Well, it wasn’t his business to understand her; only to keep her alive. That was what WeylandYutani wanted. With Andrews gone and the alien safely contained, he was beginning to see some possibilities in the situation. Not only was he now the one in charge, it would be up to him to greet and explain things to the Company representative. He could render himself, as well as recent events, memorable in the eyes of his superiors. There might be a bonus in it for him or, even better, early retirement from Fiorina. It was not too much to hope for.

Besides, after years of toadying to Andrews and after what he’d been through the past couple of days, he’d earned whatever came his way.

?Hey, you’re really concerned about this, aren’t you? Why? What’s there to be worried about? The damn thing’s locked up where it can’t get at us.?

?It’s not the alien. It’s the Company. I’ve gone around with them on this twice before.?She turned to him. ?They’ve coveted one of these things ever since my original crewmates discovered them. For bioweapons research. They don’t understand what they’re dealing with, and I don’t care how much data they’ve accumulated on it. I’m concerned that they might want to try and take this one back.?

He gaped at her, and she found his honest disbelief

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Alan Dean Foster

reassuring. For the moment, at least, she was not without allies.

?Take it back? You mean alive? To Earth??

She nodded.

?You’ve got to be kidding.?

?Look into my eyes, Aaron. This isn’t a real humorous subject with me.?

?Shit, you mean it. That’s insane. They gotta kill it.?

Ripley smiled tightly. ?Right. So I take it that we’re agreed on this point??

?You’re damn right,?he said fervently.

He was with her, then, she mused. For now. The Company had a way of swaying people, inducing them to reassess their positions. Not to mention their values.

The infirmary was quiet. Peace had returned to the installation, if not to some of its inhabitants. Concerned that in Clemens’s absence certain of the prisoners whose presence on Fiorina stemmed at least in part from their personal misapplication of certain proscribed Pharmaceuticals might attempt to liberate them or their chemical cousins from their designated repository, Aaron sent Morse to keep an eye on them, as well as on the infirmary’s sole occupant.

Morse sat on one of the cots, perusing a viewer. He was not one of those despondent over the dearth of entertainment material available on Fiorina, since he’d never been much of one for casual diversions. He was a man of action, or had been in his younger, more active days. Now he was a spieler, dealing in reminiscences.