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An omnibus edition of Alan Dean Foster's Alien science-fiction trilogy.
As the spaceship Nostromo glided through the silent reaches of the galaxy, the ships scanners detected a garbled distress call form a remote and long dead planet. But all the technology on board could not protect the ship's crew from the living nightmare they found there. It was a terror that stalked Ripley, the only survivor of Nostromo, and came to haunt her again and again...
Read the horrors of Alien and you won't believe that Ripley returned, with a team of death-dealing Marines, right back into the jaws of a threat too monstrous to contemplate. After the slaughter that was Aliens, Ripley finds herself on a prison planet worse than anyone's imagined hell. But the nightmare of Alien 3 was only just beginning...
About the Author
Alan Dean Foster is the author of many SF adventures, the Spellsinger fantasy series and a number of film and TV tie-ins - including the hugely popular Alien novelizations and several Star Wars novelizations.
You must understand that they were not professional dreamers. Professional dreamers are highly paid, respected, much sought-after talents. Like the majority of us, these seven dreamt without effort or discipline. Dreaming professionally, so that one’s dreams can be recorded and played back for the entertainment of others, is a much more demanding proposition. It requires the ability to regulate semiconscious creative impulses and to stratify imagination, an extraordinarily difficult combination to achieve. A professional dreamer is simultaneously the most organized of all artists and the most spontaneous. A subtle weaver of speculation, not straightforward and clumsy like you or I. Or these certain seven sleepers.
Of them all, Ripley came closest to possessing that special potential. She had a little ingrained dream talent and more flexibility of imagination than her companions. But she lacked real inspiration and the powerful maturity of thought characteristic of the prodreamer.
She was very good at organizing stores and cargo, at pigeonholing carton A in storage chamber B or matching up manifests. It was in the warehouse of the mind that her filing system went awry. Hopes and fears, speculations and half creations slipped haphazardly from compartment to compartment.
Warrant officer Ripley needed more self-control. The raw rococo thoughts lay waiting to be tapped, just below the surface of realization. A little more effort, a greater intensity of self-recognition and she would have made a pretty good prodreamer. Or so she occasionally thought.
Captain Dallas now, he appeared lazy while being the best organized of all. Nor was he lacking in imagination. His beard was proof of that. Nobody took a beard into the freezers. Nobody except Dallas. It was a part of his personality, he’d explained to more than one curious shipmate. He’d no more part with the antique facial fuzz than he would with any other part of his anatomy. Captain of two ships Dallas was: the interstellar tug Nostromo, and his body. Both would remain intact in dreaming as well as when awake.
So he had the regulatory capability, and a modicum of imagination. But a professional dreamer requires a deal more than a modicum of the last; and that’s a deficiency, that can’t be compensated for by a disproportionate quantity of the first. Dallas was no more realistic prodreamer material than Ripley.
Kane was less controlled in thought arid action than was Dallas, and possessed far less imagination. He was a good executive officer. Never would he be a captain. That requires a certain drive coupled with the ability to command others, neither of which Kane had been blessed with. His dreams were translucent, formless shadows compared to those of Dallas, just as Kane was a thinner, less vibrant echo of the captain. That did not make him less likeable; But prodreaming requires a certain extra energy, and Kane had barely enough for day-to-day living.
Parker’s dreams were not offensive,' but they were less pastoral than Kane’s. There was little imagination in them at all. They were too specialized, and dealt only rarely with human things. One could expect nothing else from a ship’s engineer.
Direct they were, and occasionally ugly. In wakefulness this deeply buried offal rarely showed itself, when the engineer became irritated or angry. Most of the ooze and contempt fermenting at the bottom of his soul’s cistern was kept well hidden. His shipmates never saw beyond the distilled Parker floating on top, never had a glimpse of what was bubbling and brewing deep inside.
Lambert was more the inspiration of dreamers than dreamer herself. In hypersleep her restless musings were filled with intersystem plottings and load factors cancelled out by fuel considerations. Occasionally imagination entered into such dream structures, but never in a fashion fit to stir the blood of others.
Parker and Brett often imagined their own systems interplotting with hers. They considered the question of load factors and spatial juxtapositions in a manner that would have infuriated Lambert had she been aware of them. Such unauthorized musings they kept to themselves, securely locked in daydreams and nightdreams, lest they make her mad. It would not do to upset Lambert. As the Nostromo's navigator she was the one primarily responsible for seeing them safely home, and that was the most exciting and desirable cojoining any man could imagine.
ISBN: 9780751506679 ISBN-10: 0751506672 Series: Alien Audience:
Number Of Pages: 656 Published: 14th October 1993 Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group Country of Publication: GB Dimensions (cm): 19.9 x 12.8
Weight (kg): 0.44
Edition Number: 1