Last month, Titan Books re-released the official movie novelizations of Alien and Aliens, Alan Dean Foster’s long out-of-print adaptations of the sci-fi horror classics, and they’ve followed that up this week with the official movie novelization of Alien 3. We've been provided with an exclusive excerpt for Daily Dead readers, taking place right after Ripley gains consciousness on Fiorina 'Fury' 161:
"Available for the first time in years - the official novelization of the third movie in the highly successful Alien series. Ellen Ripley continues to be stalked by the savage alien race, after her escape pod, ejected from Colonial Marine spaceship Sulaco, crash-lands on a prison planet, killing everyone else aboard. Unknown to Ripley, an alien egg is aboard the ship. The alien is born inside the prison, and sets out on a killing spree."
Exclusive Excerpt:
"Clemens noted how her eyes darted to and fro as he led her through the corridors and along the walkways. Like those of a nervous child... or sophisticated predator. She missed nothing. The slightest sound drew her instant attention. Their feet made little noise on the worn metal. The garb he’d scavenged for her was a little small, but she didn’t seem to mind.
‘I’ve no idea how long you were in deep sleep, but coming out of it the way you did can be a helluva jolt to the system. Just so you don’t panic if I look at you crossways, you should know that I’m still monitoring you for possible delayed side effects. So let’s steady on as we go, Ripley.’
She looked at him sharply. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘It’s stencilled on the back of your shorts.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘We also found your ID tag. It was so mangled the computer could hardly read it, but we got that much off it. Unfortunately, most of your personal medical info was scrambled. I had to guess a lot.’
Ripley rolled her shoulders forward experimentally, let her head roll from side to side. ‘Feels like you did a pretty good job. Thanks.’
To his immense surprise he found that he was slightly embarrassed. ‘Hey, any jerk can slap on an armpack.’
She grinned. ‘I don’t think so. It takes a specially qualified jerk.’
The work crew was being as careful as possible with the hulk of the EEV as they eased it onto hastily raised blocks. The old crane groaned with the effort. There hadn’t been much call for its use since the mine had been shut down, and temporary reactivation for the purpose of manipulating the emergency vehicle had been a touchy process. But the machinery was responding adequately. Cables sang as the craft was gently lowered.
It had attracted its share of stares when it had first been hauled inside the complex. Ripley drew rather more as she and Clemens approached. She did a much better job of pretending not to notice than the prisoners did of trying not to look.
‘Just what kind of place is this work prison?’ she asked her guide as they started up a ramp towards the battered lifeship.
Clemens stayed close. ‘Used to be a mine cum refinery. Mostly platinum-group minerals. Naturally the raw ore was refined on the spot. Much cheaper than shipping it offworld for processing elsewhere. I understand there was a considerable rise in the price of platinum about the time the ore body here was located. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been worth the Company’s while to go to the expense of setting up a facility this size this far from any point of consumption. It was a rich lode, highly concentrated.’
‘And now?’ She had stopped outside the EEV and was inspecting the damaged hull.
‘Weyland-Yutani’s got it on hold. Interstellar commodities trading isn’t exactly my speciality and I don’t know that anybody here gets their jollies from following the relevant rises and falls in raw materials prices. I think I heard that a drop in the price of the refined metal was accompanied by less need for the stuff.
‘So most of the equipment here’s been mothballed. Not worth the expense of moving it, not worth enough as salvage. There’s still ore in the ground and if the price goes up I’m sure the Company would reopen. That means we’d probably get moved. Wouldn’t do to have felons associating with nice, moral miners. Not that anybody would mind being shifted off this rock. The change would be sweet and it’s pretty hard to conceive of anyplace else being worse.
‘So we’re just caretakers, just a custodial staff. Keeps things from freezing up in case the price of the ore or the need for it goes back up. Works out well for the government and the Company.’
‘I’d think you’d go crazy after a year or so in a place like this.’
Clemens had to laugh. ‘That’s what they said some of us were before we were sent here. But I don’t think we are, at least not the majority of us. The isolation isn’t nearly so trying if you can learn to think of yourself as a contemplative penitent instead of an incarcerated felon.’
‘Any women ever been here?’
‘Sorry, Lieutenant Ripley. This is a double Y chromosome facility. Strictly male.’
She nodded, then turned and bent to crawl through what remained of the battered air lock. Clemens let her forge a path, then followed.
The battered exterior of the craft was pristine compared to what she encountered inside. Walls were crumpled and bent, readouts and consoles smashed, equipment strewn haphazardly across the deck. The thick smell of salt water permeated everything. She paused, astonished that anything or anyone could have survived intact, much less her own fragile form.
‘Where are the bodies?’
Clemens was equally taken with the extent of the destruction, marvelling that Ripley had suffered no more damage than she had.
‘We have a morgue. Mining’s the kind of enterprise that demands one. We’ve put your friends in there until the investigative team arrives, probably in a week’s time.’
‘There was an android...’
Clemens made a face. ‘Disconnected and discombobulated. There were pieces of him all over the place. What’s left was thrown in the trash. The corporal was impaled by a support beam straight through the chest. Even if he’d been conscious he’d never have known what hit him. As it was he probably never came out of deep sleep long enough to hurt.’
‘The girl?’ She was holding a lot in, Clemens saw. He had no idea how much.
‘She drowned in her cryotube. I don’t imagine she was conscious when it happened. If anything, she went out more quietly than the corporal. I’m sorry.’
Ripley digested this quietly. Then her shoulders began to shake and the tears came. That was all. No yelling, no screaming, no violent railing at an unfair, uncaring universe. Little Newt. Newt, who’d never had a chance. At least she was free. Wiping at her eyes, Ripley turned to survey the remains of the little girl’s cryotube. The faceplate was broken, which was understandable.
Abruptly she frowned. The metal below the faceplate was strangely discoloured. She leaned forward and ran her fingers over the stain.
Clemens looked on curiously. ‘What is it?’
Ripley rose, the emotion of the moment transformed into something else. There was no concern in her voice now, none of the tenderness he’d noted previously.
‘Where is she?’
‘I told you, the morgue. Don’t you remember?’ He eyed her with concern, worried that she might be having a reaction to something from the armpack. ‘You’re disoriented. Half your system still thinks it’s in deep sleep.’
She whirled on him so suddenly that he started. ‘I want to see what’s left of her body.’
‘What do you mean, what’s left? The body’s intact.’
‘Is it? I want to see it. I need to see for myself.’
He frowned but held off questioning her. There was something in her expression... One thing was clear: there would be no denying her access. Not that there was any reason to. He had the feeling her desire to view the corpse had nothing to do with nostalgia. Difficult on short acquaintance to figure what she was really like, but excessively morbid she wasn’t.
The circular stairwell was narrow and slippery, but cut time off the long hike from the storage chamber where the EEV had been secured. Clemens was unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
‘Any particular reason you’re so insistent?’
‘I have to make sure how she died,’ she replied evenly. ‘That it wasn’t something else.’
‘Something else?’ Under different circumstances Clemens might have been insulted. ‘I hate to be repetitious about a sensitive subject, but it’s quite clear that her cylinder was breached and that she drowned.’ He considered. ‘Was she your daughter?’
‘No,’ Ripley replied evenly, ‘she wasn’t my daughter. My daughter died a long time ago.’
As she spoke her eyes avoided his. But of course she was still weak and had to concentrate on the narrow, spiralling steps.
‘Then why this need?’
Instead of answering directly she said, ‘Even though we weren’t related, she was very close to me. You think I want to see her the way you’ve described her? I’d much rather remember her as she was. I wouldn’t ask to do this if it wasn’t damned important to me.’
He started to reply, then stopped himself. Already he knew that Ripley wasn’t the sort of person you could force a reply from. If she was going to tell him anything it would come in her own good time."
Daily Dead's Official Podcast! Daily Dead's Official Podcast!
