He held up a hand, imploring. ?You’re not thinking straight, Ripley! We admit we made mistakes. We didn’t know. But we can make it up to you. All the potential lost, all the time. You can still have children. We’ll buy out your contract. You’ll get everything you deserve. We owe you.?

She wavered. ?You’re not going to take it back??

?No. We realize now what we’ve been up against. 217

You’ve been right all along. But time is running out. Let us deal with it. The surgery on the ship is ready to go.?

The biotech immediately behind him stepped forward. ?It’s very quick. Painless. A couple of incisions. You’ll be out for two hours-that’s all. Then back on your feet, good as new. Whole again.?

?What guarantee do I have that once you’ve taken this thing out you’ll destroy it??

Bishop II advanced another step. He was quite close now, looking across at her. ?You’re just going to have to trust me.?He extended his hand in friendship. ?Trust me. Please. We only want to help you.?

She considered, taking her time. She saw Aaron watching her, and Morse. Her gaze went back to Bishop II.

She slid shut the gate between them. ?No-?

A nod to Morse and he hit the control panel, putting the crane in motion. It rumbled away from the stairs, out over the furnace. As it did so, Bishop II lunged, grabbing at Ripley. She broke free and stumbled away from him.

The commandos responded and Morse took a bullet in the shoulder, dropping down behind the crane’s control panel.

Aaron picked up a chunk of broken pipe, muttering, ?You fucking droid!?The pipe landed hard on Bishop 2’s head.

The impact was spongy. Then man staggered, twitching, as his troops shot the acting superintendent down. Real blood poured from Bishop II’s cracked skull.

?I am… not a… droid,?the bleeding figure mumbled in surprise as it crumpled to the floor.

Ripley clutched at her chest. ?It’s moving.?Company men rushed to the fallen Bishop II. He turned on his side, watching her.

?You owe it to us. You owe it to yourself.?

A beatific smile crossed her face. Then she almost 218

Alan Dean Foster

snarled. ?No way!?The crane platform was now directly over the caldron. Her stomach thumped and she staggered. Calmly, in complete control, she stepped to the edge. Below her feet boiled a lake of molten metal, the proximate inferno raising blisters on her skin, rising tendrils of heat reaching up invitingly.

?It’s too late!?

?It’s not!?Bishop II pleaded with her.

Staggering, she clutched both hands to her chest over the rising heat.

?Good-bye.?

?Nooo!?Bishop II howled.

She stepped off the platform and vanished into the bubbling caldron below.

Morse had staggered erect in time to see her fall. Clutching at his wounded shoulder, he watched, murmuring.