?Think not??She grinned wolfishly. ?The first time they heard about this thing it was crew expendable. The second time they sent some marines: they were expendable. What makes you think they’re gonna care about a bunch of double-Y chromos at the back end of space? Do you really think they’re gonna let you interfere with advanced Company weapons research? They think you’re crud, all of you. They don’t give a damn about one friend of yours that died. Not one.?There was silence when she’d finished. Then someone in the back spoke up.

?You got some kind of plan??

Dillon studied his companions, his colleagues in hell. ?This is a refinery as well as a mine, isn’t it? The’ thing’s afraid of fire, ain’t it? All we have to do is get the fuckin’ beast into the big mold, pour hot metal on it.?

He kicked a stool across the floor. ?You’re all gonna die. Only question is when. This is as good a place to take your first step to heaven as any. It’s ours. It ain’t much, but it’s ours. Only question in life is how you check out. Now, you want it on your feet, or on your knees beggin’? I ain’t much for beggin’. Nobody never gave me nothin’. So I say, fuck it. Let’s fight.?

The men looked at one another, each waiting for someone else to break the silence that ensued. When it finally happened, the responses came fast and confident.

?Yeah, okay. I’m in.?

?Why not? We ain’t got nothin’ to lose.?

?Yeah … okay … right… I’m in.?

A voice rose higher. ?Let’s kick its fuckin’ ass.? 197

197

Someone else smiled. ?You hold it, I’ll kick it.??Fuck it,?snapped Morse finally. ?Let’s go for it.?

Somehow they got some of the lights on in the corridors. It wasn’t a question of power; the central fusion plant provided plenty of that. But there were terminals and switches and controls that hadn’t been maintained for years in the damp climate of Fiorina. So some corridors and access ways had light while others continued to dwell in darkness.

Ripley surveyed the molding chamber thoughtfully as Dillon and prisoner Troy crowded close. Troy was the most technically oriented of the survivors, having enjoyed a brief career as a successful engineer before having the misfortune to find his wife and superior in the sack together. He’d murdered both of them, with all the technical skill he’d been able to muster. Faint howls of temporary insanity had bought him a ticket to Fiorina.

Now he demonstrated how the controls worked, which instruments were critical to the chamber’s operation. Ripley watched and listened, uncertain.

?When was the last time you used this thing??

?We fired it up five, six years ago. Routine maintenance check. That was the last time.?