Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

XIII

She whirled. Though she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the two neomorphs, the fully grown ogre that now rose up on two legs behind her wasn’t the same one she had seen burst from the broken body of Sergeant Hallet. It parted pale, bony jaws to reveal a full array of even, sharp teeth as it launched itself toward her.

Crashing into the white body, Walter staggered it even as he rebounded to one side. Letting out a shriek, the creature turned from Daniels to attack the synthetic. As Walter threw up his left arm to protect himself, the powerful toothed jaws struck repeatedly, savaging his arm and shredding his uniform. Life fluid sprayed from the ragged wound.

Responding to the attack, the security team rushed to their aid, but it was hard to take aim and fire without hitting either Walter or Daniels. With a single arc of its tail, the furious neomorph brought the point around, down, and right through Ankor’s skull. The private’s eyes rolled back in his head as the tail was withdrawn, whereupon he dropped his weapon and collapsed.

Moving with incredible speed, the creature next slashed sideways at Cole, sending the man flying half a dozen meters into the bush. Meanwhile Rosenthal began firing madly, unleashing burst after burst from her F90. Instinct and experience finally succeeded in shoving Lopé’s anguish aside and he joined Rosenthal in blasting away at the creature.

With the neomorph still raging in the midst of them, they couldn’t shoot freely. Every one of them was in danger of being hit by close-quarters friendly fire. It was complete chaos in the grass, made all the more dangerous because fear and panic prevented anyone from giving orders or making rational decisions.

Unarmed and unable to help, Daniels, Walter, and Oram did their best to dig into the ground and stay out of the line of fire. Meanwhile, despite the pain from his rough landing, Cole had lifted himself up and added the thunder from his weapon to the general spray of ordnance. For his trouble, he got clipped in the shoulder by a stray round from Rosenthal and went right back down.

Now as large as a small ape, the back of its elongated skull having narrowed to a point, the neomorph that had burst forth from Hallet exploded out of the tall grass to join the fray. As Rosenthal spun to fire in its direction, the tail whipped out to knock her legs from under her. She went down hard, still firing, as the tail slashed in her direction again and again. Though blood began to stream from a cut on her forearm, she continued blasting away in her assailant’s direction.

The creatures were so damn fast. Wondering what she could do besides throw rocks, Daniels spotted the fallen Ankor’s carbine. Trying to watch both attacking beings simultaneously, she scrambled on all fours in the weapon’s direction, succeeded in grabbing it, and rolled to fire at Rosenthal’s attacker. She was certain she hit the thing. At this range it was almost impossible to miss, but her shots only succeeded in driving it off into the darkness. At least, she reflected, she’d kept it off the wounded private.

Her actions only served, however, to attract the attention of the larger, more mature neomorph. As it lunged in her direction, teeth clacking and long powerful fingers fully extended, she struggled to swing around the weapon she had picked up in order to get it between them.

A sudden bright light overhead caused her to blink, then squint. Raising a hand to shield her eyes, she tried to locate its source. Descending via chute, the intensely vivid flare was accompanied by a high-pitched ringing sound. As the light began to pulse, the ringing reached a crescendo.

A concussive shockwave expanded outward from the flare. At the same time the light achieved its maximum intensity. Momentarily rendered deaf and blind, Daniels couldn’t even find the wherewithal to fire her weapon—not that she could see a target anyway. Or anything else, for that matter. Murderous beings, her colleagues, the immediate surroundings, everything was wiped out in a dazzling tsunami of light and sound.

As hearing and sight returned, she fought desperately to locate the neomorph that had been charging toward her. There was no sign of it, nor of the smaller one that had burst out of the grass. There were only her companions. The surviving soldiers, a dazed and mumbling Captain Oram, and Walter, trying to bind up his leaking arm. Just her and them.

And someone else.

In the darkness she could not see the face of the hooded figure that joined them. She noted with relief that its proportions were human. There was no suggestion of anything other than a normal skull beneath the hood. She was further encouraged, if not yet entirely relieved, when it spoke. The voice had a male lilt marked by an interesting accent. Its words were perfectly comprehensible.

“They will return. You ought to come with me. Now.”

Without another word the figure turned and loped off into the darkness. The survivors looked at one another. No one knew what to do or what to say. First the two neomorphs, now a hooded stranger like a figure out of a medieval tapestry.

A vacuum, Daniels knew, sucked the life out of a person. She hurried over to the crouching remnant of what had once been a man.

“Chris? Captain. We have to go!”

“Yes.” He mumbled a reply without looking at her, his thoughts fixed elsewhere. “Yes. Let’s go.”

Wincing as he stood, Cole nodded into the night in the direction the hooded figure had taken. “Why should we listen to whoever, or whatever, that was?”

“You’re right.” Daniels looked back at him. “You can stay here.” She shifted her attention to Rosenthal, whose life she had probably just saved. “Coming?”

“Not stayin’ here,” the private grunted. She glanced over at the hesitant Cole. “Anywhere’s got to be better than here. We got no protection, no lander, and no daylight. Right now, I’d settle for a little high ground and some cover.” She echoed Daniels’ gesture into the darkness. “Mr. Mystery said those things will come back. That implies some knowledge of their behavior. Not only would I prefer to trust him, I’d like to know how he came by it. The knowledge, that is.” She nodded at Daniels. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We should bring the packs and ammo.” Daniels hefted the carbine Ankor had dropped. “Everything we can carry.” With one hand she indicated the smoldering lander. The blaze that had consumed it had nearly died out. “If circumstances permit, and there’s anything left there worth salvaging, we can come back for it later. In the daytime,” she finished pointedly.

Glad to have some direction, the others began gathering up their gear. Moving to pick up Ankor’s pack, Daniels found her attention diverted by the sight of the grieving Lopé. The sergeant was once again kneeling beside the mangled corpse of his partner. She walked over, considered putting a hand on the big man’s shoulder, but spoke gently instead.

“There’s nothing we can do, Lopé.”

“I know.” Still, the sergeant lingered. Reaching out and down, he carefully shut his partner’s eyes, then bent to bestow a final, farewell kiss. Lastly he removed the ring that circled one of the other man’s broken fingers and slipped it onto one of his own.

There being nothing more to do, he rose, looked one last time, and turned toward Daniels. She nodded her understanding, he nodded back. They each still had a job to do—she to try and make sense of what had overtaken them, he to do his best to ensure that she was able to do it. He picked up his equipment, and together they moved to join the others.

They had to break into a steady jog to keep up with the hooded bipedal figure. Behind them, the mature neomorph kept pace while keeping its distance.

That gap closed steadily even though they continued to move fast, led by an unknown guide toward an unknown destination. In the darkness it seemed almost immediately as if they had been running for an eternity. Nervous glances backward revealed their pale pursuer occasionally showing itself, only to immediately disappear among the undergrowth as soon as its presence was detected and a gun was pointed in its direction.

It was assessing them, Daniels realized. Testing their hearing, their depth perception, their reaction times.

Ahead of her she heard Rosenthal gasp, but neither the private nor her colleagues slackened their pace. An instant later Daniels nearly stumbled over the leg of the relic that had startled Rosenthal.

It was humanoid, but huge. A giant, the private would have called it. As she ran past the inert, desiccated body she noted in passing that it would have fit comfortably within one of the pods they had found on the crashed ship. Had it come from there, unimaginably long ago? Had it arrived on this world from somewhere else? Or was it native to this planet? If the latter, then what was it doing out here, demonstrably dead?

They found themselves trailing the hooded figure down a desolate slope. Here there were no trees, no grass, no wheat. Just bodies. Thousands and thousands of massive, whitish, humanoid bodies. Most were cowering, crouching, straining as if trying to escape an unseen catastrophe. Others had collapsed in fetal terror, hands across their faces, arms wrapped around their heads as if trying to protect them.

A few, exceptional, stood tall and defiant.

It reminded Daniels of similar shapes she had seen in history books. A particular place in the European continent. Pompeii. Dying figures frozen in time and place by the eruption of the nearby volcano Vesuvius. But while the poses around her were reminiscent of that ancient cataclysm, something else had caused all these thousands of deaths. There was no evidence of a lahar or flood or other sudden natural disaster. Whatever had befallen all these humanoids had been more… intimate.

She was brought out of her contemplation by the sound of gunfire. Having decided that their deadly pursuer had drawn too close, Lopé and Rosenthal had turned to fire in its direction. It was impossible to tell if they hit it.

Wounded or not, it continued to shadow them.

The sergeant ordered Rosenthal to stand down.

“Save your ammo. We’re going to need it. We lost everything else back at the lander. You heard it go up. All we’ve got is what we’re carrying.” With a nod, she clicked her rifle off, but she couldn’t keep from looking back, and frequently.

They reached the bottom of the hill, only to be confronted by wonderment. Stretched out before them was an enormous, silent city. While the storm in the ionosphere had screened it from Mother’s scanners, it now lay spread out before them in all of its long-dead glory. And it was dead, Daniels was certain as they continued to follow the hooded figure.

There was no sign of light, of movement. It was as lifeless as the forest and the wheat field and the grass and the lake. Those who had built it and once lived in it lay scattered everywhere, their thousands of huge bodies decaying in the damp climate. Only their monumental structures remained standing.

She should have been recording, she knew as they moved deeper into the silent conurbation. It was one thing to suspect the existence of an intelligent alien civilization. That was something on which mankind had speculated for hundreds of years. It was quite another to encounter proof of it, and to find oneself jogging down the corridors of the reality. Structures whose purpose could only be surmised towered around them. Eldritch statuary and other less-recognizable shapes stood etched by moonlight. Clinging to it all, she mused in amazement, was an undeniable yet ominous beauty.

Thousands more of the crumbling giant bodies lined the streets, twisted, contorted, seated quietly, or propped up against buildings as if trying to climb them. As the hooded figure led them across a vast open plaza they had to constantly alter their course to avoid piles of ancient corpses. All the while they kept a constant eye out for their relentless pursuer. It was there, she knew. Just out of range of their vision now, but there.

Continuing to lead the way, their guide led them to a structure that was not as tall as some of the others, but still constructed on a truly massive scale. The steps leading up to the entrance had been laid down for giants, not humans. Ascending them threatened to sap the last of their reserves.

They were nearly at the top when something prompted their pursuer to finally charge. Pale in the darkness, it came loping toward them, accelerating across the open plaza. Exhausted, they raised their weapons and prepared to defend themselves, closing ranks in order to better concentrate their fire. Their shots hadn’t been able to slow it down before, but even uncertain tactics were better than none at all.

In a display of exceptional strength, their guide wrenched open the towering metal doors at the top of the stairs.

“Inside!”

He gestured for them to follow. Even as she complied, Daniels was struck for a second time by the hooded figure’s easy command of language. She rushed inward, followed by her companions. Lopé was the last to enter as the figure firmly slammed the portal shut behind them.

Safe inside now, the survivors of the disaster that had befallen the expedition stood panting, grateful for a chance to finally catch some air. As their breathing eased they fell back on their training. Gear was inventoried, weapons checked, wounds addressed. A bad joke occurred to Daniels. She decided to withhold it for later. They weren’t yet back on the Covenant. They were not safe.

On the other hand, she reflected, they could have been dead, and quite easily, like poor Hallet. Or Karine, and Faris, and Ankor. They were still alive. She didn’t have any idea how long that would be the case, but it beat the alternative.

Save for their breathing and the occasional nervous, relieved whisper, it was silent within the high, organically designed hallway in which they now found themselves. The silence was oppressive. With their terrible pursuer at least temporarily locked outside, it was time to consider the individual who had saved them. As she turned toward it, hands—human hands—flipped back the concealing hood.

Long ratty hair tumbled from its head and the uniform it wore was tattered and worn. The aspect was feral, but the face underneath the hair was reassuringly human. Not only was it human, it was familiar. Too familiar.

She looked over toward Walter only to find him gazing back at her. Their guide looked just like him. No, she corrected herself. Not “just” like him. Exactly, unnaturally, inhumanly like him.

Which proved to be quite accurate.

“My name is David,” their savior told them. “I’m here to serve.”