passed over them, the knots pulling at each other.

“I think we’re going to have to go down one by one,” Chad said. “I don’t trust it to hold more than that at any one time.”

Merrilyn held Therese close. “I am not going down without my daughter.”

“I’m not sure if anyone has taken this into account,” Davis said, “but I have a marked lack of fingers and opposable thumbs.”

“I’ll strap you to me.” Chad found some strips of plastic that were left over, but too short to be used for the escape line. “Therese, do you think you could climb down that rope if your mama was right below you?”

The girl nodded bravely.

“I think we get as many people on the ground as we can before Merrilyn and Therese come down,” he said. “That way, if the worst happens… well, there’s a chance of catching them.” Merrilyn made a moaning sound. Bromley nodded and slung her rifle over her shoulder.

“I’ll go next.”

There was a tug on the makeshift rope and Cher looked over the edge. “Moran’s down. He can barely grip the rope.”

Bromley took hold and swung over the sill, then started to let herself down. Still at the window, she turned to Merrilyn.

“You sure you don’t want to go next?”

“I am sure,” the Frenchwoman said. “Chad is right. If the rope should break with Therese and I on it… at least you can catch her, or break her fall.”

There was another sharp tug on the rope. Cher swallowed.

“I guess it’s my turn.” She looked over the edge. Moran and Bromley seemed so far below. The wind was howling around the comms tower, and when she took hold of the cable it slipped in her hands. She was just about to turn to say she couldn’t do this, that there must be some other way, when she saw Therese’s face.

“OK,” she said, taking a deep breath. She held onto the lip of the window. How was she supposed to do this? Bromley and Moran had literally thrown themselves over as though it was just three meters off the ground—not nearer fifty.

Merrilyn put her hand on Cher’s arm. “It’s all right. One hand over the other. Brace yourself with your feet against the tower. The wind is fierce so it’s going to throw you around a bit. Just keep tight hold. Don’t look down.”

Cher nodded and gripped the rope with both hands, then awkwardly and with little grace rolled herself over the edge, her feet swinging in space and her stomach flipping. She gave a little scream and hugged the cable to her chest, her feet scrabbling for purchase on the wet surface. Everything spun off its axis for a moment, then stabilized.

Chad and Merrilyn nodded to her, and Therese gave her a thumbs up. Slowly, Cher began to inch downward into the driving rain and gale-force winds.

* * *

“Doggo looks like a baba,” Therese said with a little laugh as Chad wound strips of plastic around him, forming a kind of papoose on his chest to which Davis was strapped, facing outward.

“Not my most dignified moment, to be sure.” the synthetic said.

“You go next,” Merrilyn said. “Therese and I will bring up the rear.”

“If you’re sure—” Chad began. Then he stopped, and cocked his head. “What was that?”

They all went silent for a moment, and then there it was. Audible, even over the storm. A distinct thud noise. And again. Chad frowned and looked toward the doors. Was it coming from the corridor? Then there was a violent smack into them, and they shook.

“The Xenomorphs,” he said. “They’re trying to get in by force of numbers.” There was another volley of thumps, and this time one of the doors buckled slightly, a dent appearing in the center. “I’m guessing the doors aren’t military-grade hardware.”

“We never expected them to have to hold off an army of monsters,” Merrilyn said, grabbing Therese close.

“It would be prudent to let Merrilyn and Therese go down next,” Davis suggested. “That way we can hold them off, if they get through.”

Easy for you to say, Chad thought, but he nodded, getting out his gun. “Yes. Go. Now. No time to wait for Cher to get to the bottom. Merrilyn first, and Therese following.” He squatted down in front of the girl. “This is just going to be like climbing rope in gym class, OK, Therese.”

“OK,” she said, “but I never climbed rope in gym class.”

“It’s fine,” Merrilyn said. “Just do what I do, Little Flower.”

She climbed over the edge, pausing to get used to the wind and rain, then took firm hold of the rope and started to let herself down. Chad lifted Therese, a little awkwardly with Davis on his chest, and hefted her over the sill facing him.

“Don’t look down,” he instructed her.

“Why?” Therese said, frowning. “Mama always said focus on what you want and you’ll get there. I want to be on the ground. So I’ll focus on that.”

“Little Flower, just this once, listen to the man and not Mama,” Merrilyn said. “But just this once, OK? Now come on. Let’s move.”

Chad watched them making painfully slow progress down the rope in the raging storm, until he heard a volley of thuds and the sound of something metal rending and twisting.

As he stared at the door, Davis said to him, “Chad… we’ve got company.”

* * *

You really want to take your daughter to a mining and drilling colony in the ass end of nowhere?

Won’t she be bored, no other kids, nothing to do?

Isn’t it a little… dangerous for a child, a place like that?

Merrilyn had heard it all, from friends and colleagues and well-meaning strangers, and she’d batted away every single objection. There was nothing to worry about on LV-187. Merrilyn would take care of her education. She’d make sure the girl wasn’t bored.

She’d keep Therese safe.

Now, thirty meters up in a storm that lashed her with rain and rocked her with winds, her hands slipping on a length of cable, her feet struggling to maintain a grip on the walls of the comms tower, her daughter inching down the same way just a meter or two above her, she seriously wished she’d listened to them all.

You can do this, she told herself. You have to do this. And you have to survive. For Therese. You cannot die and leave her alone in this place. Come on, Merrilyn. One hand in front of the other. One step, then another. You can do this.

She moved as quickly as she could, urging the little girl to hurry. Another three meters. Then another. And another. Then she could risk looking down, seeing Moran holding the end of the cable, Bromley and Cher calling to her to hurry, to keep moving.

They were more than halfway now, moving in swift, smooth progress. Therese was being so brave. Merrilyn was so proud of her Little Flower. Not far to go, only the height of a house.

That’s it, she thought. Think of something else. She envisaged a house, pretty, made of wood and brick, somewhere in the Loire Valley, nestled in the hillside, bathed in sunlight, a fragrant garden at the back and—

The rope jerked, and went slack, and Merrilyn lost her grip. Her feet scrabbled for traction but there was nothing to hold her up, and with a scream that was more for Therese than for her, she felt herself launched into the cold, dark wind.

* * *

“Company?” Chad said, turning with his flashlight to see what Davis had already spotted. Crawling out of the gap at the base of the comms desk was a Xenomorph. A small one, no bigger than the dog body Davis inhabited. Not fully formed, but emerging, inner jaw extending in Chad’s flashlight.

“Priestley’s chestburster,” Chad said. He wondered if it had been attracted by the Xenomorphs still throwing themselves at the doors, if there was some link between the creatures that went beyond the normal human senses, some way of communicating.

The infant Xenomorph regarded them for a moment, as if weighing them up. Then it turned toward the window. The length of cable and blanket was still secured to the comms desk and the creature tilted its head on one side.

“Shit,” Chad said. He lifted his handgun, taking aim at the thing’s head. His shot was on target, slamming into the creature’s head and throwing it backward in a gouting spray of acid blood. Its carapace wasn’t yet full hardened, and the shot was fatal, but the damage was done. Chad heard a distant scream from Merrilyn, carried on the wind as acid caused the rope to break, and it snaked toward the window.

He dropped the gun and dove for it, grabbing it with both hands and feeling himself dragged along toward the opening. He twisted around, Davis heavy on his chest, and planted his feet against the wall under the window, the rope suddenly going taut.

“You did it,” Davis said.

There was still tension in the rope, still weight on it.

Thank God.

“Secure it to the comms desk again,” Davis said.

Chad dragged it back with him, sweating under the effort. He wound it around the base of the desk, careful to avoid the bubbling acidic blood around the Xenomorph’s corpse, then fell on to his back, breathing hard.

“I think it would be a good time for us to get out of here,” Davis suggested.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Then the doors exploded inward.

* * *

Merrilyn fell, drenched by rain, tossed by the winds that didn’t care what happened to her. Her eyes were fixed on Therese, hanging on the rope, her head buried in her arms. It couldn’t come to this. Not after everything they had been through. This wasn’t how the story ended. She wouldn’t let it.

Blood pounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the storm and the noise of people shouting and screaming. It was as if she was listening to everything underwater—and then everything twanged back into place, like the flicking of an elastic band. The sound roared back into her, and she felt herself hit something soft and yielding that was definitely not the surface of the landing platform.

“Good catch, guv,” she heard Bromley say.

“Best wicket keeper in my school,” Moran gasped from underneath her. They were a tangle of limbs, and while the breath had been knocked out of them both and they’d both have bruises, if not fractures, Merrilyn was alive. He’d caught her.

Her relief lasted only a millisecond, and she hauled herself to her feet to where Cher was standing by the swaying rope, calling for Therese, still fifteen meters up.

“Little Flower!” Merrilyn yelled above the torrential rain pounding all around them. “Keep climbing, Baba! Keep coming down!”

From high above them, there was a sudden volley of pulse rifle shots. She turned to Bromley, who was helping Moran to his feet.

“This does not sound good at all,” Moran said.

“Therese!” she shouted again, even more forcefully. Her daughter was frozen, head buried in her arms, dangling from the rope. “Come down at once, young lady! Now!”

“Oh my God,” Bromley said behind her. “What is that?”

* * *

Chad had never seen so many adult Xenomorphs in one space. At last he understood what Weyland-Yutani was trying to do with their endless experimentation, their boundless desire to possess them, their relentless desire to weaponize them.

This was what an army of Xenomorphs would look like. This was what enemy combatants would be presented with—a cadre of killing machines, a death squadron, a phalanx of dark angels who would fight to the bitter end and who, even in defeat, could spray deadly acid blood on their enemies. Any fight where Xenomorph shock troops were deployed would be over before it had even begun.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Davis said. “I mean, you have to admire them. In a way.”

“I’d rather kill them,” Chad said, raising his gun and letting off a volley of shots toward the first three of the creatures that hissed and screeched in the broken doorway.

“I suspect the feeling is very much mutual,” Davis said as, en masse, the Xenomorphs launched themselves into the room.