"I only smoke when I'm stressed." Ripley forced a laugh. Which was to say that since the Nostromo, she was always stressed out. She took the pack, tapped a cigarette out, and lit it up before she continued. In some ways, the familiar action helped to reign her emotions in. She lit the cigarette and took a drag.
"So I'm dead. Because of one of them." Her worst nightmare, and all it took was one hypersleep to make it come true. She'd felt so safe by then, sandwiched between Newt and Hicks in that chamber. She'd really thought she had a chance at happiness, that she'd saved Newt. That maybe something good could have come from going back to LV-426. She should have let them go on her own. The outcome was still the same. They were all dead. "Fury 161. Isn't that a prison planet?"