Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

by Alan Dean Foster

  You’re being paranoid, she told herself. He saved us all. Doubtless at some risk to himself. If not for his intervention, she and the others would likely all be dead by now, torn apart in the grass by the lakeshore. Besides, he’s a service synthetic. The most advanced model, like Walter. The presence of a second Walter could only improve their desperate hope of getting off this world with their lives intact.

  But how did he end up here?

  “May I suggest you eat, drink, and try to get some rest? We are safe in this place… reasonably safe.” A broad wave of his hand took in their surroundings. “Though the analog is vague, I believe this was a kind of cathedral to them.”

  “How do we know that we’re safe here?” Cole inquired sharply. “We have only your word for it.”

  David seemed not in the least offended by the implication. No more so than his twin, Walter, would have been. He treated Cole’s query as a straightforward question, ignoring the edgy belligerence with which it had been delivered.

  “No. You also have my presence for it.”

  “You’re not human,” the private shot back. “Maybe these things only attack full-blooded organics.”

  “I was attacked,” Walter pointed out quietly. Cole looked over at him, suddenly abashed.

  “Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry.”

  “No offense taken.” Walter smiled. So did David. Unsettlingly, the two expressions were perfectly identical.

  “Eat,” David said. “Rest. Now, may I ask who is in charge here?”

  Once more lost in his own waking nightmare, Oram didn’t respond. The silence that ensued was notable for its awkwardness.

  “May I ask who’s in charge?” David said again.

  The repeated query succeeded in breaking through the fog of despair that had enveloped Christopher Oram.

  “Yes. I’m the captain.”

  Afraid that any continuing exchange was likely only to embarrass her superior, Daniels stepped forward.

  “What were those things? The ones that attacked us?”

  “Yeah,” Rosenthal added, “and this place, this city, all these dead giants—what’s the meaning of all this?”

  “I do not know if I can tell you the ‘meaning,’” David replied thoughtfully. “Sit, please. I’ll explain as best I can.”

  Still on their guard but unable to resist the synthetic’s persistent invitation to relax, several members of the team dropped their gear and sat. Others remained standing, but all broke out rations and liquids and began to eat and drink. Whether the danger had subsided or was merely taking a break, they knew they needed to replenish their bodies with food and fluids.

  Bottles were upended and food bars unsealed. Until they started eating, none of them realized how completely worn out they were. Ever since the initial call for help had reached them from the lander, all of them had been running on adrenaline.

  Ignoring David, Lopé moved off to one side and attempted to contact the Covenant. Standing before the others, David declaimed to his weary but curious audience.

  “Ten years ago, Dr. Elizabeth Shaw and I arrived here, the only survivors of the Weyland company ship Prometheus. I was able to pilot the alien vessel you found only because it was programmed to return to this world. The ship on which we traveled carried a biological weapon. You might think of it as a kind of virus. Part of the payload accidentally deployed when we were landing, because I was unable to fully manage control of the ship. In the absence of automated landing instructions from any extant ground control, the vessel simply—came down. As you saw, it was not a gentle landing.” He paused briefly.

  “I regret to say that Elizabeth died in the crash. As you doubtless noted, the impact was considerable. I myself only survived because my system is more—robust.”

  A glance showed Daniels that Walter was fascinated by his doppelganger. Equally interesting was the fact that David had not acknowledged his duplicate in any way at all. Must be a synthetic thing, she told herself. Perhaps David had already recognized and accepted Walter in some fashion only perceptible to their kind.

  She made a mental note to ask Walter about it later.

  David continued. “You’ve seen the result of the pathogen’s release. Of what it can do. When the people of this society realized what was happening, they disabled all their ships to prevent any chance of the virus spreading beyond this world. Thus I’ve been marooned here, these many years. Crusoe on his island.”

  A human would have smiled at that. David did not. Even for a synthetic, his personality struck Daniels as a little odd. But then, being isolated on an alien world without anyone else to talk to, be it human, computer, or another artificial life-form, might affect even a mind as well-balanced and fine-tuned as that of the David series.

  Walking over to a raised circular installation, he picked up a makeshift jug attached to a line, and dropped it into the opening. They heard it splash lightly as it hit bottom. Hauling it up, he returned to the group and offered it to Lopé. The sergeant hesitated and sniffed the contents. He took a sip. A slight grin appeared on his sweaty, worn face.

  “It’s good. Cold.” He drank again—a long, slow draught this time, satiating himself before passing it to the eagerly waiting Rosenthal.

  “Some of our teammates were infected with this virus?” Daniels asked David as she took the jug from Rosenthal.

  “So it would seem. The pathogen was designed— ‘engineered’ might be a better term, since those of us on the Prometheus came to think of them as genetic engineers—to infect any and all non-botanical life-forms. Its sole function is to reproduce. The offspring will stop at nothing to do so. It is their rationale for existence, designed into them by the Engineers.

  “They kill by reproducing. An elegant method of warfare, if you take the time to think about it. Or of ‘experimentation,’ if one prefers that description. A very thorough way of cleansing a world of unwanted life-forms. If even a single offspring of the virus is left, it will not stop until it has found a living host. It seeds, then it moves on. As you have seen, the seed incubates, mutates, and matures with astonishing speed, until it is ‘reborn.’

  “The pathogen itself has an extremely long lifespan,” he explained. “Given a suitable environment in which to exist in stasis, it can lie dormant for hundreds if not thousands of years until a suitable host presents itself and awakens it to commence the cycle again. If not controlled, a single application is quite capable of rendering an entire world permanently uninhabitable.”

  Daniels frowned. “Our ship’s systems scanned this world for the presence of possible pathogens before we came down. They’re very efficient. Nothing was found.” She looked to her left. “Walter performed a follow-up as soon as we landed. He also found nothing.”

  David nodded sagely. “While it is dormant, the virus is completely inactive. There was nothing for your ship or companion—competent as their respective instrumentation might be—to detect.” He waved a hand. “It’s not as if it is floating in the air like a common germ. The ability to lie inactive for a very, very long time is one of the things that makes it so dangerous—and dangerous to its engineers as well.”

  To Daniels’ surprise, Oram spoke up. For the first time since the death of his wife the captain sounded almost normal, though understandably concerned.

  “Have any of us here been infected?”

  David’s reply was as detached as it was reassuring. “You’d know by now.”

  Oram nodded, his expression intense. “No matter what, we cannot bring it back to the ship with us.” Meeting David’s gaze he added, “We’re on a colony mission.”

  A flicker in David’s eyes. Probably nothing, Daniels thought. But she made a note of it anyway.

  “Really? Colonization was only just beginning when the Prometheus expedition left Earth. Very expensive, very complex undertakings. How many colonists?”

  Oram responded to the interest. This was a subject, at least, to which he could speak with some authority. “Oh, two thousand
, more or less. Depends on whether or not you count the embryos.”

  “So many good souls.” David’s expression was not quite beatific. “Well, well. The terrestrial organizers of such a stirring enterprise are to be commended. As are those who committed themselves to hypersleep and a future they could only imagine. I am impressed. You are correct, of course. It is imperative that you do not transfer the pathogen—even in its smallest, most innocuous form—to your ship.”

  His thirst sated, a disappointed Lopé was having no luck re-establishing contact with the Covenant. “Looks like suit-to-orbit field transmissions don’t have a chance of getting through all this stone, and whatever else this structure is composed of.” He tilted back his head to regard the apex of the dome, high overhead. “Is there a safe way to get to the roof?”

  David’s reply was encouraging. “Assuredly, but not now. While I do believe it will be safe for you to try what you intend, if you are going to go back outside you will need to be in better physical condition, and likely mental as well. You have just suffered through considerable personal and corporal trauma. I am sorry if I set too swift a pace to reach here, but it could not be avoided.

  “Your bodies are exhausted,” he added. “Your attempt to contact your ship will have a much better chance of success if first you rest and allow your systems to recover.” He met the sergeant’s gaze. “As a soldier you can of course appreciate the value of rest and restoration prior to re-engaging in strenuous physical activity.”

  Lopé sighed heavily. He badly wanted to reconnect with the Covenant and inform them of what had happened but—the synthetic was right. “I could use a break.” He indicated the surviving members of the security team. “We all could.”

  David smiled. “Then do make yourselves at home, so much as you are able to in this dire necropolis.” Turning, he gestured and indicated that they should follow. “This way, Sergeant. I will show you how to access the roof without having to go back outside.”

  “You’re sure we’re safe in here?” Keeping pace with their guide, Lopé and Cole followed.

  The synthetic looked back at him. “No place is completely safe where the pathogen exists. However, I have made my home here for the past decade, and I have seen no sign of it within this complex. I assure you, I have had ample time and little else to do for those ten years other than ensure that the integrity of this redoubt has remained inviolate. I do not expect you to relax, but I do ask that you have some confidence in me.” He smiled again. “If I did not think this place was safe, I would not have brought you here in the first place. The city is full of other intact buildings that are not as secure.”

  “Makes sense,” Lopé grunted. “Lead on.”

  David started up a long curving stairway that swept dramatically up the side of one wall. Mercifully, the steps were slightly less high than the magisterial staircase that fronted the entrance to the building.

  From below, Walter followed the ascent of his twin. As if feeling the pressure of the other synthetic’s gaze, David suddenly stopped, forcing Lopé and Cole to halt behind him. Looking down, he considered his opposite number and finally addressed him.

  “Welcome, brother.” He nodded.

  By way of reply, Walter offered a single nod. His chin dipping and rising by exactly the same amount, at precisely the same speed, David nodded back, then resumed leading Lopé and Cole upward. Soon all three disappeared into an open portal high above the spacious chamber.

  Turning, Daniels saw that Oram, his attention having lapsed once more into his own anguished thoughts, was staring up at the ring of enormous sculpted heads. They would have been worthy of discussion simply from an aesthetic standpoint, but she doubted he was capable of holding up his end of a conversation. Leaving the captain to deal with his own continuing inner trauma, she walked over to Walter.

  The synthetic was still gazing up toward the portal at the top of the stairway through which David and the two soldiers had exited. Daniels stared at him hard enough to finally break his concentration.

  “What do you make of ‘David’?” she asked. “And his story?”

  “It certainly offers food for thought. I’ll talk to him. ‘Brother’ to brother. There is certainly much to be learned here. And from him.” At her look he added, “I will of course keep you and the others apprised of anything I learn.”

  * * *

  Though the dreadful ionospheric storm continued to rage, in the high orbit occupied by the Covenant it was dead calm. This was in considerable contrast to what had happened on the surface far below, though those on board remained starved for details.

  With Mother monitoring everything, and nothing changed beneath them, there was at present little to do on the bridge. Taking a break from their stations, Upworth and Ricks stood gazing out through the main port at the enigmatic globe rotating below. She took his hand, as much to reassure herself as her husband.

  “Nothing we can do, hon,” Upworth murmured softly. “Until contact is re-established we have no idea what’s happening down there.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s the tough part. It’s clear they were in some kind of trouble. We know enough to know it was bad, but we don’t know the particulars behind it.”

  Behind them, Tennessee stood deep in thought. Uncharacteristically solemn, he had been studying the holo that showed the position of the ship, the world below, and its persistently malevolent weather. Reaching out, he ran a hand through the image, stirring and adjusting the relative positions of the ship, the storm, and the surface. Finally he muttered something to himself.

  Fuck it. He’d done enough calculating. Calculating wouldn’t help those in trouble on the ground. He raised his voice.

  “Mother. Descend to eighty kilometers above the storm.”

  That caught Upworth’s attention. Right away. She exchanged a look with her husband before turning to confront the pilot.

  “Whoa, Tee. Hold on.”

  He moved away from the holo to face them both. “The physics aren’t complicated. Closer we get to the surface, the better chance we have of restoring communication with the expedition team.”

  Ricks gaped at him. “C’mon, Tennessee. Ship’s systems will function as effectively whether we stay here, move out, or drop down. Spatial proximity won’t make any difference.”

  “Not for us it won’t, but it sure as hell will for the folks stuck on the surface. Especially,” he added, “if there’s a problem with the communications on the lander, and they’re trying to get through to us via suit systems alone. If they’re trying to reach us strictly on suit comm, then distance does matter.”

  “We don’t know that’s the situation.” Ricks stared back at him, alarmed.

  “We don’t know that it isn’t,” Tennessee countered. “We do know that we’ve been trying to re-establish contact for some time now, and that all attempts have failed. So I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that they’re in bad shape, comm-wise, and that we need to try something different to get back in touch with them.” He repeated the command.

  “Mother. Descend to eighty kilometers above the storm.”

  Upworth took a step toward him. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. I’m as worried about those on the surface as you are, but this is bullshit. We can’t risk the ship.”

  Tennessee replied quietly, “That’s our crew down there.”

  “Oh, really? Thanks for reminding me, because I’d forgotten. Maybe you’ve forgotten that we have two thousand colonists up here. That’s the mission, remember? Eight down there, two thousand plus up here. I ‘remember’ which is more important. Do you?”

  Unable to challenge the other man’s logic, a frustrated Tennessee looked back at the holo.

  “So we do nothing?”

  “Sometimes doing nothing is actually doing something.” Upworth didn’t hesitate to back her husband. “Sometimes doing nothing is the right thing to do. I know that’s our people down there, Tee. I also know that there are times when o
ne has to put emotion aside and exercise a little discipline. The ship stays where it is, and we wait for the fucking storm to pass.”

  He looked back at her. “We have no idea when that will be. You heard the same thing I did in the last transmissions from the lander. Panic, fear. They’re in real trouble down there.”

  “So what can we do about it?” Upworth shot back. “Even if we can re-establish communication and talk to them, we can’t do anything to help. We can’t evacuate them. If they’re in trouble they’re gonna have to figure it out for themselves. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality. You know it is.”

  Tennessee turned away from her. “Mother. Bring us to within eighty kilometers of the storm. Thrusters only. Comply.”

  “Understood.” The familiar synthetic voice sounded on the bridge. “Descending now.”

  The slightest of jolts ran through the deck as the thrusters fired. Her arms at her sides, her hands balled into fists, Upworth was now staring at Tennessee in disbelief. “Seriously, Tee, you need to stop this before it goes too far.”

  The big man’s expression was set. “And you need to return to your station. You’re going to have work to do.”

  Ricks jumped in, trying to mediate.

  “Take it easy, both of you.”

  Now glaring at their temporary captain, she ignored him. “I know your wife’s down there,” she said tersely, “but you’re in command here, and your first responsibility is to the colonists. That’s why there’s even a human crew on this ship—to look after the fate of the colonists.”

  “Duly noted,” Tennessee replied dryly. “Kindly return to your fucking station.”

  She started to say something else, caught herself, and whirled. After a glance at Ricks, they both took seats at their respective consoles.

  The argument over, if only for now, Tennessee moved to gaze out the main port. Below, the planet was looming slowly but steadily larger in his field of view. As was the ferocious, lightning-lashed storm.