As she spoke to the Covenant, and hoped she was being heard, Daniels joined them. When Oram eyed her quizzically she opened one clenched hand to reveal the worry bead he had dropped during the descent. He took it, giving her a nod of thanks.
“Myself, I’d prefer a suitably relaxing pharmaceutical,” she told him.
He held up the bead before returning it to his pocket.
“This is non-narcotic, always available, and nonaddictive.”
She could have said something about the latter, chose not to as he peered out the foreport.
“How far?”
Walter checked his readouts. “Signal’s source is eight kilometers almost due west, but at a considerable elevation. Up a steep incline.” He looked over at Faris. “You chose the set-down site well. While there are options between us and the signal source, we really could not have gotten any closer without endangering the lander.”
“I know,” she said simply. “It’s called ‘piloting.’” More than most of the crew, she had a tendency to be short with the synthetic. She didn’t know why. Walter was perfectly pleasant, perfectly responsive, perfectly sociable. Perfectly… perfect.
Maybe that was why, she told herself.
At a command from the bridge, the portside landing ramp deployed. Spanning a bit of shallow water, the far end settled into the gentle slope of the pebble beach. Being the most expendable member of the team, as well as the only one who did not require breathing gear, Walter descended first. Standing on the solid ground, he looked around and took a deep breath. Not because he needed to do so, but to acquire a sample of atmosphere for his internal systems to analyze.
The result was comforting, as were all the other readings. He informed the others.
“Is he sure?” Peering out the forward port, Daniels watched as Walter performed a series of mundane tasks, kneeling to examine the green ground cover beyond the beach, cupping his hands to sample the water from the lake, inspecting several choice pebbles chosen from the edge of the beach. Oram frowned at her.
“It’s Walter. Walter is either sure or he’s not sure. There are no gray areas with Walter. You know that.”
“Yeah, right. Okay, then.” Looking back into the ship’s bay to where the crew was performing final prep, she raised her voice. “Walter says the atmosphere is so good we’re not going to need breathing gear. No sign of local pathogens in the air, either, right down past the molecular level. So no need for full evac suits.”
The cheers and shouts of delight that greeted her announcement rocked the ship almost as hard as had the storm.
Faris was back on the comm, hoping her signal reached the Covenant. “Atmosphere’s breathable,” she reported. “No, better than breathable, according to Walter. Downright terrestrial, except without all the pollutants. I’d say it’s ‘fresh,’ though he wouldn’t use such a non-technical term. No airborne contaminants whatsoever. Pristine.”
Edenesque? she thought. No, that designation would be premature. She waited as the members of the expedition team filed out in the direction of the airlock and the deployed landing ramp.
“The team is heading out now to investigate the source of the transmission,” she told the comm. “I’ll relay their findings if it proves necessary. Suit signals might need a boost, if the damn storm doesn’t settle down.”
When Upworth’s voice responded immediately, Faris let out a sigh of relief. Maybe the current state of ground-to-ship communications wasn’t the best, but at least it was functional.
“See if you can push more power to the lander’s uplink, honey,” Upworth replied. She, too, sounded relieved at the stabilizing of contact. “Signal’s coming through up here, but still showing a tendency to fall apart. Have to gather, assemble, and process before you can be understood.”
“Will try.” Faris rose from her seat, glad to finally be able to stand without having to worry about being slammed against the bulkhead. “Repurposing main relay. I have to go outside for a bit to check for potential damage to the hull. Then I’ll see about further goosing the uplink. Now that we’re down, maybe I can redistribute some power.”
Though there was enough cloud cover to mute the daylight, it was far from dark outside the lander. Not exactly cheery, Faris told herself as she followed the rest of the team out the lock and down the ramp, but far from unrelenting gloom. Their surroundings were just—gray. While the team worked out last-minute preparations before embarking on the hike ahead, she made her way toward the back of the ship, checking the underside as far as was possible given that it was sitting in shallow water, and then working her way carefully around the forward and aft landing thrusters.
The dent was sufficiently prominent that she noticed it right away. Any possible internal damage would have to await an instrument scan. As she continued to study the indentation, Oram came up beside her, his boots sloshing through dark water.
“Okay, Faris, we’re heading out. Keep all expedition security protocols in place,” he instructed. “And watch out for hungry dinosaurs.” It was a weak attempt at levity, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless. Oram really was beginning to relax into command.
“Will do.” Peering past him, her gaze traveled up the soaring mountainside in the direction of the signal’s source. “Don’t see anything moving yet, dinos included. Pretty peaceful.” She turned her attention back toward the damage to the lander. “Have fun, y’all.”
* * *
Turning slowly, he took in the immediate surroundings. The lake was stunning, reminding him of images he had seen of glacial lochs on Earth. The mountains that framed the lengthy body of water were equally imposing, as were the fir- and redwood-like trees that climbed their flanks. It was all quite beautiful.
Beautiful—and quiet, he couldn’t help noticing. Faris was right. The only sounds were made by the slight breeze as it caressed rocks and grass and the barely perceptible liquid clink of wavelets against the rocky shore. There were no animal calls, no bird cries, and no exotic analogs thereof. Despite the inarguable habitability of the planetary surface, despite its welcoming atmosphere, temperature, and gravity, nothing moved in the sky, in the water, on the dry land, or in the forest.
Quiet.
He gave a mental shrug. Maybe the lander had come down in a particularly sterile spot. Or maybe the local fauna engaged in mass migration. Or were hibernating in expectation of warmer weather—and fewer storms. He couldn’t spare the time to ponder on it. This wasn’t a zoological expedition. Two thousand colonists in hypersleep were waiting on what they found, and on his ultimate decisions. Which he could not make until a number of questions were answered.
Walking back to shore, he rejoined the group that stood patiently awaiting his orders. With one hand he gestured at the looming mountainside.
“If everyone’s ready…?” When no one demurred, he added, “All right then. Let’s go find our ghost. Walter?”
Without a word and holding his multiunit out in front of him, the synthetic started off. Lopé accelerated to take point in front of their guide. The rest of his squad—Hallet, Cole, Ledward, Ankor, and Rosenthal—fanned out around him, forming a standard semicircular perimeter. Daniels, Oram, and Karine followed close behind Walter.
* * *
As she collected the necessary ingredients for a standard scan-and-repair kit, Faris listened to her husband via the relayed comm.
“No way to boost the signal?” he asked her.
Kit in hand, she replied as she once again exited the lander and descended the ramp. “Not without going completely offline, and allowing the cells to recycle.”
“How long would that take?” he inquired hopefully.
Wading out into the water she halted next to the dent in the hull. Using a special tool designed exclusively for the purpose, she began opening service hatches, striving to maintain the contact with the Covenant while also trying to envision the work that might need to be done.
“I dunno. A couple of hours.” Straightening, she pulled
a tech scanner from her kit. “If I take the time to do that, it would mean taking time away from making repairs down here, and I don’t even know the extent of those yet. Depending on the damage, they might require minutes, might require hours.” She didn’t say “days.”
Don’t let it be days, she muttered to herself.
Tennessee made the logical choice, as she knew he would. “It’s not worth taking time away from what you might have to do to the lander. Do what you have to do with it first. Meanwhile, let me see what we can do up here. I can try overriding the automatics with a couple of experimental resolution algorithms, see if we can maybe improve clarity without having to boost signal strength.”
“Okey doke.” Repeated attempts failed to get a particularly reluctant hatch to open, but the problem was solved by the simple expedient of whacking it hard a couple of times with a spanner. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.” She cast a squint skyward. “Viewed from down here, there’s still plenty of crackle overhead, but none of it is hitting the ground, and at least it’s not raining.” She hoped that didn’t jinx it. “Faris out.”
As communication terminated she paused to inspect the small internal portions of the lander that her efforts had exposed to view. A sudden sense of unease caused her to turn and look out across the somber landscape. She knew immediately what it was that was bothering her.
It was that damn unbroken continuing quiet.
VIII
Daniels moved up so that she was walking alongside Walter. After climbing a lightly vegetated slope, the expedition team found themselves pushing through a flat field of some kind of tall grass. Pale gold instead of green, the stalks swayed in perfect unison with the prevailing gentle breeze. Despite the increasingly uncomfortable ongoing silence she was glad that the grass, at least, did not make any noise.
Looking ahead, she saw that two of the lead security team had stopped. In complete violation of proper expedition procedure, Sergeant Lopé was crushing the top of one of the golden stalks between his fingers. Before she could object, he rubbed the residue between his palms, brought it close to his face, and blew part of it away. Picking up the loose chaff, the breeze carried it off toward the nearby mountains.
To Daniels’ astonishment, Lopé then brought what remained in his palm up to his tongue, and tasted it. She held her breath. Even Walter looked up from his multiunit and watched the sergeant closely.
Taking note of her anxious expression, Lopé smiled reassuringly and gestured at the field in which they stood.
“This is wheat,” he said. “Plain, ordinary, bland, bread-making wheat. I’m from what they used to call Iowa. Believe me, I know wheat.” He took a second taste, turned thoughtful. “This is old, a primitive variety, but definitely cultivated. Too much taste to be an accidental offshoot. Or wild.”
“You’re certain?” she asked him.
He flicked what remained off his fingertip. “I don’t know much about parallel evolution, but I’d have to say that finding something here that tastes almost exactly like stuff I tasted as a boy would be one hell of a coincidence.” He eyed the synthetic. “What do you think, Walter? What are the odds of finding terrestrial vegetation this far from Earth? Never mind cultivated, edible vegetation.”
Walter’s response was concise. “Highly unlikely.”
The sergeant let out a derisive snort. “One hundred percent unlikely, I’d say.”
“So,” Daniels opined aloud, “assuming then that it didn’t get here on its own… who planted it?”
No one had an answer. No one had so much as a suggestion. In the absence of either, the team continued on through the wheat field, heading up-slope for the dense tree line in the distance. All around them the sheaves shuddered in the breeze, indifferent to the presence of newcomers, unable to reveal the secrets of their improbable presence.
“Nice place for a log cabin.” Walter glanced behind them, checking on how far they had come from the lander. “Trees to cut. Even a lake.”
Daniels appreciated the sentiment. Or more likely, she corrected herself, the cool, calculated attempt to ease the tension she was feeling. Either way, she couldn’t help but respond.
“Yes, Jacob would have loved this.”
Oram came over to join them. Now that they had set down safely and without incident, the captain was feeling confident, even boisterous. The latter was unlike him, but with the exception of the storm in the upper atmosphere, everything they had encountered thus far had exceeded his expectations.
“What do you think, Daniels?” he asked. “Looks like a perfect landing site.” Gesturing as they walked, he enthusiastically sited the new settlement. “Put the housing modules over there, civic modules across the way. Natural food source already in place—assuming Lopé’s assessment is confirmed. Access to plenty of fresh water, too. No wells necessary.”
“We don’t know how deep the lake is,” she mumbled. “Surface might be deceptive, volume might be small.”
“Easy enough to take the necessary measurements.” He shook his head, grinning and undeterred. “Act the pessimist if it suits you.” He took a deep breath. “You could bottle this air and sell it back on Earth. Trees, stone for building, probably the usual rocky world assortment of useful minerals and metals.” He tried to catch her eye. “And if this lake turns out to be shallow, there are dozens more. Just add water, and you’ve got an instant colony!”
She stayed non-committal. “I admit it shows promise. We’ll see.”
He chuckled, amused at her recalcitrance. “Oh, ye of little faith!” Flashing another uncharacteristically broad smile, he lengthened his stride to catch up to Lopé and Hallet, all but skipping as he accelerated. Watching her husband, Karine pulled up alongside Daniels.
“I know, he’s insufferable, and it’s worse when he’s happy, right?” When Daniels was about to comment, the other woman hushed her. “Whatever you’re going to say, believe me, I already know it. I live with him, remember?” She gave a conspiratorial smile and hurried to catch up with her spouse.
The wheat field surrendered to an evergreen forest, which soon grew dense. Showing bulging, almost spherical root tops, the tall thick boles closed in around them, shutting out the gray sky, muting the surrounding colors. At the same time, the slope they were ascending grew steeper, the terrain more difficult. A few places necessitated hiking sideways to avoid having to scramble up a steep cut or thrust in the mountainside.
It prompted Daniels to remark yet again on the most notable aspect of their surroundings—one that had continued to trouble her ever since their arrival.
“You hear that?”
Striding along nearby, Oram gave a listen, then frowned.
“Hear what?”
“Nothing. Still nothing. No birds. No animals. Not even an insect. Nothing. In a forest this verdant and lush, you’d think you’d hear something, even if it was just dead leaves crunching underfoot. Even if whatever was making the noise was only trying to get away from us. But it’s just—empty. There’s nothing.”
Lopé wore a strange expression, as if he found Daniels’ insistent observation unnerving. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that an exposed lakeshore might appear to be devoid of life. At the appearance of unfamiliar intruders, local animals might elect to flee, go quiet, and hide out. In contrast, the same couldn’t be said for an area full of food, like the wheat field. Or a healthy forest like the one through which they were presently climbing.
Apparently healthy, Daniels corrected. The utter absence of any fauna suggested otherwise. While she watched, Lopé made sure his carbine was snug against his shoulder and that its magazine was firmly seated.
Coming up behind the expedition leaders, Private Ankor wondered aloud, “How can you have plants without animals?”
“Typically,” Walter told him, “you can’t.” He gestured back the way they had come. “Interestingly, with wheat you can. It’s self-pollinating. A possible explanation for why it seems to thrive here in the apparent absence of an
y insects, birds, or bats.”
An increasingly uncomfortable Daniels found herself looking up into the brooding trees. It made no sense that this world should be inhabited solely by plants— especially advanced plants like wheat and conifers. Then she identified part of what made her uneasy—she felt as if she was being watched. Glancing around, she wondered if the others felt the same. Judging from their expressions, she was pretty certain they did.
They encountered a stream, and that lightened her mood a little. There was nothing abnormal about it, and everything familiar. It came cascading down the mountainside, full of all the life and movement that was absent from the forest. The cheerful aqueous splash broke the intimidating stillness, while providing a homey echo of Earth.
Sounding in their headsets, the voice of a concerned Tennessee offered counterpoint to the song of the stream and to their individual musings.
“Expedition team. You reading us?” he said. Oram acknowledged, and Tennessee continued. “Mother tells us the ion storm is getting worse. Maybe you’re not feeling it on the ground, but we’re having a hell of a time keeping track of you from up here. What’s your status?”
Oram responded. “We’re currently almost halfway to the target site. Stand by to monitor our communications when we get there.”
* * *
In orbit far above, Tennessee made what sense he could out of the transmission from below. At the conclusion of the captain’s reply, both audio and the hovering holo terrain map dissolved in a mass of static. For the moment, at least, viable communication with the surface and the expedition team went dead.
“Dammit.” He moved to his console, determined to continue his ongoing battle with reluctant algorithms.
* * *
Outside the lander, Faris continued to work on the components that were visible inside the open hatches. What would have taken no time at all to fix within the sterile confines of the Covenant was proving to be a frustrating, time-consuming process when standing in ankle-deep water, having to lean down and in just to see the problem.
Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization Page 9
