Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

XVIII

Daniels slept while Walter watched.

So interesting, the condition of human sleep, he mused. Like death, but not. Because even while resting, the brain was still active. Humans had spoken to him of their dreams, and he could not help but wonder what it must be like. To have one’s thoughts and imagination run wild, entirely out of control, and then to revive with everything exactly the same as it had been before the experience.

David would have declared it another wonderment that was denied them.

If he dreamed, Walter wondered, would he dream of being human? Or would he dream as a human?

No, he told himself. That would not be possible. His dreams, like his condition of continuous consciousness, would be ordered and logical. Even while dreaming he would not be capable of losing control. He could not decide if he regretted that, or was relieved to know he would never have the opportunity to find out.

As Daniels slept, some hair fell down across her forehead. Reaching out, he gently brushed it aside, settling the strands back in their proper position. Adjusting them made him feel good. Touching her made him feel good.

Why? What was he feeling? Or was he simply responding to programming because he had “served,” even if in so small a fashion? Because he had done something he was designed to do?

Did he “feel”?

His exceptional hearing allowed him to sense the presence of another person even before the newcomer entered the mammoth chamber. Comparing the volume of sound made by the footsteps against the perceived mass of their owner, while allowing for such variables as the weight of the clothing worn and equipment carried, enabled him to hazard a guess as to who the arriving individual would be.

It was most likely Private Cole.

“Hey, we made contact!” A little out of breath from his rapid descent from the rooftop, Cole gasped out the information. “We reached the Covenant!”

His shout woke Daniels. For reasons he could not isolate, this displeased Walter. His disappointment passed quickly, along with any further attempts to understand the cause.

“That’s wonderful!” Scrambling to her feet, she looked around and frowned when she didn’t find the person she sought. “Where’s Oram?” Her attention shifted from the private to Walter. “Where’s Oram?”

“I have no idea,” the synthetic replied truthfully.

A troubled Daniels pondered the captain’s absence. “He wouldn’t be gone for long on his own. Not even allowing for his current emotional state. I thought he was recovering, getting past it a little, but maybe…” Dropping the thought, she indicated the far portal. “We’d better go find him.”

She headed out of the gigantic chamber. Walter accompanied her willingly, and without having to be asked.

While it scarcely seemed possible to those on board the Covenant, sensors suggested that the storm now raging just below them had grown even stronger.

It seemed inconceivable that an Earth-type planet could give birth to so much violent weather over such a large expanse of its surface. If anyone needed any reminder of the reality, however, all they had to do was gaze out a port, to witness the colossal bursts of electricity that continued to explode across and through the roiling clouds beneath the ship, stitching them together with lightning.

Standing on the bridge and having made two-way contact with those on the surface, Tennessee and Upworth crowded around Ricks’ console. His hands moved rapidly but carefully as he manipulated holos and readouts. The last thing he wanted to do was lose the contact they had finally established with their brethren on the ground.

Having failed to find Oram but energized by Cole’s announcement, Daniels and Walter followed the private back onto the roof of the great building. As she and the synthetic joined him and Lopé, she told herself that the captain most likely was with Rosenthal. He’d regret not being present to talk to the ship.

Hearing Tennessee’s voice over the comm wasn’t just welcome—it was downright uplifting.

“Mother’s saying the storm should start clearing in eight or nine hours,” he reported. “That’s just an estimate, not a firm prediction. But if it holds…”

As Cole gestured for her to reply, she spoke toward the field comm’s pickup.

“We’ll use the cargo lift.”

“You want to clarify that, Danny?” Tennessee’s surprise sounded clearly through the uplink. “Did you say use the cargo lift?”

“Why not? It’s got two engines, four thrusters, and it’s way overpowered for just lifting and hauling. I know, because I’m responsible for making sure it’s always in working order.”

Tennessee still had concerns.

“Cargo lift’s not made for the kind of weather we’re facing here,” he countered, “and it’s not supposed to be deployed until the ship is in low orbit around our final destination. Don’t know if it’ll take the stresses that’ll be put on it in the course of a drop under local conditions—much less if it’ll have what it takes to return.”

“It’ll handle both,” she assured him. “The cab was made fully space-worthy, in case it had to deal with everything from sub-arctic cold to flying lava. The rest of the unit was built equally tough. Trust me, I know every centimeter of it. It’ll take the stresses.” She qualified herself. “I wouldn’t do a couple of dozen drop and returns in bad weather, but for one or two, it’ll function just fine. Strip her back to the main platform to reduce the weight. Take off all the storage and backup equipment modules. That’ll mean we’ll have enough thrust to achieve escape velocity, no matter how bad the weather is.” She paused for emphasis.

“It only has to come down and go back up once, Tee.”

As they waited for a response, the others grew increasingly nervous. A worried Lopé eyed Cole, who was handling the communications gear.

“Have we lost them?”

Cole checked the readouts on the console, shook his head. “Everything here says the channel is still live.”

“They’re debating whether to proceed—and if so, how.” Daniels did her best to radiate confidence. “I know Tee. He’s not going to agree to any plan of action without conferring with the others first. No matter how desperate the need, he’ll go over all the angles before committing.”

Sure enough, the pilot’s voice came through clearly a moment later.

“Stand by, ground team.” They could hear him, faintly, as he queried the others. Ricks and Upworth would be there with him on the bridge, Daniels knew. Would he act without their accord? She doubted it.

“Can we get the heavy cargo lift retooled?” he said, addressing the others aboard the Covenant. “Boost the engine output? Reduce the weight by removing any and every non-essential? Whatever it takes. In seven hours?”

Straining, Daniels could hear Upworth’s reply.

“Yes.”

Tennessee’s voice strengthened once more as he addressed them directly. “We’ll be there, ground team.”

Cole let out a long whooo of relief, while Lopé just smiled tightly. Daniels smiled too, even though getting through the next seven hours or so was going to see a rise in everyone’s blood pressure. It wasn’t likely to subside until they were actually back on the ship.

“That’s great news,” she said toward the pickup. “Thanks, Tee. If we have to move from our present position, it won’t be far, and we’ll shoot you new landing coordinates. Meanwhile, look for my beacon. We’ll put out everything we’ve got to make sure you’ve got a straight vector in.”

“They can land on my head for all I care.” Cole looked around, scanning the expansive rooftop that remained deserted, except for him and his friends. “Anything they have to do to get us out of this place, it’s okay by me.”

The comm beeped, indicating that Tennessee wasn’t through.

“The storm’s still pretty bad so we’re going to shift back to a higher orbit while we prepare the cargo lift. But we’ll aim to drop at first light, your time. Coming through at six bells.”

“Aye aye,” Daniels acknowledged. “Six bells, understood. We’ll be packed and waiting.”

“Shouldn’t take long to haul y’all out of there,” Tennessee assured her. “Hey, is Faris around there? I’d like to say a quick hello to my lady.”

Walter and Daniels exchanged a glance. In Oram’s absence, informing Tennessee was her responsibility, and hers alone. She nodded at Walter, who turned and walked away. Lopé and Cole took this as a cue for them to do likewise.

As soon as she had been given some space, she once again addressed the comm.

“Hey, Tennessee,” she said, careful to keep her voice level, “can you switch to a private channel? Suit to suitset?”

On the Covenant’s bridge, neither Ricks nor Upworth could hear the ensuing conversation. They did not have to. Its import was writ clear in the succession of shifting expressions on Tennessee’s face.

The pilot didn’t look in their direction, and offered no details when he finally nodded to indicate that Ricks could terminate the exchange. He stood in silence for a long moment.

Then he ripped off his headset, flung it aside heedless of where it might land, and turned to exit the bridge. On his way out he slammed a fist into a bulkhead.

Married themselves, Upworth and Ricks had seen enough to understand.

It was very quiet in the subterranean chamber. Nothing moved save rising wisps of ammonia-laden mist.

Certainly David did not move. He was too busy watching the captain. Enough time had passed, so he was a bit concerned that nothing had happened. Then Oram’s rib cage arched in a slow, balletic spasm before increased respiration and heartbeat resumed.

Rising from where he had been sitting, the synthetic walked over to stand beside the man’s body. Nearby lay the facehugger. Having fulfilled its brief but frenzied mission in life, it was now a crumpled, harmless knot of bony appendages and limp, fleshy ovipositor. David ignored it, intent on the prone form of the captain.

Kneeling, he opened the man’s shirt and peered at his chest. The rib cage rippled slightly beneath sweaty, glistening skin. Everything was proceeding normally. Or rather, abnormally, he told himself. The normal abnormal. There was amusement to be found in the human language, if not in its racial precepts.

Another slow spasm caused Oram’s spine to arch unnaturally before settling down once again. It was then that he opened his eyes. Groggy from inactivity and lingering unconsciousness, he blinked at his surroundings before focusing, however imperfectly, on the figure of the synthetic looming over him.

“Easy now, Captain,” David murmured solicitously. “How do you feel?”

Oram tried to swallow only to find that he could not. There was an odd dryness in his throat. Even though he was breathing, he felt cut off from his lungs.

“I was dreaming,” he answered. “In the dream I met the Lord, our Creator. And he was so kind and forgiving, like when I was a kid.”

David pursed his lips and looked thoughtful.

“You don’t believe that anymore?”

Oram made an effort to shrug. One shoulder barely moved.

“I guess we all grow up.”

His eyes widened and his chest jerked violently. David took care to straighten and step back as the captain’s torso heaved. He was trying to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he ejected spittle and some blood.

A widening caldera appeared in the center of his chest, sending blood, bone, and viscera erupting into the ammonia-laden air. Given the human’s small size in relation to that of an Engineer, the birth was more explosive than David had expected. Blood splattered his clothing, his hands, his face. Save for wrinkling his nose curiously at the smell, he ignored all of it.

“I guess we do,” he murmured, more to himself than to the captain, who could no longer hear—or see, or sense anything.

The worm-like alien that emerged from the fresh, ripped corpse was likewise covered in gore. It was already beginning to change, to mature, even before it had fully emerged. An advanced model possessed of a wildly accelerated rate of growth, it rose slowly. An enthralled David looked on as it continued to straighten, unfolding itself to send out rapidly elongating arms, legs, and hammerhead-like skull as bits of the captain dripped or tumbled from its biomechanoid flanks.

As the chin came up, teeth like steel razors flashed in the dim light. Upright now, it contemplated the only other dynamic being in the chamber. The great smooth, eyeless head regarded the equally intent David, studying, smelling, sensing, taking the measure of that which like itself stood upright on two legs.

The head tilted to one side, the entire aspect of the hideous apparition suggesting unsuspected intelligence and contemplation.

Slowly, David spread his arms wide, trying to convey a mixture of supplication and friendship. Anyone else might have, should have, run. From the moment the captain had been infected, however, David had never had any intention of running.

By perceptual means the synthetic still could not divine, the alien watched him. Then, slowly, it copied his gesture, extending and raising both arms. David raised first one hand, then the other. Once again the alien copied the synthetic’s movements. Observing this, David grew emotional—or at least he mimicked growing emotional. It might have been honest sentiment. Or it might have been an effort to indicate, if only to himself, that he possessed depth.

A slight shudder passed through the creature whose emergence the synthetic continued to monitor. It grew visibly before David’s eyes. The exoskeleton grew longer and the tough epidermis stretched to accommodate the growth. It was developing right in front of the enthralled synthetic. He remained motionless, utterly rapt.

For a while he looked on in silence as it continued to increase in size. Then he deliberately moved in close. Craning forward, the now adolescent alien once again imitated the synthetic’s movement. Putting his lips together David whistled a few soft, carefully modulated notes. Head cocked to one side, the alien watched and listened. Then it exhaled softly, trying to duplicate the sounds. Since it possessed a very different respiratory mechanism, it failed in the attempt.

That did not matter to David. What was important and what prompted him to tears was the fact that the creature tried. The being that Oram had given birth to. The creature to which he, David, had been midwife. It responded. To him, and to him alone.

Holding his rifle at the ready, Cole worked his way down the deserted corridor, one of several that branched off from the great central chamber. He advanced carefully, ready to fire at anything that moved. Focusing on the task at hand kept his mind busy, kept him from feeling that the great stone heads in the main chamber were following his every move, judging him, and finding him and his companions wanting.

A distant sound caught his attention and he turned, keeping the beam of his laser sight at waist-level as he continued to move forward. When something large and irregular on the floor interrupted the beam he halted immediately and almost fired. Approaching cautiously, he saw that there was no need to shoot.

In the dim light he recognized the creature that had attacked the landing party. A mass of dead white flesh and splattered blood, it was no threat now. Not to himself or anything else. Despite his conviction he approached the corpse warily, all too conscious of the speed with which it previously had moved.

Holding tight to his weapon, he kicked at one motionless white leg. It rebounded slightly from the contact, and clattered softly against the pavement. Otherwise, there was no reaction. It was dead for certain, he told himself. Which begged an interesting question.

Who, or what, had killed it?

Though it displayed all the signs of having been shot up by a standard-issue carbine, given the surprises this world held, the private wasn’t ready to take anything for granted.

As he pondered multiple possibilities, he heard a new sound, and continued on. Definitely a voice, he told himself. A human voice, but slightly distorted. Moments later he found himself in a new chamber, one with a skylighted ceiling that stretched all the way to the top of the building. Tracking the voice, he quickly located a comm unit. It lay on the floor, drenched by but immune to the steady drip of water from above.

The voice was coming from it, distorted by the dripping liquid.

“Rosenthal, come in.” That was Lopé, calling urgently. The sergeant continued to plead via the comm. “Where are you, Rosie? Rosie, please report.”

Snapping on a light, Cole added its warm beam to the thin lance of his rifle’s laser sight, and played both around the spacious chamber. The bright beam bounced off droplets and trickles of water tumbling from above. Slender cascades shone silver in the light. Beam and laser illuminated strange plants and bloated fruit and…

Something he wished he didn’t recognize.

Walking over to where Rosenthal’s broken body lay crumpled against a far wall, he winced as he examined it. It took him a minute to gather his emotions before he finally felt able to address his own comm.

“Sarge… I found her.”

Turning, he played light and laser over the surrounding room, checking every corner, every shadow, every possible place of concealment. There was nothing to be seen except flourishing plants and falling water. That, and the remains of what had once been Rosenthal.

The fact that dawn was looming only lent greater urgency to the expedition team’s efforts. What was left of them, at least. It wasn’t necessary for them to pack up all their gear. Nobody was going to dock their pay for leaving replaceable equipment behind. At this point no one cared about pay, anyway.

All that mattered anymore was getting off the cursed globe on which they found themselves, and doing so alive and with as many functioning limbs and organs as possible.

The four of them gathered up the easier-to-pack items anyway. In giving them something to do, it took their minds at least temporarily away from the devastated jumble of blood and bone that had been Private Rosenthal.

As perhaps the most competent and professional of Lopé’s team, her ugly demise only served to magnify in their minds the threat they all faced. True, one of the two neomorphs that had attacked them in the high grass was dead, but that left at least one other alive, and who knew what other dangers lurked to disrupt their planned departure.

Cole almost hoped the other creature would put in an appearance, so they could blow it away.

Almost.

Off, Daniels told herself as she secured the last of her gear. She wanted off this hideous planet. She wanted to get as far away from it as hyperspace travel would allow. Never before in her career had she longed more fervently for the cold but sterile emptiness of deep space.

A look of utter frustration on his face, an impatient Lopé was scanning the corners of the huge chamber.

“Where the hell is Oram?”

Walter stepped forward. “He wanted to think. Or to grieve further. Perhaps both. He went off by himself. Daniels and I thought it discreet to allow him his privacy.”

Daniels looked over at the sergeant.

“I saw him leave,” she admitted. “I didn’t think he should go, but I was too tired to argue with him. He’s been gone a long time. Too long, I think.”

“Why isn’t he answering his comm?” There was a touch of fresh panic in Cole’s voice.

Daniels tamped it down. “Take it easy. I was exhausted and fell asleep. He was just as tired, if not more so. He probably sat down somewhere and did the same. Dozed off somewhere, just like I did.” When Cole didn’t respond to her attempt to reassure him, she tried another tack.

“Listen to me. I’ll contact the ship, see if we can get them to move up the drop. Even if the weather hasn’t cleared completely, maybe they can push it a little if they’re done with prepping the cargo lift.” She regarded the two soldiers.

“Go find the captain,” she said. “Be careful. Keep your comms open and stay in touch, even if it’s just to let us know how you’re doing.”

“I’ll go find David.” Walter smiled encouragingly. “Perhaps he has some knowledge of the captain’s whereabouts. If so, I will report back immediately.”

“Good.” She nodded curtly. “We all meet back here in fifteen. No matter where Oram is, no matter what his state or condition. Anyone not back here in fifteen risks getting left behind. Got that? Fifteen, and we’re gone.”

It took several minutes after Lopé and Cole had disappeared via one portal and Walter through another, for it to strike her that she was completely alone.