Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Simulations.” Ankor considered. “Cool.”

  She shot him a glance and he smiled back. Knowingly, she decided.

  Once the landing team was seated and strapped in opposite one another in the main bay, those on the Covenant’s bridge copied over Mother’s suggested vectoring. It wasn’t encouraging, but it was doable. Navigation’s holo readouts showed a storming cloud cover, replete with frequent lightning flashing directly in the intended drop path. The readouts faded and sharpened, formed and reformed as the relevant information underwent constant updating.

  * * *

  Relegated to running the Covenant while Oram and Daniels joined the expedition team, an unhappy Tennessee took it all in. Hoping to see some clearing in the atmosphere, or at least some moderating, he was disappointed.

  “Hell of a strong ionosphere.”

  “Angry weather,” Ricks agreed as he addressed his comm. “Faris, it looks like a plasma storm in the thermosphere. We’re reading some steady two-fifty winds with intermittent stronger up- and down-drafts.” He checked another readout. “Mother’s given you the best rabbit hole. Believe it or not, conditions are worse elsewhere.”

  * * *

  On board the lander, Faris murmured commands to the piloting console. Instrumentation adjusted according to her instructions. In conditions like those raging below, it was imperative to have a human at the controls. Autopilot was fine for putting down on a beach in the midst of a clear sunny day. When it came to landing in real weather, however, nothing could beat human reactions, especially for last-minute judgments.

  Human lander pilots sometimes didn’t make the best decisions, according to the procedures described in the manuals, but they usually made the right ones necessary to survive.

  Oram and Walter sat up front with her, while the rest of the landing party had settled into seats behind. The captain could hardly contain his excitement. Walter had none to contain. A few expectant whispers, punctuated by nervous laughter, rose from the group as the remainder of the lander’s systems came online.

  Leaning forward slightly, Faris took note of the angle of approach that had been chosen by the ship’s computer.

  “I see where we’re going,” she informed Ricks via the ship-to-ship comm. “Helluva trajectory. Storm’s gonna be a motherfucker to fly through.” Her attention flicked back and forth from the readouts to the lander’s own external sensors. “This is the best Mother could come up with?”

  “Yeah, ’fraid so.” Upworth’s tone was apologetic as it echoed over the open comm. “And communications will be spotty until you’re down. I’ll do my best to keep a signal lock on you guys during the drop, but between the intensity of the storm and the likelihood that you’re gonna bounce all over the friggin’ place, it’s gonna be hard to say hello every minute or so.”

  Oram eyed his pilot. She and Tennessee were the best piloting couple the company could find. He had complete confidence in them, but this wasn’t a training facility on Earth, and they weren’t dropping toward a benign surface like that on Mars.

  “Safe to land?” he murmured.

  Faris grumbled at the readouts. “Depends on what you call ‘safe.’”

  He grinned. “Then we won’t call it ‘safe.’ We’ll just call it ‘okay.’” Finally he added, “Let her rip.”

  Aside from the somber Daniels, the rest of the crew in the lander were delighted at the quip. Coming from the captain, off-hand humor was a welcome surprise. A few cheers echoed from the back, and several high-fives were gleefully exchanged.

  A bit surprised at himself and pleased by the reaction, Oram turned to look back into the crew bay and smile at them. As he did so his eyes met those of his wife, seated near the front. Karine flashed him a reassuring wink, and his smile widened.

  Far too busy to participate in any general hilarity, Faris was completely focused on the main console. “Preparing to lock in descent mode over signal position now. Mother, please coordinate launch sequence.”

  The Covenant’s positioning thrusters promptly engaged, ensuring that the ship would remain in geosynchronous orbit above the chosen landing site. On board, two thousand souls slept on, unaware that their transportation was making an unscheduled detour that, if conditions proved favorable, might well prove to be a permanent one.

  “Understood.” Mother’s voice sounded over the comms in both the ship and the waiting lander. “Coordinating position over signal location. In simultaneous orbit now. You are clear to launch, Lander One.”

  “Launching now, Covenant.” Faris engaged the necessary controls. There was a noticeable jolt as the lander disengaged from its parent vessel. This was followed by a brief and expected flush of nausea among the expedition team as they dropped out of the ship’s artificial gravity field. Engines fired, and the lander began to accelerate away from the main ship and toward the roiling, angry atmosphere below.

  * * *

  From her position on the Covenant’s bridge, Upworth monitored the drop. Everything was going smoothly and according to procedure. Of course, she told herself, they hadn’t hit atmosphere yet. Given the prospects for a rough descent, she decided that a little early encouragement wouldn’t be out of place. Faris would know it for what it was, but there was no harm in offering it anyway.

  “You’re looking gorgeous from up here, Faris. Angle on descent is perfect, drop speed is right on point. Thank goodness you’re flying, and not the old man.”

  Across the bridge, Tennessee pulled an exaggerated expression. “A little less of the ‘old man,’ if you don’t mind.”

  Faris grinned. “If the boot fits…”

  “You know where I’ll put it,” he finished suggestively. Turning serious again, he let his gaze wander between the forward port and his console readouts. He no longer had visual on the lander, of course—but that didn’t keep him from straining to try and follow its descent through the port. Highly trained though he was, there was something in being a pilot that had always favored eye contact over instrumentation.

  No time for nostalgia, he told himself firmly. With Oram and Daniels both on board the lander, he was now in charge of the Covenant.

  The storm was massive, involving a good swath of the visible atmosphere. The continuous, extensive lightning and the roaring winds put Faris more in mind of Jupiter’s atmosphere than Earth’s. At least, she told herself as she prepared for atmospheric entry, they didn’t have to deal with a gas giant’s crushing gravity, or bands of killer radiation.

  “Everything looking good down there?” Upworth’s voice sounded over the lander’s comm, trying a little too hard not to sound concerned.

  “All good, Covenant,” Faris replied. “Expect to hit exosphere in five. Ask me again in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  Turning, she called back to those seated in the main crew bay. “No point in trying to avoid the obvious—it’s gonna get rough. Might want to hang on back there. You know how Tennessee likes old music and antiques? Any of you know what a ‘pinball machine’ was?” Silence greeted her query. “I’ll explain in detail later. Right now you’re about to find out what the ball felt like.”

  BAM!

  Cupping the sturdy lander in its grasp, a stream of superfast air threw it back toward space, then yanked it groundward. Though she was flying via electronics, and not by stick or wire, Faris still struggled with the controls.

  Continuing to descend was like flying through the eye wall of a terrestrial hurricane, and a monster at that. Lights within the lander flickered as alarms howled on and off. Being strapped in securely didn’t keep Oram and Walter from grabbing onto the sides of their drop seats. In the crew bay behind them, someone moaned. Someone else—it might have been Rosenthal—started to make gagging sounds.

  “Not here,” the soldier next to her yelled, “for god’s sake, not here!” Whether because of the threat or the embarrassment, the incipient puking noises ceased.

  Considering the pounding it was taking, it did not seem possible that t
he lander would hold together. But this was what it had been designed for, and Faris knew it. That didn’t prevent her from being just a tad concerned. Knowing that everyone else was depending on her and was doubtless watching her, she strove to stay calm.

  Seemingly inescapable, the song “Country Roads” popped into her head again and she started whistling along. Though it helped to soothe her, the effort was lost to everyone else amid the crashing and banging inside the landing craft.

  She was close enough to the piloting console pickup to be heard on the Covenant’s bridge, however.

  * * *

  Each note lingered in Tennessee’s hearing as he focused his attention on the readout image that represented the steadily descending craft.

  “You still reading me, Faris?” he said. “Faris?”

  Fragments of “Country Roads” crackled from speakers. Taken together, there weren’t enough of them to make up a whole song. Hoping for something more coherent, everyone on the bridge listened intently—until even the barely comprehensible excerpts ceased.

  Silence.

  Upworth stated what everyone knew. “We lost comm.”

  “Goddamn storm. I hate it when electrons don’t behave.” It was the rare occasion when one of Tennessee’s jibes fell flat.

  Outside and far below, the crazed ionosphere kept communications between the Covenant and the lander incommunicado. Those on the bridge of the colony ship could only try to imagine what the landing team must be going through.

  VII

  On board the lander itself, there was no time to imagine much of anything. An intrusive crashing reality kept everyone’s thoughts tightly focused. One jolt after another sent the craft alternately up, down, and sideways. Each shock felt as if they were slamming into a mountainside, when in actuality it was only the wind.

  Air had never felt so solid, Oram decided as he manipulated his worry beads.

  As bad as the turbulence were the huge bolts of lightning that split the dense cloud cover enveloping the lander. So numerous and close were the strikes that he could frequently see inside the ship without the need of its internal lighting.

  Lighting, lightning, Oram thought, trying to take his mind off the conditions. Beside him, a grim-faced Faris worked the controls, fighting to keep the ship level and on course. Not because consistent stability was necessary— the lander could fly just as efficiently upside down. But it would be better for the team’s morale if the craft’s interior remained puke-free.

  An especially powerful jolt would have thrown everyone on board head-first into the ceiling had they not been strapped into their seats. It was strong enough to break Oram’s grasp on his low-tech stress-relievers, sending one round bead rolling and rattling across the deck. While he missed its comforting presence in his hand, he had no intention of unstrapping to go look for it.

  Noting his partner’s distress, Lopé leaned toward Hallet, trying to impart a bit of reassurance and comfort to the other man’s space. Alone among the team, the sergeant was actually enjoying the chaotic ride.

  “Relax, Tom. It’s only atmosphere,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. There’s nothing solid to hit.” He nodded forward. “Faris is the best pilot on the Covenant.”

  Hallet gripped the arms of his seat so hard his fingers were turning white inside his gloves. “I hate space.” A quick glance downward showed the captain’s fugitive worry bead rolling past beneath their seats.

  “It’s not like we’re flying through a meteor storm.” Lopé’s voice was calm and controlled, no different from the one he would have been using had he been in the middle of a comforting meal in the Covenant’s mess.

  “That’s in space, too,” Hallet muttered unhappily.

  Lopé smiled affectionately. “This is why you need to do yoga.”

  His partner shot him a look, and the sergeant laughed.

  A moment later the lander dropped a hundred meters as if it had been hit by a giant hammer, then recovered the lost altitude under Faris’ skilled ministrations. Lopé’s grin turned to a look of concern as Hallet blanched. The other man really was having a tough time. Eschewing any further casual banter or attempts at humor, the sergeant turned his gaze forward. While the rocking, bouncing, and general atmospheric turmoil didn’t bother him, he could not help but wonder—just how extensive was this storm, anyway?

  He could have asked, but knew better. Everyone up front was far too busy to respond to casual questions from the cargo.

  Then, without any warning, the terrible jolting ceased. It was replaced by an ominous but quite familiar creaking from less-than-stellar joins in the hull. A minute later even the creaking ceased as the lander dropped through the underside of the cloud layer. Pursing her lips, Faris exhaled long and deliberately.

  The terrific pounding they had taken was behind them, and both the lander and its personnel were intact. They descended now as smoothly and uneventfully as if they were back in space circling the Covenant in the complete absence of weather. Emergency illumination was replaced automatically by normal lighting. The crew bay was filled with exclamations of relief, laughter, and more than one comment about needing a change of undergarments. But there had been no injuries. Straps and drop seats had done their job.

  Adding to the general relief, for the first time in a while, a voice sounded clearly over the comm.

  “Lander, do you read? Respond if you can, lander.”

  Faris threw Oram a smile as she replied. “What, you haven’t been listening? Shame. All that fascinating meteorological information lost.” When there was no response, she continued. “Yeah, yeah. I read you, Covenant. Nothing to it. We just got tired of talking to you all the time, that’s all.” Still no reply to her joking, so she turned serious.

  “Okay, it wasn’t a piece of cake. But we’re through. We’re okay. No detectable damage to the ship…” She cast a quick glance behind her. “…or its contents. Continuing descent—normally.”

  The planet’s surface proved as jagged and rough as its atmosphere, with steep-sloped gray mountains whose tops were obscured by low-hanging clouds, dense forests enveloped in mist that even from several hundred meters up looked hauntingly familiar, deep valleys and fjords cut by fast-flowing rivers, numerous lakes of every shape and size. Below the main storm layer, scattered cumulus occasionally grew dark and heavy enough to unload the infrequent shower.

  Faris gnawed on her lower lip as she studied the guidance telemetry and attendant readouts. The view out the lander’s wide forward port was impressive, even breathtaking—but it wasn’t conducive to an easy touchdown. They were fast approaching the coordinates of the signal source. She knew she had to make a decision, whether to glide past the source and hope for better landing prospects on the far side of the site, or set down now.

  Readouts and information acquired from orbit suggested that, if anything, the topography was rougher on the other side of the signal site than what they were cruising over at present. Preferring to trust her own vision whenever possible, she leaned slightly forward to peer upward. There was no telling if or when the ferocious electrical storm might grow worse or descend to a lower altitude. If the latter, it would complicate their landing considerably.

  She determined not to chance it.

  “I don’t like the terrain,” she told Oram, “and I can’t get any solid predictions on what the weather might do. We’ve got several sites on this side of the signal with smooth water. Slopes verging on precipices everywhere else. I suggest we be prudent.”

  He nodded his understanding. “I’m a prudent man, Faris. You’re the pilot. Your call.”

  That settled it. “I’m putting us down on amphib. Anybody wants to get out and try waterskiing, now’s the time. Let me know and I’ll pop the ramp.”

  Even had that been possible, there would have been no takers. Every member of the landing team had been slammed around more than enough for one day. The notion of doing so for recreation was decidedly unappealing.

  The long, narrow go
rge into which she descended would have made a perfect landing strip had it not been filled with water. That didn’t prevent Faris from bringing the lander in and down gently among the stark surroundings. Disturbing both moist atmosphere and cold water, the ship kicked up a plume in its wake. Slowing and hovering, she turned to port and brought them in to the near shore.

  At the last moment, an unexpected clunk against the lander’s underside made her wince. No alarms sounded, meaning hull integrity had not been breached. Maneuvering carefully, she turned the vessel sideways and settled down in shallow water beside a pebble beach.

  None of her companions had to tell her that she was the best, she knew as she cut the engines. That was a given.

  Relieved to be safely through the terrible storm and on solid ground, the team members all but tore off their restraining straps in their excitement to disembark. Despite all the gear he was carrying, Private Cole did a few experimental jumping jacks, delighting in the feel of his boots banging against the deck underfoot.

  “Real gravity!” He looked over at Rosenthal, who was crowding him. “Almost forgot what it feels like.”

  “You hit me in the shoulder again, and you’ll get to experience even more of it,” she warned him. “Give me a hand with my pack, will you?”

  As the expedition readied itself to go ashore, packs were slung, weapons loaded, rations counted. Everyone checked everyone else’s gear, and then had their own checked again. Up front, as Faris ran through the lander’s power-down sequence, the comm crackled anew. Despite the fact that the storm now raged high above them, it continued to interfere with reception, as well as transmission. At least, she told herself, something intelligible was getting through.

  “We’re having trouble reading you… find… boost your signal?” Faris recognized Upworth’s voice. She could only respond and hope that the lander’s communications system had enough strength to punch through the swirling electromagnetic disturbance overhead.

  “Roger that. Not only was it a hell of an entry, but we had to do an amphib landing, and we may have clipped something in the water on touchdown. I’m gonna check for damage, so may be out of direct touch for a bit. Will engage suit-to-ship relay and anticipate that works both directions.”