<blockquote>"Ripley."
She turned her head slightly. The voice, flat and synthesized, came from a small speaker set into the side of her pod.
"Yes," she said, with some difficulty: her tongue felt strange and thick. "Yes, this is Ripley. Who is this?"
There was a pause, followed by a click. "This is Bishop, but I'm speaking to you on behalf of the Sulaco. There's been an accident."
Under normal circumstances, Ripley knew, this statement would have produced a series of emotional and physiological reactions: alarm, adrenaline, fear, galvanized limbs, dread. But the effects of the hypersleep were still gripping her body, keeping her numb and apathetic, and instead all she felt was a faint curiosity. "What kind of accident?"
She sat up. The room seemed to spin.
"A fire. I think. It's hard to tell." </blockquote>
