and lost the refinery.'
'Nothing to worry about.' Lambert wasn't smiling. 'We could have landed again and stayed there. Then our automatic distress beacon would've come on. We could've relaxed in hypersleep while some other lucky crew got itself kicked out of the freezers to come and rescue us.'
Don't mention anything about bonuses yet, Dallas was telling himself. Surprise them with it when you wake up in Earth orbit. But for now, the engineering team was at least entitled to some verbal commendation. He addressed the 'com.
'Nice work, you two. How's she holding?'
'Now that we're out of that dust, she's purring like Jones.' A sharp crackling noise sounded over the speaker. Dallas frowned for a second, unable to place it. Then he realized that Parker had probably opened a beer while inadvertently holding it within range of the pickup.
'It was a walk in the park,' the engineer continued pridefully. 'When we fix something it stays fixed.' A gurgling sound filled the speaker, as if Parker were submerging.
'Sure it was A good job,' Dallas assured him. 'Take a break. You've both earned it. And Parker?'
'Yo?'
'When we raise Earthside and you're co-ordinating your department with engineering control, keep your beer away from the mike.' The gurgling noise receded.
Satisfied, Dallas switched off and said to no one in particular, 'Let's pick up the money and go home. Put her in the garage, Lambert.'
The Nostromo's angle of ascent began to flatten. Several minutes passed before a steady beeping began to sound from a telltale above the navigator's station.
'Here she comes,' she informed her companions. 'Right where she's supposed to be.'
'Okay.' Dallas was thumbing controls. 'Line us up and stand by to dock.' Instrumentation hummed as the tug adjusted its attitude with respect to the mountain of metal and plastic. Ripley threw a switch, and the tug locked itself in position backside first to the dull mass of the refinery.
'Positioned,' she said.
'Bring us in.' Dallas watched a certain readout intently, fingers poised over a rank of red buttons.
'We're moving.' Ripley's attention was focused on two screens at once. 'Distance shrinking. Twenty. . fifteen. . set.' She hit a switch.
Dallas depressed the red controls. 'Engines cut and primaries compensated for. We have inertial stability. Activate the hyperdrive lock.'
'Activated,' Ripley informed him. 'We're tied together.' When activated now, the Nostromo would generate a hyperdrive field of sufficient size to include the refinery. It would travel with them, enveloped in that mysterious manifestation of nonreality that enabled ships and men to travel faster than light.
'Set course for Earth,' Dallas ordered crisply. 'Then fire up the big one and get us up to light plus four, Ripley.'
'With pleasure.'
'Course computed and locked in,' said Lambert a moment later. 'Time to go home.' Then, to herself, 'Feets, get me out of here.'
Ripley touched a major control. The tiny world and its imprisoned alien ship vanished as though it had never existed. The Nostromo achieved, exceeded the speed of light. A corona effect materialized around ship and refinery. Stars ahead of them became blue, those behind shifted to red.
Six crew members raced relievedly for home. Six crew members, and something else named Kane. .
They sat around the mess table and sipped coffee, tea or other warm liquid stimulants according to taste and habit. Their relaxed postures reflected their current state of mind, which until recently had been stiff as glass and twice as fragile. Now legs sprawled unconcernedly over chair arms, and backs slumped against cushions.
Lambert was still up on the bridge, making final course checks before she'd permit herself the luxury of collapsing. Ash was down in the infirmary, keeping watch over Kane. The executive officer and his condition were the principal topics of conversation.
Parker downed steaming tea, smacked his lips indelicately, and proposed with his usual confidence, 'The best thing to do is just freeze him. Arrest the goddamn disease.'
'We don't know that freezing will alter his condition in any way,' Dallas argued. 'It might make him worse. What affects Earthside diseases might only intensify whatever this is that has a hold on him.'
'It's a damn sight better than doing nothing.' Parker waved the cup like a baton. 'And that's what the autodoc's done for him so far: nothing. Whatever he's got is beyond its capability to handle, just like Ash said. That medical computer's set up to handle things like zero-gee sickness and broken bones, not something like this. We all agree Kane needs specialized help.'
'Which you just admitted we can't offer him.'
'Right.' Parker leaned back in his chair. 'Exactly. So I say freeze him until we get back home and a doc specializing in alien diseases can run over him.'
'Right,' added Brett.
Ripley shook her head, looked put upon. 'Whenever he says anything, you say 'right.' You know that, Brett?'
He grinned. 'Right.'
She turned to face the engineer. 'What do you think about that, Parker? Your staff just follows you around and says 'right'. Like regular parrots.'
Parker turned to his colleague. 'Yeah. Shape up. What are you, some kind of parrot?'
'Right.'
'Oh, knock it off.' Dallas was sorry for the unthinking comment. A little levity would do them some good, and he had to up and step on it. Why did he have to be like that? The relationships among the members of the tug's crew were more informal ones among equals than a boss-and-employee type of chain of command. So, why did he all of a sudden feel compelled to play captain?
Perhaps because they were in a crisis situation of sorts and someone had to officially be 'in charge.' He was stuck with the responsibility. Lousy job. Right now he'd much rather have Ripley's or Parker's. Especially Parkers. The two engineers could squat back in their private cubicle and blithely ignore everything that didn't directly affect them. So long as they kept the engines and ship's systems functioning, they were answerable to no one save each other.
It occurred to Dallas that he didn't particularly like making decisions. Maybe that was why he was commanding an old tug instead of a liner. More revealingly, maybe that was why he never complained about it. As tug captain he could spend most of his ship time in hypersleep, doing nothing but dreaming and collecting his salary. He didn't have to make decisions in hypersleep.
Soon, he assured himself. Soon they could all return to the private comforts of their individual coffins. The needles would come down, the soporifics would enter their veins and numb their brains, and they would drift pleasantly away, away to the land where decisions no longer had to be made and the unpleasant surprises of a hostile universe could not intrude.
As soon as they finished their coffee.
'Kane will have to go into quarantine,' he said absently, sipping at his mug.
'Yeah, and so will we.' Ripley looked dismayed at the thought. That was understandable. They would travel all the way back to Earth, only to spend weeks in isolation until the medics were convinced none of them harbored anything similar to what had flattened Kane. Visions of green grass underfoot and blue skies filled her mind. She saw a beach and a blissfully ground bound little town on the coast of El Salvador. It was painful to have to force them out.
Eyes turned as a new figure joined them. Lambert looked tired and depressed.
'How about a little something to lower your spirits?' she told them.
'Thrill me.' Dallas tried to prepare himself mentally for what he suspected was coming. He knew what the navigator had remained on the bridge to work out.
'According to my calculations, based on the time spent getting to and from that unscheduled stop we made, the amount of time spent making the detour. '
'Give me the short version,' Dallas said, interrupting her. 'We know we went off course to trace that signal.
