Alien: Covenant 2

by Alan Dean Foster

  It wouldn’t have worked for Lopé anyway. He liked people, just not what they had done to the planet. Spending the rest of his life standing guard over a patch of rainforest or isolated island didn’t appeal to him. Hallet was in full agreement. If they were going to enjoy the company of others in pure, untainted surroundings, it was going to have to be on another world. So they had applied as a couple, and been accepted to the Covenant colony’s security team.

  Lopé had been offered a bigger promotion. He had declined. There was no need to flash an officer’s bar on a deep space colony ship. Being anointed automatically created a gulf between him and those under his command. Better to be one of the gang, a simple noncom.

  “Sergeant” suited him just fine.

  From the day he had been recruited, he had prepared himself to deal with any problems on board the ship itself, most of which would likely involve minor squabbles between crewmembers. He was likewise ready to contest any problems that might arise on distant, unknown Origae-6. What he had not prepared himself for was being shot at in the lobby of the Weyland Tower in London.

  Ever since the assault, he had been trying to imagine a reason for it. The only explanation that made any sense had to do with the efforts to halt the Covenant’s mission.

  Now he sat in a comfortable chair in a corner office overlooking the sluggish, dirty, watery worm of the Thames that, despite its proximity, was barely visible through the rain. Across the wide, slow-moving river, a police skiff was harrying the occupants of an illegal houseboat. Once, this area of the Docks had swarmed with craft from all over the world. The locale had then fallen into disrepair and been ignored until the need for more living and office space had caused the shoreline to be swallowed up.

  Captain Bevridge sat behind his desk. Save for one other chair that was presently empty, there was no other furniture in the room: only projections. They formed a shifting, colorful display around the chief of security, British Isles Weyland Division. Bevridge was short, black, built like a fireplug, and just as tough. Decorative stripes were shaved into both sides of his head. He also held two advanced degrees in Criminology from Manchester University.

  Lopé didn’t hold it against him. Being nearly the same age, they had no difficulty conversing.

  Bevridge waved first his right hand, then the left. The readouts enclosing him obediently vanished in a shower of colorful flashes. That left the two men without anything hovering between them in the severely under-decorated office. An excellent venue for discussion, Lopé decided. Or interrogation.

  The sergeant had already told company investigators everything he could remember from the afternoon of the assassination attempt. He had a very good memory for details, which pleased his questioners no end. Yet the information he had provided hadn’t led to the arrest of the woman who had fled, and that was disappointing.

  He stared at the rain and river until his bladder began to twitch. A glance showed that Bevridge was equally lost in thought. Lopé took it upon himself to rouse the Captain from his reverie.

  “Nothing?” Lopé said.

  Bevridge blinked and turned to his guest.

  “Hmm? What? No, not really. There’s been a great deal of speculation, don’t you know. Speculation spiced with some panic.” Looking upward, he waved a hand. “The powers-that-be, though, they want answers, and quickly.”

  “We all want answers,” the sergeant responded, “and quickly. I don’t sleep well when someone’s tried to murder me.”

  “Yes, well, soon you’ll be able to catch up on more sleep than you ever dreamed of, old chap. So to speak.” When Lopé didn’t smile, Bevridge turned serious. “Listen, old boy, as someone who has been shot at more than once in his career, I sympathize. I really do, but it’s my head and future that’re on the line, not yours. There’s a real possibility you’ll be crossing the orbit of Haumea and well out of this before I get a handle on what’s going on.”

  Lopé managed a slight grin. “Sorry to leave you holding the bag, sir.”

  “Bag full of tripe.” Muttering something else under his breath, Bevridge sat back in his chair. “It doesn’t make any sense.” He folded his hands on his lap, and then leaned toward his visitor. “I’m going to tell you something you must not tell anyone else. Given what you’ve experienced, I’m obliged to trust you with this information. I also feel personally obligated to share it with you. Understand, old chum, that nothing heard in this room is to be repeated outside.”

  Lopé shrugged. “I wasn’t hired because I couldn’t keep company secrets.”

  Bevridge looked satisfied. “Two days ago there was an attempt in Tokyo to kidnap Jenny Yutani, the daughter of the company president and CEO.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Lopé said truthfully. “You said ‘attempt,’ by which I understand that you mean it failed.”

  The captain nodded. “Two of the attempted abductors were killed trying to escape. Drowned. Three got away. Both company security and the Greater Tokyo police are still searching for them.”

  “I hope they find them. Don’t care for kidnappers.” Lopé tried not to appear indifferent. “How does this relate to the attempt on my life?”

  Bevridge folded his hands on the desk. “The two men who drowned assaulting the Yutani family were Weyland employees with stellar records. The individual who tried to sabotage the Covenant was a Yutani employee. So was the man who nearly killed you.” One hand gestured, then the other. Bevridge had eloquent hands, Lopé mused. “Weyland employees attack Yutani; Yutani employees attack here at Weyland. My superiors are concerned that there might be some lingering unhappiness among staff over the merger.”

  The sergeant considered the possibility. “Or, someone might want the company to think that’s the cause. It could be reality—or it could be a diversion.”

  “Exactly.” The captain was appreciative of Lopé’s insight. “If it’s the latter, a diversion from what? Or rather, from who? The one unifying thread in all this is the Covenant mission. The saboteur wanted it cancelled. Yutani’s abductors intended to hold her until it was cancelled.” He shook his head. “No one can come up with a reason why Weyland or Yutani employees would want to see the failure of their own company’s prestige project. If the company benefits from its success, so do they.” He moved to drum his fingers on the desk, then stopped and looked self-conscious.

  “Additionally, we have this woman who was quite anxious to join the Covenant’s security detail,” he continued, “who fled when your probing began to unsettle her, and who had a companion ready to cover her flight by taking you out. Whoever is behind all this, they’re neither stupid nor impulsive.”

  Lopé considered. “If their ultimate objection is to keep the Covenant from leaving, the closer we come to launch, they might become impulsive. Because if that’s their goal, they’re running out of time to achieve it.”

  Swiveling in his chair, Bevridge contemplated the dirty rain and the even dirtier river outside. “So they are. And as we both know, desperate people tend to resort to desperate measures.”

  The sergeant was less concerned than his superior. “They can’t do anything to hurt the Covenant. Not now, not anymore. They had one shot at sabotaging it. Thanks to the quick response of the crew, they failed. With the heightened security that’s now in place, anyone even remotely suspicious can’t get off Earth, much less get near the ship itself.”

  “Yes, yes, old boy, we know that,” Bevridge replied impatiently. “We’re concerned about things we don’t know.” He looked directly at the sergeant. “We need to find the woman who applied to join Covenant security or the three abductors who escaped the Japanese police.” He gestured at the downpour that was streaking the office windows. Applied repellant was all that kept them transparent. “Whether here or in Tokyo, rain and river make poor witnesses. We have to find people who can answer our questions.”

  Lopé replied neutrally. “You didn’t ask me to come here to fill me in on what the rest of company security is do
ing.”

  Bevridge let out a soft chuckle. “Your dossier says you’re smart, even if you prefer to act like a grunt. No, you’re not here so I can fill you up with meaningless information.” Again he leaned forward to stare at his visitor, this time with an intensity that had so far been lacking. “I understand you’ve finally filled the last spot on the roster for the Covenant’s security team.”

  Lopé nodded. “Turns out the woman who came to my rescue in the tower was an applicant for the position. She did so with skill. I hired her on the spot.”

  Pulling up a projection, Bevridge scanned it once. “I checked your schedule. You have some time before you’re due onboard for insertion into deepsleep. I was wondering if you’d be willing to ask around, do a little investigating on your own.” He threw Lopé a look. “You’re not regular police, you’re not terrestrial company security. Your probing isn’t as likely to draw attention.” Sitting back, he gazed once more out at the river. A big shallow-beamed commuter ship was heading upstream, fighting the turgid current. Most of its interior lights were on. With its silhouette veiled by the rain and gloom, it looked like some ancient pelagic monster.

  “Maybe it’s coincidence, the fact that these were Weyland and Yutani employees. Maybe it’s not, but by Oldumare’s stinking breath, there’s something nasty behind all this. Nasty and dangerous. We need to find out who or what is in play, and put a stop to it!”

  “Doesn’t seem like they’ve had much luck so far,” Lopé said calmly. Bevridge eyed him a moment, then smiled and shook his head.

  “Reports said you were one self-controlled emeff.”

  The sergeant returned the smile with one of his own. “Didn’t get the job by being a hothead.”

  “Then you’ll appreciate, old man,” Bevridge continued, “that while the company needs to find out what is happening and why, keeping it quiet would be so much better than having it splashed all over the media. As for ‘luck,’ if it hadn’t been for Jenny Yutani’s quick thinking, her abductors might well have pulled off the kidnapping. Same with the incident on board the Covenant. Our people up there, especially supercargo Daniels and your Sergeant Hallet, handled it well.”

  “All three efforts came this close to succeeding,” he said, raising his right hand to hold the thumb and index finger a few millimeters apart. “My superiors don’t want to test that margin any further.” He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. “You’ve heard of Jutou?”

  A flicker of real interest caused Lopé to sit a little straighter. “Who hasn’t? Biggest conglomerate in Asia. Bigger overall than Weyland-Yutani, though not as specialized.” He frowned. “Somebody thinks they might be behind all this? Or at least somehow involved?”

  Bevridge nodded again. “The suspicion goes high up inside corporate.”

  “How high?” he asked. “Hideo Yutani?”

  “I can’t say. It’s sufficient for you to know that the suspicions are strong enough that specific inquiries are being made. Their board didn’t take it well when Yutani outbid them for Weyland. It’s assumed that the combine has people working for them from inside Weyland-Yutani. Just as we have our own contacts within Jutou. But there’s been no verifiable information yet that they or their directorate are directly involved.

  “Of course, it could be someone else,” he added. “Another company whose interests and activities continue to operate under our radar. An individual, a government, or governmental entity.”

  “The only radar I have access to is personal,” Lopé told him forthrightly.

  “You can inquire as an independent operator,” Bevridge insisted. “My people can’t. See what you can find out. It’s not an order.” He smiled. “An order would have to be processed. Consider this a personal favor.”

  “And if I do happen to run across something interesting?” the sergeant prompted his superior.

  Bevridge folded his hands again. Add in a wide grin and he looked positively Buddha-like.

  “The company would be very grateful.”

  Lopé shrugged. “Company gratitude won’t mean crap to me. I’ll be unconscious and light-years away.”

  “Then you can leave a gift for your favorite charity, or distant relatives, old chum. Whatever pleases you. Weyland-Yutani will make any discovery worthwhile. They always do.”

  Lopé had reacted truthfully to the Captain’s offer. He was indifferent to the request. In a little while it wouldn’t matter to him whether Weyland-Yutani went to war with the Jutou Combine, or they merged or Jenny Yutani ended up marrying Lin Chou-bai. His own interests would lie parsecs away, and nothing on Earth could affect him.

  But…

  If it was indeed a single company or group that was behind all the hostilities, then they were responsible for the attempt to sabotage the Covenant. That threat concerned him very much indeed. So did any attempt to have the mission cancelled. The danger might persist aboard the ship, even after it had launched.

  Not that he believed he could actually accomplish anything working on his own. Still, he was flattered that Bevridge and others thought that he might.

  “Do I have to work on my own, or can I request help?”

  Bevridge spread his hands wide. “Put in a requisition for whatever you want, and I’ll sign off on it.”

  “Not ‘what,’” he corrected the other man. “‘Who.’ I’d feel better diving into this if I had someone to watch my back.”

  “Certainly, old boy. There are some very competent people I can assign who will…”

  Lopé cut him off. “I don’t want to work with a group. Draws too much attention. Just one person will be enough.” He looked thoughtful. “For that matter, I’d prefer to have someone who’s already done it.”

  * * *

  “You don’t look like much.”

  Sitting next to the sergeant in the lobby, Rosenthal watched with interest as a repair crew—working as unobtrusively as possible while making the minimal amount of noise—went about the task of putting the tower entrance atrium back together. She replied without looking at him.

  “Then why did you hire me for the Covenant team?”

  “Because I’m not interested in your looks,” he informed her. “It’s not an insult. Just a comment—more of a positive, really. Being unobtrusive can be a real asset.”

  Now she did glance over at him. They were seated on a backless bench of pallasitic nickel-iron. Embedded crystals of bright green and black olivine glistened beneath them, lit from underneath.

  “If that’s a pickup line, it’s the most ass-backwards one I’ve ever heard.”

  “No, really,” he told her. “I’m not. Interested in your looks. You have no idea. But you will, and then you’ll find it amusing. Leastwise I hope you will.” He mustered a grin. “We’re going to be sleeping together for a long time.”

  She nodded. “I inhaled all the specs before I decided to apply. Long real-time in deepsleep and no pods built for two.”

  “Unfortunately, no. Every colonist and every crew member on the Covenant is a universe unto him or herself. Different body rhythms and requirements demand different pods for each individual. So we’ll just be sleeping close to one another. Besides, what’s a pod between friends?”

  “So now I’m your friend?” She was still wary of him. That was good, he felt. Suspicion was a useful trait in a security officer.

  “Everyone on my team is a friend. It has to be that way when you realize how closely we’ll be working together. Ship and colony security comprises a work detail of modest size. There’s no place for anyone to go if they suddenly decide they can’t get along with the person working alongside them.”

  She shrugged a shoulder ever so slightly. “Then I guess we’re friends. Speaking as one friend to another, why are we sitting here talking instead of preparing for departure?”

  “I’m already prepared,” he told her. “You’ll find it doesn’t require much time. Winding up the scree of your life doesn’t take very long when you have to fit all of it in a
couple of carry duffels. As to what we’re doing here, I’m responding to a request from higher up.”

  She made a face at him.

  “God wants you to sit here and watch construction?”

  “Not that high. My immediate superior,” he answered. “The guy who shot at me with the impeller was covering for a red-headed woman who wanted the job you got. He’s dead, and she’s gone.” He nodded upward in the direction of floors unseen. “My employers—our employers—would like to have a chat with her. They’d like to know who she and her dead backup were working for.”

  Rosenthal looked interested. “You think they’ll try to hit you again?”

  He shook his head. “Counting coup on me was secondary. What they really wanted was the last security team position on the Covenant. My questioning got a little too pointed for the applicant and she wafted. Her backup boy was there to help her get away, more than try and take me out. If killing me had been the intention, I think fled red would have turned and joined the fight. It was lucky for me that you were where you were, and decided to get involved.”

  “Yes, it was lucky for you,” Rosenthal agreed. “I have a visceral dislike for people who try to shoot other folks in the back.”

  “Something else we have in common. Anyway, those above me would like to know who these people were and who they represent. Frankly, so would I. It’s not an order, but if you’ve pretty much wound up your affairs, I could use your help.”

  She considered. “What’s in it for me?”

  “My thanks. Oh, and a bunch of money you can leave to whoever you want.”

  “Don’t care about the money, but…” She grinned over at him. “Hell, what are friends for? I guess if we’re going to be working together, and sleeping together, the sooner we get to know each other, the better.”