Чужой
VIII
’Givemetheshortversion,’Dallassaid,interruptingher.’Weknowwewentoffcoursetotracethatsignal.HowlongtoEarth?’
Shefinisheddrawingacupofcoffeeforherself,slumpedintoachair,andsaidsadly,’Tenmonths.’
’Christ.’Ripleystaredatthebottomofhercup.Cloudsandgrassandbeachrecededfartherinhermind,blendedintoapaleblue-greenhazewelloutofreach.True,tenmonthsinhypersleepwaslittledifferentfromamonth.Buttheirmindsworkedwithrealtime.Ripleywouldratherhaveheardsixmonthsinsteadoftheprojectedten.
TheintercombeepedforattentionandDallasacknowledged.’What’sup,Ash?’
’ComeseeKanerightaway.’Therequestwasurgentlyphrased,yetwithacurioushesitancytoit.
Dallassatupstraight,asdidtheothersatthetable.’Somechangeinhiscondition?Serious?’
’It’ssimplerifyoujustcomeseehim.’
Therewasaconcertedrushforthecorridor.Coffeeremainedsteamingonthedesertedtable.
HorriblevisionscloudedDallas’sthoughtsashemadehiswaydowntotheinfirmarywiththeotherstrailingbehind.Whatgruesomeaftereffectshadthealiendiseaseproducedintheexec?Dallasimaginedaswarmoftinygreyhands,theirsingleeyesshiningwetly,crawlingpossessivelyovertheinfirmarywalls,orsomeleprousfungusenvelopingtherottingcorpseofthelucklessKane.
Theyreachedtheinfirmary,pantingfromtheeffortofrunningdowncorridorandcompanionways.Therewasnoclusterofreplicatedalienhandscrawlingonthewalls.
