Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

XIV

They were all too astonished to reply as the figure turned and led them down the hallway. After a short walk they found themselves in a vast chamber surrounded by a succession of huge stone heads. Though each was subtly different from the next, the sculptures were plainly of the same species of humanoid whose thousands of bodies littered the great city and the approaches to it. Each bust possessed its own individual, austere grandeur.

The individual who had saved them—David—turned and addressed them politely. In his calm courtesy he was exactly like Walter. Clearly they shared more than just their appearance, Daniels told herself. Despite the familiar smile and the soothing, welcoming—though slightly differently accented—voice, she remained wary. There was too much here in need of explanation. Until some of it was forthcoming, she would respond to their guide in kind: with restrained politeness.

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 one 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.

Three figures emerged onto the roof. Looking around, Cole chose the highest easily accessible point and began to unpack the external field communications gear he carried. In the absence of any usable information from the signal locator, he boosted the power as much as he could, hoped for the best, and started broadcasting.

High overhead he could see powerful electrical discharges lancing through the upper atmosphere. The prospects for punching through the storm were not good, but they had to try.

“Come in, Covenant. Expedition party reporting. This is Private Cole. Come in, Covenant. Are you reading me? Acknowledge, Covenant. Digital if you can’t get through with words.”

“I don’t know that they’ll hear you through the storm,” David commented. Tilting back his head slightly, he peered upward. “They can be quite severe. Sometimes several storm cells will merge and cover half the planet.”

Lopé turned from Cole to regard their escort. “How long do the storms usually last?”

David shrugged. “Days, weeks, months. For a while I tried to find some pattern to them. Something resembling a predictable climate. Eventually I gave up. There is no rhyme or reason to their manifestation or to their duration.” He pointed upward. “This one could evaporate tomorrow. Or it could rage until the end of the local year.” He gestured toward Cole. “But do keep at it. I wish you luck.” Turning, he headed back the way they had come.

“I should see to the others,” he said. “This is a grand structure, this maybe-cathedral, with much dark beauty to commend it, but I have had ample time to familiarize myself with its attractions. I understand how a newly arrived human could find it somewhat… intimidating. Especially given the circumstances of your arrival.”

“Wait.” At Lopé’s request, David turned obediently. “If we can’t get through to the ship and we have to come back down to rejoin the others, how do we find our way?”

The synthetic smiled. “I apologize. It has been quite a while since I have had the company of humans. In that time I have forgotten certain things. For example, that you cannot automatically retrace steps you have taken. You may not have noticed that there were only a few side corridors leading off the one we traversed to arrive here. It should be easy enough for you to find your way back down, but if you do not feel up to the task of returning by yourselves, and you do not have instrumentation in your suits that will allow you to retrace your steps, rest assured I will come back for you.” He turned and left, leaving Lopé and Cole alone to continue their methodical attempts to make contact with the ship.

David descended from the roof, but he didn’t return to the sculpture chamber to rejoin the other members of the expedition. Instead, he turned into a side corridor and then descended another curved stairway. This terminated in a dark chamber that boasted an especially soaring interior.

Ambient light penetrating from above highlighted the lush beauty of walls covered in hanging gardens. Occasionally spotted with large, plum-like fruit, thick vines crawled downwards. Exotic night-blooming flowers opened alien petals to the unseen twin moons. From hidden sources high above, water trickled downward, feeding the vines and other clinging growths.

Avoiding the falling water, David crossed the floor to the far corner. An accumulation of salvaged, Engineersized instruments and devices lay before a large, polished slab of mirror-like material. It was not glass. Even in the absence of functioning electronics, it provided whoever looked into it a feeling of depth, of three-dimensionality. Halting before it, David stared thoughtfully at his reflection, tilting his head first to one side, then the other, before bending forward to show the top of his pate.

Reaching into the pile of paraphernalia nearby, he picked out a pair of hand-made shears. With great deliberation and care, he began to cut his hair.

Walter had found himself unable to share his companions’ relief at having time to do nothing. Possessed of a mind designed to operate without rest, he searched for something to occupy himself while the others simply sat, dozed, or murmured the usual interhuman inconsequentialities to one another.

Since no one needed him, his time was his own. An atypical situation, but one he did not reject. Leaving the main domed chamber and its brooding sculpted heads, he entered a side corridor and began to explore some of the adjacent, smaller alcoves.

Having already delved into the one that had been used as living quarters by Elizabeth Shaw, he continued onward to investigate some of the others. Most were empty. A few held inscrutable examples of what appeared to be Engineer technology or art. He was ready to concede that nothing more of interest lay in the vicinity when he came to the last in the long series of openings.

Where he happened upon David’s living quarters. Not that his counterpart required such a refuge for comfort, but it was useful as a place for accumulating helpful or interesting items. As it turned out, it was much more than that.

For one thing, it was filled with drawings. Literally filled, from the covered walls to stacks on the floor. Their number and the precision and skill with which they had been executed were wholly recognizable to Walter, since had he attempted to do likewise, the style would have been exactly the same.

There were hundreds of them. They showed Engineers as they must have been in life. Exotic flora and fauna. Prehistoric mammals. Humans both modern and ancient. Every example was exquisitely detailed and unreservedly beautiful. They reminded Walter of the work of pioneering nineteenth-century Victorian artists, whose efforts predated photography and were instrumental in the development of human biological science. He examined them one at a time, drinking in their beauty while admiring the skill with which they had been rendered.

Not tiring of the drawings but desirous of seeing what other marvels the alcove might hold, he moved further inward. One coved wall boasted a collection of musical instruments. Some he recognized immediately. Others were of unfamiliar design. Many of them, identifiable by the way they had been fabricated, had clearly been fashioned by David himself.

One section held a collection of flutes. Selecting an example, he blew into it. It produced only a hollow, forlorn whistle. He tried again.

A voice sounded behind him. “Whistle and I’ll come.”