Чужой

           ’Theyweren’tdesignedtoflythroughparticulatehurricanes,’Parkerremindedhisassociate.’Spitonitfortwomoreminutesandwe’llbeclear.’

           Asecondtremorrattledthebridge.Everyone’sattentionstayedgluedtotheirrespectiveconsoles.Dallasthoughtofqueryingengineering,thenthoughtbetterofitanddecidednotto.IfParkerhadanythingtoreport,he’ddoso.

           Comeon,comeon,heurgedsilently.Getitup.HepromisedhimselfthatifParkerandBrettcouldkeeptheprimariesfunctioningforanothercoupleofminutes,he’dputtheminforthebonusestheywereconstantlyharpingabout.Agaugeonhisboardshowedthatgravitationalpullwasfadingrapidly.Anotherminute,hepleaded,onehandunconsciouslycaressingthenearbywall.Anotherlousyminute.

           Eruptingfromthecrownofclouds,theNostromoburstintoopenspace.Oneminute,fiftysecondslater,thesurface-gravityindicatoronDallas’sconsolefelltozero.

           Thatwasthesignalforsomeunprofessionalbutheartfeltcheeringonthebridge.

           ’Wemadeit.’Ripleylayexhaustedagainstthepaddedbackofherflightseat.’Damn.Wemadeit.’

           ’Whenthatfirsttremorhitandwestartedvelocityslide,Ididn’tthinkweweregoingto,’Dallashusked.’Isawussplatteringourselvesalloverthenearesthillside.Wemightaswellhavedonethatifwe’dhadtogohyperandlosttherefinery.’

           ’Nothingtoworryabout.’Lambertwasn’tsmiling.’Wecouldhavelandedagainandstayedthere.Thenourautomaticdistressbeaconwould’vecomeon.