Чужой

           Italsofellonboneswithshredsoffleshstillattached.Herskincrawledasthelightmovedoverfragmentsofclothing,driedblood,aruinedboot.Bizarreextrusionslinedthewalls.

           Somethingmovedfitfullyinthedarkness.Shespun,raisingthenozzleoftheflamethrowerasherlightsoughtoutthecauseofthemovement.

           Ahugecocoonhungfromtheceiling,offtoherright.Itlookedlikeanenclosed,translucenthammock,wovenfromfinewhitesilkymaterial.Ittwitched.

           Herfingertenseonthetriggeroftheflamethrower,shewalkednearer.Thebeamfromherlightbarmadethecocoonslightlytransparent.Therewasabodyinside..Dallas.

           QuiteunexpectedlytheeyesopenedandfocusedonRipley.Lipsparted,movedtoformwords.Shemovedcloser,simultaneouslyfascinatedandrepelled.

           ’Killme,’thewhispererpleadedwithher.

           ’What..whatdiditdotoyou?’

           Dallastriedtospeakagain,failed.Hisheadturnedalittletotheright.Ripleyswungherlight,turneditupwardslightly.Asecondcocoonhungthere,differentintextureandcolourfromthefirst.Itwassmalleranddarker,thesilkhavingformedahard,shiningshell.Itlooked,althoughRipleycouldn’tknowit,likethebroken,emptyurnonthederelictship.

           ’ThatwasBrett.’Herlightturnedbacktofocusonthespeakeragain.

           ’I’llgetyououtofhere.’Shewascrying.’We’llcrankuptheautodoc,getyou..’

           Shebrokeoff,unabletotalk.ShewasrememberingAsh’sanalogyofthespider,thewasp.