The alien reached down and nipped the superintendent off the floor as neatly as a spider trapping a fly. In an instant both predator and prey were gone. In the ensuing hysteria only Ripley and prisoner Morse actually saw the monster drag the quiescent form of Andrews into an open air shaft.

Ripley took up a seat in a corner and lit a narcostick. She found herself remembering Clemens. Her expression 136

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hardened. Clemens: better not to think of him, just as she’d learned to quickly forget several other men with whom she’d formed attachments, only to have them snatched away and destroyed by other representatives of the seemingly indestructive alien horde.

Except that they were not indestructible. They could be killed. And so long as she was alive, that seemed to be her destiny. To wipe them out, to eliminate them from the face of the universe. It was a calling she would gladly, oh, so gladly, have bequeathed to another.

Why her? It was a question she had pondered on more than one occasion. Why should she have been singled out? No, she reflected, that wasn’t right. Nothing was singling her out. Fate hadn’t chosen her to deal with a lifetime of horror and devastation. Others had confronted the aliens and perished. Only she continued to suffer because only she continued to survive.

It was a destiny she could abandon at any time. The infirmary was well stocked, its contents clearly labeled. A single, simple injection could wipe away all the pain and the terror. Easy enough to put an end to it. Except that she was a survivor. Perhaps that was her task in life, simply to survive. No, fate hadn’t singled her out for special mistreatment. She wasn’t responsible for the fact that she was tougher than anyone else. It was just something she’d have to learn to live with.

Another man gone. One she hadn’t been especially fond of this time. She regretted it nonetheless. Andrews was human, and if nothing else deserved to die a decent death.

The alien had left dead silence in the wake of its astonishingly swift attack. In its aftermath the men had resumed sitting or standing, each staring into the distance, 137

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at his neighbor, or inwardly. As usual it was left to Dillon to kneel and begin the prayer.

?We have been given a sign, brothers. How we deal with it will determine our fates.?

?Amen,?several of the prisoners chorused. The comments of several others were fortunately unintelligible.

Dillon continued. ?We give thanks, O Lord, your wrath has come and the time is near that we be judged. The apocalypse is upon us. Let us be ready. Let your mercy be just.?

Near the back of the hall the prisoners had begun to whisper to one another, Dillon’s prayer notwithstanding.

?It was big,?prisoner David muttered. ?I mean, big. And fast.?