Aliens vs Predator 2 - War Read online

  "Martin, it wasn't you," she said softly, and saw him wince ever so slightly, a tightening around his mouth and eyes. "And you know it. Why are you doing this?"

  Jess looked away, staring down at the backs of his hands. "I don't want to talk about this-"

  Lara shook her head, feeling a sudden rush of anger at him, at his stupid male need to keep it all for himself. "Well, that's too bad, Jess. What if it was all my fault? If I'd told you about how weird Pop was acting, maybe we could have stopped him. Or Ellis, why don't you put it on him? If he'd gotten into Max a few minutes earlier, they might still be alive. Why you, why do you want to take responsibility for this?"

  For a moment he didn't answer, his jaw clenched, his mouth a thin line. The low hum of the 'cyclers was all there was to hear, pushing barely warmed air through the dying filters. Lara wondered if she'd gone too far; she'd been contracted, ex-Marine, while Jess and his two men had been fighting XTs in lieu of prison time. There was always a distance between the "volunteers" and the Company staff - and to hell with it. We're going to die together, to hell with going too far. It doesn't matter anymore. If it ever did.

  Jess finally looked up at her, and because she expected him to be defensive and angry, she was a little surprised by the open sorrow she saw across his weary features.

  "Because no one else will," he, said. "Pop's dead, and Weyland/Yutani had us sacrificed before we even got the call. There's-there's no one else to feel shitty about what happened. To be responsible."

  He sighed again, looking away. "They deserve that," he said, so quietly that she didn't think he'd meant it for her.

  His reasoning was terrible, but she could see the rough logic in it; for a man who hadn't slept in three days it probably made perfect sense. Ellis wasn't the only one damaged by what had happened.

  "Tell you what," she said gently. "You sleep, and I'll think about Teape and Pulaski for a while."

  Jess blinked. "Don't patronize me, Lara ---"

  She shook her head. "No, really. You're right, everyone thought they were expendable. The Company wanted us dead for finding out that the infestation came in on one of their ships; no witnesses, Pop said. And whatever data they wanted off that log, it meant more to them than any of us. Teape and the Candyman were good guys, and they deserved better than what they got. It's still not your fault, but I understand what you're saying."

  Lara took a deep breath and met his gaze evenly. "Go rest. I'll stay up and watch things ...and I'll carry it for a while. Okay?"

  It was Jess's turn to study her, and he must have seen that she meant it because after a moment he nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "Just a few minutes."

  He unstrapped himself and floated past her chair, headed to one of the wall slings at the rear, next to where Ellis slept and the Max sat, cold and empty and dead. Lara leaned back, closing her eyes, feeling useless. Jess would get some sleep anyway, that was good.

  Wouldn't want to meet oblivion with bags under your eyes. Lord knows you want to be well rested, sharp, and alert so that you can panic fully when you start to lose consciousness ...

  She told herself to shut up and thought about Teape and Candyman Pulaski, about how they'd died. It wasn't much of a favor to Jess; she'd thought of little else since they'd left the terminal. She'd thought of Ellis, climbing into the suit to save Jess in spite of the interface that had fucked him up so thoroughly. Of the poor bastard who'd been inside the Max first, who'd died alone and insane in the metal shell because the Company had put him there. Of Eric "Pop" Izzard, her lover who had made a deal and screwed all of them, and of the four hundred people of DS 949 who were no more because somebody had fucked up on quarantine.

  All of that, and how they were going to die soon.

  Lara opened her eyes and started looking through the scant computer files on quadrant layout for the hundredth time; she had nothing better to do.

  Ellis woke up with the same headache he'd had for years, or what seemed like years. For just a moment, he didn't know where he was or why he was surrounded by clingy web, by lines of dusty thread that lay across his skin like a cold whisper-and then he saw the dented orange metal of Max's massive right arm some three meters away, the blackened metal of its flamethrower "hand" reflecting the bare light beneath the securing straps, and closed his eyes again.

  Safe, I'm safe. My name is Brian Ellis. Brian Ellis, I'm twenty-four, A level in synth repair and contracted to Weyland/Yutani and I'm in the shuttle from, from...

  For a second, he could only see images. A plain bunk. A cramped room with thick plexi windows and the giant steel table where Max slept. A stats/med console, blue lines pulsing across. He saw Pop's angry face and then a dead and rotting body, its face grinning, a decaying, stinking man on the floor of 949, just after he'd brought Max over from...

  "Nemesis," he whispered, and felt a rush of relief. Compared to before, the name had come easily. As he'd done each time he'd awakened on the shuttle, he brought himself up-to-date, checking for lapses. The first time he'd opened his eyes after the station, all he'd known was Lara's name and his own age.

  He, they, were on the shuttle from the Nemesis. He'd been part of a Max team, assigned to monitor the machine's human occupant and run its program in order to clear XT infestations--33, first 011.2 away--and they'd gone to deep-space terminal 949, and he'd gone into Max himself when everything had gone wrong. When Pop had deserted the team and the man in Max had died, his wasted body pushed too far by the synth adrenaline. Max's interface had been designed to fit into a surgical implant, which Ellis didn't have; the prongs had pierced his skull, and he and Max had become one, one perfect machine that dealt death from both hands, wiping the bugs---space 17.25 object dot nine the animals cooking in their shells acid boiling my name is Brian-

  Ellis blinked, forcing himself to think clearly. The station had been fail-safed and Lara had picked them up in the shuttle. In this shuttle, he and Jess, and the interface had not been perfect. It had done damage, possibly long-term-but then, he'd probably never know.

  He heard a soft grunt from the mesh bunk below and looked down to see that Jess was asleep. Even in rest, his features were strained, his hands in fists; he was sad and angry, grieving over the Candyman and ...and the man with the thin, twitchy face and haunted eyes. The bait. The volunteer who found the egg chamber by letting himself be caught ...

  Teape. Teape, the Candyman had called him "Teepee."

  Getting better, and how much time? How long now? He, knew the air filters were going, he'd at least gotten that much in one of his earlier bouts of consciousness. Once they wound down, the air would turn to poison in a few hours. Strangely, the thought wasn't as terrible as it should have been.

  Ellis sat up slowly, pulling the tab on the bunk and letting himself roll out into the frigid air, careful not to bump into Jess. The scabbed wound on the back of his head itched beneath the Plastical patch, but it wasn't throbbing anymore and he didn't feel like throwing up; a definite improvement. He pulled his glasses out of his front pocket and slipped them on, the tight interior of the shuttle instantly becoming sharper and even smaller than when it was a blur.

  Lara was at the ops console in the front, slouched in front of the nav screen. Ellis shifted himself to one side and pulled himself along using the handholds on the wall, waiting until he was well away from Jess before speaking.

  "Lara?"

  She turned and he saw the exhausted worry in her eyes for just a second before she pasted on a shaky smile, a few tendrils of her long hair swirling around her face.

  "Hey, Ellis. How are you feeling?" Her concern, at least, seemed genuine.

  "A lot better. I'm-I can remember things pretty clearly now, I think. I've still got a headache, but not as bad."

  Lara nodded, her smile a little more real. "That's great, I'm really glad to hear it. Are you hungry? You haven't eaten since like 1400 yesterday ....

  Ellis pulled himself closer, grabbing the molded plastic arm of the other chair. "How long wa
s I asleep?"

  "Fourteen, fifteen hours. Don't worry,- we still got almost a full day left and plenty of power on the signal. Someone could still hear us."

  Katherine Lara had been a second lieutenant in the USCMC before having her contract bought up by the Company, and had proved herself to be fast and graceful under extreme pressure-but she couldn't lie for shit. As out of it as he'd been, Ellis had still been able to comprehend that their chances were one in a million.

  Lara started digging through one of the packs hanging on the wall as Ellis moved to the chair and sat, loosely strapping himself in.

  "Let's see, we got ...soypro in sweet and sour, grilled and with onion ...fish and veggie ...and there's one lemon chicken left."

  Ellis shrugged. "All kinda tastes the same anyway."

  "No, the chicken's not so bad, the texture's really close." She handed him the thin pack and Ellis pulled the plastic spork off the side and unzipped the seal. In 9.61 seconds, scented steam rose from the pouch and he realized that he was ravenous; he burned his mouth on the first few bites, not caring at all.

  "What'd I tell you," Lara said. "Way better than the beef."

  Ellis nodded, swallowing, thinking of how much things had changed for him in only a few days. He'd been a novice tech before DS 949, signing up for the Max team to make up for a lifetime of feeling powerless, of being too skinny, too smart, too socially inept; his own father had ridiculed him for his weaknesses ...

  ...and now? I'm dazed and in pain, we're probably going to die, and I don't know that I've ever felt more at peace. I did something, I made the decision, and then we made it happen.

  Being inside of Max had been ...he, they, had been important. Now that his mind was his own again, he would be able to live his final hours with some real dignity. With the awareness that when things had gotten bad, he and Max had acted.

  He finished the chicken *and turned to see Lara dozing in her seat, her slender neck arching back, strands of reddish hair that had escaped her ponytail forming a gentle halo around her pale face. She was beautiful, he'd thought so since joining the Nemesis team, but hadn't thought she could possibly be interested in him ...still, he had clear memories of her sweet and frowning face in front of his, the sound of her kind, lilting voice reaching into the haze of confusion that had taken up so much of, the past---seventy-four hours estimate fourteen minutes variable--few days. Maybe it was only because he'd been sick, or wishful thinking on his part-or maybe she sees me differently now. Because I'm not the same dumb-ass kid I was.

  Ellis leaned back in his chair, thinking that it didn't really matter if she liked him in that way. What mattered was that it was possible, that for the first time in his life he felt like someone, a pretty woman no less, might actually be impressed by him.

  First, and maybe last. Ellis watched her sleep, feeling a deep sense of contentment. He'd been a hero, even if only for a little while, the mind inside of a Mobile Assault Exo-Warrior, a giant with hands of fire and death.

  It was a dream he could live on, for as long as they had left.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  The long corridor was tinted red and teeming with alien life, the giant bugs tearing toward them lightning fast-and Jess shouted to be heard, his heart in his throat, hearing nothing but alien screams. Something had gone wrong with their transmitters. "Lara, Pop, we're losing you!"

  There were a dozen down now, torn to dusky pieces as the three men fired and kept firing. Shrieking drones leapt over their fallen siblings, a relentless charge into the team's curtain of explosive fire.

  The Candyman yelled, the words rising clear and strong over the screeching attack. "Line's dead, can't hear you on the 'set!"

  It was bad, a bad place to be, and it could only get worse. A bug scrabbled toward him, clawing through the growing pile of dead or dying drones, limbs and bodies melting through the deck in oozing acid-splash. Jess fired, the rifle pushed to full auto, hot and jumping, and the monster's head was suddenly gone.

  Even as it collapsed, he could see others behind it, closing the distance and oblivious to their own mortality. Jess shouted again into the static of his mike, hoping against hope, and there was nothing. They were cut off.

  Part of the deck had melted through and several of the maimed bodies dropped out of sight, disappearing through the growing, smoking hole, and still they advanced, barely slowed by the awesome hail of armor-piercing rounds. He made the only decision he could, praying that Teape and Pulaski could hear him over the intensifying attack.

  "Fall back! Too many, fall back! Sound off!"

  Jess fired again, shuffling back a half step, risking a glance at the boys--and felt his gut plummet, felt his mind teeter on the brink of something vast and terrible. Both men were firing, holding the line-except Pulaski's abdomen was shredded, slippery coils of intestine hanging down to his knees in purple ropes. He was grinning the wide grin that spoke of his love for the fight, but his teeth were outlined in red, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

  Past him was Teape, Jess knew it even though he couldn't see his face. Teape wore the flat crab body 0f a hatchling, its long tail wrapped tightly around his throat, its spidery, muscular legs curving around the back of his skull. Somehow Teape could still see his targets, picking them out from the seemingly endless river of teeth and claws--and Jess had stopped firing but the drones weren't reaching him, running and screaming but not getting close enough to take him down.

  "Fuckin' hell of a ride, Jess!" Candyman screamed, bloody mist spraying from his red teeth, and Teape didn't, couldn't speak, only turned his head in Jess's direction, the noose of the face-hugger's smooth, scaled tail slipping tighter around his throat.

  Pulaski looked at Jess, blasting the oncoming wave without targeting, his eyes filmed cataract-white.

  "You better get outta here, Jessie, " he said, his voice suddenly a dull, dead monotone but louder than anything else. "We're dead already. "

  Jess opened his mouth to resist, to tell them that he would stay, that he wouldn't leave them-and nothing at all came out, no matter how hard he struggled. He drew in lungfuls of air, determined to scream, to be heard over the dying howls of the drones and the rattle of pulse fire, above the stench of blood and burning--and woke up.

  For a moment, Jess didn't move, staring at the empty net overhead, afraid to close his eyes again. Slowly, his heart stopped pounding and the light sheen of sweat that the nightmare had left on his brow turned cold. Still, he didn't move, not wanting to; there was nowhere to go, anyway.

  The intense feelings of guilt and horror he'd felt in his dream faded, leaving him both wrung out and strangely thoughtful. He closed his eyes again, thinking about the dream, about the conflicted feelings he'd had since they'd escaped the station. Horror, sorrow, guilt-and some dark and heavy feeling that he hadn't examined too carefully. The horror and sadness were obvious; the rest of it, he thought it might be worth to try and work through. He wouldn't have much longer to make his peace.

  Teape and Pulaski, dead. He wasn't suffering survivor's guilt, or at least he didn't think so; he'd made it because that was how things had worked out, right or wrong-and considering where he and Lara and the kid had ended up, "making it" and "survivor" didn't really seem to apply. He wasn't bothered overmuch about checking out, although not because he felt he deserved it; the simple truth was, there was no point in being bothered by what he couldn't change.

  Maybe it's just that I didn't see it coming. As fucked as the Company is, I still thought that they'd play us fair-and if I'd been paying attention, maybe I could have done something.

  Worthless thinking; it was already done. Jess sighed and glanced at his watch; he'd been out for five and a half hours, enough to be semi-sane for a while. He felt tired and low, but better than when he'd sacked out. At least now, he'd be able to think straight.

  And is that a good idea? Maybe you should just go back to sleep. Because if you think about what happened ...

  There
it was, that deeply uncomfortable feeling that he'd avoided as long as he could. He knew what it was; anger, the kind that overwhelmed intelligence, that blocked out reason. Hatred with no outlet, no place to go but deeper inside. Those men had died because some Company suit had wanted a download from one of the ships docked at 949, the ship that had brought the bugs inside, and the blind fury burning inside of him would stay until he died-or until the Company paid for what it had done. The former was a hell of a lot more likely, and that only fueled the red and melting heat of his frustrated rage.

  And that scares the shit out of you, doesn't it? his mind whispered. Dying angry.

  Yes. He'd grown up angry, and that undirected rage was what had made him a volunteer in the first place; it had led him to murder a couple of lowlifes in a fit of passionate rage, it had led him to prison. He'd never been one to wallow in his past, coming to uneasy terms with what he'd done after a lot of introspection and a shitload of psych vids ...but the emotion that had put him there ...

  What was so troubling was that he felt that he'd conquered it, that he'd learned how to ease himself out of his violent emotions. He could be angry without letting it rule him.

  Yeah, right. No problem.

  Thinking about what had happened to his team, that serenity he'd worked so hard to attain access to was gone. It was a feeling both familiar and terrible, a feeling that he had no control over his emotions. He was afraid of dying without any sense of calm, that hopeless fury bright and seething in his heart.

  The Company. The goddamn Company.

  Jess heard Lara and Ellis in the front, talking softly, and decided that he'd stay where he was, just a moment or two longer. He might not be able to come to terms with the great injustice that had been done to them before their time ran out, but he needed to try. He needed to at least navigate a path through the twisting bonds of his fury, whether or not he could walk it.

  It was funny; even a year ago, he would have laughed himself silly over the idea that he'd spend his last hours trying to better himself. He'd gone from being a gun-running banger with little or no self-awareness to a con to an H/K volunteer, and somewhere along the way, he'd figured out what being a man, what being a human was really about ...